Well, just between you and me, I am turning 50 this year. Yeah, yeah, I heard, "50 is the new 30"...only to the 30 year olds who wear a perfect size 8. But to us 50 year olds, 50 is just freekin 50. Sometimes I'm hot, sometimes I'm cold, sometimes I"m an angel, sometimes I'm a grizzly bear, sometimes I can remember what someone said 20 years ago but not where I put my keys 20 minutes ago, sometimes I get on the scale and it's complimentary and the next day it jeers at me...That's 50...not 30!!! So, all year long, I've been laboring under the delusion that I've been looking awesome with my daily 30 minute treadmill trod and my low-carb, no beer diet (and you know how I love my beer). I was delusional. But my scale hasn't moved one nanometer in a year. I am despondent. And my feet hurt. Why wouldn't they?
I've been running or threatening to run in the same shoes for four years. About the time when I first struck out this decade, on what has turned into a never-ending effort to finish a 5k, and not be the last one to cross the finish line...even after the walkers. I and the "just in case" and "we don't want to get sued" ambulance driver they station at the end of one annual race, have become peculiar friends. His front bumper symbolically nudges me along ever so slightly and he turns on the siren when I'm done. I love him and I hate him and I think he feels the same. "Lady, either keel over or pick up the pace!!!"
I thought by now I'd be pinning and sewing up more of my old clothes to fit that I am. And while they are getting a bit looser, I'm still in the same double-digit dress size. Did I say....despondent. And I've only got a few more months til my birthday cruise. So, I have to pick up the pace. I bought new running shoes. New Balance 460 All Terrain running shoes, to be exact. On sale! And what a rush. I was buying something. Anything besides, protein shakes, yogurt and pantyhose.
It was so thrilling to go into Sears and try on a pair of shoes. And the sales rack was brimming with bright shiny new running shoes in just about every color. To lower the intensity of the shopping buzz, I just picked the cheapest pair that fit the best. But they were NEW and I wanted to wear them home like I used to do when I was little. I'm still that little girl walking hand in hand with my mom out to the car in my new shoes...the old ones stuffed dismissively in the new box. But there was no lady to ask me if I'd like to wear them home and I'm almost 50, right? But oh, that feeling. I must have really been "jonesin".
The good thing about breaking rules is that it can always be justified, at least in ones own mind, and in my mind, I think Rule #4 can be modified. Shoes for fashion are different from shoes for living. And I do mean living. According to a Brigham and Women's Hospital 8 year long study of women, out of the 115,886 American women age 30 to 55 in the study group, there were 605 cases of some type of heart disease or heart attack, including 83 deaths. Being even mildly overweight can increase heart attack risk dramatically, perhaps more than in men. So, I just ain't goin' out like that, at least not so soon. I'm gonna lose these last 20 lbs and wear a bikini too. Remember: I can accept garments, not gift cards as birthday gifts. We all know how to prevent a heart attack, exercising and eating right are among the most prominent preventative measures. But check out the American Heart Association's, "Go Red for Women" campaign website, it's a great resource, http://www.goredforwomen.org/
Now don't get me wrong, those New Balance 460 All Terrain running shoes didn't get sprinkled with magic dust and they don't have wings. So I have to get my sorry butt outside and over to the gym at least 5 days per week and walk/run at a brisk pace for 3 miles. I'm not gonna let myself fail at mile marker 1 at my next 5k. I'm gonna stay out of the office snacks and not lose my mind at the sight of a plate of french fries. I've eaten lots of good stuff in my life and I will eat lots more in the future, so I'm not missing out, just delaying my gratification. That's my goal.
You can set whatever goal you like. Dance, do zumba, step aerobics, bicycling, whatever blows your hair back, but move it sister. There's a lot of living to do at any age. And there's a lot of living to do after 50. It might not be the new 30 but I want to test whether 70 is the new 50. So, I broke Rule #4.
