Turning 65

Wow—how did this happen?!

I remember asking the same thing at 45.

Now, here I stand, after so many changes, at another milestone. Milestones aren’t always the same. There’s the Imperial miles and the king’s mile, which I learned about in Sweden. No matter the name, it’s where one stands, the distance perceived, one’s attitude toward the long game. It’s all relative.

Ground to cover from A to B.

Having just gotten back from a bike tour, people always ask me: What kind of bike do I ride? I know, I know, I work at a bike shop and sell the dream, but I also tell my customers—it’s what you do with the bike that counts. So many times people tell me they have a barn full of bikes they don’t ride. They’re just looking for the perfect one. Excuse me while my head explodes. Nike had a point: Just do it.

I also get a lot: Aren’t you scared? Or, You’re so brave. No. I credit this to being overwhelmed by so many emotions that fear sort of gets squeezed out or sidelined. This trip I might have been focused on language or road signs and, thus, not in tuned to other feelings. I was also awestruck by the scenery. The mountains, the forest hush, the Rhine River. The sense that I am elsewhere.

So no matter if they are kilometers or miles, real or imagined—the important thing is to experience them. The years, the birthdays that fly by. The life in between. I’ve been incredibly blessed.