35

Some thoughts that I've been wanting to put on paper...

I’ve always felt like my “true” age was 35. In part, I guess I always felt a bit older than my years – at 20, I felt like I was 35. I also felt like when I actually turned 35, somehow the stars would align – my “true” age would connect with my actual years on this earth and everything would be good. I guess I had fantasies that at age 35 I’d have everything figured out – I’d be at peace. My struggles with finding a career that I love and figuring out what I want to do with my life, how, where and with whom would be over. Or, if not over, I’d at least have a level of serenity and calm – and harmony I guess. No more struggling.

When I decided to have surgery this last winter – part of my grand plan was that I’d have my hip surgeries behind me by the time June 15 rolled around – my 35th birthday. Obviously that didn’t happen. I had my first hip surgery on April 9, 2010. Now it’s looking like I may need a redux on hip #1, and I’m still waiting for hip #1 to be resolved before starting on hip #2. I also did not ring in my 35th year as I had hoped. My last birthday, I had a few broken ribs, had two fresh plates and 16 screws installed in my collarbone, had just returned to work, and got hit with a doozie of a cold – try coughing with broken ribs. Hell. I recall that I spent that night on my couch, eating take out with a friend, feeling terribly sorry for myself and promising that next year would be my year. I had those plates and screws removed on May 29, 2010, one week shy of the one year anniversary of their installation. Again, I thought for sure that I’d be good to go by my birthday. Have at least my collarbone, if not a full hip, checked off my list in time for 35. As you know, if you’ve been reading my blog, that didn’t exactly go as planned either. I again spent my birthday with a broken collarbone.

It’s now almost July, and I’m well on my way into this 35th year I’d had such high hopes for. I have pretty much accepted that surgery and recovery will be part of my life for the foreseeable future. Plans for Christmas and New Year no longer revolve around cycling for me. I’m no longer plotting my comeback for early 2011. So, I guess this means that 35 isn’t going to be the year I had hoped. Or maybe I just have to look a little deeper.

Undeniably, it’s been a huge loss to be robbed of my athleticism. I never imagined that I would be facing month after month without the ability to push myself athletically – to train, be fit, compete. I’ve lost my biggest outlet at my time of greatest need. It is a true test of spirit – and I’m not sure if I’m winning.

But, I’ve also started down a path towards a career that I love. I’m living with a man that I love, who fascinates me, understands me, and who loves me in spite of my ongoing disabilities and – to put it mildly, my lack of cheer at times. I’m learning exponentially about myself. And I’m being forced to grow and look hard at what I want in life – because I can’t just ignore it and make it good with an awesome bike ride.

So maybe the stars have aligned after all. Here's to 35.