45 and the Mid-Life Brisk Walk
I recently turned 45, officially entering “mid-life territory,” as I was gently reminded. Although hearing this non-disputable truth gave my ego a bit of a sting, my soul had known for years that mid-life was upon me.
We, adults, are not too different from children. I don’t know how often I must remind my boys to clean up their trash from the basement or put their clothes in their rooms. Or my favorite, “The dishwasher is dirty; why don’t you throw your bowl in there while you’re at it…thank you very much.” We all know the saying if I’ve told you once, I’ve told you a thousand times. We are human; we need to be reminded over and over again.
When getting older, sometimes the reminders come straightforwardly, like a birthday; other times, the subtle daily activities can remind me of a more profound truth. Lately, this has come on the walking trail, specifically, succumbing to the “mid-life brisk walk.”
Over the last few years, I have started each morning with a walk on the local trail. Besides the obvious physical benefits, it has also helped my emotional and mental states. Every morning is an excellent reminder of what I can no longer do. Due to the wear and tear, my knees will no longer allow me to run or bike. (Maybe it is a bit of laziness, too, and besides, how does one ride a bike for a distance without your butt hurting for three days afterward).
Realizing I could not run or do strenuous exercise wasn’t always easy to accept. The old athlete ego/identity thing didn’t like that too much. Accepting my limitations in that way, when you were once paid to be an athlete, caused some frustrations and anxieties. Yet, it is nothing that I haven’t gone through before. Thank God.
I have found that growing older is the process of experiencing many small deaths. Deaths to our ego, to a mindset, deaths at times, to values that we thought were a big deal. Although these small deaths can be painful (our egos don’t like to lose), they open our minds and hearts to a much bigger and joyful view of ourselves, others, life, and God.
If we pay attention, life becomes less either/or and more both/and. We become more inclusive and less judgmental. We tend to laugh at our imperfections rather than pretend to live with the fantasy of striving to be perfect. Ultimately, we begin to see ourselves as we are, not what we think we must be. Somehow, we become peaceful precisely through failures—what a glorious paradox.
Ultimately, the little deaths throw us off the “power train” that everyone else thinks is the only ride in town. This allows us to choose the “clunky ride” of living imperfectly but securely without needing to compare and compete with everything and everyone. (Especially about our kids). What freedom.
Although I have succumbed to the “brisk walk,” I am grateful for the journey of discovering and rediscovering my true self in this beautifully broken thing we call life, a life with the ultimate limitation of time.
So there’s no need to run. You don’t need to ride fast. Enjoy the walk… even with a limp.
Until we walk with despair, and still have hope, we will not know that our hope was not just hope in ourselves, in our own successes, in our power to make a difference, in our image of what perfection should be. We need hope from a much deeper Source. We need a hope larger than ourselves.
Until we walk with personal issues of despair, we will never uncover the Real Hope on the other side of that despair. Until we allow the crash and crush of our images, we will never discover the Real Life beyond what only seems like death. Remember, death is an imaginary loss of an imaginary self, that is going to pass anyway.
This very journey is probably the heart of what Jesus came to reveal.”
-Richard Rohr
5 Comments
Michele Sinnott
Thanks, Brett, for your insights and words of comfort and hope. Your poignant truths of life’s ‘small deaths’ have been hitting me hard too, although I’m in the next phase – retirement. A real loss of what I thought I was allows me now to let go and enter into a new phase of grandparenthood and rediscovery of my Lord and True Savior, Jesus Christ. In truth I look back on my former life identity as a preparation for the riches to come.
Brett Illig
Hi Michele, thank you, yes, it’s amazing how our lives seem to always prepare us for the next phase, or maybe better put, open ourselves up to continuous renewal. I wish you all the best in your retirement.
Tony Ciaverelli
Sometimes I wish the journey would go my way, but every time the Lords plans are better than mine even though I do not understand them while I’m going through struggles or changes, he always provides a better plan with better results. Trying to plan out your later years is virtually impossible, while important to have a plan it’s more important to allow Jesus to do his thing and enjoy the ride 🙂
Brett Illig
Amen, Tony. Well said.
Ann Zamojcin
Great post Brett – this one hit close to home! I too have left my running days behind and I have become a “brisk walker. Although my psyche misses the daily running, my old and worn-out knees are much happier. And on the plus side, on my early morning walks I now have the opportunity to look at the sky, pet the dogs and enjoy the changing seasons. There is sometimes grace in slowing down as we age!