I wasn't going to run this race this year...it was too early to be my birthday race, and therefore it felt skippable. But photos of the shirt and medal changed my mind, and I quickly decided I could tack a couple miles onto the 10k and get a good, final long run out of it.
I'm so glad I did.
Somehow, race day is less than two weeks away. Now's about the time I should be tapering and reflecting on my training cycle, but I'm sort of in denial that we're already here. I've run so many birthday races—it's a tradition I've truly grown to love, and my birthday just doesn't feel complete without it—but this is the first time I've chosen a destination race.
The nature of a destination race means I've been thinking about it for a long time, because I've had to be picky about choosing it and proactive about planning travel. In fact, I first thought of running a destination race for my 40th when I turned 38, so I've been dwelling on this race (and this birthday) for years.
So it makes sense that I'm struggling to wrap my mind around the fact that in ten short days, I'll be in Arizona running in the desert and welcoming my 40s.
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Fourteen months ago, my sister roped me into her journey to get into the best shape of her life by 40. While she still has a couple years to meet her goal, time has caught up with me, and now I'm four weeks out from the big day.
In a month, I'll be 40.
Not to be corny, but these last 14 months have been life-changing in some unexpected ways, but even as I say that, I'm not sure what I expected. Did I think I'd be wiry with muscle for the first time in my life? That I'd lose my sweet tooth and suddenly be capable of making only the very best decisions when faced with treats or meal planning? Because none of those things has come to fruition.
And yet...
