The Top 10 Things I Have Learned About Life Since the Half Ironman: The Return

My apologies for a bit of a delay in continuing this Life Lessons saga, but the main character has been very busy at work and at play, and I have only now found a moment to sit down at my dining room table with a cup of coffee to write this third installment. I hope it is worth the wait.

Back to where we left off with the story. I believe that brings us to #6...

THE TOP 10 THINGS I HAVE LEARNED ABOUT LIFE SINCE THE HALF IRONMAN

#6 "Age is an issue of mind over matter. If you don't mind, it doesn't matter." - Mark Twain I remember the day my sister Eileen turned 21. I was a spry girl of 17, nearing the end of high school and feeling that my sister had finally reached over-the-hill status. When I turned 21 myself, I, of course, felt like I was at the prime of my youth, embarking on a new chapter of my life, still very early in the Book of Kathleen. Now at the age of 36, I do not feel much different than I did at 17, i.e., feeling that I am still young with the best years ahead of me (and that my sister is still an old lady! :). And yet, I know that in the eyes of a 17-year old, or a 21-year old for that matter, I am likely the person who has gone past the crest of the mountain and is headed down the other side with a cane in hand.

Or maybe not. Over the course of the past few months, I have been humbled by the sincere comments of a number of young individuals whose path I have crossed who assumed that I was their age (think 26 rather than 36) and not the Old Woman Who Lives in a Shoe.

Life Lesson #6: Botox works.

Just kidding! For the most part, I do not think these comments result from my physical appearance other than the fact that I am not out of shape, don't have gray hair, don't wear tons of makeup, and don't wear mom jeans. Take note: Doing any one of those things can age you by at least 10 years. For men, cross off mom jeans and add one of the following: (1) sporting a comb-over; (2) wearing high-waisted pants; or (3) failing to trim your nose or ear hair.

Instead, I think it is my general youthful attitude and playful outlook on life (some may call it immaturity...) that keeps me from aging in the typical sense of the word. A few years ago, I would argue, I was actually much older in Kathleen Years than I am now (as opposed to my age in People Years or Dog Years), because I temporarily lost my childlike sense of adventure when I was dealing with the stress of my divorce, move and career change. During that time, I also virtually stopped working out or caring about what I wore or weather my shoes matched, possibly leading others to believe that I was aging and losing my vision and ability to recognize the difference between brown and black pumps...

True story. I had two pairs of identical shoes, one black, one brown, and I wore one of each to work a few years back. Totally hot.

But what I have learned by observing others whom I perceive to be old or young without having any idea of their age, is that aging is mostly mental, only slightly physical and very minimally genetic, and there are a lot of things you can do to keep yourself young if you are willing to work at it. Interestingly enough, there is an entire Web site dedicated to telling you how to reduce your "real age" - www.realage.com. This site was created by Drs. Oz and Roizen of the YOU book series (and frequent guests on Oprah). I encourage you to visit RealAge, take the free questionnaire, and learn what your "real age" versus your numerical age is and what steps you can take to drop down in Kathleen Years. Here is a summary of my top 10:

1. Never outgrow the desire to ask "why?" and never assume you already know the answer.
2. Be willing to try anything once and consider giving the things you didn't like a second chance.
3. The key to youthfulness cannot be found sitting on your couch, watching TV and eating ice cream. No matter what you choose to do, go out and experience life.
4. Hang out with others who are young or young at heart.
5. Stay connected with modern society - turn off talk radio and listen to a hip radio station, get on Facebook and read Us magazine.
6. Do some type of physical activity every day without excuse.
7. Don't smoke.
8. Get plenty of sleep.
9. Floss your teeth.
10. Smile often, laugh heartily, give generously and NEVER lose your sense of humor.

T.S. Eliot once wrote: "I don't believe one grows older. I think that what happens early on in life is that at a certain age one stands still and stagnates."

Go forth and move forward.

Until next time...

The Top 10 Things I Have Learned About Life Since the Half Ironman: Part Deux

As I continue on with the sequel to my first Solo in the City blog, it seems that my return to the world of blogging has been met with approval. Thank you to all of you who sent me friendly hellos and nice comments last week. And so I go on to blog another day...

THE TOP 10 THINGS I HAVE LEARNED ABOUT LIFE SINCE THE HALF IRONMAN: PART DEUX

7. "...I believe that you measure yourself by the people that measure themselves by you." I am an incredibly blessed person. Within a few miles of my little apartment in Rosslyn, VA, live some of my closest friends from childhood, college, law school, and my early working years. Having inherited the Irish gift of the gab and general social nature of the Celtic people, I have also been fortunate enough to meet (often in some rather unusual ways) wonderful people since I moved to DC in December 2005, who have become wonderful friends as well.

There's Christina, one of my best girlfriends, whom I ran into in the Metro one day this winter on the way home from work. Scott, my connection to all things artistic in DC, who saved me from getting lost when I first joined a new running group last fall for a 23-mile long run. Ed, whose Italian, winemaking father I had the pleasure of meeting at the very same bar in which Ed and I first shared a beer while stranded during one of this winter's many snowstorms. Emma, who is from Ireland and has lived in my building for a year but whom I met running on the track in Georgetown. Jeff, the successful architect who confided in me about his divorce and a recent sad break-up the first day we met at my apartment's rooftop pool. RP, with whom, in the course of only a month or so I feel more comfortable with than almost anyone else I have ever known. Lori, my funky friend from Treasury who commiserated with me during long hours in the office in the first days of TARP.

And the list could go on and on.

When I left big law firm life, went through a divorce, and moved to a small apartment in a very expensive city to work for the government, my life - in the eyes of many - became less "rich." No longer living in a big house with a pool, taking annual vacations to places like Italy and Hawaii, and getting Christmas gifts such as a car or expensive jewelry, I, too, wondered at first what my life had become. My first months in my tiny, cramped apartment in Adams Morgan were very dark. In Dallas, a city known for its materialism (the popular 80s TV show was not complete fiction), I had become someone who had started measuring her life by where I worked, where I traveled, what car I drove, and what brand of jeans I wore. I didn't like that person, but leaving her behind when I moved here was not easy. It took me a few years to say goodbye to that old, toxic friend. And yet here I sit today, with a small bank account but feeling like the richest person in the world because this afternoon I am meeting a friend from work for lunch in Chinatown. And tomorrow I am going for a long run and to a swimming party with my running group. Then I am watching the World Cup with a group of friends at a local soccer bar. And then I am going with friends to the Sting concert. And on Monday night I am meeting friends to watch Goldfinger outside on the Mall.

What I have learned, is that in the end, I will measure my life by the number of lives I have touched in a positive way. By the number of people who consider me a friend and who believe that their lives were more rich by having known me. Not by my stock portfolio. Or the car in my garage. Or even having a garage (or a car), for that matter. In the movie The Bucket List, Morgan Freeman's character, who is told he has one year to live, says it well: "It's difficult to understand the sum of a person's life. Some people will tell you it's measured by the ones left behind. Some believe it can be measured in faith. Some say by love. Other folks say life has no meaning at all. Me, I believe that you measure yourself by the people that measure themselves by you."

Until next time...