35

Tonight as I was walking across the Pulaski Bridge, I felt old.

Not elderly old, but no longer young. An attractive-looking woman, probably in her late 40s, passed me, laughing. That will be me soon, I thought, thinking wistfully of my 20s. You don't realize what you have until you've lost it.

In my 20s, NYC was a lot seedier, sketchier. Dudes hanging out at corner stores, cigarettes sliding around their lips, pants hung low. Drugs deals happening at the park - and when my best friend dated a guy who did H, she went there. I walked around in tiny little dresses - okay, let's be honest - they were nightgowns, little nightdreses - with platform sneakers. I stuffed my money in my bra, hoping no one would steal it. I wore glitter from the craft store as makeup. Life was somehow simpler. Gourmet delis were out of our reach, everyone was broke, we stayed at clubs until 11am, the after party was in our apartment, and I never, ever did drugs despite everyone falling apart around me. Maybe that's why I feel old - everyone around me has their sh*t together, people have babies, but we're all still wandering in our hearts. We feel like we're 20, but we're not. We have jobs and pensions/401ks and bills and in the corners of our eyes, we're starting to get wrinkles.

I still have dreams....publishing my book, maybe doing the AT, a RTW trip, hiking through the Amazon, doing the jungle multiday through the Amazon, running around different South Pacific Islands....

It's never too late to have a dream. Even though I came home, washed some dishes, prepped some muesli, took off my eye makeup with real remover, I know where I've come from. I don't know where I'm going, but really, the truth is, no one does. Everyone else just thinks they do, but we're all just doing a routine until stuff gets started - or until we remember our dreams.

We're all lost souls.

Who's the Inspiration?

I didn't have a lot of time and wasn't feeling good. I ran to the gym and began lifting weights. I went to the first "fat thigh" machine (that's what I call it; it's great for strengthening hip and IT and muscles) and then moved on to the next. A much older lady sat down on the seat I had just vacated.

"Oh my. Oh my. Did you really do all of this?"

I had the weights set to over 200 pounds. I nodded.

"That's amazing. That really is. But you need to be careful, not to do too much. I don't do too much. But I'm glad I can."

She began telling me - she had worked in the schools as an aide, never had any time until ten or fifteen years ago when, in her early seventies, she retired. Her children were all raising their own kids, and now, without a job, without children, she had time to pursue her own interests. In her eighties now, she went to the gym several times a week, to lift, use the various cardio machines, go to the aqua-aerobics classes.

"I am so impressed. That's incredible," I told her. Eighties and going to the gym.

She asked me what kind of working out I did. I admitted I liked to run a lot.

"Now, don't do too much. Those marathons..."

"Well, I don't exactly do marathons. I've done them before."

"They're too much. People get hurt."

I told her I run 50 milers, 100 milers, 24 hours. She seemed stunned.

"I don't get hurt. I pull back. The second something doesn't feel good - I stop. I'm not using that machine," I said, pointing to a hamstring strengthening machine, "because I hurt my hamstring months ago and it's still not strong enough to lift that. I don't have a problem stopping, and that's why. If you stop the first sign - you often don't get a second sign."

We went back to my racing and she asked me questions. Then she said, "You're an inspiration. You really are."

I blushed. "No, you are an inspiration. I hope when I'm your age, I'm still doing it."

She smiled and I had to leave, go to work, to the grind. But it's hard to leave the active world, where we all inspire each other.