I mentioned in my introductory post that I made the goal of fit by forty my mantra for the last four years or so. Earlier this month I turned the big 4-0 and I do considered myself fit, so goal achieved! Where’s my medal?? But along the way my definition of “fit” has undergone a slight major overhaul.
At 36, my definition of fit looked alot like the cover of a fitness magazine: lithe body, smooth stomach. Fitness was determined by the number on the scale, the size of my jeans, and my ability to look good in a bikini. Exercise was a means to an end, not an end in and of itself. I wanted to achieve the aesthetic of fitness, but I didn’t particularly care about my actual fitness level. I had no real desire to run, lift heavy objects, or eat healthfully. I only did those things to achieve the look of fit.
Fast forward four years, and my definition has done an almost complete turnaround. Sure, some days it’s still about the scale. Or at the very least what I see reflected in the mirror. But those moments are fleeting. More and more I define fit as:
- not waking up in pain anymore.
- being medication-free.
- being able to sprint across the park to catch my four year old before he takes off for parts unknown.
- carrying the same four year old home from school when he’s had a tiring day.
- having the energy to do what I have to do, and still having energy left over to do what I want to do.
- becoming stronger, moving faster, and going further. daily.
I have my eyes on a prize. It’s not a bikini. It’s being a healthy, happy, active older person. Although I by no means consider forty to be old (ironic how “old” is always about twenty years older than you are at any given moment), turning forty has definitely made me turn introspective and start examining what it is I want from the coming years. And what I want? Isn’t to look a certain way. It’s to feel a certain way. I want to feel like I can take on the world.
That’s how I define fit. What about you?
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