Sixty Years

Ten years ago I turned fifty. I decided to celebrate this monumental birthday with fifty birthday parties. I documented them in a photo album and recently pulled it out to page through and smile at all the memories. Friends who met me for lunch, students who shared their cupcakes and classroom parties with me, hat making events, and a gathering at Sunset Beach. It was a good year.

I realize that I now have to think of something to celebrate my sixty years on this earth. My thoughts coincide with the realization that I need to up my game in the whole “take care of my body” venue as well.

When I retired (6 1/2 years ago) I made the vow to start watching what I ate and exercising. Three years later I had made some progress, but it wasn’t until my 2015 breast cancer diagnosis that I really kicked into gear. Staying fit, weight loss and healthy eating became my job. But it was fear based, and like every thing else my motivation gradually diminished. And in December, when I was going to buy a pattern and updated my measurements I realized just how much I had slipped. That fifteen pounds weight gain was also two inches on the hips and four inches on the waist.

Now I’m not one to think about measurements, or even too much about looks. But I am one to think about being out of breath and the fact that belly fat is an indicator of potential health problems for me. My cancer feeds on fat (well, the estrogen stored in that fat) and I want to stay alive.

Wa-la. My sixtieth birthday challenge (for myself) has been born. I will ride my bike sixty times. I will go for sixty hikes. I’ll swim laps sixty times and do sixty cardio workouts. Sixty kayak trips. Sixty dance sessions.Time to do the math.

Three hundred and sixty work outs. Can I meet this goal? If I skip a day it means doubling up. If I travel, if I’m sick…..

Yes. I can do it. And I’ll take pictures and make another scrapbook because I love looking back and seeing how much fun it was.