Half Way Mark

And he shall wither unto decrepitude when faced with the terrible mystery of the spheres

Half way is an interesting milestone for many things….
At the Round the Island - half way was St Catherine's point.
When I use the machinery in the Exercise Dungeon - halfway is a good milestone on the cross-trainer normally the 10 minute / 2 mile mark and I know it is metaphorically down hill from there.

One normally associates 'half-way' with reaching the summit, the pinnacle, the zenith of the endeavour. You have got the hard part out of the way and it is plain sailing.

Except when it comes to age.

Over the hill.

Past it.

Middle Aged.

On reflection - at my age, my parents generation were 'middle aged' at this point. They had children, slippers, and gave dinner parties for friends. They paid their mortgage and had a summer holiday.

But by most terms I am a 'kidult'.
Between sailing, flying, skiing, snowboarding, motorcycling, fiddling with electronic music, dashing around the country working for Big Grey and being a committed pseudo-chap politico blogger - I am wondering - have I actually got time to be middle aged?

I say half-way because as of Sunday I will be officially 'Nearly Forty'.

Thirty Nine years old.

I reckon about the half water mark for my span in this mortal coil - before I pull down the curtain and join the choir invisibule.

Interestingly, I didn't feel this way when I turned twenty nine. This is far more positive.

Thirty loomed terribly - but actually life got better and better.

You finally find out who you are, your finances sort themselves out and you learn to have a lot of fun in a way that in your 20s and before you are too self conscious to do.
So on reflection - the thirties have been fun. New hobbies and new friends, and a broken heart more than once. But certainly worth every booze drenched, tear soaked and laughter filled second.

My expectation is that forty will be even better.

Sure, there will be humps to get over and if the challenges thirty bought are anything to go by, then they will be huge. But the bigger the hill, the bigger the high.
You turn thirty in fear - for it is the time when you are supposed to have grown up. Turning forty is odd, because you have grown up and if you don't like yourself by now - you never will.

Turning forty is actually good fun, because you get to hoon about without shame as it is your fortieth birthday.

Thirty is the training ground for forty.

Forty is the New Thirty (In the same way that Black is the new err... Black)

On reflection - it is downhill. But not in a bad way. You get as much fun, you just won't have to pedal as hard.

I for one am looking forward to accelerating away with it all. The pressure of being thirty-something wanes - and by now you stop caring what people think…..it is in a way liberating.
Bring it on.

One year to go until out come the slippers, pipe and lawnmower (Can you really see me doing that?)

Hop on for the ride gang, scream if you want to go faster.