The days tick away.
Though to be honest I’m a little more panicked about the fact I’m running the New York Marathon exactly 17 days before my 40th birthday than I am about my 40th birthday itself.
It’s still there. Lurking. In the back of my mind. Getting old… but not really. Just older. Old-ish.
I looked myself up on this little demographics chart I stumbled across the other day. It doesn’t have the fidelity to measure things down to the day or month, but at some point between my 39th and 40th birthday I (apparently) will cross an invisible threshold where exactly fifty percent of the population is older than me and fifty percent is younger than me.
I’m currently at some point between my 39th and 40th birthday.
So, let’s say that roughly, right now, this is where I stand: I’m straddling this line wherein every person I meet has a 50/50 chance of being either younger than me or older than me. Half the world is my junior. Half the world is my senior.
I’m smack-dab in the middle.
Oldish. Older than half the people around me.
How would you feel about that?