In Transition

It’s a strange place to find yourself in, transition. It feels like limbo. It feels like I’m neither here nor there, and just floating somewhere in between. Though that’s not such an accurate description either. I have direction, I have purpose, I have goals, all of which I am working and making progress towards. But I am early on in my journey of growth and change, it feels as if I am just out the door, and I have many miles to cover yet.

Having gotten myself out of my own way, I have discovered that the person I have been for the majority of my teen years, is not at all the person I would like to be in the greater portion of my adult career. I have tossed aside old habits like paper balls of bad ideas, to make space for reinvention. A new blank page in front of me as my canvas, though I am not starting from scratch. I have learned much from my teen years and habits, that I carry with me as knowledge and experience, helping me shape my future into something akin to my vision of who I would like to become, and what I would like to do.

For instance, good riddance to smoking, a social habit that I used to adore for many reasons, now seems silly to me because it no longer aligns with the lifestyle I intend to lead. I have been extremely fit and a smoker at the same time, but I feel that in order to be the fittest and healthiest I possibly can be, smoking cannot fit into the picture. It doesn’t. So alas, my teenage vice no longer has a seat at the table. Partying, at least in the way I did, has also found itself facing relegation. Drinking way too much, spending carelessly and hook-up culture are not even on the bench, but in the stands, watching me on the field without them. I have no interest in being hungover for a whole day, every weekend, sacrificing my valuable training time, probably my hearing too from all the loud music, and definitely my own esteem. It never felt good to wake up the next day violently hungover with a black hole instead of a clear memory of the night before. I’ve found that memory, of all things, has become one of the things that I now value so much more than I thought I would. Anything that puts my memory in jeopardy, no longer has a place in my lifestyle. Goodbye heavy drinking and smoking.

All this being said, and I’m only just out the door. I have yet to run my first half marathon, at a respectable pace. I have yet to complete my first Hyrox challenge. I have yet to be an intellectual force to be reckoned with. I have yet to become fluent in a new language. I have yet to impress myself and those in high places I admire for their discipline and tenacity. I only wish to be the best I possibly can, and I’ve figured the fastest way to get there is start shedding weight that has been slowing my progress. Growth is slow and painful, as they say, and yet I’m ready to step up to the challenge of becoming someone I can be super proud of.

I wrote a letter to myself a few years ago, actually addressed to my 30 year old self, and I wrote the hypothetical reply from my 30 year old self too. Me at the time said I hoped to make more right decisions than wrong ones, and to be confident in who I am, and not worry too much about where I’m going but where I am. Me when I am 30 years old wrote back said, thank you, to 20 year old me, for making the better decisions, shaking the bad habits and facing life head on, without fear of judgement. I, who am no longer the 20 years old who wrote the first letter, nor the 30 year old who replied to it, am somewhere in between, working on myself and my goals more diligently than before, one might say that I am, in transition.