I’ve been reflecting on the number “Thirty” mainly because my thirtieth birthday occurs later this month. I’ve also spent time contemplating the number “Eighty-One" which is the number of days until Baby M's due date.
I regret to report that my ponderings have yielded no significant mathematical findings.
“Thirty” and “Eighty-One" do however represent major turning points in my life. Turning “Thirty” seems more of a societal turning point, or in other words, an age at which one should act like an adult. This arbitrary line is becoming more blurred and less relevant, particularly in major urban areas like New York City but it does, nonetheless, exist.
“Eighty-One" on the other hand is a point in which I probably should begin acting like an adult. There is after all a brand new life on the way. A life that will be utterly dependent on me and his/her mother... for everything. Yikes! That is a sobering thought! Not that I’m a slacker but being entirely responsible for another human is a pretty major task.
Will we be good parents? Yes, of course.
Will we screw up? Yes, of course.
Will we figure it out? Yes, of course.
Will we love this little person who needs to eat every two hours (just like Papa!)? Undoubtedly!
Here’s a few additional numbers: Yesterday I ran about 9.5 miles in 1 hour 12 minutes – a pace of about 7:35/mile.
I also hammered out some 1600 meter repeats over the weekend and squeezed in a 30 mile ride, a 1 mile swim and a core + upper body strength training session.
"Adults are just obsolete children and the hell with them."