A little self identity crisis

This whole "What's the Next Step for Me" thing has suddenly taken a weird veer.  I continue to be grateful for good health and all the great things in my life.  I'm just at odds with this little identity thing.

I've moved on a little bit from the marathon disappointment.  Yesterday, I emailed the coordinator to take my name out of the list of marathon runners.  I couldn't bear to think of my race packet sitting at the pick up on the day before the race, abandoned and lonely.  I was also afraid that if I didn't make it official, I'd rescue my race packet at the last minute, then wake up early on Marathon Day in a blind panic and just show up to see how it goes.  Not a good idea.  The doctor said aside from the obvious iliotibial band problem, there is also a possible meniscus tear.

So!  This morning, Riley and I took the kids to school and then walked about a 5K at a brisk pace on one of my running routes.  I did not get that high that only running seems to offer, but it was ok.  If I can walk lots and run sometimes, that might do it for awhile.

Here's the thing though:  if I could get past the feeling that I'd suddenly become old overnight, I'd feel better.  This is such a head game.  I can't decide if I've been living a life of fictitious youth or not.  What is real?  I'm not sure what 45 is supposed to look like.  Some of my peers are grandmas, and some have young children like me.  But we are still peers.  I see them on Facebook, and we all have lines and necks that are starting to do that thing.  Our eyes look different than they did in college.  Some are in good shape and others have become matronly plump.  Some of the hairstyles are "mom"-ish and some appear to be trying for 25 years younger than we are.  What the hell is age appropriate for me without losing all the youth that gives life its spark?  It's a very confusing time.  I'm a little bit freaked out by it, to be honest, because I seem to have misplaced my identity (which has been an issue lately anyway, if you've been following along).

If it wasn't for my abrupt halt to distance running and my orthopedic surgeon talking about arthritis and tissues becoming papery with age, I'd be ok, I think.  He told me that running at our age carries risks to injury simply because of our bodies becoming older.  Screw that!  I wanted blissful ignorance and "age is just a number" and still working on bad-ass accomplishments.  I'm going to have to lick my wounds for awhile and then regroup.