It’s Just a Number

It was a BIG birthday this week. 60. It hurts to say it much more than anything else. Since age 40, I’ve had some students say, “What? You are THAT old? You don’t look that old.” Thanks. It has helped to hear that. They swear they didn’t say it for good grades; they really meant it . . . they said.

I don’t know what I expected 60 to be. Like every birthday, it doesn’t feel any different. It helps it has come a couple of weeks after retirement. Now there is more time for reminiscing. Wow, 60 birthdays. I think back to the milestones. That photo above is my first birthday. An early birthday party at our town park, cleverly called “Town Park,” was the first I remember. My seventh birthday was when I received a much too large bicycle, but it was new and I cherished it. The 32nd one hit me hard. I was pregnant with my second son and felt really old. There was a surprise party for my 40th, again at the town park.

My 49th and 50th birthdays will forever stand out. Jim and I were brought to Venezuela for nine days by our exchange son Rafael’s family in gratitude for keeping him in our home with us three years. The rum flowed and the dancing went on into the night on their beautiful outdoor kitchen patio. It was the experience of a lifetime in that beautiful country with the most amazing people (more about Venezuela in later blogs).

The following year, I wanted my 50th to also be memorable, so I did it my way. In my typical style, it was a spur of the moment, wild hair (Or is it wild hare? I think in my situation, both can apply-Google them) kind of day. I had always wanted to jump off the rocks at Bell Smith Springs, a regional swimming hole near McCormick, IL, and never did as a teenager. So I called my sister; and Jim, Geri, and I headed down there with a video camera. Yes, this happened the day before I turned 50. Note how the force of that water knocked me silly for a few seconds:

Feeling invincible the next morning, my actual 50th, I lay in bed hatching a plan to walk as much of the Tunnel Hill StateTrail as I possibly could at one time. I woke Jim and we packed water and snacks into our backpacks and left our house. I mean left our back door, walked the mile or so down the road, and walked onto the bike trail. It was a beautiful day and I was so excited and so out of shape. I can’t express that last part enough: Out. Of. Shape. The trail was still young in its existence as a path. The trees bordering the former old railroad line didn’t shade much of the trail. We walked and walked. The first uphill trek was New Burnside Hill. We had traveled about 11 miles (out of shape) and after lunch on the hill, Jim asked if I wanted to continue. Still bouncing with energy, I decided we should go on. And we did. Mile after mile. I was beginning to regret not ending that first day’s hike at New Burnside. It became obvious I was going to be lucky to reach Tunnel Hill. The tunnel was my goal because I knew we had to be somewhere a family member could access us, to pick us up. I couldn’t stop to get my water bottle out of my pack because it would be disastrous. If I stopped, my momentum would be gone and my engine would not start again. So I pushed myself with every single step. Jim passed his water bottle to me so I could take sips and keep going. By the time we reached Tunnel Hill, I thought I was dying. It was all I could do to put one foot in front of the other, ever so slowly. I willed myself to get to a newly planted tree with sparse leaves and pass out underneath it. I surmised Jim called our youngest son to pick us up while he explored the tunnel. I couldn’t even go the few yards more to the cool, historic tunnel; in my mind, I had failed. We had hiked close to 17 miles that day and when I got home, all I could do was remove my shoes and fall onto the bed. I slept hard until the next day.

Failure or not, this day was the impetus to continue walking the entire Tunnel Hill Trail (55.5 total miles) each Saturday, five miles at a time, from Eldorado, IL to the Barkhausen Wetlands Center in the Cache River Basin.

And the adventures continue. A later birthday was spent zip-lining through the Shawnee (National Forest) in southern Illinois with my husband, sister, brother-in-law, and the granddaughter of a friend. This year’s adventure? I spent 15 hours driving (plus gas stops, bathroom breaks, and an amazing Chinese dinner) coming home from spending the week with my 20-month-old grandson in Minnesota. Future birthday goals are to share outdoor adventures in beautiful southern Illinois (his family roots) and the amazing Shawnee National Forest, with him and his new baby brother who is due this September.

60 is just a number. As long as there is breath in me, I will seek adventure even if it knocks it out of me. May you do the same.