Re•purpose

New adventures are exciting. My younger self embraced change easily: a new move, a new job, a new relationship, a new hobby. No problem. But at 57 years old, trying something new feels  much more daunting. 

Though with each birthday, I find routines less mundane, more satisfying. They fit me like a glove, molded snuggly to the curves of my middle-aged body. Why would I want to disrupt what feels so secure?

I run the same daily route. My pace is slow to start but before long I’m cruising through the familiar people, work and systems. When I hit the homestretch, my legs extend full-stride, my brain on autopilot. Home is my sanctuary.

Yet, a little voice inside me warns, “You are playing defense, kiddo. You are holding the ball until the clock runs out. Is that how you are going to play the game?”

I am aware that my Groundhog Day playbook is not a crowd pleaser, and creature comforts are the trappings of a life less lived. But radical reinvention feels too extreme and selecting an adjacent path reeks of complacency.

Meanwhile, the clock keeps ticking.