This evening is my last evening of being a lady in her forties. When I wake up tomorrow morning (or more like shortly after midnight when my little boy pads along the corridor from his bed to climb into mine because his cough has woken him up) I will have reached that monumental half century.
So how did I spend my last evening of being a lady in her forties? I went for a run.
I ran for about two miles out along the canal and back again pausing briefly to get a stone out of my trainers. I was hot and sweaty (rather overdressed for a mild evening - must start being brave enough to wear shorts). The tow path was muddy in places. It was a slow slog out to my half way point. Looking at my watch and making a quick mental calculation I thought it might just work out that by the time I finished I would have run for 49 minutes. Rather elegantly, that is one minute for every year of my life.
Either my mental calculation was wrong or my return journey was a little speedier (I suppose there was no repeat of the stone removing exercise) because I didn't quite clock up the full 49 minutes. I could have ran past my house to the end of the road and back but that would have felt like cheating!
I am showered now, there is a takeaway curry on its way and a beer with my name on it. Suddenly my one minute for every year of my life ambition seems very unimportant.