A ‘Mid’ Life? Not on Your Watch

I turned 44 years old this year, and that makes me a middle-aged man. 

It doesn’t feel like that, though. 

I’m not sure what it’s supposed to feel like, but I didn’t expect it to feel like this. 

Which is good. I feel good. 

I also feel 44. 

I’m older. I’m wiser. I’m a little bit fatter. 

But I’m 44 years old, and I feel good. 

You won’t catch me hanging out in my old haunts anymore. Or stumbling to an after-hours. Or even running a half-marathon.

Certainly not consecutively; that’s young-boy s—.

Those things are in the past, and things in the past should stay there. 

I’ve had a f—in’ time though — and I’ve lived each decade the way it’s meant to be lived, I think. 

I spent my 20s in bars, on the tops of tables and under random men. 

My 30s were committed to building a career in New York City, to which I was wholly dedicated — until I wasn’t. 

My 40s have seen their entirety traveling the country as a nomad, seeking all the excitement, adventure and experiences that life has to offer. 

I’ve soared in a hot-air balloon over a Mesoamerican temple, in a seaplane over the Alaskan tundra, under a parachute over Grand Teton National Park.

I’ve dove with lemon, tiger, and bronze whaler sharks off the coasts of Florida, Hawaii and South Africa, respectively.

I’ve gotten a tattoo of my name in Japanese from somebody who speaks Spanish at a bar in Tijuana after getting tossed off a mechanical bull. (Try explaining that one to your mom. Or my mom. Please. I still don’t think she forgives me.)

Point is, I’ve always been interested in the experience. 

What it was like to go to a nice college, join a fraternity, get married. I wasn’t particularly interested in the institutions themselves, but rather how it felt to participate in them and the expanded consciousness that resulted.

That’s what keeps me 44 years young, too: curiosity.

I want to know what it’s like to live. What it’s like to be the best version of a human I can be. And that’s my quest — to be the best me. 

I don’t always succeed (and God knows the past should stay where it belongs in my case), but I think I’m getting better at it, and I’ll keep trying — because humanity is the single greatest gift in existence, I’m convinced.

The challenge is what we do with it. Do we squander it, or do we specialize in it?

When you recognize that it’s theoretically possible that we’re the most intelligent species that will ever live, it changes your perspective. (I’m not saying I believe that, by the way, but I am saying it’s possible.)

Once you put that in context, especially after you consider the supremely limited time we have in this life experience, it should encourage you to experience more. 

If you’re at a similar stage and age to me, use midlife not as an opportunity to lament but to reinvent.

You’re arguably at the best time of your own existence — steady job, a few bucks in the bank, solid friends and family. What more can you ask for?

Plenty, as it turns out — because we are human, after all — but instead of mourning middle age and satisfying yourself with material things, wouldn’t you rather count your blessings and focus on endeavors that improve you — before it’s too late? 

And aren’t you still curious? 

Perhaps to know what it’s like to speak another language, or rehab injured animals or make amends with somebody you’ve hurt but have been too embarrassed to admit. 

To summit a heaven-sent peak, ride out an earthquake, chase a twirling twister.

You could pursue polar bears on a hunt in the Arctic, sail the Caribbean in a catamaran, or walk in Darwin’s footsteps while digging into the Galapagos.

Run for office, develop an interest in conservation, build something with your bare hands.

Your grandmother might think it’s nice if you learned to play bridge with her. Tap-dance lessons should be fun. You could bake the perfect Bundt.

The world is your oyster, and you can learn to harvest them, too.

Truth is, midlife is only “mid” if you allow it.

There’s no limit to what you can do on this planet — and beyond, even. The only limiter is you. But it’s all possible if you embrace the possibility.

Of course, it’s also possible that these thoughts are nothing more than the manifestation of a midlife crisis all my own.

Good.

I’ve always wanted to know what that was like.

Mikey Rox is an award-winning freelance journalist whose zest for life has taken him to all 50 states, 17 countries, and into the beds of a few celebrities who shall remain nameless… for now. Follow his continuing adventures on Instagram @mikeyroxtravels.