Forty-Five

I’m forty-five, I know the deal

A little soft, a lot of real.

I swim, I bike, I run like hell, 

Triathlete legs, a midlife shell. 

I chase the miles when morning breaks, 

I race myself for sanity’s sake. 

I work all day with words that sell, 

I charm the pitch, I cast my spell. 

A marketing triathlete with jiggly bits, 

Deadlines and laps and stubborn grit. 

My other hat: Coach. Hear me preach. 

Your goals, that finish line? All within reach. 

I coach them hard, run... swim, the bike, 

I push their fear, I watch their pride. 

I shout their names through sweat and strain, 

Their smallest wins become my reign. 

Their finish lines remind me too 

 We never stop, we just push through. 

They chase the clock, I guard their flame, 

I see myself in every name. 

My husband’s younger, lucky me, 

He loves my rolls, this silver sea. 

He makes me laugh when nights grow long, 

He hums my heart back into song. 

My hair’s gone gray, my honest crown, 

Italy’s sun beats down, I never drown. 

Family fills my table often, wide, 

We toast, we fight, we eat, we cry. 

No tiny hands will call me Mom, 

No scribbled cards, no sticky palms. 

That ship has sailed, that tide is gone, 

Yet here I stand, and life goes on. 

Don’t pity me my empty womb, 

Don’t wince at lines that softly bloom. 

I’ve earned each crease, each ripple’s song, 

They prove I’ve lived, I’m fierce, I’m strong. 

 My sweetest love, my ghost in fur 

Still warms the dark when nights all blur. 

We both died that day, disbelieving. 

But only he… stopped breathing. 

 I’ve lost so many, but here I thrive, 

Still learning how to stay alive. 

Menopause lurks with sweaty grin, 

Hormones riot beneath my skin. 

I joke, I weep, these tired legs, 

I lace my shoes, I find my grace. 

My belly folds when I bend to tie 

Those runnin’ shoes, laugh, then sigh. 

Abs are hiding, shy or dead, 

I feed them salad, they want more bread. 

I sweat, I work, I drink my wine, 

I watch the world twist and shine. 

I see my laugh lines carve their claim, 

Proof I’m here and still untamed. 

My therapist might call me split 

Contradictions; I’m all of it. 

Soft and sharp, too much, too small, 

I want everything and nothing, I give it all.  

This life is mine, the cracks, the gold, 

A story fierce, a truth retold. 

I’m forty-five, I wear it bold, 

A little sad, a lot consoled. 

I’ve miles to laugh, to work, to roam 

And my husband loves me to my bones. 

So here’s to me, to family … to friends who play, 

To races run and dreams that stay.

I’m forty-five, no damsel crown, 

A goddess, warrior, aging bound.

I’ve miles to go, I’ve wine to pour, 

I’m soft, I’m strong. I’m so much more.