Unlike previous milestone birthdays, forty felt different.  It marked an intangible but profound shift, as though I were finally closing the chapter on my youth and stepping into a new stage of life.  

Our twenties and thirties are often defined by life’s biggest milestones, and mine were no exception.  My twenties were marked by college and law school, first (and second) jobs, and a newfound love of running.  I ran my first marathon, the Vermont City Marathon, at age 27 and was immediately hooked.  At age 29, I met my future husband, Colin, and ran my second Vermont City Marathon just a few months into our relationship.  Colin happily cheered me on at multiple points along the course and followed my complicated “gel hand-off instructions” to a tee.  I knew he was a keeper.  

Running my first VCM in 2013!

In my thirties, Colin and I married (six days after I ran the Marine Corps Marathon) and welcomed our first child, George.  Naturally, I announced my pregnancy by running the Vermont City Marathon relay in a shirt announcing that I was “running for two.”  A couple of years later we welcomed our second child, Coco, survived a pandemic with two young children, and purchased our forever home in Montpelier.  I started job number three and said goodbye to my soul dog and running buddy of nearly 15 years, Basil.  And, of course, there was plenty of running along the way, including two more Vermont City Marathons. 

Announcing my pregnancy with George at VCM!

In the weeks leading up to the big 4-0, I was feeling more like myself as a runner than I had in years.  After the ups and downs of my thirties, I had finally strung together a few years of consistent, solid training.  I knew I wanted to usher in a new decade with running, so I signed up for a flat, fast marathon in early October, just two weeks before my birthday.  For the second marathon training cycle in a row, I worked with coach extraordinaire Sam Langlois, who helped me find that elusive balance between running and the rest of life.  Despite an unusually hot summer, I felt fit, strong, and ready to put months of hard work to the test.

Unfortunately, just days before race morning, I woke up with a stomach bug.  Against my better judgment, I toed the starting line anyway, only to call it quits eight miles in.  After months of training, countless miles, and all the little sacrifices that come with marathon preparation, it was a crushing disappointment.  

After a few days of wallowing, a friend floated an idea: why not put all that training to use and run forty miles on my fortieth birthday?  Having never run a step beyond 26.2 miles (nor having any particular desire to), I thought this sounded like an excellent way to end up in the hospital.  Still, I couldn’t help wondering, what if I actually could run forty miles?  That evening, I emailed Sam to ask whether she thought I could pull it off.  I fully expected a polite "Have you lost your mind?"  To my surprise, she encouraged the idea and helped me put together a plan.

With only a few days to prepare, I mapped out a route.  I would begin at UVM's Waterman Building in Burlington, where my dad spent most of his career, then head down South Prospect Street and around Robinson Parkway, passing the two houses where I grew up.  From there, I would make my way to Route 2 and head east toward Montpelier, the place I now call home.  In a happy coincidence, the route worked out so that I would reach mile forty just as I arrived at the Vermont State House.  

As luck would have it, my fortieth birthday fell on an ideal fall Saturday for running.  The sky was overcast, and the air had that perfect October crispness that makes you grateful to live in Vermont.  Armed with my trusty hydration pack, lots of snacks, and a handful of planned stops, I set off toward Montpelier.  Along the way, I was buoyed by the encouragement of friends, including one who accompanied me for several miles by bike.  Colin joined me for the final six miles, and together we made our way toward the finish.  

Seven hours and forty-five minutes after setting out, I arrived at the State House and ran straight into the arms of George and Coco, with my parents cheering nearby.  Forty miles on my fortieth birthday.  I had done it.  In the end, the marathon I had been so devastated to miss gave way to something far more meaningful than I could have imagined.  

Forty miles done!

I’ve thought a lot over the last year about why that day meant so much to me.  Of course, there was the satisfaction of accomplishing something I had never imagined myself capable of doing.  But it was more than that.  Running has been one of the great constants in my adult life.  It has brought me joy, challenged me, grounded me, and, through all of the changes of the past two decades, helped me feel like me.  And there was something especially meaningful about celebrating forty years by running from Burlington, the place where I grew up, to Montpelier, the place where I have built a life of my own.  Waiting for me at the finish were the people who have shaped both chapters: my parents, who gave me my beginning, and my husband and children, who are at the heart of my life today.  Standing there on the State House lawn, surrounded by the people I love, finally pressing stop on my Garmin (because if it’s not on Strava, it didn’t happen), I was struck by the passage of time and the strange, beautiful way life unfolds.

Strava or it didn’t happen! 

I had set out to celebrate turning forty by seeing how far I could run.  Somewhere along those forty miles, I found myself reflecting instead on how far I had come, and how grateful I was for a sport that has carried me through so many chapters of my life.

A few weekends ago, I turned 41.  I celebrated by doing what I love: running the GMAA Champlain Islands Half Marathon.  It was a fitting way to bookend a year that began with forty miles across Vermont.  There was no grand adventure this time, no unprecedented distance, no symbolic route connecting past and present.  Just thirteen point one miles of doing something that has brought me so much happiness over the years, with the hope of many more miles ahead.