42 for 42

Because some ideas are too epic NOT to see through…

42 for 42

Because some ideas are too epic NOT to see through…

I started rowing two and a half years ago, and it was love at first stroke. Busy with pharmacy school at the time, I never expected rowing would teach me so much about life, learning, and drive - rowing even prepared me for boards!

My original plan was much simpler said than done: row a marathon (42,195 meters) and I’ll be ready to sit for the six-hour NAPLEX exam that was in my future. Except… a marathon? I was not an athlete when I started, but I fell hard for rowing and I even did my first half marathon 60 days after the first time I sat on the rower, so surely I’d be able to row a full marathon…eventually…right?

Turns out, marathons require discipline, respect and LOTS of time. It’s not that I didn’t respect the discipline it takes, it was the time piece I was missing during pharmacy school. I called off the first marathon I had planned because my body didn’t pass the initial stress test - the “trial run” as they call it - rowing 30,000 meters or three hours, about a week before the main event.

Time passed, I finished school, passed my boards, and started my career as a pharmacist, but something was missing. I told myself I would row a marathon, but hadn’t done so yet. It had been a year since my trial run and that marathon itch kept getting stronger. Time to start training again. Time to pick a date and do this, but when?

At the time, my 42nd birthday was on the horizon (two months away) and it hit me: 42 for 42! I’ll row my 42,195 meters on my 42nd birthday.

“42 for 42” started as a fleeting idea that I laughed at as soon as I said it. Then I stopped laughing, it wasn’t silly or far-fetched, it was inevitable. So, 15 months after that initial trial run, I did it again

But for what, why was it so important? What would it actually mean to me? I figured the answers would come afterwards, so I continued working toward my marathon, despite not knowing why.

I woke up differently the morning I turned 42. I woke up that morning knowing it was the day. Forty-two thousand meters for my forty-second birthday - not for anyone else, not for recognition, not for a record. Just me, my rower, and the question: could I trust myself to follow through? The answer wasn’t going to involve luck or chance. It would be based on the work I had put in, the consistency I’d built, and the small habits I practiced over time. By showing up, even when I didn’t have to, I’d prove to myself that I could do something I’d never done before.

I didn’t take my usual cold shower that morning, I didn’t need to build up any more resilience. I was ready. Not ready as a feeling, but as a choice.

Four and a half hours was what I expected since my half marathons averaged two hours. I knew I’d hit a wall or two, I’ve hit walls before and I know they pass. The first wall came 80 minutes in. Hands and thighs burned. I realized this was harder than any half marathon before. I focused on rhythm and breathing - push, glide, pull, breathe, repeat - trusting the work I’d already done.

Halfway through, I saw the distance left: 21,097 meters - that is a half-marathon. I’ve literally done this distance a dozen times before, this is mine!

By two and a half hours, I noticed blisters forming on my middle fingers, a spot I’ve never had blisters on before - at least they’re symmetrical! My pace had slowed significantly. But I didn’t stop. I didn’t panic. I reminded myself that every stroke was a choice I’d already prepared for. The distance was daunting, but I’d rowed it before. I knew my mind was steady, my body capable, and that focus, patience, and persistence would carry me to the end.

Somewhere around three and a half hours in, I hit another wall - fatigue was more mental than physical - I had never rowed more than three hours before and I was grabbing at straws! I thought about my board exams last July. Back then, everything was mind-heavy, high-stakes, time-sensitive. Today, none of that existed. No deadlines, no one to impress, no external validation. Just the work itself, and the trust that preparation and consistency could see me through. I really thought this time, my body would want to escape before my mind did. It came as a surprise when my mind kept telling me to stop but my body said keep going, we’re good, blisters are expected, soreness will pass, we’re doing this.

Four hours and forty minutes later -5,987 strokes in total- I finished. Now I could answer myself: What was it for? What does it mean? I knew it was meaningful, but how so, how does rowing a marathon fit into the life I’m building? It took a while to find the answer. I’m not sure I can fully answer it now… but I am planning to live past 100 - that’s a marathon, a marathon called life.

So, what does 42 for 42 mean to me? It means that I am ready to fully live the life I’m building. It means I’ve learned how to prepare my body and mind for the long haul, to listen and slow down when needed, to push and grind when I’m capable, and to crush goals along the way. Not for anyone but myself. Not because it’s expected, but because I can.

Before I ask what’s next, I’ll sit with this.

Grateful for the mind and body that carried me here, knowing I’m ready for whatever is next.