The thing about the NYC marathon is that it happens every year on the first Sunday of November, like clockwork. I have been “lucky” enough to experience it intimately for the last five years, despite my disdain for the affair, as I live on the Upper West Side, right where the finish line is.

Yeah, I know, super exciting…

So, earlier this month, as I was pushing through the crowds of excited spectators and attention-seeking finalists, it suddenly dawned on me:

“Oh, it’s the marathon again. It feels like I was pushing through these same crowds yesterday…and it’s been one whole year already?!”

Just like that…snap…one year, gone.

So much has happened in that year. Too much, really, but that is not the point. It feels like life keeps snapping 12 months at a time…snap, snap, and two years have passed.

I first started noticing this in late 2021 when my father turned 60 and months before my 30th. Initially, I thought it was just COVID distorting my perception of time, but then I realised that was not the case.

In 2022, yet another mad year for me, I turned 30 and the feeling intensified. Digging into my journal, here’s what I wrote at the time:

Must

Stop

Time

…

Of course, as I’ve come to find out, that is not how this game works.

As a person who likes being in control, this stark and visceral realisation has made me feel helpless, sad, hyper-reflective and, at times, utterly depressed (for a moment or two).

So, all of these thoughts have been top of mind and surfacing in my notes for the last 2 years.

But it was the opening scene of ‘Sly’, the Sylvester Stalone documentary on Netflix, that was the spark that got me thinking and ultimately led me to write this note:

The moment I heard that I felt like Leo in ‘Once Upon a Time in…Hollywood’, jumping off my seat, pointing at the screen, and shouting:

“That!!! That is exactly how I feel! Finally, I have the right words to express it, and more importantly, it’s not just me feeling it.”

Naturally, I did some research…

They say this train doesn’t stop and has one final destination, but I don’t think that is actually true.

The train stops many times. These are the beginnings and endings of different short and long periods of our lives, but we don’t get off at any of these stops. It’s the people around us that rotate - some get off the train, new people get on, some people disappear from your life forever, and others get back on your train a few stops later.

One thing is certain though, the train keeps moving…forward.

Full steam ahead.

There is no going back fixing the past, re-living past moments, or doing things you can no longer do. It’s gone. What’s done is done.

To make matters worse, most of us spend most of that train journey stuck in two distinct timezones:

• Stuck in the past - the prom queen/king who peaked in high school; the retired executive or athlete with an identity crisis; that friend of yours who always brings up old stories because nothing interesting has happened to them since then; etc etc

• Stuck in the future - athletes chasing the next title or record; business people chasing the next deal; experience junkies dreaming of the next adventure (halfway through the current one); over-planners obsessing about every step of their life; etc etc

I can safely say that I am in the second camp. Less so nowadays (after some work on myself), but still…I can vividly remember festivals, road trips, and other experiences, when I was surrounded by my best friends, and all I could think about was a work deadline or another “important” future milestone.

Also, for better or worse, flying 80,000-100,000km each of the last few years meant there was always something new and shiny to get me out of my current environment, without enough time for well-needed reflection. Hence the feeling of ‘teleportation’ I mentioned above…

Having many things to look forward to keeps you active, engaged, and vibrant. It keeps you going. It maintains your youth.

As Ric Elias eloquently put it (quoted by Peter Attia at the end of Outlive: The Science and Art of Longevity):

I sincerely and wholeheartedly believe in that. But up to a point. There is a caveat that is usually missed in the fine print…

You see, having many things to look forward to often (not always) makes you undervalue or altogether ignore everything happening around you right now.

This is particularly prevalent in the 20-50 cohort that lives in the developed world.

Another breakup? It’s fine, plenty of other people in my life across countries. Onto the next one.

Summer vacation? I have four options with different groups of “friends” (because I’m cool). Whatever I choose, I will spend most of my time posting about it and wishing I had gone to any of the other three (you know the type)…

Just won a gold medal? Great. It’s time to start working hard for the next competition.

At some point, this glorious chase inevitably ends, and often you wake up alone, empty and with a broken identity. The documentary “The Weight of Gold” is a cautionary tale on the topic, and while it does focus on athletes, the lessons are no less important or applicable.

You shouldn’t let your best days be in the past, but just as importantly, you can’t miss all the fun while constantly fixating on the future that is yet to come.

It’s all happening…here…now.

It’s not lost on me that most of this is blatantly obvious. I am not saying much new here.

There are thousands upon thousands of written and spoken words about the finitude of our lives and how we should ‘live in the moment, be more present, live in the here and now’…

On and on, bla bla bla…

I’ve read many of these. Some are good. Many are not.

I don’t need one more person reminding me that, in the grand scheme of things, my life is cosmically insignificant and that the universe doesn’t give a “flying fuck” about me.

Trust me, I get the point - the way a fat person understands they should eat healthy and work out.

It’s a great point. A very important one. I hear the words and understand the facts, but it just doesn’t stick.

Or at least it didn’t.

The whole thing is difficult to compute until something visceral happens to wake you up.

In my case, it was the final episode of ‘Limitless’, the Chris Hemsworth mini-series on longevity. While most episodes were focused on tools and tactics for living longer, i.e. dirty talk for control freaks like me, the final episode, aptly named ‘Acceptance’, highlighted beautifully the inevitability of the final destination…

I will spare you the details and spoilers (go watch it!), but suffice it to say it just broke me. All these thoughts, questions, and emotions I’d had over the last two years just collided together in an atomic reaction and…boom.

I went out in the rain and walked for an hour in Central Park crying (sobbing really). Those Woody Allen films are no fiction…

I know I know, I’m eye-rolling at myself too…

I guess, better figure this out now than much later.

It’s just one of those things that you have to feel deep in your bones to internalise and believe, otherwise, it’s just empty words and good-sounding quotes.

Maybe that is what the ‘mid-life crisis’ is - an exact point in time when you wake up in a panic and realise that 50 years have passed, you are past your prime, and you are never getting it back. The memories, the highs, the things you could have done, the hopes and dreams….all gone.

Frankly, it sounds terrifying to me.

And yet, I wonder…How present and awake were all these people in their 30s and 40s?

Or were they sleep-walking (or sprinting) through life and suddenly it had all gone Pete Tong?

I guess we will find out. One thing is for sure, this is my wake-up call, my confession and my manifesto.

I guess it’s not all lost.

While certainly I can’t stop the train, or get off it, I get to continuously choose the direction of travel and the people joining me for the ride.

This picture is definitely worth a thousand words, but I will keep it short. Consider these the train tracks:

• What could have been (black lines in the past) - these can be helpful in some scenario analysis in business, poker, and occasionally in life, but oftentimes they lead to “coulda/shoulda/woulda”, so I mostly try to stay away…

• What was (the green line in the past) - the path we took so far, with all its highs and lows, mistakes, and lessons. It’s what makes us who we are today and, to an extent, who we aspire to be in the future.

• What is (the green dot TODAY) - I guess they were right, today really is “the first day of the rest of our lives”…

• What could be (green lines in the future) - the unknown future, full of hopes, dreams and a never-ending stream of small and large forks in the road.

  • Importantly: I prefer taking calculated risks than contemplating these decisions for too long. We are monkeys that will never be able to perfectly assess all these pros, cons, and possible scenarios. Protect the downside, make decisions, and the rest you can figure out on the way.

The way I see it, the people I love hanging out with (in a friendly, intimate or professional capacity):

• have outrageous, meaningful and honest stories to share from their past,

• are self-aware about life right now,

• and have a handful of things they are looking forward to.

Maybe it’s as simple as - cherish the past, live in the present, and look forward to the future.

In 2018 Sir Alex Ferguson, one of the greatest football managers of all time, had a stroke, collapsed, and was taken to the ER. He woke up without any memory and the first thing he said terrified and crying:

In the end, all we have are our memories. If we lose them, were we even alive…?

Live for the stories, collect the memories, write them down, learn from them, and share them.

And then, it’s all over. Lights out. C’est la vie.

I guess it took me almost 2,500 words to simply say: “I don’t want it to end, but now I understand that it will. And that’s ok. :)”

Jared Dillian had a fantastic post called “The Best Days Are Ahead” where he reminded me of the famous quote from the ‘Shawshank Redemption’:

And so, we continue…

G

P.S.

Some activities that have helped me marginally slow down time and enjoy the moment:

• Skiing, diving, tennis, DJ-ing, poker - There’s a lot of focus required to be even mediocre at these and I find it difficult to keep anything else in my head, without failing spectacularly. Also, they bring me a lot of joy. Pure presence and bliss.

• Writing - It’s tough and I’m average at best, but that is not the point. It’s the slow and arduous process of writing that, after some procrastination, anchors me to the current moment.

• Nice try smartass…but I am also a smartass ;p - A few things shall remain private. I can’t share all my secrets… ;)

Mood