As parents, we often cherish our children’s “firsts”: their initial steps, first words, and yes, that unforgettable first tantrum at the store. However, as our children mature, they reach milestones that may go unnoticed until they have already passed. These are the “lasts”: the final time they drank from a sippy cup, the last request for a bedtime cuddle, and the last time we bent down to give them a hug (not to mention the last tantrum at a retail store).
While jogging recently, I began to ponder the adult equivalents of these “lasts.” After completing seven marathons in my 20s and 30s, I’ve been toying with the idea of training for another one. It’s amusing (in a bittersweet way) how life, parenting, fatigue, and, let’s be honest, a bit of wine have disrupted my running ambitions for over a decade. Yet, I still cling to the hope of crossing that finish line again, despite the fact that it never seems to be the right moment to start training. Injuries have plagued me, including one particularly humbling experience when I had to retreat from a race, which I now call The Subway Ride of Shame.
The possibility of never experiencing that exhilarating rush again left me feeling unsettled. Could it be that I’ve already run my last marathon? Would I ever regain the mental and physical strength to complete another? This realization prompted me to reflect on other aspects of my life and potential “lasts.”
When was the last time I executed a cannonball off a diving board? Was there a final cannonball, and did I nail it? How about swinging on a playground swing? Have I reached the end of that joy? Dancing with friends at a dedicated venue—was that my last time doing The Lawnmower? If I wanted to go dancing with my peers, would we find ourselves at a YMCA? Or Applebee’s?
I’ve also noticed I’ve avoided shorts lately, opting for sundresses instead. Could it be that I’ve worn my last pair of shorts, and did I at least look cute in them? What about ice skating? Will I ever glide across the ice again, channeling my inner Robby Benson from Ice Castles?
Moreover, I didn’t even watch the last season of The Bachelor—did I really miss my last hot mess cocktail party? And most perplexingly, when was the last time I considered streaking down the street naked? (Though I must admit, I’ve never actually done that, but after a long run, my mind tends to wander.)
Concluding my run, I felt a compelling need to address these “lasts” proactively. While there are experiences I’m glad to leave behind (like drinking to oblivion), some I absolutely want to preserve because they bring me joy. Thus, I compiled a list reminiscent of a Bucket List, but on a smaller scale—a Thimble List of everyday pleasures I intend to keep pursuing, to stave off the fear of encountering a “last time.”
Here are just a few activities I have not yet done for the last time:
- Stayed up until 2 a.m. laughing and drinking with friends.
- Worn a bikini top (I’ve retired the bottoms due to my “mullet” body—business on top, party on the bottom).
- Ridden a rollercoaster.
- Attended a concert with an average age above 14.
- Consumed an entire bag of Skittles in under five minutes.
- Jumped on a trampoline.
- Worn something clearly meant for a 25-year-old.
- Thrown a football.
- Gone sledding.
- Made a new close friend.
- Worn an outrageous shade of nail polish.
- Dived into a pile of leaves.
- Hosted a large gathering when I felt like doing anything but.
- Organized a girls’ weekend with my college pals.
- Built a snowman.
- Pogoed.
- Bodysurfed.
- Body shots.
- I meant visiting the Body Shop…
- Splurged on an overpriced lipstick, purely for fun.
- Worn Athleta dresses all summer long.
- Strolled aimlessly around New York City.
- Jumped in puddles during a rainstorm.
And I refuse to accept that I’ve run my last marathon; it’s firmly on my Thimble List, meaning I must pursue it. And if my body doesn’t cooperate? Well, there’s always the option of streaking, right?
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In conclusion, life is full of moments, both fleeting and lasting. By consciously engaging in activities that bring joy, we can savor each experience and minimize regrets over the “lasts” we may not even recognize until they’ve passed.