As parents, we often celebrate our children’s “firsts”: their initial steps, first words, and yes, that unforgettable first tantrum in the grocery store. However, as they grow, we often overlook the milestones that slip by quietly—the “lasts.” This includes the last time they sipped from a sippy cup, the final bedtime snuggle, or the last time we bent down to give them a hug (and let’s not forget the final tantrum at the store).
During a recent run, I found myself pondering my own adult “lasts.” After completing seven marathons in my 20s and 30s, I’ve been contemplating lacing up my shoes and training for another one. Life, kids, fatigue—oh, and wine—have sidetracked those plans for over a decade. Yet, I still dream of crossing that finish line, despite it never feeling like the right moment to begin training. Injuries have also plagued me, including one that resulted in what I like to call The Subway Ride of Shame after I had to withdraw from a 10-mile race in Philadelphia.
The possibility of never feeling that exhilarating rush again hit me hard. Have I run my last marathon? Will I ever regain the strength to complete another? This unsettling thought pushed me to reflect on other potential “lasts” I might have experienced.
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 playground swings—have I done that for the last time? What about dancing with friends at an actual dance venue? Did I unknowingly do The Lawnmower for the last time? If I wanted to go dancing now, would it be at the YMCA or Applebee’s?
I’ve also noticed I’m avoiding shorts these days, favoring sundresses instead. Could it be that I’ve worn my last pair of shorts? And did I at least look cute in them? Ice skating—will I ever glide elegantly like Robby Benson in Ice Castles again? I didn’t even tune into The Bachelor last season. Is it possible I’ve seen my final episode? What is happening to me?
Most importantly, I couldn’t help but wonder, when was the last time I streaked down the street naked? (For the record, I’ve never done that, but a long run can lead to some wandering thoughts.)
By the end of my run, I realized I needed to actively manage these “lasts.” While there are experiences I’m glad to leave behind—like excessive drinking—there are many others I want to cherish. I decided to create a list, akin to a Bucket List but more compact—perhaps a Thimble List—of enjoyable activities I’m determined to continue engaging in to avoid that dreaded last time.
Here are a few things I refuse to consider as my last:
- Staying up late, laughing and drinking with friends.
- Wearing a bikini top (I’ve let go of bikini bottoms; my body is what I call a “mullet”).
- Riding roller coasters.
- Attending concerts where the average age is above 14.
- Devouring an entire bag of Skittles in under five minutes.
- Jumping on a trampoline.
- Sporting clothing designed for someone half my age.
- Throwing a football.
- Sledding down a hill.
- Forming a new close friendship.
- Sporting outrageous nail polish colors.
- Jumping into a pile of leaves.
- Hosting a big party even when I’m not feeling it.
- Organizing a girls’ weekend with college friends.
- Building a snowman.
- Pogo sticking.
- Bodysurfing.
- Participating in body shots (I meant Body Shop… visiting the Body Shop).
- Buying an overpriced lipstick just because.
- Wearing Athleta dresses all summer.
- Wandering aimlessly around New York City.
- Jumping in puddles during a rainstorm.
And rest assured, I have not run my last marathon. It’s on my Thimble List, so I must make it happen. If my “mullet” body resists, there’s always the option of streaking—just saying.
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