Today is my 43rd birthday. I was born 43 years ago. I am 43 years old. There's no way to sugar coat it, I am middle aged. (YIKES!) But yet I don't feel that way. Sure, my knees are achy and stiff and take a moment to loosen when I stand up after sitting cross-legged for a while. Yes, I have an elbow injury I'm resigned will never fully healing. Of course I have some gray hairs, an arsenal of face serums, and use readers with increasing frequency. But I don't feel middle aged. And I certainly don't feel like I'm declining. I have friends and family that tell me they're tired just looking through my Instagram and Facebook feeds. Occasionally, people at my gym are surprised to learn my age. And I have a friend who tells me that every time she hears my name or I come to mind the first thing she thinks of is carpe diem . (I have been associated with much worse...) Why do I stay so busy? Well, a lot of it is necessity. I have three chil