I’m 40. I’ve been told I don’t look 40. I definitely don’t feel 40, in fact, I’m in better health both mentally and physically than I’ve ever been. But, I checked my birth certificate and it does indeed confirm the fact that I am 40. The clothing and hair styles of my parents in my baby photos also confirm that I was born at the end of the 70s. While 40 seems old to some, or that it indicates years of decline, I see something different. I see years of growth from my 20s and 30s that I’m excited about continuing well into the rest of my life.

I ran my first ultra marathon this year, 50 miles of pure, unadulterated pain and suffering. It was by far the most physically challenging and painful experience I have ever gone through. I willingly paid someone so that I could have pain, nausea, heartburn, depression, self-loathing, more pain and more self-loathing. Over halfway through that race I really wanted to give up. I thought of every possible reason for why I should give up. I secretly hoped that I was running slow enough that I wouldn’t make the cutoff. Unfortunately, my reasons for quitting sucked, and I was not slow enough to be cut off.

I feel like my 20s were similar to being halfway through that ultramarathon. My 20s were some of the lowest points in my life. I struggled with depression, anger and self-loathing. It mattered little if I had all the right things going for myself—wealth, marriage, family, friends—depression robbed me of every single joy in life. I really wanted to quit life or somehow not make the cutoff. It was during my 20s when I saw how far I’d come, and knew how far I had to go, and couldn’t see life or my circumstances changing. Ever. I saw no finish line in sight. While an ultramarathon always has a definitive end, life didn’t seem to be so cut and dry.

I purposefully made a decision to not have anyone come to support or cheer me on for my ultra, but I am extremely grateful that I had people cheering me on in life. There were people around me who were patient enough to put up with me and loving enough to tell me that I needed help. My wife, who never let me quit, was cheering me on and telling me to keep going, to keep putting one foot in front of another, to not quit. Thankfully, I didn’t quit and kept forcing myself to keep putting one foot in front of the other, no matter how difficult it felt. I finished my race, and I also made it to a type of metaphorical “finish line” in life.

In an ultramarathon, and also in life, things feel worse before anything gets better. I had to dig into the pain to come out on the other side and finish. Am I truly there yet? No. But I’m somewhere I never thought I would ever be. I’ve overcome obstacles that I never thought were possible to overcome and I’m experiencing a different kind of life full of freedom and joy. So here’s to another 40 years!