For the first 25 years, I was the hare. In my next 50, I'd like to be the tortoise.

I may not be very fast, but I have always been racing to an imaginary finish line. And the run itself has distracted me from asking the question, what exactly will I do when I get there? Let's be honest, I'm not 100 percent certain where there is either. I've just been going. And now I'd like to start slowing.
I'm the worst about making epic promises to myself and publishing them to at least 10 friends. There's a certain jinx too, we all know, with airing your plans before they hatch.
So without going into details, in the next 36 hours I'll know whether the dream I've been scheming for months and wishing for years will come true or not.

With bated breath,
- j