Today, I found my first gray hairs. It was my reaction to finding these gray hairs that surprised me even more- I was actually upset by it, rattled and shaken. It's not a logical reaction especially as I near 40. So much of my body has changed from my youth- from the loss of definition to my body and the appearance of fine lines on my face to the inability to bounce back after a night out, these are all the new realities of a body that is slightly worn and dated. My father turned gray by his early 30s and it was a look that he carried well. My mother started turning gray when she was in her early 50s. My younger brother has quite a few gray hairs as well. It really shouldn't have come as a surprise. But this discovery hit me like a ton of bricks. In the moment of unearthing these grays, I mourned my youth, what remained of my feelings of immortality, and my impending older age. As I stood there taking in the full weight of all that I felt was lost, quickly I was comforted with all that my body has done and continues to do. The same body that produced these gray hairs has also birthed and fed two children, attempted to run a marathon and played collegiate tennis. And the story of my body is not done as I train for the Chicago marathon this Fall. I suppose we all need these moments of humility and reminders of the fragility and brevity of life. It's funny how a few first gray hairs can provide one with that perspective. I'll take all of this with me as I cross that finish line in Chicago, gray hairs and all.