On turning 40

I used to have this goal: lead a 5.13 sport climb¹ before the age of forty. This feat wouldn't come easily for me. I'd have to train. Dedicate time and effort to driving out, hiking to, and falling on the same route over and over again until I finally did it.

Well, last month I turned forty. And I didn't climb 5.13, or even project a 5.12. In fact, I hadn't climbed at all—in nearly a year.

It made me think of the goals we set for ourselves.

When I set that goal, some time in my early thirties, I must have felt I could do better. Which meant I was unhappy with my current level of climbing. Was sending 5.13 going to make my life any better? No, but I wanted to be a person who could.

I can't remember who, but someone had seeded the idea. Leslie, you could totally climb 5.13. Why aren't you trying harder?

It was the thought of my unmet potential that fueled my interest. And also the pedestal on which climbers who achieved high grades stood.

It took me a long time to accept: for most recreational climbers, grades are just a vanity metric. Grades can serve other functions too, like access to more climbs and beautiful places, but I was no longer so dedicated to climbing that access meant much any more. My only reason to climb a route that hard would be for bragging rights.

As the deadline grew closer, the goal became just a vague memory. Had I really wanted to do that? I laughed, thinking of the effort required.

Maybe I'd gotten lazy in my old age. Or maybe I just wasn't dedicated enough. Maybe I was actually a bad climber!

The day I turned forty was largely uneventful. I woke up at 5am and drove downtown to direct a photoshoot for one of my clients. As we placed chocolates delicately by the full length window so the natural light would graze them just so—no one knew I was climbing "over the hill".

On my drive out of Los Angeles, I broke out in uncontrollable tears. I thought of every other time I'd done this drive, tired and unhappy. Or steeped in a silent rage, sitting in an expensive Uber because I was not allowed to use my car that day.

I thought of all the jobs I'd had, and how this one, though unstructured and unpredictable—is the best job I've ever had. The hourly pay is more than I could have imagined working at a studio or agency. I may not get a lot of hours, but that's exactly what I had wanted!

With the extra time, I had founded my own brand and run it my way. I made the decisions and paid for every single mistake. My very own grand experiment.

Wiping the tears from my eyes, I felt a kind of joy—like walking into a milestone I wasn't looking for.

When I opened the front door, I saw a neon green sheet of paper, with HAPPY BIRTHDAY LESLIE printed out in laser toner. Around it were packets of seeds arranged in a crude heart shape.

"I've never gotten flowers for my birthday," I had told my boyfriend, just days before.

I was always too practical to want flowers. They'd sit in a vase and then die in the garbage bin, their novelty wearing off within days of their sweet arrival.

"I wanted to get you flowers, but this seemed more your style." He grinned. "I had to print out this paper three times to get the packets to fit right."

Under our care, zinnias, morning glory, and bluebonnets might grace the backyard planters. Just a week ago, we had filled them with equal parts potting soil, steer and chicken manure in three parts regular dirt. Not too carefully, we scattered the wildflower seeds and watered them as the sun set.

There was no fancy dinner, extravagant bouquet, or physical achievement to mark my fortieth birthday. It was just a day in my life that had taken four decades to build.

I'd always thought forty would be my last chance to achieve something. But that I'm here, I realize that's not true. Actually, life starts now.

1. What is 5.13? Yosemite Decimal System grades go from 5.0 (easiest) up to 5.15 (currently the hardest). A 5.13 climb sits in the elite level range.