Half Your Running Life Is Over by 20 (Here’s Why)

January 20, 2025 | By DLake

January is my birthday month, and I’ve grown to kind of love and slightly hate it. As most people age, you usually don’t want to think about getting older. I kinda skip over it and, on occasion, have forgotten my birthday until later in the day (How’s that possible, you might ask? I live in Australia, but I’m from the USA, so the birthday messages roll in later, and my partner doesn’t care about birthdays).

I also do a thing where I start saying I’m “almost [insert age]” 3-4 months out to prepare myself for it.

I freaked out when I turned 40, but turning 43 is different. Time passes differently as you age, and I’ve come to realize something kinda crazy: by the time you’re 20, you’ve lived half your life.

Not biologically—you’ve (hopefully) got decades left—but in perception years, the first half is already behind you. And the wild part? It felt longer than the second half ever will.

Here’s why: when you’re young, life is full of novelty. Every year is packed with firsts: your first day at school, your first love, your first soul-crushing rejection for the New York Marathon. These moments stick, creating vivid memories that stretch your sense of time.

But as you get older, routines take over. Your brain stops noticing the day-to-day stuff because it’s all the same. Weeks blur into months, and before you know it, five years might feel like five months.

I’m living it right now. I’m in control of my life more than ever—meditating daily, journaling, planning my races and training with full awareness, and reflecting on the day at the end of each day, week, month, and year. But yet, it’s like sand slipping through my fingers. I’m training exactly the way I want, but even my workouts are flying by. My 5-year-old felt like a toddler just yesterday. And I know this blur is only going to get faster.

It’s scary AF, but it’s also inevitable.

So, how do you live fully in the blur without letting time slip away? I think I have a solution.

The Contradiction: Routine Is a Gift and a Thief at the Same Time

Habits are how you build a life worth living. Eight years ago, I went through my first big health and fitness transformation. I completed my first Ironman triathlon, and then a year later, I gained 17 pounds (8kgs) of fat because I kept eating like I was training for said Ironman

I then proceeded to lose 17 pounds (8 kgs) of fat (8 kgs) and gained 10 pounds (5 kgs) of muscle to get to almost 8 % body fat (not sustainable in the long run). (*** link)

I then ran my first sub-3 marathon and started this whole “1% better” philosophy. Now, I’m the fittest I’ve ever been.

But here’s the thing: the routines that got me here also make time blur. The same runs, the same routes, the same grind—they’re good for fitness but not for memory. The brain loves efficiency. If nothing changes, it doesn’t bother to record much. It’s like a YouTube montage: progress happens, but you’re skipping through the good parts at 2x.

When I had no control over my time, the blur felt suffocating—like I was just surviving. Now, the blur feels purposeful. It’s a better kind of blur, but it’s still a blur.

So what’s the solution?

The Suffering Paradox: When Time Stands Still

When I’m deep in a hard workout—lungs burning, legs screaming—time slows to a crawl. Every second feels eternal. And when it’s over? Poof. It’s like it never happened.

This makes me wonder: is suffering the key to slowing time down? People like David Goggins swear by it: do the things you don’t want to do. Push into the pain. Blah blah blah.

But here’s the catch—science backs this up only partially. Stress and pain create intense focus, which stretches time at the moment. But once it’s over, unless that suffering is tied to something meaningful or novel, it fades into the background like everything else.

Maybe I don’t need more suffering. Maybe I need more intentionality?!

Novelty vs. Stability: The False Choice

Here’s where it gets interesting: routines are essential for progress, but novelty is what stretches time. The two seem to pull in opposite directions.

Running is a perfect example. If you do the same 5-mile loop every day at the same pace/effort, your fitness improves (heart rate goes down), but your brain checks out. Throw in a trail run, group workout, or fartlek-style intervals, and suddenly, your brain wakes up. Novelty adds intensity, emotion, and memory—the ingredients that make time feel longer.

In life, it’s the same. Adding small variations like trying a new skill, taking a different route to work, or even cooking something new can make routines feel fresh without derailing your progress.

The Paradox of Time

The more fun you have, the faster time flies. Neuroscience calls this the “time flies when you’re having fun,” aka temporal estimation effect. Engaging, enjoyable activities flood your brain with dopamine, making time feel shorter at the moment.

On the other hand, routines make time slow down—but only because your brain isn’t paying attention.

It’s the paradox of time: if you live for novelty, the years fly by in hindsight. If you live for consistency, they drag—but they also feel forgettable.

The answer isn’t about hacking time. You can’t beat the clock. But you can choose how to fill the blur—what you focus on as it passes.

Moderation: The Tragic Solution

Here’s the hard, ugly truth: the blur is inevitable. Time will always slip away. The more you chase novelty, the faster it goes. The more you lean on habits, the more forgettable it feels.

The solution, as cliche and unsatisfying as it sounds, is moderation. Build your routines, but shake them up enough to stay awake. Add novelty, but don’t chase thrills so hard that you burn out. Do boring stuff like run around a 280m soccer field for a 90 min long run where time almost stands still, like watching paint dry.

Most importantly, be present in the blur. Whether it’s a hard workout that makes time stand still or a quiet moment reflecting on how fast your 5-year-old is growing, the only way to beat time is to notice it while it’s here.

Because at the end of the day, Joni Mitchell got it right all along… you don’t know what you’ve got till it’s gone.