The 40th birthday arrived, which I didn’t think would ever happen. For so long it seemed like a speck on the horizon that a journeyman would never reach. Then one day you wake up and you’re walking in it: the middle. It fully envelopes you and is here to stay, and a new speck forms on the horizon ahead: 50.

Someone asked me if the birthday was scary and I responded that no, I’m good with most things that age doles out. The inevitable wrinkles, gray hairs, slower recovery times, ailing body parts, and (hopefully not) weakening memory are inevitable. I’m at peace with all of that. It’s the acceleration of time that worries me more.

I’ve written before that the mind tends to group memories of similar days together. If you work a predictable 9-5 office job, the mind will group memories of days, weeks, months, and years into one big chunk, creating the “last year felt like a day” phenomenon. Maybe it’s a matter of efficiency. So if you want to keep time from pushing its foot on the accelerator, the best thing you can do is remain spontaneous.

I lived much in my 30s. I lived in China for two years, moved to Saint Louis, got a cat, toured San Francisco, relaxed at Lake Michigan, hiked the Shawnee trails (and drank wine on said trails), hiked North Carolina waterfalls, hiked Yellowstone, hiked in Utah, wine tasted almost everywhere in Missouri, ran four marathons included Boston, healed a broken collarbone, lived without a car for two years, swam with sharks in the Bahamas, sipped fine Sonoma wine, toured the Florida keys, held an albino alligator, visited Mexico, visited Russia, visited France, saw most of my favorite metal bands perform live, biked the eastern US coast, learned to sleep, met my partner, and learned to accept who I am. At least that’s what initially came to mind.

So here’s to an increase in spontaneity for the next 10. It would be nice if that keeps time at stalemate. That’s what I’ll tell myself, even though I’ve seen every Final Destination film and know what’s inevitable. Managing to keep time moving slow might be an impossible task, but one can try.

I might be a little more sore the next time I find myself in a moshpit, but I’ll still be at the show.