Super Middle

Midlife Reckoning

For most of my 30s, I didn’t think much about aging. Maybe it’s a Gen X thing, or maybe it’s from spending years in New York, pursuing creative paths, surrounded by people who never seemed to get old. Thanks to my Korean genes, I was often mistaken to be younger, which, I’ll admit, pleased me.

Then I hit 40.

At first, it was subtle, some joint aches, moments of exhaustion I shrugged off. My husband and I were in the thick of building a healthcare tech startup, raising two young kids, constantly moving, constantly juggling. I wasn’t particularly athletic, but I was active enough, biking, walking, keeping my body in motion the way I always had.

Then, suddenly, everything changed.

What the Hell Is This?

It wasn’t just the occasional ache. It was constant:

• Incredible exhaustion.

• Cold, tingly hands and feet that kept me up at night.

• Excruciating back pain that came and went.

Was it stress? Burnout? Oh god, do I have cancer? I ran labs at the doctor’s office, switched supplements, tried adaptogens, adjusted my diet. Not once did anyone say, Maybe you’re in perimenopause.

For a year, I tracked my symptoms, more days feeling sick and exhausted than feeling well. The conversation about menopause was getting louder online, but I wasn’t quite there yet. But not many talked about this in-between stage where everything feels off, but there’s no clear roadmap.

It took switching doctors a few times before I finally heard the words:
"Yes, you’re in perimenopause. No, you’re not crazy. And yes, here are some things you can try."

Aging!

All these physical changes made one thing undeniable: I was getting older.

When I think about aging, I think of my parents. And not in a good way.

My dad was once incredibly fit, a classic ROTC guy, all discipline and muscle. But like so many who turn to alcohol to quiet their minds, he drank, smoked, moved less. When he died from cancer at 77, he looked much older.

My mom was never the exercise type, but in Korea, she walked everywhere and hiked often. When she immigrated to the U.S. in midlife to start over, the stress took a toll on her mentally and emotionally. Her health declined; hypertension, diabetes, high blood pressure. Now, she struggles with dementia and severe mobility issues.

Watching both my parents deteriorate planted a deep fear in me. I didn’t want that for myself.

The Shift & Coming Back to the Body

A day after my dad’s funeral, I learned I was adopted.

Everything I thought I knew about my genetic fate? Suddenly uncertain. Maybe I wouldn’t end up like them. Maybe I wasn’t destined for the same decline. Or worse?

The grief, the shock, the sheer weight of it all and it had to go somewhere. So one day, I bolted out of the house and just ran until my lung burned.

And I kept running, because it was the only thing that helped me breathe.

That’s when everything started to shift.

I turned to The Artist’s Way, therapy, movements. One step at a time, I started peeling back the layers of exhaustion and doubt. By 45, I ran my first half-marathon. Then another. And somewhere along the way, I also found Pilates.

I had spent years thinking about my body as something to fix. But the more I leaned into movement, the more I realized it wasn’t about fixing anything. It was about making a full, harmonious connection—between my body, my mind, nutrition, and the pursuit of a fulfilled life. And in the end, I felt it in my bones how limited our time on this earth really is. It ends, at some point!

Studio space

Rethinking Midlife & Super Middle

So much of what we hear about aging is about undoing it, expensive creams to erase wrinkles, quick-fix diets to flatten the belly, six-week plans that promise to make you look better than you did in your 30s. The message is clear: if you just try hard enough (and spend enough money), you can reverse time.

Maybe that works for some, but I’m more interested in the long game.

For me, it’s not about chasing youth. It’s about feeling good now. Moving in ways that keep me strong, eating in ways that give me energy, making adjustments that actually last. Some days, I don’t feel like doing anything. But I keep coming back to this: What I do today—how I move, how I rest, how I care for myself—will shape how l will be in 10, 20, 30 years.

And honestly? It’s easier when you’re not figuring it out alone.

Through my Pilates training, I started teaching friends, women and men in their 40s, 50s, 60s, and even their parents in their 70s and 80s. We weren’t just exercising.

We were talking.

About exhaustion.
About bodies that felt foreign.
About midlife, aging, and what actually matters.

I saw how much we all need space to talk about this; what’s changing, what’s working, what’s frustrating. Not in a way that’s about fixing ourselves, but about understanding where we are and where we want to go. And the POV from different generations were invaluable.

I realized: this next chapter isn’t something we’re meant to figure out alone.

So I’m starting a project called Super Middle for those of us who are entering the middle but want the next half to be super!

It’s not about chasing what was. It’s about making room for what is—and what could be—with curiosity rather than fear.

What Are Your Thoughts on Midlife?

Are you a fellow midlifer? How do you feel about midlife? What’s surprised you? What’s been harder (or easier) than you expected?

Maybe midlife is just around the corner for you. What are some preconceived notions you have as you get closer?