One thing age can't steal

Time to fill your first time jar

Inch by inch, I set one foot in front of the other. My breathing picked up. “Am I breathing loudly?” I thought to myself. “I hate when I pass other runners breathing embarrassingly loudly.” 2 miles down, 2 more to go.

I glanced down at my new running shoes for a moment of appreciation as my feet continued moving across the pavement. Heading south, the sun snuck under my hat’s bill and warmed my face. 3 miles down. “Am I going to make it?

I kept running at a surprisingly consistent pace. Tiredness and heaviness settled in, but I had no intention of giving up. 3.25 miles. A big, deep breath. 3.5 miles. Thup, thup, thup along the pavement. 3.75 miles. Almost there. 3.8 miles. Almost home. 3.9 miles. “You’re actually doing the damn thing!” 4 miles.

For the first time in my life, I ran 4 miles this week. But the running isn’t the point (although, as someone who couldn’t run more than a quarter mile without hunching over in sheer agony previously, I am proud).

It’s a moment and a memory I’ll remember vividly, and one I can add to my first-time jar. Because I went on a 4-mile run for the first time this week, I’ll never get to re-live the first-time experience again.

When we’re young, we experience firsts all the time. Childhood is dense with these moments because everything is new. And of course, as we age, the number of completely novel experiences available to us decreases. But our capacity and ability to enjoy and welcome novelty doesn’t have to.

The novelty effect is a psychological phenomenon in which new experiences slow down our perception of time, leading to heightened awareness and stronger memories. It’s the reason I can describe my run in vivid detail.

And despite the number of novel experiences available to us decreasing as we age (hello, routines), there are far more of them than we realize when we truly look for them. My week was full of them. I received and held a physical copy of Freelancer Magazine featuring a column I wrote (see it digitally here), watched People We Meet on Vacation, facilitated a small-group discussion at a local coffee shop, and met a Time Intentional reader in person (one whom I didn’t know before starting this newsletter!). I’ll never forget it, Brenda!

I’ll never experience the joy of seeing my name in a print magazine for the first time again, but I’ll also never forget how special the column is because of that. I’ll likely watch People We Meet on Vacation again, many times, in fact. And what I would give to watch the scene where Alex quietly whispers, “No,” in Poppy’s ear when she asks him to zip her dress (IYKYK). I can’t experience how uniquely wonderful my first coffee shop conversation facilitation was, but I hope to do more of them. And Brenda will forever hold a special place in my Time Intentional journey as the first reader I met IRL who I didn’t already know.

Novelty is where we find meaning. It’s in these spaces that we expand (and learn about ourselves), lose time to living, and become active participants in the minuscule timeline of our existence. If time is not a resource and is an experience, what better way to truly lean in than to fill your life with first times? (Related, isn’t that what often makes vacationing so magical when visiting somewhere new for the first time?)

The one thing age can’t steal is your ability to add more first times to your life. If the answer to the question, “When was the last time you did something for the first time?” is “I can’t remember,” “I’m unsure,” or “It’s been a while,” it’s time to fill your first-time jar.

Drawing of a light pink mason jar with a silver lid and a dark brown bow tied beneath the lid. Inside the mason jar, four golden yellow marbles dance their way inside. The marbles read, "first 4-mile run," "first coffee shop facilitation," "first time watching PWMOV," and "first time meeting a reader IRL I didn't know."

How many first time experiences did you have in the last week?

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Time well spent: weekly roundup

  • I went to UPS to print handouts for the conversation I facilitated this week. Upon realizing what I was printing, the worker helping me ran from the printer to the front desk to ask if it’d be helpful if she stapled the handouts for me, smiling. She genuinely wanted to be as helpful as possible. It was a tiny, yet meaningful gesture. Earlier in the day, I was frustrated that I couldn’t order prints online anymore, only to show up and remember that a little human interaction can make a big impact.

  • I bookmarked The 5-Day Brain Health Challenge from The New York Times because it seems like it might be an intentional use of Internet time and a fun way to learn about brain health beyond reading about it. Anyone want to do it with me?!

  • Simone Stolzoff, a journalist, author, speaker, and one of the most likable human beings, is publishing his second book, How to Not Know: The Value of Uncertainty in a World That Demands Answers*, this spring. I preordered my copy and encourage you all to check it out!

Your next intentional move

  • What tiny gestures of care or helpfulness do you notice when you slow down enough to see them?

  • How can you design your internet habits to support your well-being rather than drain it?

  • How might your life change if you viewed uncertainty as a strength rather than a flaw?

Check out the full list of intentional prompts and share it with someone you love!

I’m Alyssa Towns, and this is Time Intentional, a newsletter exploring what it means to spend our limited (and precious) time intentionally. Extend your love and support by sharing this newsletter with someone you know or buying me a coffee! ☕

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