As someone who frequently makes jokes about being 'old' to my kids, I hadn't really felt old until late last year when my body began to let me down.
Until the ripe old age of 43, I had been lucky to have my health. That's not to say I have had a perfect run, but I was comfortable and happy to age in a body that I felt looked okay and still did what I asked it to.
I was not much of a sporty kid and so when I finished university after three years of having the best time and a lot of beer, I decided it was time to get fit.
In 2001 after graduation, I moved from the UK to Australia and the other young people I met seemed puzzled that I didn't have 'a hobby' not involving food or friends.
Watch: Ask Mia - Perimenopause. Post continues below.
I turned to running, well jogging, and found that while I wasn't particularly good or fast, I loved it.
Running was something I could do anywhere, anytime, and it became my default excuse when someone tried to recruit me to a netball or soccer team. Thanks, but no thanks!
After a few years I didn't just jog; I became a jogger. It was my hobby. The thing that I did after work or on the weekend. And that's how it went for twenty years.