The other weekend, after my husband and I enjoyed our third consecutive Sunday brunch, a friend said to me, “Boy, Wendy, you are really owning this empty nester thing.” She’s right, I am owning it. But let’s be clear: I’m not a rookie. I’ve been at this for two years since my youngest flew the coop. The difference is, in my first year as an empty nester, I wasn’t brunching—I was busy training for a half ironman. For those who don’t speak triathlon, that’s a 1.2-mile swim, 56-mile bike ride, and a half marathon at the end, just in case your legs weren’t already questioning your life choices.
Almost exactly a year ago, my husband and I crossed that finish line together. In the weeks before the race, instead of spending Sundays with mimosas and avocado toast, we were out for three- to four-hour bike rides or two-hour runs. Some people questioned my sanity (fair), especially since I had never done a triathlon of any distance before. For starters, as the name would suggest, triathlons involve three sports. I was a one-sport athlete. Well, even calling myself an “athlete” is a bit generous. I can run. But that leaves two other sports. The last time I swam a lap, I was about 12 years old. Ironically, both my kids were competitive swimmers, and after logging a million hours as a swim mom, you’d think I’d have learned something through osmosis. I did not.
Then there’s biking, or “cycling” as those who actually know what they are doing refer to it. I love my Peloton, but biking outside with those crazy-thin tires and traffic is an entirely different beast. I didn’t even own a real road bike! I trained and raced on a gravel bike because its sturdier frame felt slightly less like a death wish. And then there’s the learning to “clip in” part of biking. This nearly ended my triathlon “career.” There’s nothing quite like coming to a stop, realizing a second too late your feet are stuck and you know you’re going down. At this point, you might be questioning my judgment, but trust me, it was all very intentional.
For 19 years, I was a working parent, juggling work and motherhood like a circus act. I knew that once my daughter left for college and both kids were out of the house, one of those juggling balls was going to be gone, and I was going to have a lot of time on my hands. As a psychologist (and someone who knows myself pretty well), I know that while being busy has its downsides, too much free time—especially during a big life transition—can be a recipe for existential crisis. So, the triathlon became my distraction, my project, my “I’m not just sitting here missing my kids” plan.
My plan worked for me. Although this course may not work for everyone, there are some important lessons learned for other future empty nesters. First, this is not a time to only mourn your empty nest. While it can feel like a loss, it’s also a time to launch yourself. Reframe the narrative: you’re not losing your purpose; you’re gaining time to do things you never could before. Whether it’s brunching, triathlons, or finally learning to play pickleball (that’s next on my list), fill your schedule with things that bring you joy, not just reminders of what’s missing.
Plan ahead so you’re not blindsided by the silence in your home—or your calendar. If you have a partner, talk about how you’re both feeling and what you want this next chapter to look like. And for my fellow midlife women, I see you.
This transition often coincides with other “fun” milestones like menopause, all in a culture that views youth as a superpower. It’s easy to feel lost but remember: you’re not just an empty nester. You’re a bird launcher. You’ve raised humans who are ready to fly, and now it’s your turn to soar—preferably with a mimosa in hand and a finish line in sight.