We’re all going to die. There, I said it.

Death is the only guarantee we have in life. Every living thing on this planet will die at some point. It’s inevitable. Unavoidable. Inescapable.

And it’s scary.

In modern society it’s considered taboo to talk about death. We avoid the topic whenever possible. When we do talk about it, we use language that softens the blow.

A loved one didn’t die. Instead…

We lost them.

They passed away.

They are no longer with us.   

They’re resting in peace.

This language isn’t usually intentional. Rarely do we catch ourselves choosing to use those types of phrases. It’s a subconscious decision our brain makes to protect ourselves from the unknown. It blunts the trauma of a visceral event like a death. Anyone who has been present for the last breath of another living being won’t soon forget it.

The soft language helps us manage the anxiety induced when we confront our own mortality. It creates a comfortable bubble of psychological safety, putting distance between us and the painful truth that someone we love is gone forever.

The critical issue spawned from using this type of language and avoiding confronting death is that it creates an illusion of permanence. We build a false sense of security around our lives and the time we have left on this planet. We take things for granted and start to believe they’ll last forever.

The truth is that we’re all going to die.

After we die, we will all be forgotten. For people with no kids and small families, it will be within a generation or two. At best, it will be four generations before we’re nothing more than photos in an untouched album or names on a family tree, if we’re lucky. Only the 1% of people that have either been the absolute best or unquestioned worst of the human race will be remembered longer than that.

The Washingtons, Gandhis, Hitlers, Michelangelos, etc. Otherwise, the general population that won’t be in a history book or monument will fade from memory faster than any of us would care to admit. Less than 100 years and we’re completely forgotten.

Death is terrifyingly raw. It’s hard to wrap our heads around. It can cause a physical reaction outside of the anxiety and panic it spikes within our brains when we consider the implications.

It’s inevitable. It’s permanent. We will be forgotten. And no one really knows what happens afterwards.

Few concepts are more terrifying for human beings to contend with.

So, we don’t.

We avoid talking about it. We act like it won’t happen to us. We treat each moment, each day, each year, like it’s owed to us. Like we won’t run out of them.

If death can’t happen to us or if we have decades before we need to worry about it, why should we value each moment like it’s a precious gift?

Instead, we waste time. We spend hours doom scrolling on our phones. We take our loved ones for granted. We let inconveniences ruin entire days. We trade active participation in life with a passive existence.

All because death is scary and we refuse to embrace it.

I won’t act like it isn’t scary.

But it’s also beautiful.

The beautiful part of confronting death and our own mortality is the freedom that it affords us. We just have to make the decision to embrace it.

Acknowledging death raises the stakes when we consider wasting time or taking the easy road. Forcing us to make decisions that make us and our lives better and more fulfilling. Doom scrolling doesn’t feel like such a great idea when we consider how little time we have left to live.

Conversely, respecting death lowers the stakes when we run into roadblocks or inconveniences. Understanding we’re all going to die and be forgotten eventually makes everything seem a little less important in the grand scheme of things, doesn’t it? All those petty little disagreements don’t register when you’re focused on living.

Understanding and respecting the simple fact that everything is temporary allows us to elevate our thinking and remain calm and humble no matter what the situation is. Every high and every low we experience in life will end eventually. Understanding that allows us to persevere through the challenging times. It allows us to remain humble when we’re on top of the world. Because no matter what the pendulum will swing, and things will change.

The concept of impermanence, or that everything is temporary, is the number one reason why I run ultra marathons. The cliché line about 100-mile races is that you experience all the emotions of life in a day. Well, it’s a popular cliché for a reason.

In a 100-mile race you will feel the highest highs and the lowest lows. One mile you will feel like you’re the strongest person on the planet and would gladly run 1,000 miles. A few miles later you’ll feel like your legs are actually broken and you can’t remember why in God’s name you chose to pay money to party like this.

The secret is that neither emotional state is the truth. They’re the peaks and valleys of the human experience.

Remaining calm and level-headed through the swings isn’t just what the professionals do. It’s a requirement to finish the race. Every time, no matter the race.

Exercising that mental muscle and getting those repetitions translates directly to life. It’s hard to replicate in our daily lives, but it’s invaluable. It keeps us humble when we’re at our highest highs and patient when we’re at our lowest.

Death is scary. I’m not the first to say it out loud, and there’s not a chance in hell I’m the last. But I think it’s important to talk about it, and I want to offer a few actions we can take to help mend our relationship with our mortality.

1.      Quantify our mortality.

It’s impossible to know when we’ll die. We know it’ll happen, but not when. While that’s half the problem with considering our own mortality, we need to try and quantify how much time we realistically could have left. Put some simple math to it and let it help shape how you view the time you have left.

The average lifespan for a woman in the U.S. is 81 years and 77 years for a man (so unfair, I know).

For a 40-year-old man, you realistically have 37 years left.

Seems like a long time, right? Maybe not.

If your parents are 60, they have about 20 years left. But how often do you see them? Once or twice a year? So, you could only see them 40 more times. And each year that count ticks down. How are you when you see them? Annoyed because they’re asking why you’re not married yet or poking you about your parenting style? Do you eat and run, or sit around and chat with them?

A 30-year-old woman has plenty of time. 50 years is literally a lifetime.

But that means only 50 more summers. You like to take a big trip every couple years? That’s 25 more perspective shaping travel opportunities. You like to run at least one marathon a year? If you stop running in your 60’s, that could be 30 more races.

It doesn’t seem like that much time when you start to quantify it, does it?

Worst of all, this is a best-case scenario. As we are all too aware, death can come at any time, and this math doesn’t guarantee us a damn thing. However, it will help us start shifting our perspective and respecting our mortality.

2.      Shift our perspective.

We need to stop treating death like it’s a bad thing. It isn’t good or bad. It just is. It’s about the last natural thing humans do at this point and whether you like it or not, it’s not going anywhere.

Death is beautiful because it means we’re living and we’re loving. It means that we’re only here for a short time and we need to embrace the impermanence. We owe it to ourselves, our loved ones, and our friends to be the best versions of ourselves for the short time we have on this planet.

All of those highs and all of those lows will end soon. Life is short. We will die. We will be forgotten. Enjoy the time you have and embrace the discomfort.

3.      Talk about death.

Most important in my mind is the need to be open and honest about our mortality. Stop avoiding having difficult conversations. Stop using language that hides the truth. It isn’t helping you or those around you. In fact, it’s a lie that enables you to stay comfortable and stagnant. It isn’t helpful, it’s harmful.

I’m not encouraging you to beat people over the head with abrasive language or to run around scaring people. But we need to start being honest with ourselves and those we care about.

We are going to die, and that’s okay. It’s a hard, beautiful truth we can’t escape.

Death will never stop being scary because so much of it is unknown. The only thing we control is what to do with the time given to us. Let’s embrace life and use the little time we have to live fully, love passionately, laugh loudly, and find scary goals to go chase down.

That is how we respect death and honor our the life we've been blessed with.