In case you are unaware, that’s the countdown until I turn 30. And while I know it’s just a number, it’s really starting to hit me that I will actually be hitting this huge milestone in my life. It’s the age where there is no wiggle room in fully claiming adulthood. And I don’t know how it seems to y’all, but I really still feel like there are tons more adultish adults out there than me. But alas, I must claim to be part of their ranks regardless.
Many people have been asking what I will be doing to celebrate the BIG 3-0. I admit, for years now I just knew that this year would be the celebration of all celebrations. Let’s be honest…from here on out all you really are doing is getting old, right? Who wants to celebrate that?! I don’t know about you, but I am not itching to celebrate wrinkles and grey hairs. I’d be content celebrating “Happy 30th Birthday” again for the next 30 years. But the initial celebration should be somewhat of a huge deal and a big shebang. But the closer I got to my birthday, the less I felt like setting off fireworks in my honor.
For starters, my job gets in the way. I have my first competition this weekend and then a few days later I jet off to Africa to do a meet there. Trying to squeeze in the party of a lifetime in between all that seemed a little difficult not to mention not super smart if I’m actually trying to compete well. Then, there is the issue of friends. I know a lot of people but the older I get, the smaller my circle of buddies becomes. I’m totally fine with this, but the idea of rallying up a bunch of people and sending out facebook blasts to all the folks that might care to celebrate with me, seemed like too much effort on my part and theirs. So I’m only asking the handful of people who are closest to me to give a darn about my birthday. There will be no party of the century that has people talking for years to come, but there will be good memories nonetheless and a much more rested body. And let’s face it…I need the rest because this body ain’t no spring chicken anymore.
So no, your invitation didn’t get lost in the mail. I’m just going to live my normal, 29 year old life, and then wake up Sunday morning with another year under my belt, and start checking for grey hairs.