Yesterday I turned 33.
I'm not really sure how I feel about it.
The last few days, I have felt every single day of my age. My legs are so sore. My feet are so sore. I feel wore out. Yesterday, I started my day out with a 4.5 mile run, but never experienced a runner's high. I just experienced a runners feel-like-death. I decided if this is what 33 feels like, eff this.
Everything is just kinda weird this year. Usually I am so pumped for my birthday I can't see straight. I plan some night out and tell everyone to come see me and get super pissed when they don't. I adore being the center of attention, and what better day than your birthday to force everyone to pay attention to you?
This year...not so much. My entire weekend was booked solid, and with the exception of a few, I saw all the most important people in my life. Friday night I spent with Nick, Han and the boys. Saturday I went to dinner with Katie and Missy, and Sunday I spent with my family. That's a whole lotta loving in 2.5 days, and I feel very grateful all those people wanted to hang out with me as I age another year.
But I found that I didn't need the big event; I was fine with just simple, low key plans.
When I realized I should probably mark my birthday with a blog entry, I googled "turning 33". I found an article that says that 33 is when life starts getting really really good.
Well let's see. I've been "employed" now for almost 8 months, and the quotation marks should be coming off soon. I have pretty amazing friends, and most of my family is pretty awesome. No real boyfriend, but I'm okay in that department. I met Bret Michaels this year. I went to Chicago with Miss, Minnesota with Toni, and I'm headed to the Bahamas with the Boone's. I got a new nephew this year.
Life is pretty good. And I've only been 33 for one day, so I can only assume things will get even better.