reflections on turning thirty

I know some of you are older than I am, so I'll try to keep the whining to a minimum, but somehow without any effort on my part, I have become very, VERY old. My half marathon a few weeks back was a complete success--and not just because it was my last race in the 25-29 age bracket. But I went to the doctor for a physical and a flu shot last week and had the unsettling experience of the doctor being younger than me. I mean, there's the off chance she was exactly the same age, but she mentioned that her training only took six years (to my eight), so doing the maths, puts her between 0 and 2 years younger. She also mentioned that she has a brother who's still in college with an undeclared major (just like my Bruizer) so there was alarming parity there as well. It was weird.

On the whole though, I seem to be doing fairly well on the "goals before I turn 30" front. When I first started grad school I made a promise to myself that if I hadn't finished by the time I turned 30, a PhD just wasn't in the cards. So check. And that's pretty much it. I've never been a particularly goal oriented person, which I guess makes them easy to fulfill. (I'm saving "career" for 40 since that's obviously not going to happen in the next fifteen hours.) I also did my marathon, which wasn't really on a timeline, but nevertheless a success. I haven't invented any breakfast cereals or had sex while playing frogger, but I'm more or less married, and happily so. All that's left is a technicality and a bit of dancing and maybe the sacrifice of a goat. We don't have a house yet, but I hate our apartment enough that we're truly committed to finding a place, so it's likely we'll be in a better home by the end of 30. So here I am: slower and fatter and more educated than I was a year ago, with no particular fear of dying alone and comically crappy living arrangements. I guess on the whole, not too bad.