[In my best singing voice] Happy birthday to me. Happy birthday to me. Happy birthday dear John. Happy birthday to me!
Honestly, I remember the day I turned 13. I thought to myself “wow, I’m a teenager, now my life begins – I’m an adult!”. Yeah right. So here I am almost exactly 29 years after my mother gave birth to her first child (that would be me) and it’s all gone by in a flash. Everybody says that and you agree but don’t really believe it until you experience it and start saying it yourself. It’s like going to a Formula 1 race. You’re told that the cars are amazingly loud and incredibly fast. You nod in agreement but don’t really think about it until one of the things rockets past you and the first thing you think is “Christ – they are SO LOUD!”.
It’s just not enough time. I don’t feel like I’m now in my 30th year. I don’t feel much different to when I was 21 and it never occurs to me in daily life that I’m no longer in the 18-25 demographic any longer (and haven’t been for quite some time). So what difference does it make that I’m 29 now? To me, none at all. If Steve Redgrave can win an Olympic gold medal rowing at the age of 38 then I’ve got nothing to worry about – until I hit 40. At that point I’ll know for sure that my best days are behind me. I’ll be on the slippery slope down towards retirement.
But hey, that doesn’t bother me now. That’s over 10 years away. That’s ages in the future! It’s not like it’ll come around as fast as the last ten… Surely… Oh, and if you think I’m being negative (I’m not really), you should read my entry for my birthday last year…