30!

It’s been one week since …

Don’t worry, I’m not breaking out in a 90s hit song… yet…I'll wait until Saturday night...

I turned 30. 30. Yes, I am now 30. Ok, it’s slowly sinking in. For you 29-year olds out there, it’s actually not so bad. I survived. So far.

Am one year wiser? I would definitely say yes. Am I going to start acting 30? Hell no. The last year of my 20s was definitely a memorable year. In more than ways than one. Given all that has happened this year, I’m sooo glad I did a 30 Before 30 list.

Some were scary, some rewarding, others just needed to get done. I have been fortunate to travel a lot this year, see many new things and meet a lot of great people.

To sum it up:

I jumped out of a plane and rode in a hot air balloon. 

I ran my fastest marathon to date. And did a mud run and placed in a 5k race. 3^rd out of all women.

I finally paid off all my credit cards and framed photos (been trying to do both since college).

I expanded my reading pool (but please no more Russian novels ) and finally completed a crossword puzzle (without cheating).

I moved to London and then shortly after that I moved back to New York City.

I tried my hand at poetry, dancing, photography, knitting, and firearms.

I dived into the Atlantic on Superbowl Sunday.

I finally took a trip somewhere other than North America and Europe—to Africa (although it was via Europe). I also fit in a trip to the West Coast to see the sun set over the Pacific after seeing the sunrise in New York City—on the same day.

I reached out to various family members and put some considerable work into my family tree. This will be an ongoing project as my family is enormous—come on I have 7 siblings.

I drank wine, ate pie, had a fancy drink, and tried kangaroo meat.

I snowboarded, paddle-boarded, went to a professional football game and finally visited the Baseball Hall of Fame.

I went on dates.

I volunteered.

I blogged all about it.

I unfortunately did not kiss Justin. But hey, I girl’s gotta dream.

What was my favorite? Probably skydiving over the southern coast of Portugal—on my last day as a 29-year old.

Will I do a 40 Before 40? God, I don’t even want to think about 40. But maybe when I turn 39, I’ll liven things up by coming up with 40 things to do before that happens—that is if I’m not running around raising a bunch of rugrats. We’ll see…

30. Bring it.

P.S. Mikmik, you have now officially joined the rest of us.