My journal entry from two years ago (just a classic text-based journal) ended with me promising myself I wouldn’t spend my birthday alone the following year. And I didn’t.
Last year, I invited my friends over on the evening of my birthday, and it was wonderful. Now many of them have babies, so this year I invited them over on Sunday afternoon for coffee and cake instead. It was great.
I went to bed blissful and full of gratitude.
I turned 37 on that day! That number doesn’t remotely reflect the age I feel I should be, but who am I to argue with Chronos?
Running alone and running with friends is like day and night. It’s so much more fun to yap while running for 12 kilometres.
A proper birthday butt slapping.
