Watch Me Turn 30, by Holly C.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
I'm a 29-year-old New Yorker who inherited this site from my pal, Holly P., to document the final year of my twenties. Right up until I turn the big 3-0 next January, I'll use this blog to indulge my inner-narcissist by voicing the good (I can date men anywhere from ages 21 to 50 without it being scandalous) the bad (I keep getting ma'amed) and the ugly (is it possible to get cellulite on your stomach?!). Here's to waving goodbye to my youth, accepting adulthood and remembering that every ending is really just a new beginning.
the photo for August 28, 2007
DAY 211  |  August 28, 2007
Exercise is kind of like my antidepressant. Whenever I’m feeling bummed, I literally try to outrun my thoughts by strapping on my sneakers and pounding the pavement. There’s something about being in motion that temporarily releases any pent up restlessness that I need to get out. Exercise therapy is the only thing that works better than chocolate to lift my mood—if I ever stopped running, I probably wouldn’t be much fun to be around.
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