It's not a party unless. . . . .

You get into a flexing competition with your friends. . . . . . . . .

You put on a free show with what you thought at the time was dancing. . . .

I love a 30th birthday party just as much as the next HP, and I'm so glad that even on the edge of turning 30 myself I still think it's a good idea to do shots at 1am. However, I am disappointed that all of my weighlifting has yet to rid me of the bat wings that accompany my newly protruding bicep. Baby steps.

Next stop: Superbowl 5K in Washington Park. Last year I was listed in the Colorado Runner's Magazine for finishing 3rd in my age bracket. Nevermind that it was snowing and there was pitiful attendance. My meager notoriety has made me the girl to beat among my friends. But they don't know about my hotpants mojo. . . . . . . .