What is 30?

Well, my day has come. I turned 30. On Friday the 13th no less. Now, I am not really superstitious, but for real?!? Yet, I write today unharmed and feeling fabulous. Did I think I would be where I am today at 30? Not really. Do I wish my life were a bit different on occasion? Sometimes. Would I redo anything if I could? Nope. At least I hope I wouldn't.

Some people take the day of turning 30 and turn it into the momentous day it is expected to be, with a lavish party and the works. But, for those who know me, "the works" for me means hanging with family, eating fab food, and hearing from old friends who still remember why November 13th sticks in their mind. My family made me the most wonderful scrapbook accompanied with a gift to cover lawncare for the next year (YAY!). With it came a card that listed things that define 30. So, it inspired today's blog. What is 30?

30 is...

• wondering if people will believe you're 25
• wondering if people in their 20s will think you are too old to hang out with now
• wondering if wondering that previous thought makes you sad AND old
• believing that 30 IS the new 20
• knowing your older siblings will probably return the favor of trauma you induced on them when they turned 30
• assuming your younger siblings will induce the trauma knowing they will always be younger than you
• seeing Halle Barry pull off "natural-looking" ripped Abercrombie jeans and wondering if you could pull it off too
• wondering if Abercrombie is still the "it" store
• mentally bear-hugging the stranger who asks "Did you just graduate?"
• realizing there is a balance between staying hip, young, and modern and BEING 30
• realizing 30 is HIP, YOUNG, and MODERN!
• realizing turning 30 is just like 29 or 40, except 30 is SO much better than 40! Until YOU turn 40...
• secretly wondering if you should minimize your snacking because of that whole "metabolism slowing down" thing
• loving it when someone still calls you "kiddo"
• feeling guilty for being 20% jealous/80% happy that all of your friends are having kids
• wondering how you can still be daddy's little girl even after turning 30
• thanking the good Lord that there is still a place where you can be a little girl
• realizing that there is NO place like home
• realizing that "waiting for THE ONE" does not require patience so much as belief
• admitting that it does require patience too
• being thankful that even if you don't make a big deal out of YOUR day, your friends and family always will, in their very own special ways

I'm elated to be 30 because I have an amazingly close knit family, full of relationships that seem to get stronger as distance grows and time passes. I have a jealousy-invoking job that I wake up quite excited for each day. I have a circle of friends I know would come to my aid no matter how small or large the issue. I get to travel to exotic places and see new and inviting cultures. 30's not so bad.

So, go on...add your own definition of 30.

It was "well done" indeed...Thank you Dublin!

It's been a while-I know. Forgive me. I had a followership of random friends who said they "stalked" my blog to read the next one, only to be left "disappointed" because I had not written in so long. Of course, that's because I was so uninspired recently that I had nothing about which to write. And, I firmly believe my blogs must have some meaning--it can be random but certainly not inane garbage.

Thus, I return fully inspired by a week away in euphoric Europe, where the relaxed attitude is palpable. My journey actually started over Christmas break of 2000 (yes, 2000) when I decided that the three digit weight I had reached was my limit, and I vowed that my life was going to change. I yelled out from the bathroom where I was standing on the weight scale, "Dad, are you going to work out today?". That day would be the ultimate incitement into my impetuous craze of goals, achievement, running, self-confidence, and healthy living. Now, 40 pounds lighter for nearly a decade, 2009 brought me to Dublin, Ireland to tour the Land of Green on foot, covering 26.2 miles of the kindest locals, non-touristy history, and surprisingly good vegetarian eats even Anthony Bourdain couldn't resist.

At the Expo signing the wall... Team Dublin who adopted me for the weekend...

Perhaps my most emotional moment was around mile 6. We had just exited the city center, entering Phoenix Park. I finally looked up to be greeted by rolling hills, leprechaun greenery, and a feeling of sheer elation. I was doing something worthy having raised $3000 for cancer research, fulfilling my goal of an international marathon, and travelling parts of the world unbeknownst to me. I stared at the backs of the vast number of runners ahead of me: some old--I mean seriously OLD, some round and large, some so skinny that I feared having to watch their bones crumble across the finish, some dressed up so ludicrously that I was distracted for an entire mile, and some as normal as I. However, two men drew my attention raptly as they so effortlessy passed me. They were tied at the wrist, their legs veraciously in sync step after step. One man wore sunglasses, as many runners do. The other man wore a t-shirt, upon whose back read "Fighting Blindness". A lump formed in my throat and tears threatened to make me look and feel like an emotional wreck.

My sister P says I always make funny faces in pictures...I have no idea what she is talking about...

My most enduring moment came not at mile 20 where most "normal" runners hit a wall but at mile 13. I run so many marathons and half marathons because my body can take it. I never feel any injury-like pains, rarely get sore, and my energizer-bunny like qualities never fail me. But, this time, my hurdle came early and hit me like a falling Berlin wall. My feet ached, a pain I had never experienced. I pride myself in being self-motivated. But, at that moment for 7-9 miles, I doubted I was going to finish. I knew I had jacked up my sub-5 hour goal, but all I cared about was being finished. And, I was not getting there fast enough. Mentally, I was shot. The inspiration from the locals, whose favorite phrases were "well done", "brilliant", and "lovely", was no longer driving me but rather annoying me, and the emotional fire the two men provided me miles earlier had faded into negative energy. The sign on my back read "Uncle Bob, you are my inspiration", but that no longer pushed me. Not once in my life did I actually think I would not reach my goal.

But, I did. Three marathons and seven half marathons all before I turned 30. I proceeded to London and Paris thereafter, walking the beautiful cities for ten+ hours a day and no foot pain. I'm not sure if that was God testing my will or what, but I left Europe injury free and fully inspired to do it all over again. Yes, Dublin, it was "well done" indeed.

Not looking so hot...But looking oh-so-finished...Here with Kristin...By far the only person I know more energetic than I am...

Being Harry Potter at King's Cross in London...Being bigger than Tour Eiffel... Devouring Parisian crepes off the streets in front of Notre Dame...

The Mamta and Pritty Show...

Anyone who knows me understands that family is my life. Most people could never live with their parents again, but we fight over ours. I want my children to live with their grandparents. Not next door or down the street from them. With them. I lived with mine, and I was most fortunate to have had that opportunity. I cannot even articulate how I miss those days. Even though all my grandmother cared to know was whether I ate while away at college! No wonder I love food so much; it's in my genes.

The most fun I ever have is with my siblings. But, if I described those experiences, you wouldn't think they were fun. It's unfathomable, really. We laugh, a lot. We argue, A LOT. We eat, sleep, and play stupid games. It is undoubtedly these memories that define friendship for me. Friendship and Family. I am blessed that the two coincide for me.

Few would argue with me when I say that my little sister, P, and I are inseparable. Distance has separated us before, such as when I accepted a position at NASA. But, essentially, we are inseparable. Honest. She is my best friend and biggest supporter. But, she is also the person with whom I argue the most. Correction-she argues with me. Let's not be mistaken now. More than Srin. Seriously. It's actually quite pitiful now that I have put it in writing. Some might call it bickering. We call it "talking", I'm jus' sayin'. Some friends tune it out (Tress), some yell at us to stop (Amee), some are amused (Rando, Drea, Hemben), some are annoyed (Amee, Daxaben), and some plow right through as if the arguing never commenced (Ames).

What shocks us is the number of friends who have proposed that a reality TV show star us in our everyday bickering life story. P and I laugh in public about this notion and in private we wonder, "WHO IN THEIR RIGHT MIND WOULD WATCH THIS SHOW!?!??!?!" Yet, friends, SANE friends, propose that it would entertain them. So, friends, explain away. Why would you watch the Mamta and Pritty show?

Large, Small, Useful, Useless, Itty-Bitty-So-Cute-So-Small-Nothing-Fits...

Boxes. All kinds of boxes. I have a fetish for them. It's wholly eccentric. And, solely disturbing. To alleviate my worry of being stuck in a day of pure ennui, I woke up determined (as it has been on my To-Do list for 6 months) to go through my capaciously filled closet of boxes. I mean, I have boxes for my vacuum, drinking glasses, dishes, iron, ironing board, candle sets, candle holders, side tables, knives, blender, cell phones, old cell phones (old, unused, and broken), garden tools, and who knows what else. In "cleaning out the closet", I cajoled myself into keeping boxes for a gamut of reasons.

"Dish boxes are great for when I move"
-I just moved a year ago. Into a house. That I bought. Do I really plan to move THAT soon?

"Home Depot may let me return my weed eater if I have a box even if it is over 90 days old."
-This could not be more false. Plus, Home Depot doesn't even require boxes for returns.

"These boxes will be great when I have to mail something."
-I physically mail something once a year, on May 2nd-ish for my niece's birthday. That is it. Seriously. And, I never remember to check my closet of boxes. I end up buying a box at the post office for it's oh-so-convenient factor.

"This box is so small and compact."
-I don't even know how to defend this one. But, I did save it for this reason.

"If I organize the boxes, I won't feel all discombobulated and need to clean."
-It's true. I thrive on organization. And cleaning. Oh and eating too.

I feel like the consummate box-keeper. Dr. Consummate Box-Keeper. It has a ring to it.

Dreams DO Come True...

So I did it! I actually was given my first real writing gig--whoo hoo!!! I will write articles that people actually read...it's almost a little scary. I will write for online sites such as eHOW.com and Livestrong.com (Lance's group...yeah, we're on a first name basis...okay not really...let me have my moment!). I applied to be the health/medical writer, but it looks like they have a large pool of titles for various articles they need written. Those of us in their group of freelance writers get to claim which articles we want to write. And, I get paid.

It's like my dreams just keep getting more and more real....

Except for the scary one I had last night. I hope.

YAY!

If I Weren't An Engineer, I Would Be...

a stay at home mom.
I was blessed to have both parents with me nearly every day of my childhood. But, I get that most women today have careers blossoming long before they meet Mr. Right, let alone have a baby. So, I often struggle with the whole would-I-be-a-stay-at-home-mom or go-part-time-mom or be-the-real-life-superwoman-hero-mom-that-most-of-my-friends-are. I figure I will know when the time comes. But, I like to think that for me, money and a really cool career are not nearly as important as being at home with my future children.

a musician.

I love music. Ever since I was a child, I would sing, often to the dismay of my family. I mean, one time, Pritty and I were having sisterly-girl-time-stay-up-all-night fun and were singing what I obscurely yet distinctly remember as a Michael Jackson song. And, it was this day that I learned that certain sayings were existent in all languages because my dad yelled from his bedroom "Who is killing the cat?" in the most emphatic Gujarati I had heard! Plus, I figure if current music technology can make Britney 'recordable', then I am in!

an author.

Reading is my 'thing'. I mean, I really think my friends associate me with books. I would choose a good book to TV any day. In fact, there is no way to describe to a non-reader how hypnotizing a good read can be. If you have found a truly 'good' book, then when you put it down, it feels like a commercial just interrupted a fabulous movie. I would love to write something that made someone else that "in love" with reading. Currently, my latest find is Kindred by Octavia Butler.

a world-wide traveler.

Often I feel like I just 'talk' about travelling. I am thankful to have been able to travel as far as I have been, but I yearn to see more. To feel more. To learn more. So, if my life has yet to make me a mom, by gosh, I am going to make the most of it! This year, it's Dublin and Costa Rica. Next year, I hope it's the long awaited family excursion to India and a trip with Project Cure shared with my main squeeze, Dr. Nagaraja.

a pediatrician.

I never really wanted to be a doctor. I had no desire for the fancy car or fancy house or saving someone's life (like that, at least). But, during my first year of graduate school, I had THAT feeling. I wanted to know about the human body...how it works...how to fix it when it was broken. I never did decide to do it, but if I did, I would have been a pediatrician. My childhood pediatrician was the best; Dr. Dodson was his name. I distinctly remember him saying that he would treat me until I got married. Joke's on him-little did he know I would be 29 and unmarried! Lucky for him and unfortunate for me, he retired.

a photographer.

Have you ever seen a picture that made you wonder "Where IS that?"? We've all heard it as trite as it may be, "a picture can tell a thousand words". But, it's sort of true. The best part is that we each interpret a picture in a completely unique way. Here's one that has always made me ponder. He has one of the coolest picture blogs. http://rammorrison.com/

the founder of my own non-profit organization.

It would probably benefit children, to be quite honest. There would be travelling because all children deserve to have a safe, clean, and nurtured life. There would be opportunities for high schoolers to volunteer because it has always been my belief that 'giving back' can be accomplished at any age. There would be a small, humble office space with a small team whose camaraderie would be unfathomable by most. There would be passion and drive. And good hearts all around. Plus, a killer blog about it!

a chef at my own restaurant.

I love to cook, probably more than I love to eat. It is so thrilling to make up a recipe or flip through new cookbook for delectable ideas. Kitchen gadgets make me giddy. There are buttons and shininess. They're all new and useful. I get to clean afterwards. I mean, what's not to love?!??!! My restaurant would be posh yet comfortable. Probably modern Indian, with a personal twist. A really cool sense of style. Head chef would be my mom.

Even in my young 29 years, I have learned life can lead you astray from the master-minded plan developed by your effervescent 8 year old self. I always said that I would not know what to do if I were not doing what I do now. Clearly, I was wrong.

So, what would you be if you weren't...?

I Always Knew Sleeping Was The One Talent That Could Save Me...

I sleep-a lot. Now, my definition of "a lot" has changed over the years. "A lot" in high school meant sleeping until noon, maybe even later. Why my mother let me do that is still beyond me. However, according to this research I am about to 'blog', maybe I should now thank her! "A lot" is now relative to how many hours others get compared to me. Still, I think my slew of former roommates would agree that I take sleeping to another level. I mean, I am OUT solid for eight hours every night. In the college dorms, I totally missed a fire alarm. I am NOT joking. I have slept through hurricanes and tornadoes. Thunder does not phase me, and things that keep others awake like the television, kids, lights, and to-do lists only challenge me to sleep better! For the record, I always win that challenge.

Suffice it to say that we have probably all heard the ol' rule: "Doctors recommend eight hours of sleep per night." Parents are inundated with regulations and warnings related to how much sleep a child needs. Children are oh-so-deprived of superfluous slumber parties, instead usually succumbing to their rooms at a time likely not chosen by them. Well, a study* performed at the University of Chicago Medical Center actually showed that suppressing deep sleep decreased insulin sensitivity, thus reducing glucose tolerance. In non-medical-jargon-because-this-means-nothing-to-me English?

If you do not sleep long enough and sleep well , you are risking developing type 2 diabetes!

This group has previously published** that the amount of sleep played a role in glucose tolerance, but now they are reporting that the quality of that sleep matters too! Most people have heard of the Rapid Eye Movement (REM) stage of sleep. This stage is preceded by non-REM (NREM) sleep in 4 distinct stages***. Stages 1 and 2 are the "light" sleep where one drifts in and out and can be easily awoken. Stages 3 and 4 are where I excel! Sleep is so deep that brain waves are extremely slow (called delta waves), and this is the cycle where some sleepwalk, nightmares occur, and being awoken is difficult. In this study, the scientists kept their subjects sleeping but used a method of acoustic stimuli delivery to prevent subjects from ever entering stages 3 and 4. They measured glucose and insulin after regular sleep for two nights and suppressed deep sleep for three nights and re-measured. Comparing the results, they found this reduced glucose tolerance and decreased insulin sensitivity.

Pretty relevant and interesting. Lucky for me, I sleep absurdly well. In fact, if there was an award for who sleeps the best, I'd win. I mean, not that my sleep is cocky or anything. It's just that my sleep knows it can rock diabetes. That's all. (There's your shout out, Catherine!)

So for all of you chocoholics, you should exercise. But, if you don't, at least sleep. And sleep well.

*This article was published in the Proceedings of the National Academy of Science (PNAS) and is available to the public at http://www.pnas.org/content/105/3/1044.long. For those who are unfamiliar with scientific and medical journals, PNAS is well respected and represents the journal of an elite group of doctors, engineers, and scientists.

**This article is also available to the public at http://jap.physiology.org/cgi/content/abstract/99/5/2008?ijkey=a4610ad4ed2a7a1bbb3bdf28bfd2887fd1de5817&keytype2=tf_ipsecsha.

***A great source for easy-to-understand sleep stages can be found at http://www.sleepdex.org/stages.htm.