Resolutions Suck

Resolutions. How can one simple word be so loaded? Resolutions often result in empty promises of losing weight, eating healthy, exercising and being an overall better person. It signals us highlighting our weaknesses and focusing on how what we are currently doing isn’t good enough.

Last year I attempted to buck the trend of setting resolutions by setting the bar low.  Guess what? I still failed. I have yet to publish my book. I backed off on volunteering in the community. I weigh a mere 4 pounds less this year than I did last year at this time. I had the worse garden on record. I continued to believe the best in people, despite discovering that some people don’t deserve this kindness. And, despite an incredible week long vacation in Washington, D.C. my 2013 list of places to see remains primarily unchecked.

By all accounts, this past year was a failure. Except it wasn’t. In mid-January, just days after setting my goals, I was handed a curveball. Remember this?

In an instant everything changed. My priorities changed. My goals changed. My resolutions became a distant memory. And, despite my best attempt at planning, I have since discovered that no matter how much I lower the bar, it won’t be enough.

So I’m taking yet another approach at setting goals. This year’s goal—expect the unexpected. Go with the flow. Recognize that the next year might be about survival. Life may revolve around changing diapers, teething, first steps and making the most of each moment with Jacob of Moon Lake.  And frankly, that’s pretty amazing.

This year won’t be about me. I won’t make major self-improvements. Instead, I will be reminded time and time again that I have no idea what I’m doing as a mother. And each time this happens, I will smile because the one thing I wanted more than anything in life has happened. I am in fact a mother.

Last but not least, I am setting one concrete goal. In April I hope to run my first half-marathon since having Jake. There I’ve put it in writing. I am running again. And guess what. I am scared to death. I am out of shape. I seriously question whether I’ll be able to finish. I’m not exactly sure how I’ll find time to train. Each time I step on the treadmill, my head is filled with self-doubt.

But, each time I finish a training session, there is a glimmer of hope. That little voice from the depths of my soul that whispers maybe I can, despite my head shouting I cannot. I don’t know who will win or what the future holds. But, I do know I’m going to try. If I fail, so be it. It’ll just be one more item to blog about.