I dusted off my resolutions today. And my treadmill. (Correction: James's treadmill.) And although I longed to leap into my new exercise regimen with gusto, I took it slow and gave myself a ten-minute limit. I love how just ten minutes of moving warms a body up and gets everything going in a forward motion.
I'm a horrid overachiever when it comes to New Year's resolutions. I swear my midnight list has everything on it from losing five pounds to curing cancer, and in reality, I'm lucky if I can manage to scratch even half of one from the count by the end of the year. This year's list is no exception, and I can already almost sense the taste of failure in the dust kicked up by the treadmill.
But it's not bad to set big, unrealistic goals, is it? I'm sure every New Year's Eve at midnight biochemists everywhere are writing Find a Cure for Cancer and it has yet to happen. But all year long they're working hard to make progress, and every year's end shows signs of improvement. Eventually the time will come when they can cross it off and celebrate.
There's so much I want to do this year. So many changes I want to make! And I know I'll be lucky to meet even one of my goals. But if I only keep moving in a forward motion, any progress I'm able to make will look dang good at the end of the year.
(P.S. I couldn't help but post a pic of my getting-rattier-by-the-day Skechers -- icons of last year's good intentions -- as the big old visual for this post. Everytime they're on my feet I can't help but see little killer whales out of the corner of my eye! Hm. Whales and resolutions of weight loss; I sense a connection.... ;->)