Happy New Year

I'm a resolution-maker in spite of my better judgment. I can't help it; it fits so well with being a list-maker and a calendar-carrier. I'm also, unfortunately, usually a resolution-breaker. I am the woman who lived in Washington, D.C, for a decade and never managed to run the Marine Corps Marathon, after all. And me the daughter of a Marine, no less! And yet I can't help it. The new year rolls around and I hang a fresh new calendar and the empty pages are so full of promise and hope I just can't help it. I make lists, I make plans, I set goals, I bite off more than I can chew.

Over the years I have at least learned to be gentle with myself over the inevitable falling short, perhaps even philosophical about falling short. Better to fall short than to fail to strive at all, right? On the other hand, I miss the person I was in college when I was a competitive athlete (I raced The Little 500 three years running). I miss practicing time trials out on Flat Bottom Road. I miss those horrid spinning drills my coach set for us. I miss finishing a work out drenched in sweat and wondering if I'd be able to walk to classes the next day. I miss demanding more of myself than my body felt comfortable giving. I had a teammate in those days who was naturally talented, and worked hard to boot. But above all she had that natural flair. I never did; I improved by the force of sheer will. I want to do something like that again, to feel that degree of accomplishment, but looking at the structure of my life right now I know I don't have the time to dedicate to marathon training or climbing the Col d’Aubisque. But I miss that part of my life. I miss finishing a time trial, pulling over to the curb and throwing up from the effort of it. Truly odd as it sound, I miss training until I puke.

I was making my list of goals for the year, and it looked something like this:

1. Get back into a German class (my German has deteriorated markedly since I stopped going to classes)
2. Find a yoga class
3. Work out/lose weight (the perennial, no?)
4. Learn a new crafting hobby

A fine, reasonable list; manageable, given the circumstances of my life (1 Small Boy, 0 day care). But a boring list, an uninspired list. Not a list that is going to force me outside of my comfort zone, to demand more of myself than comes easily. Not the sort of list I imagine Lance Armstrong making.

I think I'm getting ready to do something hard. I don't know what yet, but I feel the need to do something hard, to climb something steep, to carry something heavy. Steeper than I'm used to, heavier than is comfortable. I don't know what yet, but I think I'm casting about for a physical challenge.