Dropping Out

Have you ever been in a race that you know you haven’t prepared for?

You signed up, and then meant to start training, and then before you know it, you just….didn’t. And then the race day is here, and you start out feeling ok, fueled by the adrenaline of the other runners, the high of the race. A few kilometres in, you know you can’t keep up the pace, so you slow to a walk. This is ok, you think. I can walk the whole time and still finish. So you walk most of the time, with some running spurts interspersed; but never for long, because each burst of speed is less of a burst and more of a “fuck, I have to run again?” Eventually, you stumble over the finish line, happy to have completed the race.

But how is this way of completion better than not having done it at all? Believe me, you don’t feel great about the way it went down, and you almost feel like a loser with your medal, because you know you don’t really deserve it. But people congratulate you for having done it, and you tell yourself that it was an accomplishment, because many people will never walk that far in one go.

I have a feeling that most people don’t approach things this way, but I’ve realized recently that almost every single thing in my life ends up in the “well at least I finished it” bucket, rather than the “Yeah! I’m so happy I did that and I put all of my effort into it!” bucket. Literally. Almost everything. Maybe fully everything. From the aforementioned races (five so far), to cleaning my house; even to writing and entering stories into contests. Everything is started with the very best of intentions. Every single time I am sure that this time it will be different.

“This time I am going to run the whole race!”

“This weekend I am going to declutter everything I don’t use, and make space to think in my tiny apartment!”

“That is a fun story prompt; I’ve told myself I would write more this year, and put it out for people to read, why don’t I start there?”

But reader, it never is different.

I’m 36, I have been saying these things for, oh, I don’t know, 15 years? Minimum.

I know that as a kid my dad would always tell me that I could do anything I wanted, if only I just tried; then he would go on to tell me that I didn’t try, and I was wasting my potential. And as much as I loathe being a grown-ass human blaming their issues on their parents, I must have ingrained it at some point, and have been accepting a life of skating by, doing the bare minimum.

When what I really want is to be extraordinary. In my own definition. Not necessarily rich and famous and everyone knows about my extraordinariness, but at least not in debt with a good amount of savings to do what I want, in shape enough to run a 5k easily, doing well at my chosen profession, and for the love of all things chocolate, living with minimal clutter in my home.

So then with all that being said, you want to know about my goals for the year, my ‘resolutions.’ I get it, big sweeping change is the name of the game.

But as someone who has half-assed her whole life, and just gotten by, who makes resolutions every single year, but never keeps them, because that would require commitment, big sweeping change has never worked for me.

So when I look at my big goals (lose weight, pay off debt, write more, etc.), they stress me out a bit.

So here is my 2021 resolution: no annual resolution.

Huh?

Let me explain. Looking one year out is just too hard for me to really resonate with the end goal, because it is too far from where I currently am. Having a smoothie for breakfast today feels pointless, when I have 57 pounds to lose; “surely one muffin won’t make that much of a difference?!” my brain screams at me.

And my brain is right, one muffin (or Netflix binge, or skipped morning pages, or papers left lying around, etc.) won’t make a difference. But what I have realized recently, you see, is that the one [insert indulgence of choice here] teaches my neanderthal brain that it is ok to do such a thing, because there were no major consequences, so it’s ok to do that again.

Aha! We have reached the cornerstone of my issue.

So then, how do I actually go about reaching my goals?

This year, I started working in two week timelines. So at any point in time, I am adding in something, with the goal of completion for two weeks. No more. At the end of that two weeks, I can re-evaluate, and decide if I want to keep going.

For example, in the area of health: I chose to do a Whole 30 this January with my partner. I encouraged us to do it, because I don’t sleep the best, and I want to see if there is something in my diet making it worse. To my partner, I said “Let’s do 30 days!” He agreed. Internally, I thought that I would do it for two weeks, and if I wanted to, I could reconsider. As of today, I am on day 28. And now, not only will I make it to 30 days, but we are planning to make each phase of reintroduction last two weeks, to get the most out of the 30 day reset.

Two weeks ago I also asked myself if I could do three different types of strength exercises, 5-7 days per week. At home, with equipment I have, but just three things. I haven’t done anything close to a strength workout in years, to be clear on my history. So I started, and for the last two weeks, I have done three rounds of three different exercises (squats, planks, pushups, etc) six days a week. Do I feel stronger? Yes. Do I feel like I inconvenienced myself? Not at all.

My next addition is to follow a schedule to try Buti yoga for the next two weeks. I bought the videos two years ago, and have made it through the first of six exactly once. It is a 30 minute workout, three days in a row and then rest, and then three and rest, and so on. The schedule is for 60 days, but I am committing to 14 and then, you guessed it, I can re-evaluate! Maybe I will hate that type of yoga.

I have also committed to writing a bit every day for two weeks, and submitting something else here on Vocal. Is it going to be good writing? Unlikely. But it will be out there for the world to see.

I am working on this way for each of my goals. Small, measured in happiness in my current life. Because if the habit doesn’t make me happy, then how in the heck am I ever going to keep them up to reach my goals? It seems there is enough momentum for me to see even a small improvement at the two week mark, and so far that is what I need to keep going.

If you’re like me, and have a hard time committing to a goal that feels super far away, try committing to the habits, in bite sized chunks. Try the habit on for size, and if it fits more like a wicked stepsister than Cinderella, then you can adjust accordingly.

Drop out of the Resolution Rat Race, my friends. Become a Two-Week Turtle, like me.