The Biggest Lie Ever Told

“Look at her, she is a hog.” 

Those words still pop into my mind at least once a week. Some boy at my summer camp so cleverly hurled that insult at me when I was 12 years old and we were out at the lake for the day. We were all sitting in the boat and someone said I was hogging a seat and that boy felt the need to drive home the fact that I wasn’t like my teeny, bikini-clad bunk mates. I didn’t really understand at that time that he was making fun of me for being overweight. I wish I could say that that was the last time that I was teased and bullied for not being a size 2, but that would be lying.

As I watched a “Too Fat for Fifteen: Fighting Back” re-run last night, I listened to the kids tell their stories of being bullied for their size. One girl said, “We are the only species that enjoys torturing one another.” That really struck me.

 Is that true?

Are we the only ones on the planet that bully members of our species solely because they aren’t the same size? Regardless, you have to admit that we do it very well.

Bullying is such a huge issue for young kids but it is also a problem for adults. I’m in my twenties and I can’t tell you how many hurtful comments I had to endure during freshman year in college.

 “Where’s the farmer…Who knew the circus was in town?…I thought they freed Willy…I don’t date outside of my species…”

Those were just some of the comments that the University’s brilliant male population came up with. But the bullying had begun long before I ventured to college. Going to an all-girls prep school (really a Barbie factory masquerading as a school) was hard. The girls were tan, thin, bouncy, athletic and just gorgeous.

Of course we all went through our awkward phases, (remember Pacsun?) but everyone, for the most part, started out cute then progressed to pretty and finally ended up at gorgeous.

 And then there was me.

The pretty bone structure…Really?

I felt guilty for eating, just imagining the things my classmates were saying about me. The boys (from our brother school) were relentless with the under-the-breath insults and backhanded compliments. And 

I wish I could say that at least I was the smart one and the people who hurled insults at me were brainless brutes. But this isn’t She’s All That (ahh Freddie Prinze Jr.!) and my classmates were all incredibly bright.

So the insults were witty and thoughtful. (I like to have to think about whether or not I’m actually being made fun of. Keeps me on my toes) I tried to pretend it didn’t hurt, laughing it off or acting like I didn’t care. But I was dying on the inside; every insult and jab pushed me further and further into my shell. I made it my mission to blend into the wall, praying that no one would see me, desperately trying not to draw any attention to myself.

I stopped going to dances, parties, and school events just because I was scared of being teased or made fun of. I missed my senior prom, every graduation party, my Europe trip and pretty much everything else that came up in school. I essentially didn’t have a life. Kids were cruel, not only through the things they said but through the  things they didn’t say or didn’t do. To be the invisible girl, the girl that no one even remembered was almost worse than the insults, because I felt isolated and alone and that is the worst feeling in the world.

It’s funny to think that people can make someone feel so terrible about themselves just because they don’t look the same. Yes I was overweight but did that hurt them? No. There is no excuse for bullying, flat out. But unfortunately it continues to be such a problem.

 Sticks and stones may break your bones but words will never hurt you.

Biggest lie ever!

 Words hurt so much-they are devastating and- people sometimes forget the power of words.

As I lost the weight, the bullying slowly stopped. But it doesn’t mean I’ve forgotten about it; that is something that stays with you. But I work really hard in order to move beyond it. As they say, the best revenge is success!

I strive now to be fit not necessarily skinny (that's a happy by-product but not my main goal anymore) and to focus on things like negative splits in my runs, decreasing my mile time or striving for a PR in a race. Size should not be a reason to torture anyone nor should it define who we are. Fit and healthy are not synonymous with skinny.    

The Return of the Fanny Pack (Vegan Snacks)

With the new year beginning with many people trying to get healthier and establish some new routines, picking the right snack is absolutely crucial. And by right snack I don’t mean a fanny pack full of Skittles. Although that is convenient. You know I feel the fanny pack has gotten a bad rap. Maybe if it had a better name? The booty bag? I feel the next big trend is about to happen.

All because of me.

And my awesome renaming skills.

You don’t agree?

OK, well how about my favorite snacks? They’re pretty awesome too and filled with protein to keep me from eating (more of) my roomies gingerbread house.

1.       Chunky Monkey Shake. We all know I like to get funky and down with my bad self and that I try to shake it (key word try) but I’ll spare yall the awkwardness and just share my latest post-run protein snack. Blend 1 medium banana, 1/2-1 tablespoon nut butter ( I use raw almond), and 1 cup light chocolate milk (I use Blue Diamond unsweetened chocolate) with 1 cup of ice.
2.          Quickie Oatmeal-Raisin Cookie. In a microwave-safe mug, mix 1/4 cup oats, 1 teaspoon Splenda Brown Sugar blend, 1 tablespoon flour (you choice), 1 egg white (or egg replacer or flax seed egg), 1/4 teaspoon vanilla extract, 1/4 teaspoon baking powder, 1 teaspoon cinnamon, and 1/2 tablespoon raisins. Flatten mixture into bottom of mug and microwave for 45 seconds. Let it cool, pop it out of the mug and enjoy!
3.           Overnight Choco-Oats. I like to make this the night before a really crazy day. In a container with a secure lid, mix 1/2 cup oats, 3/4 cup non-dairy milk and 2 tablespoons chocolate protein powder (I use Manitoba Hemp powder) until well combined. Let it sit in fridge overnight (or up to a few days). Delicious!
4.           Salt and Vinegar Chickpeas. Cape Cod Salt and Vinegar chips, you have met your match. Line a baking sheet with parchment paper. Take 2 cups canned chickpeas and 3-4 cups white vinegar and place in a medium sized pot. Bring to a boil and then remove from heat and allow to sit for 30 minutes. Then preheat the oven to 425F and place chickpeas on baking sheet. Sprinkle a little coarse sea salt if you like and then roast for 45 minutes, flipping once half way through. Check frequently after 35 minutes to make sure they don’t burn. Crispy and golden is delicious, black and charred is charcoal.
5.           Lower Calorie Almond Butter. Double you pleasure, double your fun! In a blender add ¾ cup unsweetened vanilla almond milk then 3/4 cup almond butter (I use raw), 1/2 tbsp pure maple syrup (or agave or none if you don’t want it sweet; I like the natural taste) and 1/4 teaspoon cinnamon. Blend until smooth. Store sealed in the fridge. This yields about 28 tablespoons or 1 3/4 cup. Spread 1 tablespoon on an apple, banana or a spoon J
6.           Quickie Gingerbread Almond Butter. Mix 1/2 tbsp almond butter in a small bowl with 1 tbsp unsweetened almond milk. Stir until the almond butter is dissolved. Then add in a dash of cinnamon, ginger, nutmeg, cloves and 1/8 tsp blackstrap molasses. Sweeten to taste. Stir it again and then microwave in 15-second increments until thick. It will thicken as it stands post microwaving.
7.            Lemon Lime Recovery (from Thrive Fitness) This is my absolute favorite post-run drink.! Blend the following ingredients:

1.     4  Medjool dates (no pits)

2.     2 cups water

3.     1 tbsp hemp protein

4.     1 tbsp ground salba

5.     2 tbsp buckwheat (sprouted or cooked)

6.     juice from ½ lemon

7.     juice from ¼ lime

8.     1 tsp ground dulse flakes

9.     1 tsp maca

10. 1 tsp spirulina

Now you go try some of these recipes and I will be off perfecting my marketing campaign for the Booty Bag! Don’t come begging me for one when Vogue calls them the “it accessory” for 2013. 

Running Naked Might Give the Wrong Impression

Sha la la la la la

Don’t be scared

You better be prepared

Go on and kiss the girl

I blame Disney.

From the age of two, I’ve been indoctrinated with unrealistic expectations of romance, love and life in general. I mean honestly, think of what I could’ve done with the hours I spent attempting to learn the secrets of my dog’s double life as a leader in the canine network (far too many times watching 101 Dalmatians) or scrupulously inspecting every ditch and pothole, convinced that one of them would lead me to the Wonderland.

Had I only channeled that energy into something productive, like learning quantitative finance?

Or mastering a cartwheel.

I could be a famous circus accountant. How many of those do you see?

It’s all about making yourself unique in this economy.

Cinderella, Snow White, Sleeping Beauty, The Little Mermaid…

LIES! Walt, you have some explaining to do because you are the one who influenced my informative years and I feel ill equipped to deal with the situations I’ve encountered.

I want my money back.

I went on my trail-running date on Saturday.

I’m still alive.

But I’m no longer classified as Caucasian. I’m not crustacean.

Because my face has been (and I’m predicting will be forever) bright red since Saturday (Which I suppose is better than the orange hue it had been taking on. I really need to stop eating pumpkin and carrots)

Pre-date, my room was the crime scene re-enactment of a bomb going off in  Lululemon. I own most of 

Lululemon and half of Dick’s Sporting Goods athletic apparel. And you want to know how many outfits looked flattering on Saturday?

None.

I contemplated going naked. (That would’ve made a great impression. Hello!) But eventually I found something to throw on. As you might have gueesed, I didn’t really have a love life before I lost all of my weight. I had never been on a date or had a first kiss. Ergo my social interaction skills with the opposite sex are still in the developmental phase. (I’m in beta testing if you will.)

So even with the perfect running outfit that said, “I’m athletic and serious, still feminine and girly but I can probably outrun you, however, if there is a bug I will scream and run away,” (that’s a lot of responsibility for a little pair of shorts) I still felt as if I was going to DIE before my date. My heart was racing, my palms were sweaty, my face instinctively started flushing and getting all hot.

I was a hot mess.

I am still not used to people seeing the “thin Cecelia” and so I tend to act very quiet and shy, I tiptoe around people, act too eager to please and fade into the background. But that’s pretty much the best way to ruin a first date. Especially when your date is a trail run.

No one but you and him to pass the time.

The occasional deer or lizard. But they aren’t that chatty.

CECELIA! YOU WILL DIE ALONE WITH A CAT NAMED NORMAN IF YOU DON’T GET IT TOGETHER!

“Ready to have your butt handed to you?” I jokingly asked (while mentally screaming, ”Please don’t hate me, I’m attempting to joke because otherwise I’ll shake and cry, or faint”)

“Yeah, you do that Short Stuff. How tall are you, like two inches above a legal dwarf?”

And we were off! It was a great day and I think since I was engaged in running and watching my surroundings, the conversation was so much easier because you know, my brain wasn’t screwing it up. 

He is a solid foot taller than me, so attempting to look at him while talking involved deciding how much I liked my eyesight and if I was willing to risk blindness by staring into the sun (who needs to see anything?)

Nine miles later we were done and hanging out by the river (read panting, and trying not to dry-heave). 

Amazingly, my nerves had yet to ruin it, and I was calm and relaxed.

Then it got very very quiet.

So he tried to kiss me and my social skills evaporated and I freaked out. I tried to sort of turn my head out of reflex shock and then I changed my mind and overcorrected. And I ended up smacking my eye on his chin.

I now have a black eye.

Hi, I’m Awkward Pants Magee. Nice to meet you. 

Poor Little Hamsters

The dreadmill
Hamster hell
The death belt

Normally I'd say I was being a bit overdramatic but this time it's completely justified. And if you've been running (or really just exercising) for a while, chances are that you are familiar with the feeling of dread and torture device that is known by most as the treadmill.

When I first embarked on my weight loss and fitness journey, I could barely run a block. I started really small, primarily using my Wii Fit to exercise (I had a long tumultous relationship with the balance board. His name was Harold. Sadly we parted ways) Slowly I started incorporating more traditional forms of fitness. I started walking outside, trying to go half of a block further each day. After a few weeks I decided that I might try and "run" so I picked a stretch of sidewalk that was safely shielded from traffic/people/dogs/nosey birds and potentially low flying planes. I jogged one block and then promptly declared that I WAS GOING TO DIE and walked home.

But the next time I ran a block and a half before I felt the impending death. Over the next two months I focused on running more blocks than I walked. Slowly I improved as a runner but like many college girls, I preferred to glide away on my elliptical, cycle fervently to nowhere in spin class, and climb and climb and climb on my stairmaster. A group fitness junkie, the gym became a serious part of my social life and pretty much the only thing about my university that made me not miserable. I

It wasn't until my Senior year of college that I truly fell in love with running. The second I pinned on that bib for my first 5k, I was hooked. The competitive energy, the adrenaline rush and the sense of accomplishment when I crossed the finish line were so exciting.

But mostly the sense of competition. What can I say? I'm sweet, well-mannered and just about is good-tempered as can be (I say dear, good grief and fiddlesticks :) but stick a racing bib and a pair of running shoes on me and you'd better stay out of my way. Because I must break you.

(that was supposed to be Ivan Drago from Rocky...because I'm just as scary as he is...)

Now I'm a full on running junkie. I actually believe that my body craves the endorphins. They say that that is the first step. Admitting you have a problem. I mean I don't. But you know, some people, they might. Not me.

Anyways...I'm strictly an outdoor runner (like an outdoor cat) and enjoyed a wonderful streak of outdoor running...like a solid 7 months without having to go inside. I plodded through rain, wind, mud, freezing cold, fog, unbearable heat, snow and even a hurricane (I didn't know it when I left my house) to log my miles.

But all good things must end. The first time I ran on a treadmill, I was so bored I wanted to shoot myself after just 5 minutes. I couldn't even fathon running a single mile on that hamster wheel, let along MILES (plural).

I avoid using the treadmill like I avoid walking through the sale room of Forever21or Nordstrom's shoe section during Prom season. Despite the fact that I'd probably rather run a 5k naked than hop on a treadmill, I must admit, they do serve a purpose.

A) They are great if you are recovering from an injury. 
B) When it's 105 degrees outside, anything other than wallowing in front of my freezer is pretty much off the list. Treadmills inside in the air conditioning are more enticing than heat exhaustion and gagging during your run.
C) I love my knuckle lights, reflective gear and glowsticks, but even I get weary of running in the dark, especially if it's rainy/foggy/overcast or super cold. Sometimes I feel braver than others (i.e. when I have a posse with me...cause that's how I roll) and then sometimes I don't want to risk an injury...or you know getting hit by a car...or bat.

For the days when I'm forced inside, I use that time to work on my speed. Because the treadmill is a constant speed and grade, it makes specific workouts easier to do (but take the pace and speed with a grain of salt because often times the machines aren't calabrated properly).

Cecelia's Favorite "You'll-Absolutely-Hate-Me-But-Love-Me-When-You-Win" Treadmill Workout:

Warm up for 10 minutes, then set the treadmill at your approximate marathon pace. (If you've never run a marathon, estimate your marathon time by multiplying your typical 10-K time by 4.65.) With the treadmill elevated 1 degree, run for 2 minutes at marathon pace, then elevate the incline to 2 degrees and run for 2 minutes. Next return to 1 degree for 2 minutes, but then climb to 3 degrees for 2 minutes.

Continue in this manner, raising the grade on every other 2-minute repeat until you've reached 7 degrees (the inclination pattern is 1-2-1-3-1-4-1-5-1-6-1-7). Finish the workout by running an easy 8- to 10-minute cooldown.

Are you strictly an outdoor runner or do you like the treadmill? 

A Day in the Life of a Career Klutz

So since the last post gave you a little taste of my less than stellar flirting escapades with the opposite sex, here is just a little example of what happens when I actually try and interact with them: Let me take you back in time, when it wasn't dark at 4 p.m. and when I could run without a down parka...

Just pop up, don’t even flinch, maybe they didn’t see you.

Flash mental inventory:

Teeth? All there

Nose? Still button-y.

Shorts? Still covering my booty.

All right, I’m fine, no big deal. See, I’m a total bamf. I laugh at you Arnold and your tiny muscles (said in a Austrian accent).

Commence mental victory dance party. (Oppa Gangnam style!)

I don’t remember this shirt having red stripes, hmm, cute.

Boy, the air is really stinging tonight. Like did they spray rubbing alcohol into the atmosphere or something?

Whoa that’s blood. And gravel. And…

Honestly, I’m a munchkin-sized harbinger of klutzy destruction. Throw in a side of extreme gender-induced social awkwardness and it’s like Apocalypse Now! Friends, beware; you might be risking your well-being for the pleasure of my company.

I’ll understand if you value your life and limbs too much…but I’m pretty awesome…just something to think about…I might have cookies…

I was training for my first half marathon, one of my fitness goals. Before becoming a fit, spunky gym-bunny (or rat, depending on the day) I’d talk about how crazy endurance athletes were, how nuts recreational runners were, how they had too much time on their hands, how they were killing their joints and how I never had any desire to do anything like that. Because I couldn’t even run half a mile, the idea of running 13.1 or 26.2 miles was so far out of my realm of possibilities that I decided anyone who wanted to run that far was just fifty shades of crazy!

Well, Christian Grey must be wandering around somewhere because not only have I successfully run a half-marathon but I'm also getting ready to start training for my second (Nike in DC baby!) and am planning for a fall full. And my ultimate fitness goal is to run an ultra marathon. (Scott Jurek=my idol!)

But as much as I love running  (I say now, safely in fuzzy socks) I’ve found that I train better and run faster when I have some homies rolling with me!

So I began joining running clubs, groups, teams and random meet-ups over the past couple of months. Yes, I want to be a better runner but also I’m really trying to meet some different people and make new friends.

Ehem, male friends.

Yes, I’m that girl. Don’t judge. OK, you can a little bit.

(If boys can buy puppies to attract girls, this is nothing.)

So I run with a particular group every week and I’ve gotten to know the other runners but am still really shy and get all goofy if I’m left to my own devices around them. Most of the other girls in the group don’t run as fast as I do (zoom, zoom, zoom, I’m the Flash!) so it’s usually just me and the boys. One  o night we were all running and I felt super girly and confident, thanks to a flirty new running outfit (love Lululemon) and a new pair of running shoes.

I’m zipping along with this guy and we’re having a great conversation. It was flowing so naturally, there were no awkward did-you-know facts or embarrassing anecdotes (an unfortunate habit) and I felt totally at ease. But this was because I was so focused on checking my running form and not running in front of a bus. I was so focused in fact that I was totally oblivious that he was FLIRTING WITH ME!

That is until we paused at a water stop and one of the other girls in our posse decided to take it upon herself to explain how hardcore he was flirting me. That he was practically sprinting to keep up with me, that he’d asked where I was when I was running late and that he’d been curious if I was single.

Thanks so much, girlfriend.

Enter spastic Cecelia:  I’m breathing too loud. Don’t run into him! Stop laughing, you sound like Janice from Friends!

It’s only four more miles, hold it together and then you can escape. Don't throw up.

Stop looking at him!

 Right, Left. Good. See? It’s not that bad, chill out.

SPLAT!

I face planted on the sidewalk. I was so flustered by the “flirting” that I neglected my form, the sidewalk and the fact that gravity and I are at odds with one another. I had gravel shoved in my elbows, palms and knees. Blood dripping from the hands and knees, I popped up, brushed it off and kept running. I wanted to die from embarrassment so I pretty much sprinted those last four.

Geez, Louise. I’m hopeless. 

The Dreadmill Truly is the Root of All Evil

It’s like a T. rex: if I don’t move he won’t be able to see me. Keep very, very still. You don’t need to breathe, really you don’t. You’re evolved beyond that function.

It’s going to be fine, you’ll get through this. You’re too young to die like this!

“Cecelia?”

HOW DID HE SEE ME?! I’m as still as a squirrel in the middle of rush hour!

“You okay?”

I am currently accepting applications for a full-time social babysitter.

Great benefits…

No dental but I’ll share my pumpkin baked goods.

I might throw in a pair of seasonal socks. Because who doesn’t love fun socks?

My future is changing directions and you know what I see?

Cats, Scrabble and Golden Girls re-runs.

I thought that I was getting better at interacting with members of the opposite sex. And I am. Sort of. Well, I can carry on a conversation without falling flat on my face and busting open my knees and elbows in the middle of a 6-mile run (yep it happened. I needed 10 stitches. My nerves live in another realm of social awkwardness) and no longer have the urge to pretend I'm lost from a foreign tour group when a guy looks at me. But hey, Rome wasn’t built in a day.

And as of right now, I’ve built ¼ of a sidewalk.

But it’s a pretty sidewalk.

There’s mosaic.

Due to a dead headlamp, 30-degree temperatures, pouring rain and total darkness, I was driven into the gym the other night for my run.

NO! DON’T MAKE ME! NOT THE HAMSTER HELL!

I loathe running on a treadmill (dreadmill, wheel of doom,) and have not had to resort to that option since June. I’m that crazy girl who runs in the pouring down rain, 105-degree heat and absolute pitch-black night. But alas, winter is a whole other ball of wax. Cold and Cecelia do not mix. (We are like Diet Coke and Mentos) Where I live is also right on a river and we live in an epicenter of paradoxical weather. It can be raining one moment, sunny the next and an hour later it will be snowing. Our weathermen have the best jobs because realistically they can say whatever they like and no one can fault them because our weather is so fickle (I predict it will rain kittens tomorrow).

This weather, while amazing for cute scarves, head wraps and coats, is deplorable for outdoor running.

So I put on my iPod, and unwilliningly jumped on my treadmill for an 8-mile tempo run.

Hey, it’s not as bad as you thought. See you were being silly. This is flying buy, you must be at least halfway finished; maybe I’ll go for 10 miles today.

Mileage: .25mile

KILL ME!!!!!

Eight tedious, agonizing and miserably boring miles later, I leapt off and immediately and exasperatedly shouted “Hamster hell! Never again!”  I was unaware that there was someone standing right in front of me (exhaustive exercise induced blindness) and even more oblivious to the fact that he was trying to talk to me. A former gym rat, I knew everyone of the trainers who worked in my health club on a first-name basis and by favorite exercise. However, since becoming so serious about running, I haven’t been in the gym in months.

“I’ve missed seeing you around, it’s so serious in here now,” he said. “You look amazing by the way. Have you changed up your workout, your muscle tone is phenomenal.”

If I had a patronus, it’d be a squirrel. I stood there, wide-eyed and frozen unsure of what to say or do. 

Just jump back on the treadmill, he can’t talk to you if you are in motion.

Thirty seconds of uncomfortable nervous laughter was followed by “Yeah, I stopped Spinning because it made my legs look fat.”

Smooth, right? I ran back to my machine to wipe it down and had plans of making a break for it through the Stairmasters when I heard footsteps behind me.

“You do the minimal running thing right?” he said.  “I’m trying to transition for my next marathon. Do you think I could pick your brain about it? I’m doing a trail run this weekend if you want to join me. I promise I’ll keep you from falling off a cliff or something.”

OH MY GOSH. Don’t scream at him, don’t throw up and don’t run away.

Say something.

Anything.

Use your words!

I squeaked out, “it’s OK, I come with a waiver.”

If you don’t hear from me after Saturday, it’s because I’ve died of first-date awkwardness…or I’ve fallen into a ditch.

Send help.

And tacky socks. 

Don't Give Up On New Years Resolutions!

Life is like a marathon

Don’t judge a book by its cover

The early bird gets the worm

A bird in the hand is worth two in the bush

Absolute power corrupts absolutely

Some clichés are about as useful as a lead balloon.

Sorry, I couldn’t resist.

I am the first person to say that I despise clichés and euphemisms. I’m a say it how it is kind of gal (unless of course there is a guy involved, in which case I’m a say it in incoherent gibberish kind of gal) but there is one cliché that I feel people always roll their eyes at: New Year’s resolutions.

But this is one turn of phrase that I actually feel deserves a second chance! (Like the fanny pack!) I hear from people in my life that they are ineffective; they will be forgotten before January ends and that assigning the task of self-improvement to an arbitrary date like January 1^st is destined for failure.

All right negative Nellie’s, be that way.

But I really do think a new year’s resolution is a great idea. I think the reason most people fail or give up is because of the way that they go about them. A lot of people treat a new years resolution like a magical wish. When the final second ticks down on December 31^st some people seem to think that a switch will flip and they’ll instantly have the willpower and discipline of a Navy Seal or the athletic capability of Sammy Sosa or the paper and napkin folding abilities of Martha Stewart.

Just me? Cool.

So on January 1^st, don’t make a wish. Don’t resolve to suddenly be an Olympic athlete, or an astronaut or a competitive whistler. Most people can’t really achieve all those things (unless you are Barbie. She can do it all. In a pink convertible) but you can change a certain habit or attitude to make yourself better, happier, stronger etc.

Whenever I decide I need to change something, it’s usually a vague thought rolling around in my head: blahh I need to save more money but I can’t focus on how to do it. I just know I need to. The idea is in there, it’s just running back and forth like 2-year old and refusing to sit still so I can organize. Weeeeeeeee! So this is a good time to ask some important questions. Take a few seconds and answer these questions and actually write down your response:

•      Why do I want to do this?
•        What is the habit that I would need t o develop/change to make this happen?
•        What do I already do well that I can use to learn and stay accountable?
•        What other resources do I need?
•     What is my deadline? Do I need to break a big goal up into a smaller one?
•         How can I set this up to not be overwhelmed?
• 
  

If you do decide to take on a new years resolution, I do have a few words of advice (from some personal ummm, well, they weren’t successes). If you think you are starting small, start smaller. Trust me. You have time to expand your goal but you won’t be overwhelmed once you get into it.

Focus on the process. It’s easy to get caught up in an initial wave of excitement and then free fall to earth like the Wylie Coyote when your initial efforts don’t produce immediate and amazing results (what do you mean I didn’t lose 10lbs overnight?! I had a salad last night!) So focus on the process and develop a greater competence of the actual activity, habit or skill you want to ultimately achieve.

Have a clear purpose. Be clear on what you want to achieve not simply an idea. Resolutions to eat better, get fitter, be happier, or relax more are doomed to fail because they aren’t specific. The more specific you are, the more likely you are to succeed. Describe your goals and resolutions in a way that will allow you to track your progress and measure your success (hello milestones…and my subsequent embarrassingly huge Essie nail polish collection).

Forgive your failures. Your setbacks and failures won’t define your success in the year ahead but how you respond will! Everyone slips up so don’t let those setbacks mean more than they do. Reflect on why it happened, make an adjustment and then channel your inner John Wayne and get back in the saddle!

My resolution this year is to take at least 3 seconds off my last half-marathon time in my upcoming race in April. I also want to focus controlling my temper, I tend to be a wee bit of a reactionary. 

What are your New Years resolutions?