As you’ve heard from every hack comedian, a New Year’s Resolution can last for as much as two weeks before the person who made it is off the wagon, weeping as he’s locked in a closet devouring a four-gallon tub of ice cream and a half of a live pig. That’s what happens to everyone, even if their resolution was just to stop swearing or to be nicer to old ladies.
But that’s a worry for two weeks from now. Right now, even though I didn’t make any resolutions (just goals), I’m still feeling the afterglow of the New Year when everything is possible and feasible and covered in glitter.
That’s been particularly evident in my workouts, which since the New Year have both been really good. One going well isn’t surprising, since that was a class and there’s an instructor and other people to help carry me along. But the other, on New Year’s Day, was at my horrible emergency backup gym and I had to plan it out and do it myself without any external motivation.
(Yeah, yeah, if I were a true WarriorSpartanHeroMudderWhatever, internal motivation would be enough. But going without any external help failed to work for about 10 years, and going with has worked much better for 4, so I’m going to go with it.)
Anyhow, I am certain this run of workouts that feel really good is going to end sometime—one of the great joys of being me is that I can always see the finiteness of good things. But at the same time, it’s kind of okay. If a person’s overall fitness is the sum of every individual day that preceded it, well, adding two weeks (or whatever it turns out to be) of good can only help the average.
Certainly it’s not enough, but like I said—that’s a worry for two weeks from now. Today, I’ll try to enjoy the New Year’s bump.