My resolution to take up yoga got off to a rocky start. The instructor pulled me aside after class to discuss my lack of spirituality, flexibility and to suggest that I not bring the Twister mat ever again. I have no idea why they kept chanting “No Chardonnay.”
I resolved to throw out training clothing over 10 years old unless they still fit. Same for nutrition, especially if I no longer recognize the athlete’s picture on the wrapper.
I started my own line of triathlon apparel but some of my t-shirt slogans didn’t do so well with the focus groups including: rest days are for losers; shin splints rule and panic is my middle name.
I read an article that said you would train harder if you got an accountability partner to make sure that you don’t miss workouts. I’m lifting weights with a mob enforcer.
I resolved to spend more time with my family this year so I moved my bike trainer, the treadmill and the squat rack into the living room.
I decided to lose weight by going on the Paleo Keto Vegetarian diet. Basically, eating sweet potatoes wrapped in bacon and bowls of cabbage soup. Day 3 ended in a hostage crisis at Bennie’s Burger Barn.
I decided to commute to work by bike. That way I can sell my car and buy a better bike.
I briefly resolved to learn to ride my bike “no hands” but I soon realized that it conflicted with my resolution to spend less time in the Emergency Room.
I resolved to train every day regardless of weather or fatigue or birthdays or anniversaries. My wife changed my relationship status on FaceBook to “pushing his luck.”
I bought a meditation app to help me learn to reduce race day jitters and spent 15 minutes everyday sitting on the rug in my living room trying to center myself. Briefly I thought I was experiencing the sound of one hand clapping. It turned out to be my Labrador’s tail repeatedly hitting my forehead.
I resolved to finally clean out and organize my garage. After spending a fruitless weekend on the project, I tricked one of those reality tv shows where people bid on abandoned storage units into filming an episode in my driveway.