The crumpling of New Year’s resolutions

I hate New Year’s resolutions – and hardly ever make them. At some point last year I made a before 2012 end’s resolution, it was quite simple, or so I thought. My year-end resolution was to be able to run 5km. I bought myself running shoes, reflective clothing and a cap. In check was my fully loaded iPod, a Run 5km in 5 Weeks programme and plenty of weeks left to do it in. I was quite looking forward to trotting along the beachside when we went to Durban for Christmas.

What I didn’t bargain on was the illnesses of an *almost* 30-year-old creeping up on me, about 11 months in advance. I have since been told that in your near 30s your back gives in (check), in your 40s your knees and in your 50s your mind. By 60 you don’t care what else goes because it is your mind you miss the most. Back to the resolutions…

As 2013 approached I decided to do the New Year’s resolutions thing. Small, simple and achievable goals (in no particular order);

1. Do my first 5km road run – preferably before Winter.
2. Read more – or at least finish my sparkling new Games of Thrones box set.
3. Spend more time with friends. Last year, due to being a part-time student, some of my favourite people were seriously neglected.
4. Pass seven subjects.
5.  Spend more quality time with bf.

The new year hadn’t even started when my well-intended resolutions started crumbling.

In early January – after a Voltaren injection, two Cortisone injections, chronic medication (or so I was told) and one, still need to happen, neurosurgeon appointment – I realised that my dream to run 5km has to be put on hold. In fact – all training has been put on hold, until such time that I know what is wrong with my lower back and what I can and cannot do (to prevent further injury).

Now the crumpling of resolutions 2 and 3 are as a result of resolution 4. I have registered for four subjects in this semester and, after assessing the workload, I realised that most of my spare time will be dedicated to studying.

In my own stubborn and dedicated way I do try and stick to resolution 2 and 3. I try and read for five minutes every night, normally while brushing teeth (it’s a skill I mastered as a child), and I’ve accounted for special events with friends in my study schedule – my iCal app is by far the most overused app on my devices – everything goes in there.

So far the only resolutions that seem to be doing ok are 4 and 5. To date I have managed to stick to my study schedule. I keep myself going by reminding myself that the faster I complete my subjects and get my BA, the quicker I can get back to this thing called a life. Bf and I are doing our best with this quality business – we now eat at the table and talk instead of in front of the TV. Plus, there are special times in my iCal entitled “Date Night”, in two cases “Date Day”.

I suppose the lesson is this – even the simplest of goals require work. Get off your butt and work on it. It reminds me of why I value reading and am desperate to hit the road; 

"The keys to life are running and reading. When you're running, there's a little person that talks to you and says, "Oh I'm tired. My lung's about to pop. I'm so hurt. There's no way I can possibly continue." You want to quit.

If you learn how to defeat that person when you're running, you will learn not to quit when things get hard in your life.

For reading, there have been gazillions of people that have lived before all of us. There's no new problem you could have – with your parents, with school, with a bully. There's no new problem that someone hasn't already had, and written about it in a book," – Will Smith.  

The mischiefs of Meeko

Having kittens seem to diminish your fear of certain creepy crawlies – certain ones and diminish, not eliminate. For example, I no longer scream at the sight of parktown prawns, I now gently – with the aid of a towel – scoot them outside, I can take a plastic bag and pick up little bits of organs and, twice now, I’ve had to pick up baby birds – their first flights didn’t go too well. As a girl, I am proud to have achieved the point where I no longer screech, jump on to counters and shout for bf to please save me.

Until last night that is.

Around 7-ish I called in the little fur-facies for supper. Tulip came bouncing in like a little squirrel cat – all purrs – Meeko on the other hand has a little game we first have to play. She runs, we chase – until she’s had her little giggles at which point she struts towards the backdoor and in she goes. It’s a fun little game, but not when you have a pile of studying lying on your desk and hopes that you could get to bed by 10pm. Bf wasn't home, so I left her.  

About five minutes later I saw my opportunity to grab her, she was on the grass and clearly preoccupied with something. As I picked her up my arm went across my chest and I felt something incredibly cold and somewhat slimy – not normal. Looking down I noticed a lizard smack on my chest – the stupid thing must’ve been in Meeko’s mouth, which she dropped and it found a landing place on me. I screamed, dropped Meeko – thankfully cats land on their feet – took about three steps back, while waving my arms franticly, and, for good measure, took of my top and threw it aside. All this took about 2.5 seconds. It took my brain about 10 seconds to realise I was standing in the backyard, shirtless.

Clearly my dislike to touch slimy, creepy things remains intact.