Resolutions that Last

We relish in being given a new chance with each New Year. We promise ourselves, and our loved ones that we will do things different this year. We will live full lives, ones that make us happy, ones that will make us thinner, more peaceful, more successful.

We write down our lists, tell others (or not) and then hope for the best. It is a long year with lots of hope and promise of what can be. Unfortunately, living into the hope and promise of a new long year is just what sabotages our efforts.

Our efforts begin strong as we plunge forward and join the gym or go back to the gym that we have long since abandoned.  We pack healthy lunches for work and throw out all the holiday goodies.  We write down our daily lists and check them off twice. All the while almost humming a happy tune about how this year will be different.

Then March or April show up and suddenly the days turn into weeks, and then into months and without a warning, become a tedious task at best. All that planning, and creativity to make sure everything fits just the way you said it would almost turns it into a job! And the more you think about how long you will have to work in order for it to be life-changing and life-long, the more ready you are to give it up. Sure, you can do it right now, but if you are tired already, how will you possibly keep it up for the next few decades?

Sometimes our thoughts move us into action, but mostly, our deep thoughts have one purpose: sabotage.  You know the voice. The one that says, ‘You know you aren’t going to do this much longer anyway.’ The one that says, ‘Come on, you aren’t fooling anyone, they all know you aren’t going to be successful at this.’  Yet while your voice is just running its’ usual mouth, you start to believe it and forget that you are choosing to listen to it, but could also choose to ignore it. 

Want to finally have success at your commitments? Ignore it! Or even better, gently thank it for coming and do what you have to do in spite of it.

You do not have to do this forever. Whatever it is. Whether it is your business, a healthy lifestyle, or a workout plan, you do not have to do this forever. You don’t. I am freeing you from those imprisoning words.

But will this really work if I don’t commit to this for the rest of my life? 

Yes!

Because all you actually need to do, is honor your commitment today.  That is it. Nike wasn’t just branding their company so you would wear it on your shirt. They were branding the motto we should wear in our hearts.

Just do it. Today (I added that part!).  All you need to do is honor your commitment today, and tomorrow…will take care of itself, as it ever so gracefully falls into ‘today.’ Have this resolution, be the one that lasts.

www.GellerCoaching.com

Family Tradition

Twas the night before my son's triathlon and all through the house, not a creature was stirring, just my worried little voice. I thought it was unnerving to prepare for my own triathlon but had no idea how unnerving it was going to be to prepare for my son's. The mere thought of being held responsible for forgetting some important item for his race was more burden than any mother should have to bear. I crawled into bed that night early praying that nothing was left behind and that I would still hold the title of 'very prepared mom'.

I had purposely not watched the weather report, knowing that a chance of extreme heat and thunderstorms were always a possiblility in the summer. It would be what it would be and we would make the best of it. But I was quick to offer the bright side of the rain that was already falling by 6am, knowing that light rain was a better option than extreme heat. Unfortunately, once I helped him set up in Transitions, the light rain turned to a terrential downpour. My son, Shane, was quiet but said he wasn't nervous. I, on the other hand, was very nervous. It was pouring and all I knew for sure that while he was prepared for the race, he had never trained in the rain, and neither had I. I had no experience that was going to help him in this rainy race, except to say, "avoid the white lines on the road while riding and be careful around the turns."

At 8am exactly, they began to herd all of the racers into the water. The rain would not let up and I began to feel sick as I watched my baby, now standing at 5'10", waiting for his wave to be called. I began to recount all the things about him that made his life so precious to me. I began listing them one at a time. My eyes welled with tears at the thought of putting one of my most precious life items in possible harm's way. What had I done?

His girlfriend and I waited on a deck above the lake, praying to see him in the mass of swimmers and were relieved when we spotted his white shirt heading for shore. He ran from the muddy lake, and headed for his bike just as a crack of thunder rumbled above us. It was then that the worry of him spilling out on his rented road bike took second to my fear of the lightening. Fortunately it was the only crack of thunder we heard and I checked my watch to keep an eye on how soon we would see him gearing up for the run. As we continued standing in the down pour under a tree offering nearly any shelter, I wondered if I really had to support him on his run. Did he want me to run with him? Or did I just want to run with him? I didn't have the answer to either question, but knew I was already soaked to the bone even with my two jackets and was not looking forward to stripping down and running at all. Training in the rain was definitely not my idea of fun.

About 30 minutes later we saw him round the corner on his bike and my mother instincts took over. Of course I was going to go out there with him! I pulled off my jackets, handed my cell and umbrella to his girlfriend and took off around the corner. My dad jumped onto the course just then too. The 'Home Team' was back!

Shane looked full of energy, even though it was the last leg of the race. He was talking and laughing like we were out for a jog, while I was clear that this was the 'get your legs back' part of the run and that at any moment, his pace was going to be too much for me. After a 1/4 of a mile, the race volunteers were leading us to some remote path that appeared to be in the woods. Did I mention I don't do trail running either?

Suddenly this race became about me as I tried to make sense of this path we were running on. At one time, I was sure it was a trail, but at this time, after 4 hours of heavy rain, it was nothing more than mud puddles. Mud puddles that I wouldn't even consider walking through, no less be forced to run through. How could that be safe? Luckily for me, I noticed quickly that I wasn't able to keep Shane's pace.

'Okay, I am now slowing you down, so you keep running and I will stay here and catch you on the way back!'

He seemed okay with that and I couldn't have been happier. Even standing in the rain at that point seemed enjoyable compared to running through the mud. I spent the next several minutes cheering everyone else on until he was back...without my dad.

Where's Poppy? I asked.

He's back there somewhere, Shane said, not rattled at all by any of his surroundings and still seemingly full of energy.

The support was now back to me and we headed through the muddy puddles as I prayed we would get to land quickly and safely. My prayers came true, though once we got on the pavement, Shane began to pick up his pace, as I barely held on.

You go baby! I don't want to hold you back! Run it to the finish...

And he took off, leaving me to find my dad and us sprinting in the best we could, way behind our teammate.

It was a great story to tell about the Home Team being there more in spirit than anything else, but mostly about how in that moment of him crossing the finish, a tradition had carried on. With my parents crossing many marathon finish lines, and my own running races as well as triathlons, it was now being passed down to a new generation.

You have the bug, don't you? I asked Shane noticing the pride he had in his eyes.

Yea, he said smiling. Definitely.

And I knew that meant he would be back for more. Just like the rest of us.

www.LesleyGeller.com