The First Big Hiccup

Day 76, Tuesday March 17, 9.30am: Apparently, New Year's Resolutions go all the way back to 153 B.C. and the Romans.

The Romans installed Janus, a mythical king, at the head of their calendar. With two faces, he looked back on past events as well as forward to the future and became a symbol for resolutions. In due course, the first month of the year was named after Janus, the god of beginnings and the guardian of doors and entrances.

I wonder if the Romans were as useless at keeping their resolutions as we appear to be?

Actually, I’m still hanging in there, although it’s been a rocky couple of weeks. I haven’t exactly given in, but I’ve flirted with the idea.

Kate The Tech alerted me to the fact that ‘experts’ – whoever they are – suggest that it takes 21 days to confirm a new habit. Well, I had got at least twice as far with my new virtuous habits when the trouble began.

It came in the shape of ill health. A stomach virus was followed by a cold. So I decided not to risk the gym for a couple of days. Couple of days stretched to a week. Week stretched into almost two. I felt lousy so I ate a couple of crisps. Only a couple, but still the first crisps of the year. I drank less water, and ate less fruit.

I’m still not 100% but I realised at the end of last week that I was at a crossroads. Go back to the gym, to water and to fruit or bust.

So I went back - I thought of John, one of the trainers at the gym, saying to me a few weeks ago: "How much do you really want this?" after he had spotted me going easy on my stomach crunches - and I’ve kept going back. I'm over my first big hiccup. I don't suppose it will be my last. Writing about it on the blog, I hope, will help me get back in the saddle. I wonder, Kate, if that means I'm on probation again for the next 21 days?

I’m sure most people’s resolutions fall victim to similar setbacks. It may not be due to a shortage of resolve at all. It just might be a stomach virus or a sniffle, a wonderfully alcoholic party or a relaxing holiday – anything, indeed, which helps create a new, easier sofa-bound habit than bench-pressing.

Introducing One-Lung Mike and Lubricious Linda

Day 71, Friday March 13, 6.15 am: Sorry Linda. You're not, of course, at all lubricious. It's just a word I've been wanting to use for ages without knowning what it means. The only way to make myself look it up in the dictionary - I am a sloth, don't forget - was to use it, then find out what I had just said. I have just looked up 'lubricious' and I apologie unreservedly.
What a great word, though, eh?
Anyway, Mike and Linda...
I was, actually, going to start with me. I was going to tell you after 10 days of a cold and stomach bug, I still managed to clock 6 lengths of crawl, a world record for a Head Sloth. I was going to tell you how well my piano is going, and how badly my golf is developing. I was going to tell you that I went to the gym yesterday for the first time in a week and that my weight has dipped below 78kg for the first time since 1993 (more of that later).
But my thunder has been well and truly stolen by One-Lung Mike and Not-At-All-In-Any-Possible-Way-Lubricous Linda. Here am I, tinkering with my waist line and tinkling with ivories and M and L have a New Year's Resolution to turn their lives upside down (we have not heard of them yet, incidentally, because they haven't had time. They still haven't got time. They are, after all, too busy. Turning their lives upside down).
I have very few details but, essentially, if I've got the gist, they are resolved to sell their house, move to their holiday residence in France and re-invent their lives.
Bloody brilliant! Mind-boggling boldness!
And the news is, that, despite choosing the maddest time for such an undertaking, they have at least and at long last managed to let out their house. They have now moved into a short-term house-babysitting arrangement and, if I understood their garbled phone message, the move is on for the end of this month!
Truly, truly, tantalisingly terrific!
Even if I am fairly convinced that neither One-Lung nor Not-At-All-In-Any-Possible-Way-Lubricious could manage six lengths of crawl...
I will update you with their details as soon as they have a micro-second.

Bloody Body Clock

Day 71, Friday March 13, 5.30am - Bloody typical. You agree to take your brother's kids to school, even if it means that you will have to set your alarm to 6.15am so as to take them into custody. Without knowing it, you're a little on edge and you wake up at 5.30. And you can't get back to sleep. Bloody body clock.

Big Frank, You Can Read This...

Day 66, Sunday March 8, 8pm: Frank, I shall not be be bothering you this evening.
Consider this a deafening silence.
Against all the expectations, I have not discovered the secret of golf over the past few weeks. At least, I have not discovered the secret of playing golf in a three-club gale. I am, it turns out, a quite useless golfer when the wind gets up. I spent most of this afternoon running around trying to retrieve my scorecard. Don't know why I bothered, really. It was a very unpleasant document indeed.
You are safe, Frank. For now.

Big Frank, Whatever You Do, Don't Read This (But Juliet May Enjoy It)

Day 66, Sunday March 8, 7.15am: Frank, whatever you do, don't read this. I mean it. Stop. Now.

It will only bring back nightmares. Juliet, though, you can read on. If only to give you a chance to mock me.

I am playing golf today. In my club's montly medal. For the first time in four months.

As Frank knows to his cost - it's the price he pays for being my immediate neighbour - I am a bit of a golf nut. He had a very hard year recently, listening to me relentlessly expounding on the great game. Frank prefers Merlot, and long walks, the Civil Service and unicycles. Frank, indeed, prefers anything to me talking golf.

Juliet, a couple of doors down, also knows about my dedication to all things involving a 7-iron and a little white ball. The difference is that Juliet has just taken up golf and, I think, may get prettty good at the game. How are we going to measure her NYR progress? Well, her first 10 shots went about 65 yards, 45 degrees left. We'll go from there.

Me? Well, I'm playing off 10.3 today but, as I say, I haven't played for ages. In theory, I should be lucky to break 14 or 15. But I have been doing a lot of thinking and theorising in recent weeks and I'm hoping this will count for something. Anything near 10 over par today will be a big success. If I manage that, I shall tell you, while expounding on one of my latest theories. I shall even go and tell Frank.

If I score worse than 10, you will be met by a deafening silence, while I do some more thinking and theorising.

Whatever happens, I expect to have great fun today.

Talking of great fun, Adam is back in town. Adam is a friend of mine who has just moved back to the area. He has not had a particularly easy time of it, of late, which is unfair because the man is like Martyn - top bracket. Now Adam also happens to be a rather useful golfer, playing off 10. I have a feeling we may share a few rounds this summer. I think we may just challenge each other to dip into single handicaps this year. A recruit to TRSNYRC beckons, I fancy.

Must stop. No time for this. Must go and stretch, and find my trolley. And put some trousers on.

Introducing Martyn The (Yet To Be Named) Boat...

Day 64, Friday March 6, 11.3oam: Martyn is one of those rarities - a truly, genuinely, wonderfully nice guy. He makes all his friends absolutely sick.
Actually, he makes me even sicker this morning than he did before. He has just sent me an email updating his progress.
Now the bit about the boat I can live with...
Martyn, it turns out, has always wanted to sail. And he also wants to spend more quality time with his children.
"My best pal {Editor's note: That's the friend that hates him the most} saw this one (pictured), so I decided that I'm now 40 and life is flying by at an alarming rate so why not do something that I will get pleasure out of and hopefullly the kids will get involved in as well?
"It's currently in a boat yard on the River Blackwater near Maldon , Essex... It needs some TLC but is structually sound and has a small cabin space for sleep overs... me and the two kids would be snug but do-able."
To date, the windows have been replaced. Martyn is still looking for a name for his craft - suggestions gratefully received. He hopes to hit the water in May or June.
Which is all very fine and dandy.
But then, I learn from Martyn's email, that he has also signed up to take his Level 1 LTA tennis coaching qualification.
I've known Martyn for years, working alongside him at Reuters, but never knew. It turns out he's played tennis at county leve since he was a short-legged sprog. He even beat Mark Petchey a few times (former Davis Cup player and world top 100).
So the man isn't just great, he's also absurdly talented. Utterly, utterly sickening. I hope his boat sinks. With him (but not the kids, of course) on board.

It's All About Changing Your Mind

Day 63, Wednesday March 4, 11.40am: I went to a public talk by a psychologist friend of mine last night. Pete Cohen just written a book called “Sort Your Life Out”. I don’t read self-help books because I think they’re daft, but Pete’s a pal, so I’ll make an exception.

The interesting thing, though, was that a lot of what Pete said seemed to be relevant to TRSNYRC. In fact, I felt I had come to some similar conclusions about life and the universe over the past couple of months. I wonder if you have too?

In a nutshell, Pete believes the human mind, while extraordinary in many ways, is also hugely primitive and restrictive. It likes its routines and it sticks to habits, even if those habits are damaging. Unlike a computer, you can’t delete negative thoughts from your mind, however much you’d like to. Your mind commentates on your life (the voice in your head), often working against you by arguing for the status quo rather than for the challenge of change.

Most of our resolutions on this blog, it seems to me, are inviting change.

It all depends whether we have the stomach to push through with them, by deleting old habits and replacing them with new ones. Or whether we allow our mind to talk us out of it.