Already?

Gosh, I am going to miss the winter break. Sleeping late. Drinking early. Dog sitting. TV watching. Work avoiding...and cooking! Seems like the kitchen got some hot and heavy action this December. A lot more folks wandered through our apartment than expected - and that is a wonderful, wonderful thing. I love that we have friends that call and say, "I'm coming over, is that cool?" I love that we are at a place where we can say, "Yes! Please!"

I love that I got to see A. from the glutton button this week. And I'm still scheming ways to see a few other blog friends before the first month of the new year passes.

That reminds me....I should probably throw down some resolutions, hey?

I was reading an article on weight loss the other day and it said for any fitness goals to work they have to be specific, measurable, attainable.

Specific. Measurable. Attainable.

This idea was re-emphasized when I watched the video embedded in this post over at Weight in Vain where the speaker/researcher starts off by talking about her shock when her professor told her:

If you cannot measure it, it does not exist.

She goes on to recount her six years of research trying to define, trying to measure Shame. (Can you imagine?) And then talks about her findings on connections, living wholeheartedly and the role of vulnerability, including her year of therapy she needed to come to terms with her conclusions. And I really, really think you should find 20 minutes in your day/evening to listen to it.

Here is the advice she leaves to the audience:

1. Let ourselves be seen - vulnerabilities and all
   
2. Love with our whole heart
3. Practice gratitude and joy
4. Believe that we are enough

Weight in Vain connects this to her running and the mind shift that she needed/needs to take it to the next level. I dig that. I like those 4 suggestions as starting points for my resolutions, but they don't really feel all that measurable, do they? Here is me, trying to add some data points to those 4 key ideas. In 2011 I would like:

to see myself published. Maybe an essay here, an article there. I've got some ideas I've been sitting on, some posts here I'd like to build and grow. But I've been: too busy/too scared to flesh them out and put them out there. I think I need to find the time and follow the advice I always give to M - if you don't try you will never know.

to open our home to more people more often. I'm talking dinner parties, informal gatherings, you know, taking the free time we have and actually sharing it with people. Neither M nor I are particularly good at this but we love it when it actually happens by accident, like it did yesterday. M is private and isn't crazy about people up in his space. I fear throwing a party only to have no one come. It's that whole will people like each other do they like us will the food be ok will I be boring oh why don't we just sit on the couch and watch some reality TV its much easier mindset. I guess that's what the researcher is talking about when she talks about opening ourselves to vulnerability...

to practice more gratitude and patience with my parents and show less anger. Specifically, to use real calming techniques to prevent my laser tongue from lashing out so quickly. They are getting older. They need me. They don't need me reminding them of their shortcomings. I had a long talk with my dad a few weeks ago where I told him how upset I was when he forgot I and J's day. His response was so honest and so heartbreaking (you don't think it hurt me? You don't think it isn't awful not to be able to remember anything? I cannot remember things and I know it gets me in trouble and I don't know what to do. I just feel so old) it has truly made me rethink how I handled that situation and how I added to his pain as I so forcefully expressed mine. I must control my temper. I must watch my words. Mostly, I must not let them be the receptacles of all of the anger that I shield from the rest of the world.

to run at least 3 half-marathons. Basically, to keep running, to build on my running, to gain confidence in my running. To believe I am enough and that I can.