By: Kaiko Shimura Jan 11, 05:08 AM |

My track record is somewhat pathetic.

There’s little to none that I can point to and say, “see, that was something to be proud of,” or at the very least, “hey, I had a good time while it lasted.” In fact, it seems that I put myself in the exact opposite position; my past record doesn’t consist so much of notches on my belt as embarrassing blemishes. It’s gotten to the point where all I seem to be doing is going through the motions, repeating the same mistakes and the same excuses, year in and year out.

Why are new year’s resolutions such a bitch?

Sometimes I wonder why I even try to mentally make some resolutions that I know, by February, will be long forgotten or, even worse, I would have completely failed at. At this point in my life, even thinking about new year’s resolutions seems to sound a death knell for whatever resolution I make. The repeated failures are more than a little embarrassing; and in attempting to avoid being called out for all the promises that I make and can’t seem to keep, I’ve stopped announcing my soon-to-be-failed resolutions.

But hey, it’s a new year. 2010, people. So why not?

Well, there are a lot of reasons why not, but let’s put those aside for now. In my perfect vacuum of a world where the sight of rollers in the morning will be more welcoming than a harsh reminder of how out of shape I am, where I’ll have the time to ride for hours and hours and hours, I’d like to get a little more fit and a lot more fast.

I know, I know. The sheer subjectivity involved in both “fit” and “fast” give me a lot of leeway to not fuck this one up. On the other hand, if I do somehow manage to screw up, I can just turn around and argue that I had set the bar too high because my definition of those words bordered on the impossible. Or at least on the far side of “highly unlikely.” In short, I have created a win-win situation for myself.

Of course, given the strength of my previous new year’s resolutions, I’m pretty sure this one’s not going to work out so well, either. Still, a small part of me wants me to believe that I can hold onto something for more than a year. To have something I won’t be embarrassed about, for once. Something possibly worth being kind of proud of.

Even if, you know, I haven’t actually gotten on my rollers since I’ve been back…