Several folks I know pick impressive new year’s resolutions that eventually fall apart by February, if not sooner. I don’t like specifying too many, and when I do, I’ve preferred to pick at least one thing I know I have a certainty of attaining. For example, two years ago, I resolved to give up listening to opera. This was pretty easy because I never started. Last year, I resolved to go the whole year without drinking chicken frappucino milkshakes. This, too, was easy because chicken milkshakes are, as a concept, disgusting.
This year, I have an easily attainable fake resolution, a real, measurable set of fitness goals, and a stretch goals. My faux resolution is to watch fewer than two hours a day of C-SPAN.
I don’t have that channel on cable, so I’m well-underway in hitting that goal. Cha-ching. My fitness goal is a little more complex.