Every single breath felt like it would be my last. I gave myself desperate commands: “Breathe in, breath out, one foot in front of the other, just keep moving, please get ahead of the woman pushing the stroller.”  I had been running twenty minutes in my very first 10K race, and since I was just out of college and had never researched just how far ten kilometers really was I had no idea how much further I had to go.

San Diego offered up its best weather for the day, which I appreciated. Arriving at the race I was instantly charged by the energy of the beautiful Californians all pumped up with healthy food and fruit juices. I, of course, had sucked down a Coke and granola bar. As I lined up with the masses of humanity my heart was pounding with anticipation. I instantly located a group of Marines that were dressed alike and already yelling out some inspiring cadences. I decided I would run with them. 

The gun sounded and I took off with my Marines, thinking that because they were running in boots I could keep up with them. Since my brother-in-law was a Marine, I should have known that there is no species on earth in better shape.  These are people that run fifteen miles a day with full gear on, and after about a kilometer I realized that while they were still chanting in booming, deep voices, I was gasping for air. So, I slowed down.

I was sure, because I had been training,  that this race would be a breeze. What I didn’t count on was the fact that I’d never done this before and I didn’t know how to pace myself. I wasn’t familiar with the course. I didn’t realize the impact on the body and the psyche when initial adrenaline dissipates. And I would charge down hills with great energy, failing to prepare for the next. As I got past mile five, every hill slowed me down further. At one point a man on crutches passed me, and my self-esteem hit an all-time low.

What seemed like twenty kilometers later, I saw the stadium – the finish line!! Even with labored breathing I managed a little “yeehah!” as I picked up my pace. Once I realized I was approximately a kilometer or two from the goal line, I started to sprint. I passed the eighty-year-old man (who had passed me earlier), the woman with the stroller (who had passed me earlier), and the dude on crutches. I might not have been the foot solder equivalent of Lance Armstrong, but I felt strong and proud.

As I sprinted into the stadium, I saw that it was filled with lots of  friends and relatives cheering their racers on. I smiled, though the sprinting had created a fierce side stitch and my gasps for air made me look a lot like a Grouper. I desperately looked for the finish line, but couldn’t find it. Finally I asked my eighty-year-old friend who was shuffling past me again – “Where is the finish line?” He looked at me and smiled. “Honey, you have to run four laps in the stadium for your last mile. The finish line is on the other side of the stadium.”

Are you freaking kidding me? I sprinted what I thought was the last mile, and now I had another to go? Shaking the thoughts out of my head,  I put one foot in front of the other, and moved straight ahead. I looked up as I heard the “da – thump, da-thump” of my friend on crutches cruising past me, again. Next came the cheerful face of the woman with her ridiculously happy baby in the stroller. I wouldn’t have been surprised if that baby would have popped out of the stroller and passed me as well.

I was humiliated, and tired, and slightly dehydrated, but I kept going. I didn’t look up for four laps. I watched my feet, and celebrated each time one was put in front of the other. I motivated myself constantly, celebrating each inch closer to the goal. I decided to quit competing with those around me, instead being happy for them as they reached their own goals. And, by golly, I finished. It may have been  several minutes behind someone with no legs pushing a wheelbarrow filled with cement, but I finished.

Sometimes moving forward happens when you look at your feet rather than the goal line in the distance. Moving forward happens when you stop looking from left to right and just listen to your own breathing. Incremental change is how you move through something new or different, and it happens one step at a time.

I just ran into a friend of mine who quit smoking December 25th. Now she wants to lose twenty pounds by March, secure a new job, and find her dream guy. Do I think this is realistic? No. Do I think she could conquer one of those things in 2010? Absolutely.

Here’s what I think – we make New Year’s resolutions unattainable so it justifies the quitting in February. We’ve all done it. Here are a few examples of attainable and unattainble New Year’s resolutions I’ve made in the past:

Unattainable: At age 8 I read “The Lion, The Witch and the Wardrobe” and set a goal of pushing on the back of my closet wall for one hour a day until I entered Narnia. Specific, but definitely not attainable.

Attainable:I set a goal of saving money made with my roller-skating goals (one dime to see me spin to “California, Here I Come”) to buy a plastic, lime-green notebook for fourth grade. No Narnia that year, but I did get my notebook!

Unattainable:At age 18, I wanted to dye my hair brown and wear jeans and look just like Sally Field did in “Smokey and the Bandit.” Okay, I know that she now does commercials for osteoporosis, but in my teenage years the woman could wear a pair of jeans! Why was this unattainable? Because Sally Field was a natural brunette who weighed 108 lbs and had this tiny little frame, while I was a dirty blonde that was built to play softball.

Attainable:I set a goal of losing ten pounds that same year by cutting out sodas, exercising four hours per week, and not eating after 8:00 p.m. at night. Why was this attainable? Because the goal was realistic and specific. I knew exactly what I was going to do and could implement the new behaviors immediately. And, I was striving to be a better me rather than striving to look like someone else!

Though many will slam New Year’s Resolutions as a waste of time, I think any behavior change can be obtained if you have enough passion for the result, can achieve the goal with resources at hand and break it down into very specific behaviors. If you choose to make unrealistic New Year’s resolutions this year, I think you might just want to enjoy the week up to New Year’s where you justify some bad behavior by saying “This will have to stop after January 1st, so I’m going to enjoy it now.” Yep, been there, done that.

Hey, it’s a new decade! I’m going to choose a realistic behavior and start changing. It will keep me young. If Sally Field can star in a new television show (Brothers & Sisters) rather than sitting around worrying about her bones, I can do it too! Come on, the TransAm is now a Prius but we’re still ready to take a risk and make a change, right?