Bernard O'Shea: My five tiny new year's resolutions for 2022
Bernard O'Shea. Photograph Moya Nolan
I'm a start Monday, New Year or next week person. I have massive aspirations to change, but that gigantic aspiration rarely becomes a reality without planning or motivation. My biggest issue is that my goals are always too big. I want to lose three stones in three months or have a six-pack by the summer or be able to run a marathon with only a couple of weeks of training. I fail usually, and everyone tells me the same thing "start small". I know consistent small changes amount to life-altering changes, but it bores me.
I've self-diagnosed myself with "Half-Arsed Sistine Chapel Affliction". I picture Michelangelo walking around the Sistine Chapel with Pope Julius II in my head. The Pope tells him, "Mick, just whitewash the ceiling sure nobody looks up there." Something clicks in Michelango's head. He spends the rest of his life lying on his back, obsessing over every tiny little detail.
He couldn't find a middle ground between the vision he saw in his head versus the time needed to do it. Unlike Michelangelo, I don't create any fantastic works of art. Still, I find myself obsessing over the best exercise bike to buy or running shoes. I can spend hours on YouTube and Google reading reviews on almost anything humans can purchase. I just don't follow up on cycling or running. I would of half whitewashed the ceiling and told the Pope, "Yeah, your right, sure no one will look up there."
So for 2022, I've decided to make ten tiny resolutions so small that even someone like myself could accomplish.
Recently the kids cleared the living room and were "training" for a show there were putting on. The show was inspired by their newfound love of the remake of The Little Rascals franchise. They got me to partake in their vigorous routines, and I decided to show them how to do a push-up. To my horror, I couldn't get past 6, and I'm also pretty sure I wasn't even doing it right. My arms felt weak for the day too. The moral of the story is I'm completely out of shape. But instead of my standard procedure of deciding to do 1000 a day until my arms are like JCB's, I've totally, completely and utterly committed to doing one push up a day. Now there's commitment.
Most people only have one cup of Joe a day. I'm addicted. Depending on how stuck I am to the desk, I could quickly go through six to 10 cups of espresso. I also got hooked on Dalgona coffee this year. I had so much caffeine in my system that my heart started to beat like a hummingbird waiting for a bus on a damp February morning with no coat on. So I'm going to have one cup a day, but I'm going to enjoy it. There will be tears and a lot of tea.
I used to swim every day. Noticed the use of the word "used". The usual "blah blah" of life and kids put pay to the notion of exercise and leisure time as a given. But I've rejoined the pool. However, this time I've no aspirations to become an Olympian. My goal is to go once a week and possibly learn the butterfly. I've tried and failed to do this stroke too much embarrassment (if you wish to see a relatively accurate re-enactment of how I got on watch Alan Partridge's Welcome to the Places of My Life).
Notice the use of the word "generally". I generally go for a 45 min walk every day. Some weeks when I'm busy, I only get out once or twice. Although I own several waterproof cars and leggings, I've also become increasingly terrified of the rain. Some days I'll go for a five-mile hike trying to catch up on my step count resulting in me being stiff for a week and doing nothing for a prolonged period while I "recover". So even if it's just for ten minutes walking around the house or to the shop for milk, I'm going to drag my lazy pale blubber upright body out of the chair and walk every day.
I'm a terrible man for bringing my phone to bed. I promise myself that I'll only watch one video on YouTube every night. Fast forward to 3am, and I'm in Season 4 of Seinfeld. We all know that screens keep us awake, but personally, I know I have to completely go cold turkey and get rid of YouTube and my streaming services or find a way to limit them. This year, I deleted Twitter and Facebook due to the inordinate time spent on them and have contemplated doing the same with Instagram. But I can't bear to let go of my beloved YouTube. So to stop the night gazing, I've promised myself to read one page of my book in bed. Reading always helps me sleep at night, and I'm currently reading The Rise and Fall of the Roman Empire. It sounds boring, but it makes Game of Thrones look like a kids tea party.
Finally, one more resolution. To stick to my tiny five point plan. That is the most challenging resolution.
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