- Run at least one marathon I’ve long been sick of running simply for the sake of running. ‘But what about the health benefits?’, you ask. Whatever, yo. I need something more than health to motivate me in my quest for bad knees. I said ‘at least’ up there because here was my original thought: It takes about four months to train for a marathon and if there are twelve months in a year, hell, I could do two marathons easy.’ You now have an illustration of the masochistic mindset that I so frequently inflict upon myself. I think one’s enough, considering the number of things that could go wrong during the course of training for something as ridiculous as a marathon. The way I finally figured it, I can subdue the screwed up part of my psyche by running a few half-marathons as part of the training.
Pain Factor: Highly likely.
Potential for Death: Relatively minor. Possibly by my own hand at around mile 21, but doubtful.
- Be more consistent about going to the gym It used to be that waking up and heading to the gym every morning was a piece of cake, but this ended when I became a student for some reason. I still go more than the average bear (I assume), but this wishy-washy crap has to stop. I’m not getting any younger and the weeks off that used to be no problem now result in my damn near having to start over from scratch. Also, marathons require a team effort on the part of the body, so no more of this junk where the arms call the legs ‘prima donnas’ and the chest and the abs gang up on the back. I need to get into a groove and stay there.
Pain Factor: Pretty much a given these days, although it’s much less of an issue when I find and remain in the aforementioned groove.
Potential for Death: Unlikely. I go at an hour that finds the place infested with the elderly, so I steer clear of doing anything requiring either a spotter or the jaws of life.
- Start climbing rocks again Yet another reason to 1. Run and 2. Pump moderate iron. Have you ever tried to pull excess fat up a cliff? It sucks. So, yeah. Svelte is the goal. Rock climbing is the ultimate version of placing yourself in a situation where you either keep going or you regret it mightily. I appreciate that kind of demand for a ‘yes’ or ‘no’ answer. I’m also jonesing for something that at least pretends to be potentially life threatening.
Pain Factor: You have to use muscles that you didn’t know you had, so pain is inevitable.
Doability: I already bought the gear, so …
Potential for Death: Let’s say ‘Recklessly high’ just to get the blood pumping.
- Read more I barely read 20 books last year. So pathetic. I could probably use school and research as excuses, but Ashley’s in graduate school, too, and she still managed to read 274, 667 books last year, so I just suck. I love reading too much for this to stand.
Pain Factor: Aside from paper cuts? Nil.
Doability: Oh, please.
Potential for Death: Aside from blood loss due to paper cuts? Nil.
- Get a damn camera already, geez, WTF? ‘What the hell is my problem?’, I ask on my mother’s behalf? Of all the places I’ve been and the things I’ve done and seen, my perpetual lack of a camera has infuriated relatives, friends, clergymen, and camera companies. I have a photogenic house, cook photogenic food, keep photogenic dogs, and live in a ridiculously photogenic state, so I think the time has come. How sad is it that I have to make this a goal?
Pain Factor: Huh?
Doability: Birthday this month + Mom demanding pictures = Instant solution at no cost to me.
Potential for Death: Statistically insignificant.
- Wrestle the steering wheel away from my head and give my heart a chance at the helm for awhile My head has saved me from my past and given me a future, often at the expense of my heart. I think it’s time to give one a break and the other a fighting chance.
Pain Factor: Potentially excruciating.
Doability: Where there’s a will, etc.
Potential for Death: I lack the drama gene necessary for such a scenario.
- Go to the doctor I don’t do this. It’s been years since my last visit. I never get sick. I refuse to take drugs outside of the occasional Advil. Going to a doctor is like poking a wolverine with a stick until finally the wolverine pulls out a gun and shoots you in the hip. Actually, it’s nothing like that, but I don’t enjoy the prospect of going to the doctor feeling fine and leaving with a diagnosis of debilitating hopelessness. It’s a ridiculous excuse, I know. I’m surrounded by M.D.s who nod their head at my declarations of self-righteous refusal, then tell me to suck it up and stop being a moron. *sigh*
*mutters* Doctors are stupid.
Pain Factor: Are you kidding?
Potential for Death: Hell, it’s practically a given.
- Pass the PhD qualifying exam This will advance me from ‘graduate student with fair-to-middlin’ potential’ to ‘PhD candidate’ and will enable me to continue doing what I’m doing now for the next ~3 years.
Pain Factor: Let us not speak of this.
Potential for Death: Technically the faculty aren’t allowed to kill you.
- Try to get back to England to watch a few World Cup games with the far-flung friends Watching the World Cup anywhere outside of the U.S. is a great experience. Heading back to England during the summer and watching a few games in a pub with a bunch of people I rarely get to see anymore is like killing a bunch of birds with a single stone (avian genocide!)
Pain Factor: Minimal as long as I stay away from the hard cider.
Doability: Monetarily suspect, but still a definite possibility.
Potential for Death: Meh. It’d be worth it.
Sir @ January 6, 2010