February 1st
Friday
afternoon, and like clockwork the Empire
film magazine e-mail blinked into my inbox. The opening paragraph celebrated
the start of the new month; celebrated that people could drink for the first
time since 2012, or release the shackles of whatever diet plan they had been
following.
I was sure it
was mostly light-hearted. I know people struggle to introduce good habits in
January, but the idea that they are habits for only 31 days (at most) can’t be
that ingrained can it? Surely it’s just a perception fostered by the media?
Later that
evening, on the Radio 2 Drivetime show, a woman requesting a song mentioned
that she was looking forward to her first drink after a dry January. It felt
like the world was trying to prove me wrong…
January 7th
The first
Monday morning of 2013. We’d had a few days back at work, but they were largely
meaningless and everyone navigated them in a collective daze. Now the usual
festival could commence: the festival of people feeling sorry for themselves
and committing to a period of healthy (or, at least, healthier…) living.
A few
colleagues mentioned they had tins of biscuits at home, and they’d considered
bringing them to work “to get rid of them”. I winced at the thought of others
spending good money on food that people were ready to just give away – not out
of charity, but to save eating it themselves – but that is a different topic.
As well as the dieters, one guy said he would visit the gym every day, another
would stay off drink, and yet another said he would get out on his bike more.
Now
At the time, I
dismissed all the talk as nothing new; the standard office blather of people
trying to atone for festive excess without really meaning to do so. In the
light of February’s ‘evidence’, I wondered whether I’d been right to adopt that
attitude. I started wondering why people persist with an unsustainable approach
to these things. Even BBC News had carried a feature about ‘how to keep
resolutions’.
Why has this
ritualistic behaviour suddenly struck a chord? In previous years, I wouldn’t
even have noticed it happening. I might have joined in, bemoaned what I’d eaten
over Christmas, but with no intention of doing anything about it. This time
though, by accident, I’ve found myself doing the reverse of the standard New
Year resolutions.
Keep On Running
Although the
start of December was icy and made running treacherous, the mild Christmas
period meant I could regularly lace up my trainers. It was a challenge to fit
in around the usual Christmas traditions, and the times/distances weren’t
earth-shattering. But it was exercise, and it kept my body ticking over. I even
managed a run on Christmas Day, which felt good. It gave me energy, made me
less inclined to vegetate all day and eat nothing but rubbish.
Then the
weather intervened – unsurprisingly – and I was done. Where’s the sense in
risking a turned ankle or a bad fall? It was time to sit things out, let the
rain/snow/ice do its thing, and start again in February.
Slowing Down
At first, the
deliberate lack of exercise removed the incentive to eat well, and failing to
eat well affirmed the desire to be sedentary (something the bad weather was
doing a good job of encouraging anyway). A month is long though, and three
weeks in I was on the ropes. Things got progressively worse, culminating in a
day of quite shameful excess. Bad habits were re-emerging, boxes of After
Eights were evaporating from the cupboard, and my body was crying out for
meaningful exercise.
I tried to
reign in the poor eating during the last week, tried to get back to something
approaching normality. I looked forward to running again, and on January 31st
did a quick two miles to remember what it all felt like. The progress I made in
the second half of last year didn’t feel wasted, like I feared. After a month
long blow out, ten (or hopefully eleven) months lie before me, filled with the
promise of frequent – and better - running.
Nearly a whole
year to build something good; to eat well and maybe even complete a half
marathon.
Back In The Habit
Running and
writing are now inextricably linked for me. I kept writing during January, but
it only got harder as the energy levels dropped. Reaching February and starting
running again has reinvigorated the good habits I developed in 2012.
This whole thing
was an accidental experiment. It’s something that has, ironically, become
clearer as January has progressed, albeit becoming slightly out of control at
the same time. But the more I’ve thought about it as something that could be
planned, the more I’ve thought: ‘why not?’
Instead of
fighting through the post-Christmas blues with unreasonable expectations of
what you can achieve, why not let it all go and wait until February? Instead of
flogging yourself for one month and ending up disappointed, why not commit to
eleven months of achievable goals and let January be whatever it needs to be?
Inspiration
I’m not the
only one to have taken a different approach to January, though I might be the
only one who has gained some clarity on it after the event rather than before
it. Back in December, I listened to a podcast by Milo McLaughlin and Fabian
Kruse, in which they discussed starting their creative year in the second month
of the calendar:
This, in turn,
inspired Michael Nobbs to use January as month of planning and reflection.
I can’t say
that I planned much, nor reflected upon a great deal. I wrote as much as I
could, and enjoyed a lack of pressure. A lack of pressure on my body, mainly.
Yes, I took it too far in the end – to the point that I ate so much cake and
chocolate, ate so many biscuits, that I stopped enjoying it. My relationship
with food has always been a difficult one, but again: that’s a topic for
another day.
2014 (and
beyond)
That doesn’t mean
I have to take it too far in future years. Depending on the depth of winters to
come, I may have to encompass December and/or February as well. At the end of
the day, if I have discovered a way to keep writing while accepting the
realities of the season, and if I can maintain motivation and positivity while
doing less exercise than I’d like, then that can only be a good thing.
Doing things
differently to the accepted norm is a strange sensation. But it appears I might
have a template for future years that works for me. It might not be the easiest
thing to describe in the office when everyone else is pledging to eat better
and drink less, but I can live with that. While they’re having that
conversation, I can just think about what I’d like to write…
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