I'm not much for New Year's resolutions. I come from the sort of New England whose Puritan roots still show, and that coupled with a tendency for personal accountability forged in me the belief that resolutions shouldn't be saved for some holiday but rather striven toward every day. I cannot reasonably hold that the change of a calendar year will wash slates clean or suddenly imbue me or anyone else with good habits we didn't have before. Self discipline cannot be manifested out of the blue. It's a process, a slow and often painful process that must be attempted every day, even if it's not always successful.

Now, some background that will become relevant soon. Several months ago my gym decided to cancel most of its scheduled yoga and Pilates classes. I had been going to Pilates at least once a week for about a year, something I enjoyed because it absolutely kicked my ass every time. It never got easier, but I did get stronger. Other evenings I went to yoga. Outside of the gym I ran a couple of times a week, and tried to get to a ballet class. It was a good balance.

Then Pilates and yoga were canceled, in the fall as the light started to fade. It became more and more difficult to motivate myself to run, and my energy and mood sank as winter set in. I know that I need exercise, not only for physical health but also mental and emotional. When I don't exercise, I get restless, cranky, and weird. For most of December I couldn't talk myself into working out more than once a week. (I don't count my regular walks; though I usually walk for a few miles, it doesn't get my heart rate up and doesn't sate the itch in my muscles.)

So it was that last night, restless and cranky and weird, I decided to try out a new class at my gym. It had some aggressive, trademarked name, and I thought it might be a weight-lifting class. I steeled myself to be embarrassed, as one usually is during the first attempt at something, and instead had a lot of fun.

What I remembered, as I tried to scout out enough floor space to avoid hitting anyone in the face during jumping jacks, was that it was January 3rd. I don't know what the normal attendance of that class is, but I'm sure it was at least doubled yesterday by women who are entering this new year determined to get thin. Truly, I support any reasonable plan that promotes health and happiness. Exercise is good, and everyone should do it. Realistically, as a long-time gym member, I know that most of this newly motivated flood will dissipate by February. For part of the class, I wished I had some sort of sign I could wear that would say, "I'm not just here for a week, I promise."

I realized, by the end, that my timing couldn't be helped. I had shown up in the beginning of January to run around an exercise studio with a bunch of frighteningly intense, thin women in compression capris. The choice I have now is to keep going, to not be one of the vanishing faces whose resolve fades as the holidays slide away. It's my choice to make resolve an every day decision, not only for special occasions.