Twenty Fixteen.

I’ve never really been one for New Year’s Resolutions because, like a lot of others, I find the concept a bit pointless. If you want to change or achieve goals, do it without the excuse of a new year. Be very Shia LeBeouf about it all. 

Alas, I’m a beautiful hypocrite and endlessly fickle, so as this year draws to an end, I’ve thought about it and written some resolutions down. Besides, I managed to turn 2015 around spectacularly in the last five months, and there’s no way I’m slowing that down. If that means using an often empty tradition as encouragement, then so be it...

22.

I like being 22.

Mostly because I made it to 22. 

It’s a nice age. A settled age. We went to Bristol for my birthday, back in September. I’d never been before. We stayed in a cute B&B, had some fancy cocktails, ate some crackin’ food, saw the sights and took a ridiculous amount of photos. It was a good September.

Birthday in Bristol, September 2015

The runs.

I can’t remember which song I was listening to. I’d switched from Taylor Swift to One Direction to Little Mix constantly throughout the nine weeks, but I know that it was badass. Laura told me I had one minute to go, and that would be it. I’d have done it, I’d have completed the whole nine weeks and, if I’d stuck to it, I’d have just finished my third and last 30 minute run of the final week. 

There was no way I wouldn’t have stuck to it. I wouldn’t have been able to deal with the shame of hearing Laura earnestly congratulate me and shower me in compliments before telling me to shower myself because I was disgustingly sweaty, if I had given up and was shuffling around the park feeling sorry for myself.

I’d picked up the pace when I had five minutes left. I could see Ryan, my boyfriend, out the corner of my eye coming around the bend behind me and I refused to let him lap me. Not a chance. He’s taller, with long legs, and has the perfect body type for long distance running. But there was no way in hell that I was going to let him lap him on my final ever Couch to 5K run. Fuck that. So I legged it.