I live in a family of 3, with a husband who travels 2-3 days most weeks.  I realize I have a 5-year-old who likes to have treats now and then (Well, ok, now and now).  She loves to bake and I do my best not to deprive her of this joyous activity.  So, the double chocolate with funfetti frosting brownies that she chose as our last baking activity have recently found their way to the trash. 

My mother was in town and boy, does she love her treats, too.  Once Grandma was on a plane to fly away home, the brownies saw the end to their stay, as well.  With only 2 of us left for them to speak to, it was safer (for me) that way.

For the “if it’s here, I’ll eat it” reason, I usually keep the foods in my house healthy.  I do buy things for my daughter, like breakfast cereal and microwave pancakes, Easy Mac and Cheese and hot dogs, and other snacking foods.  But, these don’t tempt me.  It’s the salty and sweet that gets to me.  These things can be my demise.  For this reason, I very, very rarely have ice cream in the house.  I’m the kinda gal that could sit down with a pint, blink and then wonder what the heck happened. 

I want my daughter to grow up knowing that it’s ok to have treats, so, like I said, I do bake with her.  We often bake using healthier ingredients and are more inclined to do so when the goodies are going somewhere they can stay vs. staying where we are.  I’m happy to treat her to a cookie at Wegman’s or a cupcake from Graul’s every now and again.  I’m just happier to not have the temptation, myself.

As I said, my mom was in town this past weekend and she loves to enjoy tasty treats while on “vacation”.  I don’t blame her, but I’m not on vacation in my own home.  My key to eating healthier is to be surrounded by healthy.  So, I spent the late morning ridding the house of the brownies, the chicken salad loaded with mayo, the white bread, the “nonsense” yogurt (just my silly name for regular yogurt that doesn’t have the protein in my Greek yogurt) and few other purchases that found their way in over the past few days.  Had I not done this, I can’t even imagine what my food choices for my mid-morning post-run would have been.  Ugly, I’m sure.

Yes, it’s a waste of money, I understand.  But, I’d throw away a bit of money to save a bit on health, any day.  Otherwise, it’s living life one step forward (exercise), two steps back (poor diet).  I work too hard for that.  Is it time for you to clean house?  Maybe start over with a cleaner pantry?  Think about it…

Happy Hump Day, all!  Have you gotten over your health “hump” yet?  Want to share your story?  You’re always welcome to make a guest appearance, just let me know!

Carri Nelsen of Gold’s Gym in Shrewsbury.

Got questions for Carri?  E-mail them to blogs@TheZoneMag.com.

I’m convalescing these days.  Convalescence is a great word, although we hardly use it anymore.  It conjures up images of sickly people bundled up in thick blankets and wheeled outside for a bit of sun.  Or rich sickly people doing the same thing on deck chairs of a cruise ship circa 1923.  To my stressed-out co-workers it means I’m taking the winter off.   To John it means I’m his invalid wife, with the emphasis on the second syllable.  In - val - id.

Convalescence is a great concept and it’s something we need in a world that tells us to go full speed ahead until we crash, and then pick ourselves up and get on with it.  In our society, if you are not in critical condition, you are expected to be high functioning.  There’s nothing in the middle.  You can’t just do nothing.  There’s got to be a pill or something to keep you efficient.

The problem with convalescing is that convalescents don’t look sick.  They look like they’re lying around doing nothing.  Taking naps and reading books, what a life.  It’s surprisingly hard to properly convalesce in a “do it all now” world.

Ah, but convalescing isn’t about doing nothing.  To my doctor, it means regaining my strength.  The body is working incredibly hard on the inside to recover from an ordeal.  That’s why the doctor can say, “Don’t even think about going back to work before six weeks.”  I love doctor’s orders.  Someone else is the boss telling me to stop.

The end of February is a lot like the end of a convalescence.  Spring is tantalizingly close.  Yet everything still looks so brown.  The woods are full of brown sticks–big tree trunks, tiny sapling twigs, and creeping vines.  Everything is brown, but there is so much going on that we don’t see.

Using both a cane and a walking stick, I hobble behind John down to the beehives.  The two hives are active (hooray!) and bees are returning to the hives with pollen.  Pollen?  In February?  Everything looks dormant to us, but the bees know that the red maples are starting to bud.  A closer look reveals the beginnings of buds on the hydrangeas and the lilacs, too.  It will be months before they flower, but they are beginning to wake up now.

In the front of the house, daffodils are peeking up.  How many people have moaned about the early appearance of the daffodils?  Don’t the daffodils know that it is not yet time?  Don’t they know that showing up early means  they will get zapped by a hard cold snow and be pathetic little nothings when spring arrives?  The daffodils remind me to properly convalesce, to take it slow and emerge strong.

For the many of you out there who are francophile word nerds, the word convalescence comes to us (mais oui!) via late 15th century French, which morphed it from Latin.

• con–from the intensive Latin prefix cum meaning “with, together, thoroughly”
• valescere– (to begin to grow strong) from valere (to be strong) which is related to valiant and valor

So what I’m doing by convalescing is becoming thoroughly strong.  And maybe courageous,too, because heading back to school is going to be scary and my Joint Journey Handbook says my strength should be at 80% by twelve weeks out.  What?  Eighty percent?  For a high-achieving, A-student type person, 80% does not mean “thoroughly strong.”  It means I will still be convalescing, even while I return to work. However, it does justify the handicap parking tag I applied for.  Dang, this is going to take awhile.

Now, as for being invalid…

Both invalid and invalid have the same Latin roots.  And both the noun invalid (meaning “a sick person) and the adjective invalid (meaning “of no legal force”) came sneaking into English by way of French.  And quel surprise! The noun originally referred to the old and disabled soldiers at the Hôtel des Invalides, the military hospital in Paris where Napoleon’s body now rests (but is not convalescing).  I assume that the soldiers all had valid disabilities, otherwise they would be invalid invalids.

John knows that I am neither a sickly person nor his not valid wife.  He’s just trying to help my convalescence along by getting a strong reaction out of me.  I’m thinking a sunny chair on a cruise ship might work better.

It was not just a beautifully constructed thing, put together by skilled hands but it was like an island, a place to seek shelter from the world that some times seems to gang up on us.  It was also a place to go to just be happy…happy having people to love and people who love you.

It was a barn,  but not like any like any other barn.  It was a special barn built some time in the mid to late 1800’s by German immigrant craftsmen who came down from Pennsylvania to make farmland out of this fertile soil around Baltimore.  The forests around them contained American Chestnut trees that were as strong as oaks and once cut and dried, the wood would last hundreds of years.  After it dried and hardened, termites had to build tunnels outside the wood to get past it.  Many old barns built with chestnut framing are still standing today.  My barn still stands over 70 years after I left it and has been converted to a house, occupied by a happy young family.

The old barn had many purposes, the main resident on the ground floor was our cow - our source of milk and butter and attached to one wall was the house that gave shelter to the chickens that supplied us with eggs and fried chicken on special days.  Occasionally a horse would spend some time in one of the stalls or, if not a horse, a mule might spend a night or two while the fields were being plowed.

Oh yes, let’s not forget, there was usually another animal, one that Henry and I loved and would have let him stay with us but Mom put her foot down.  It was Billy, the goat. I don’t think we were ever without a goat and we always called him Billy.

The second floor was high and dry and we stored hay there that was used for feed and bedding in what was called the hay mow.  Sometimes when we had a long spell of rain, brother Henry and I would spend our days playing in the barn, out of the weather and out of our mothers hair.  Even in the winter, when snow covered the ground for weeks, we would go to the barn to play,

That second floor is also the reason that everyone needs a barn.  I started going to that special place when I was very young and wanted to be alone to think about things.  I would climb up the ladder from the first floor, open the door at the front of the barn, sit with my feet hanging down and try to contemplate life on a 10 acre farm in the mid 1930s, in the midst of a Depression. 

I remembered thinking once, after leaving a depressing discussion in the house, how bad can things be if we have all this? I did not realize we didn’t have two nickels to rub together at the time but I was a boy of 6 or 7 trying to understand something that my adult parents couldn’t fully understand.  But again, my barn gave me a spot where I could go to re-group and when I returned to the house later, the discussion was over and I felt safer.

Now, I know you are not going out and begin looking for a spot to build a new barn but all of us - men, women and children, should find our own barn - a place to be alone to think, to contemplate what our next action should be, our next words.

Most times, a little thought before we speak can save us from a lifetime of regret. Our barn can be a place in the basement, a spot in the corner of our bedroom where we can look at the world thru a new window or think about the other side of a disagreement we are having.  It could even be in the garage or in the attic if you can get there safely. 

If there is a message in any of this, it is to think before we act.  Just a little thought about what we are going to say or about what we plan to do and the consequences, can save us, at times, from a lifetime of regret.  Statements made without thinking can never be taken back.

Don Langrehr

Feeling like an expert at something makes us less inclined to make a switch to a new (even if it’s better) tool.  Well, folks, I stepped away from the comfort of Blackberry and got my first iPhone.  It took a lot of time and research before I made the commitment, but I have to say, I’m pleased with my choice.  I used to chuckle when I’d hear “There’s an app for that,” but now I must say, often times I cheer. 

Where am I going with this and how does it relate to wellness?  Fitness Apps, folks!  I love them and I’m kind of addicted!

For those of you who use Weight Watchers and track points along with your daily activity, I have an App for you!  MyFitnessPal is truly your pal, people!  Not only is it free, but it’s easy to use and comes with so many “bonuses”.  You get the calorie counter with a huge database of food, a recipe counter, an exercise tracker to figure in your calories burned, along with discussion forums that you can use to share experiences, get motivated by other or feel like part of a fitness community, right on your own phone!  If you’re paying for Weight Watchers, try this for free on the side.  See what you think.  I think it’s a cool find.

Now, if you’re the one who’s always looking for a change in routine, a new exercise for a particular muscle/group, I have another cool App to share.  Fitness Buddy is super cool!  This App has a library of over 1700 exercises, complete with images and animations.  It literally tells you how to perform an exercise and then will show you the images in animated steps.  I love it! It also gives you workouts (for varying fitness levels), either for your whole body or specific muscle groups.  Pocket personal trainer, you ask?  Yep, kind of.. That’s not all, though.  This App has a workout history tracker and other trackers for your weight and body metrics, as well as blood pressure.  It will even graph your progress for you.  A lot of offerings for one little App, I’d say.

I also have an App called Ab Workouts that I’ve grown rather fond of.  It shows you a wide variety of abdominal exercises, can provide you with workouts to target the areas you’re eager to work, gives you the option to sign up with an online trainer (I know nothing about this piece), and has a bunch of fun food facts.  I like having this little guy around on Ab Day to give me some helpful tips that make my belly feel the burn. Check it out! 

Last, but certainly not least…. My Tabata Timer!  I wrote a blog several months ago about the Tabata Profile.  I use it in my workouts all the time and this free App allows me to incorporate Tabata into my workout without having to watch the seconds tick away on a clock or piece of cardio equipment.  I can remain engrossed in my music and the timer sounds for me.  Perfect!  Need someone to track your high intensity intervals?  This one’s for you!

If you have the means to buy/download some of these Apps, check them out.  If you have a fitness App you can’t live without, please share.  We’d all love some new ideas!

Carri Nelsen of Gold’s Gym in Shrewsbury.

Got questions for Carri?  E-mail them to blogs@TheZoneMag.com.

The tractor is not running.

Last week, during all those balmy days that were perfect for taking a walker stroll around Hunt Valley Town Center, the tractor was running like a charm.  Smooth as silk. Of course.  John had put on a new ignition coil, distributor cap, rotor, points, and spark plug wires.   (I don’t know what any of that is–I’m just quoting what he wrote on Facebook.) He even put on the snow blade.  Every day he took ol’ Betsy (Betsy???) out for some light exercise.  Everyday she purred her way around Maywood.

This morning, a dusting of snow coats the pavement.  The wind is whistling a cold song through the trees.  And Betsy will not turn over.  I don’t blame her.  She’s 60.  Who wouldn’t rather sleep in on a cold breezy morning?  But she’s more predictable than Punxsutawney Phil.  When will winter begin?  When the tractor won’t start.  When will it end?  When the tractor gets fixed.

“What’s wrong?” I ask.

“It’s too cold,” John replies.  “The starter won’t turn over.”

“Maybe you need a new starter motor,” I suggest.  Now, I know almost zilch about auto mechanics, but over the years I have learned that starters have motors and that they sometimes die.

John doesn’t think it’s the starter motor.  “I just put one on.  Remember?  That big snow in ’95?”

I do not remember.

“And I had to drive to Lancaster to get the part?”

Oh, now I remember.  It was one of those monster snow storms that had us snowbound at the end of Miller Lane for days and we were drinking raw milk from Vernon Foster’s cows while the county brought in front-end loaders to clear the road.  It was the storm where WJZ came back in 4 wheel drive to interview us for the evening news–the last house in Baltimore County to get plowed out.  John drove to Lancaster in eight inches of snow in the middle of that storm to get a part for the tractor.

“John, that was seventeen years ago.”

“Really?”

“It could be the starter motor.”

“I guess it could.”

So, for  all of you people who are desperate for a snow day, this is your chance.  Light your snow candles, put your pj’s on backwards, throw those ice cubes out the window, flush the toilets at 9 pm, and do your homework.  You have from now until John gets a new starter motor to work your snow magic.  Betsy is doing her part.  Now it’s up to you.

I am not an aggressive person but as a man, I think I have succeeded beyond the expectations that most had for me when I left the nest.  I loved my father dearly, and respected him for what he accomplished, given his family background, and his struggles just to provide a home and family setting for the six of us – all during a time in history when even the well-to-do were leaping from the heights for reasons he would have probably thought trivial.

Having said that, I am sure that the first 10 years of their marriage and the first 10 years of my life would have been less secure had it not been for the spirit and courage of my mother. A great part of that spirit and courage came from her having to overcome a world of total silence that she was forced into at a time in her life when the world should have been a flower ready to be picked. 

I admired her because she never complained to anyone, except maybe to God, about that silence and constantly searched for ways to get friends and relatives past her deafness and not treat her as handicapped. She was forced to drop from High School after two years and was totally deaf at the time of her marriage.

There were times, as a child, I cried in frustration for my mother. She almost completed 44 years  as our anchor and we are all so much better off having had her here. She was the first strong woman I loved and the first big influence on my path.  What I am today is largely a  product of Agnes Miller Langrehr.

The next strong woman and the greatest love of my life was my wife, Joan, who had the most influence on my path during the 58 married years of my 82 years on planet Earth.  It has been said that men tend to marry their mother.  Joan was strong like my mother, Joan had the same moral character and was also soft and could be hurt like my mother.  One of the big regrets in my life is that the two of them never had the chance to meet and “gang-up” on me. 

I have hundreds of male friends who I have made over the years in fraternal organizations, the volunteer fire company, golf club and my employment for 40 years at McGraw-Hill but I made no “buddies”. Until father time intervened my 3 best friends were Joan’s sisters, Sally, Iris and Vera. Iris has left us, Vera is 86 and grounded and  Sally lives close by and we talk every day.

Be it good fortune or good luck or the good judgement of our two sons, I am blessed with two daughters-in-law who are also strong women with moral courage and conviction.  Seeming like a script for an upbeat TV sit-com, both girls are dedicated teachers and both teach special needs children.  Robin teaches in the Baltimore City School System and Jennifer teaches at the John Archer School in Harford County.

There were people in my life  from the time I was 12 who were good friends when they were guiding me and a few of them I still trade Christmas cards with but the most admirable leader I ever had was Kate, a strong, young girl. She left McGraw-Hill for greener pastures about the time I retired and we kept in touch. Time and old age pushed me in one direction  and she was busy with family, kids  and the new job.  We never did do that golf at Winters Run but thanks to the new “social networking” we are back “talking” by wire and we fulfilled that date for lunch at our new restaurant on the Rumsey Island Canal.

And again, thanks to the Internet and “social networking” and a new neighbor,  Amanda (another strong young woman), I again have a purpose.  Her sister, Jennifer, who I have the good fortune to now call friend has this magazine. She invited me to contribute my limited talents on a regular basis and this makes me feel like a fulfilled and very happy person again.

I do not know how I became the beneficiary of so much good fortune but it may still be the gentle hand of Agnes Miller Langrehr and her guiding words spoken long ago back on that 10 acres along the Gunpowder…“It can’t be just  good looks, there has to be substance”.

All of these women have the good looks and the substance.  Happy Valentines Day to all the ladies in my life…

Don Langrehr

We’ve all heard of, and many of us have seen the show The Biggest Loser, right?  I’ve watched many episodes, ending up in tears, more often than not.  I’ve dreamed of working with Jillian (before she left the show), not necessarily to lose weight, but to be trained by someone so talented.  And, I’ve seen, firsthand, a similar contest in my own gym.  It’s inspirational, life changing and it can be a reality for YOU, if you’re interested.  No, there are no famous trainers, but a whole lot of fantastic ones that can help you reach your fitness goals.

Starting February 16^th, Gold’s Gym in Shrewsbury (my home away from home) will be hosting its 3^rd Annual “Biggest Loser Challenge”.  YOU can preregister at Gold’s TODAY!  Here’s just a little bit about what the contest includes:

• A Complete Fitness Assessment
• Cardiovascular & Strength Training Program Design
• Nutrition & Wellness Seminars
• Healthy Grocery Shopping Tips/List
• Fitness Coaching
• Discounts on Membership & Personal Training Programs

The cost for those of you who are already members is just $69.  If you’re not a member and want to join in the challenge, you only pay $99.  This cost includes all the components of the program.  You can enter as an individual or as a team.  There will be cash and membership prizes for the top three contestants in both of the two categories – inches lost and body weight percentage lost.  If you’ve been looking for a challenge or to get to the next level in fitness, I think this may be the contest for you. 

As a member, I’ve watched many of these transformations over the past few years.  It’s so wonderful to see relationships built between the contestants and fitness, as well as to see the contestants learn from and become close to their trainers.  The following is my friend Vicky’s story, which she was kind enough to share as a testament to this contest:

I can remember how happy my husband and I were when we saw that a Gold’s Gym was coming to Shrewsbury. We couldn’t wait to join. We started coming as soon as they opened. I would come and workout for a couple of hours and go home.

I thought the weight would start coming off but it didn’t. I started getting frustrated and lost interest. I would come for a few weeks then take off for a few months. I considered dropping my membership until last April when I started working out again, after being gone for a few months. On the door was an advertisement for the “Biggest Loser Challenge”.

That is when my life changed for the better.  I decided that I needed help and I went for it. I signed up for the competition and hired a personal trainer.  The two best things I’ve ever done for myself.

I was given a personal fitness evaluation, diet and menu suggestions, and a workout that fit my schedule. I also made new friends, tried new classes, and developed a new attitude. I went from 180 lbs to 150 lbs and also won 3rd place for most inches lost.

I am so glad that I decided to start taking care of myself. I feel and look better than I have in a long time.  It took effort but the rewards are great. I can now say that I love coming to the gym.”

I greatly appreciate Vicky sharing her story.  It takes a lot of courage, determination and hard work to get where she is today. 

Do you want to create your own story by taking on this type of fitness challenge?  What are you waiting for… Call Gold’s Gym Shrewsbury today at 717-235-5500 or contact Dustin at djschnee@yahoo.com or Kraig at goldsgymshrewsbury@gmail.com. 

Make this YOUR year!

Carri Nelsen of Gold’s Gym in Shrewsbury.

Got questions for Carri?  E-mail them to blogs@TheZoneMag.com.

Instead, we usually opt for a nice dinner at home on V-Day followed by a dinner out sometime in the week or two following the holiday.  So, for those ladies looking for something delicious to serve up to your favorite guy, I thought I’d share some ideas.

Those of us here at The Zone are big fans of Miss Lillian’s Original Sauce.  The company is run by sisters, Debbie & Mary, from right here in Maryland, who have taken their mother’s recipe, made it something wonderful and bottled it for all of us to enjoy.

We highly recommend that you check out their recipe page, choose your man’s favorite main dish and prepare as instructed (read on for a special deal on Miss Lillian’s Sauce for readers of The Zone).

Then add some steamed broccoli or asparagus and these potatoes (courtesy of Paula Deen):

Oven Roasted Red Potatoes with Rosemary & Garlic

Ingredients

• 1 1/2 pounds small new red potatoes (about 15), scrubbed and dried
• 1/4 cup extra-virgin olive oil
• 4 to 6 cloves garlic, crushed
• 1 tablespoon fresh or 1 teaspoon dried rosemary

Directions

The first stop of the day is the hairdresser.  Nothing restores one’s sense of normal like a good cut and color. 

Hanny picks me up from the salon.  Our next stop is lunch.  We haven’t decided where to go, but aim for Towson because our goal for the day is to purchase a Nook for Hanny at Barnes & Noble.

“Let’s go to Razmataz,” she suggests.

“Razmataz?”

“You know.  Razmataz.  That place across from the mall where we had dinner when Dad was sick.”

I now know exactly which restaurant she means, but “Razmataz” has completely obliterated the real name from my brain.  It’s coming…it’s coming….Razorback!

And we’re off.  I limit conversation so as not to distract her.  Besides, I’m busy gripping the door handle and pressing my foot into the imaginary passenger side brake pedal, and it’s hard to pray and carry on a conversation at the same time.

Razmataz  just happens to be next door to the Loft, where my daughter Shelley works.  She’s not working that day, but we stop in anyway, eyeball a few things, and Hanny tries on some cute cardigan jackets.  I’m starting to feel like one of those geezer husbands in need of a chair while the wife tries on clothes.  The palms of my hands are pressing harder and harder onto the handles of the walker.  Maybe we should get some lunch.

We enter Razmataz, a long narrow windowless restaurant in a strip mall.  The first thing that hits me–after the darkness–is the smell of bleach.  As appreciative as I am that they are microbe conscious, the predominant smell in a restaurant should be food.  Really.  I just can’t stay.  I’ve been cooped up at home for a couple of weeks and I need light.

We cross the street to the Cheesecake Factory.  This involves parking at Towson Mall.  The Cheesecake Factory has valet parking, but why pay $5 to have someone park the car?  I suggest that Hanny drop me and my walker off at the door and then park, but she wants someone to witness where she leaves her car so that we don’t have “issues” later.  We need a spot that’s fairly close ( I do not have a handicap tag).  We find one, but one of the cars is not parked straight.  It’s hard to tell which one, but it’s probably the obnoxiously dominant big fat red SUV.  Hanny parks parallel to it because the other car is so nondescript that, well, I can’t describe it.

After a delightful lunch, I have another geezer moment in the ladies’ room.  The handicap stall has support rails!  Right where I need them!  Ok, I know they’ve always been there, but I’ve never actually touched them before.  I thank God for the Americans with Disabilities Act.

It’s time to head over to the Barnes & Noble, but wait!  Pottery Barn is right here, by the Cheesecake Factory.  We can’t resist.  I use up the rest of my pedestrian mileage for the day gliding around Pottery Barn making a mental list of all the things I’d like my sister-in-law to get me with her employee discount.   The walker handles dig deeper into my palms.  I think my palms are bruising. We head back to the car, where Hanny finds a post-it note with not-so-friendly suggestions about her parking skills.  It was a rather lengthy note for a post-it and for someone with such a nondescript car.  Who has that much anger over a parking job?   Plus, even if Hanny  scratched the car (which she did not), who would notice?  It’s so nondescript.  Hanny checks her car, relieved to see that the parking fiend hasn’t keyed it.

Somehow the drive from Cheesecake Factory to Barnes & Nobles evolves into a tour of the entire Towson Mall parking maze.  Round and round we go.  Where we’ll emerge, nobody knows.  If it weren’t for my crippled-ness, we could have walked.  At last, the Barnes & Noble lot.  Hanny circles for a spot.  Ah hah, she finds one.  Slowly she turns…quarter turn by quarter turn.  Cars are lining up behind us.  She eases the car in.  But she’s sensitive after that friendly note at the last parking spot, so she must straighten the car.  Back out she goes. More cars are lining up.  Slowly she advances.  Inch by inch.  And we’re in.

Now it’s my turn.  Slowly.  I.  Open the door.  Swivel my legs.  Pull myself up.  Hug the car to reach the walker.  And we’re off.  Shuffle, shuffle.  Gotta cross the cross walk.  I have the right of way.   The cars line up while I do the escargot slide to the other side.

Finally, we have arrived at the mission for the day–a Nook Color for Hanny.  I inform the salesman that when we walk out of the store she should have a Nook, a cover, an account set up with email and her credit card, reading material and apps all set and ready to go.  Beads of sweat dot my brow as I stand at the checkout counter.  I collapse into a chair. We’re in the store with the salesman for well over an hour, uploading software, calling tech support, re-setting user names and passwords, re-typing the oopsies made by the salesman.  (Her account is not at hitmail or hotmale.)

Mission accomplished, we get stuck in rush-hour accident back-up traffic on 83.  We arrive home at dinner-time.

“I think you overdid it today.”

No joke.  I’m thankful to be off the narcotics and back on wine.

So how are you doing with your resolutions? If you are like most Americans, probably not good. The problem with most New Year’s resolutions is people attempt drastic action. People go from never visiting the gym to five workouts a week. Diets are radically altered. Spending goes from relaxed to miserly.

Drastic action never prevails. Motivation guru Tony Robbins often compares goal setting to his golf swing. As he tells the story, he hired a golf pro to help him with his golf swing. After numerous lessons, Tony became a solid golfer. His efforts culminated with a round of golf with the professional coach where Tony shot close to par. He was so excited at his progress he went out the very next morning with the pro.

That day, he struggled. Shots that flew straight the day before where now slicing into the woods. Tony couldn’t figure it out. His swing felt the same. He was doing precisely what his coach taught him, yet the results were drastically different. Completely frustrated, Tony finally asked his coach what he was doing wrong. The pro told Tony that his swing was fine. The problem was Tony’s grip on the club was off a few millimeters. This resulted in the club head opening up too much at contact causing a slice. This millimeter difference created an enormous variation in results as the ball sailed 200 yards down the fairway.

What does this story have to do with New Year’s resolutions? A small change in your lifestyle can yield enormous benefits over time. If you can cut 100 calories a day – the equivalent of half a soda, you will drop 10 pounds in a year. Substitute a packed lunch for eating out, and you save, on average, $2,000 per year. Take these results and extend them over a ten year period, and it can change your life.

If you started out this year attempting to drastically cut your calories or spending, maybe you should revisit your goals. Find ways to make small, manageable changes that you can maintain. Just like the golf swing, these minor changes yield big results over time.

For your finances, the most beneficial change you can make is to track your finances – spending, debt, savings. Understanding your financial picture leads to improvements.

Most people who are mired in debt do not know where their money goes each month. Yet, budgeting is a tedious task that ends as quickly as most New Year’s resolutions. You should look for a tool that can quickly provide you a financial snapshot without much effort.

Mint.com is an ideal tool for that. Without detailing the application, it automatically downloads and categorizes your expenses, savings, and transactions. This allows you to get a complete picture of your finances in 10 minutes per month – a minor time commitment that yields a considerable change.

Kirk Kinder – If you want to discover more ideas to improve your financial life without a great deal of effort, sign up for our free newsletter at www.picketfencefinancial.com.