I am not the type that sets goals as the new year begins. I remember when I started letting people know that I was first trying to lose weight, countless people wished me luck and named themselves faithful Monday dieters. I just think it's silly to put off your ambitions until a set date.

I signed up with a program through my HMO wherein I can get credit for working out at least 30 minutes a day. I did not realize that this program existed—I knew of programs where you get credit every time you sign in at your gym, but I was not aware of the options for people with home gyms. The program starts on the first day of the month after you sign up. Upon January first's arrival, I was poking around the Nike Plus site, looking for challenges to enter. I want to get my running feet back again.

I did what I consider a fantastic job with running in September and October last year. I will never be a fast runner, but I got to a point where any run less than six miles felt like I was slacking off. One Saturday at the beginning of October, I hopped on the treadmill and up and ran 10 miles. 10 miles, after just one month of training! With medical procedures in November and December, recovery time has stolen whatever stamina and strength I had built in those two months. I just keep telling myself that this is the love part of the love/hate relationship I have with my legs. In relatively little time, my strength will return.

I came across a challenge to run 1,000 miles in 2010. Now, I've always hated (as in, "with a passion") long-term assignments. However, the Nike Plus Challenges are a weird, binding contract with me. If I sign up, I have to perform. I knew that this would be a way for me to continue running throughout the year (instead of a random 5K here and there), as I will have to average just over 19 miles a week to meet my goal.

2009 was a year of fairly constant procedures. I was pretty open to whatever the doctors wanted to try, but this year I need to step back and just let my body fully heal. I don't know that many people can understand how liberating this decision feels. Last year, knowing all of the recovery that would be ahead of me, I could not have set such a lofty goal as to run 1,000 over the next 12 months.

Now, running inside for long distances is a drag—I should know, I ran 10 miles in a dingy basement! Plus, being that I was less than a month out from my last procedure and had been inactive for about six weeks, I told myself that the 19ish miles a week goal was an average. During September and October, I had weeks closer to 30 miles, so when the weather was nicer I could make up for these early weeks in a Wisconsin winter. Unfortunately, I am a bit driven when I have a number to fixate upon.

So much so, that I did something on Friday and Saturday that I thought I would never do, considering those who did insane enough to be locked up. I ran outside in 14°F weather, a day after it snowed. The sidewalks were a mess, and it was really a mix of running outside and running on a treadmill because every step I took would slip back as I tried to propel forward. Oh, and it was frickin' cold…but running outdoors again felt so good. During the first week of 2010, I made it 19.38 miles. Yay! Only 51 more to go.

So, I thought I would post my goal here for extra accountability. I can only imagine how thrilled I will feel this time next year when I accomplish this feat. 1,000 in 2010, baby!

We were on the road, coming home from a friend's house where we spent the night, when the sun rose this morning. The still morning was suddenly washed in amber streams, and I couldn't help but feel that 2010 was starting on a beautiful note.

My parents always made December 31st feel special. The traditions were simple when I think about them today, but me and my brother looked forward to that day every year. A bottle of sparkling grape juice, beef tenderloin, and poor man's lobster were always on the menu. We rented movies to play until midnight, and spread blankets on the floor in front of the television so that we could be on a picnic while enjoying our movie snacks.

I remember the close of 1999 so clearly with all the hype about the Y2K bug and imminent armageddon. I was a senior in high school, and I remember finding all of the talk absurd. I was not then, and really am not now, a Prince fan (or, the artist formerly known as Prince, as he was known in 1999), so you can imagine how irritating the constant reply of that one song was for me. What a ride the last ten years have been.

As 2002 approached, I made the decision to change my lifestyle. A serious chest pain scared my then 20-year-old self into reevaluating the eating and exercise habits that had learned throughout childhood. My mother had begun successfully losing weight the year before, and I suppose she gave me the "this is possible" drive to succeed.

At the end of 2004, I was visiting my parents from North Carolina. My brother had other plans that year, but for nostalgia's sake, Mom, Dad, and I dined on sparkling grape juice, beef tenderloin, and poor man's lobster. We watched sappy romance movies all night. I didn't know it then, but it would be the last New Year's Eve that I would spend with my mother.

The next year brought a lot of crappy surprises, and I move that it just be stricken from the record. I was getting a cold and my mother had a compromised immune system at the end of December, 2005. My aunts were celebrating the night elsewhere. Mom did not feel like going out, and Dad was at a neighbor's party. She and I spoke over the phone, each in our own empty homes. We were both ready to close the awful year, but it was such a lonely night. She said to me, and I'll never forget, "2006 will be much better for both of us."

In a way she was right. In January, she stopped suffering from that awful disease, and Heaven is her reward. I met Nick and started going about the business of living again, even though me and my aunts were plagued with weird illnesses all that year (and the time since). I guess it was a better year than the last, but Debbie still announced that she planned on drinking an entire bottle of Asti on New Year's Eve to send 2006 packing with a resounding "Goodbye and good riddance!"

The past few years have been busy with school and doctors, and 2009 slipped through my fingers. I couldn't help but make the comparison between last night and that night ten years ago. Sipping champagne with Nick and friends, confident in my power to take control of my life…the 18 year old had her parents and her traditions, but she really hadn't figured out herself yet. (It's just too bad that you can't have it all.)

I think 2010 holds a lot of promises. With the end of school less than a year away, I feel such excitement that at this time next year, I might have free time! I am grateful to still have a job and a roof over my head (which is no small feat in today's world), and I am thankful for the relationships I have with my family. I don't know if I have ever told them, but I couldn't have made it this far without my aunts in my corner. I had to work to build a better relationship with my father at first, but I now cherish our closeness.

And there's Nick. Our first date was New Year's Day, 2006. Four years later, I still wonder how I was able to find (and keep!) such a kind and loving person. He possesses a rare decency, and I am lucky to have him.

2010 can't help but go right.

He puts the can of Pringles on the counter, telling me to help myself if I want. I don't particularly want, but I am curious to see him bring home Pringles from work. "Why are you looking at me like that?" he asks.

"I've just never seen you eat Pringles before." It's been about four years, you'd think it would have come up by now.

"No," he replies. "That's because I love Pringles." He is quick to remind me that he's never seen me consume a Cheeto, even though the crunchy ones were a childhood favorite. If you can't have just one, then I guess you really shouldn't have any.

Boys, beware.

The last three-plus years have been enlightening in many ways health-wise. In 2006, me and my health care provider decided that Depo-Provera would be an excellent choice for birth control considering that I had always had painful menstrual cycles (which you no longer experience once on the drug). Well, we know now that I have a couple of disfigured uteruses. Nonetheless, the Depo served its purpose and I had nearly four years without the all too familiar symptoms.

My last injection expired in October, which I did not renew due to the surgery I was scheduled to have in November. I was not told that there would be withdrawal symptoms, but I honestly don't know my body anymore. I called the clinic after coming down with the first migraine headache that I had had in almost four years and was told that some patients due report "menopause-like symptoms" after coming off of Depo-Provera. WHAT!? I walked over to my aunt's desk at work to see if she had some migraine medication at her desk (I've talked about Brenda's desk before) and admitted my stupidity that, "In all the years that I have been headache free, I never connected that they stopped once I stopped having periods." I guess I just assumed that it was a gift from the heavens for all the lousy things that had happened. You may be divorced and motherless, but hey! Your headaches are gone! Woo!

It's a nice thought, anyway.

My thermostat is wonky, one minute I'm so cold my teeth chatter, and then the next minute I could swear that my blood had come to a boil in my veins. My hair is growing in faster and thicker, and with a mind of its own (which should be a good symptom, but I've grown accustomed to stretching my hair appointments to every three months!). My toenails suddenly grow out so fast and thick that I could use them blades to kick an intruder a week after trimming.

My complexion…well, it's been swell. I've been relatively clear-faced throughout my 20s, but my significant other was kind enough to point out an uncommon outbreak along my hairline last week. My order for Proactiv should arrive any day now. My expired stuff cleared everything up in a few days. I imagine the un-expired stuff would work even better.

Then there are the aches. I hesitate to use the word "cramp" due to the reaction it causes in Nick who had a not so good experience with a date at a movie theatre before he knew me.

I am in a general state of soreness all the time, so I did not expect a little bit more once a month to be any big deal. Okay, well these extra "aches" have not gone away over the past two months, and they just put you in a downright confrontational state of mind. No joke. Did you seriously just put a cup down without a coaster? CAN'T YOU SEE THAT I AM IN PAIN? GET A COASTER!

I also find myself arguing more with Sophie. I don't know if this is a withdrawal symptom or simply further evidence of my reduced mental state, but I generally feel better after a hearty philosophical debate with the cat. She just really seems to get it in ways that humans do not.

I know it could be a year before the effects of the birth control wear off, and I hope this awfulness abates by then, or my doctor has mentioned the "H" word as the next step. A friend at work doesn't know why they didn't do the "H" in the first place, leaving one less target for the potential disease. Indeed, I would be fine with them removing any and every unnecessary organ, I just get a little nervous with them deciding the kidney according to the flip of a coin.

And just like that, the snow globe flips back over and everything is ethereal and perfect again! I start singing carols loudly and jovially, and Sophie runs and hides before the high crashes and I crave an ontological discussion on existence. Please don't shake me. Just let the glitter settle. Thanks.