New Year’s resolutions have not been my favorite “thing.” It’s about as welcome as giving up something for Lent (which I prefer instead to add something meaningful to my life rather than give something up). But this year I’m using the New Year to be resolute – to stop talking about it and start living by example. I’m giving up alcohol. No, it’s not because of a drinking problem, but it is a choice based in research.  A decision that has been discerned over the past few years as research has moved from being presumptive to conclusive.

“Moderate alcohol consumption has been linked to an approximate 30-50% increased risk in breast cancer.”                                          

US National Library of Medicine/National Institutes of Health

Yes, the evidence is in black and white. Now it’s up to me to reduce my personal odds. No more alcohol. But in the process of making this decision, I was faced with personal insecurities like: What do I drink at networking events? What about open bar parties, weddings, celebrations and toasts where the expectation is that you consume to be socially appropriate? Helping to convince myself, I’ve built my case by focusing on the benefits, landing on five good reasons why I am giving up alcohol: 

1. Reduce cancer risk:  Yes, the biggest reason I’m abolishing alcohol is staring me right in my face – alcohol is connected to a higher risk of getting cancer. And the other four reasons are a bonus.
2. Save money:  Have you ever looked at your bar bill when eating out? It is likely to exceed your food bill. Making this real on a weekly basis, consuming $10 worth of alcohol a week (home/eating out) rings up to $520 (or likely more) per person annually. I’m already starting to think about what good can be done with that chunk of change.
3. Save calories:  Alcoholic drinks are packed with calories. An average glass of wine (that would be 6 oz mind you not a full glass) carries about 140 calories. Many of our medical challenges today – cancer, diabetes, and more are linked to our diets and an overweight America. I have been known to enjoy a frozen margarita, so thought I’d share the breakdown of calories, sugar and carbs: 410 calories, 59 grams of carbohydrate, 52 grams of sugar, and 570 mg of sodium. Wow! I can eat a whole meal for that….and when you drink a lot, you tend to make poor food choices as well, and so you overeat.  Think about this as calories to allocate elsewhere in your diet.
4. Lose weight: Fewer calories and more sober food choices means I’m more likely to maintain or lose weight instead of gain it. That’s good news for middle agers like me who struggle to keep the creep off every year.
5. Live sober: No drinking means you are living (and driving) sober. Does it mean I won’t be “fun” anymore? Certainly not. I am, however, reducing the chance of unintended consequences – a damaged reputation or a digital imprint that can come back to haunt me personally and professionally. We all know somebody who has made that mistake.

So, now I’ve put it out there, both as a statement of my intention and also to challenge others to do the same for any or all of the reasons I’ve shared if that seems right for you. As temptation is part of being human, I’ll need your support not to slip along the way. With the New Year looming, I encourage you to be resolute in having your thoughts follow through to action. Whether it’s alcohol or something else, take a stand for yourself and your future.

Cheers to the New Year ahead and being resolute about things that matter.

P.S. I’m retaking the Personal Health Profile that I created in 2012 based on current research and compare my previous score as a non-drinker. It may be a good place for you to review your health habits for the New Year as well.

P.P.S. Do you have a tasty, low calorie, alcohol free drink suggestion for me to try? I don’t drink pop much or at all (Coke or soda depending on where you live), and do like fresh fruit, so if you have ideas and recipes, please share them. I’ll be making mocktails in the New Year until I find one I can call my new signature drink. Reviews will be posted via social media (Breast Cancer MyStory and DCIS MyStory Facebook and twitter).    

So this year just happened…I became a grandmother…my dad passed away…I was a keynote speaker in Taiwan at a STEM education conference…my family cleaned out and sold my dad’s Marietta home…IN2 won a Chicago Innovation Award…I had a pacemaker implanted…my husband and I hiked the Inca Trail in Peru…and I resigned my leadership position at work.

These are some of the highlights from the past ten months of my life. It is only now, when I sit on the front porch to pause and write this blog, do I realize what a life shaping year it has been. Seven weeks ago I posted to the universe that I’m open to what’s next. Since then I’ve been listening, exploring possibilities and resting up.  What previously had been relegated to the sidelines is presenting itself. Coming out of the fog, I can more clearly see what’s been “tuned out,” neglected, forgotten or put in a pile to deal with later. This same pause has me inventorying personal strengths and calibrating opportunities.

Yes, I’m pausing.  And in that pause there is the realization that I am the author of my life’s choices.

Pausing just long enough to be hungry again. I’m a builder who loves to ideate, create, innovate, collaborate, construct, cut the ribbon, pause and move on to the next big thing. But I also need to remember to embrace the pause when it arrives. Because it is during the pause that my soul is awakened, listening to possibilities and hearing the voices I’ve blocked out because I’ve been “too busy” or “will get to it later.” Time to really look at my garden, to realize in the pause there is beauty in uncertainty and joy in possibilities. There are boards to paint, miles to walk, books to read, friends to catch up with and weeds to pull.  Not just the feisty kind in the garden, but the weeds of life – people who create unhealthy conditions for personal or professional growth or ones that steal the sunlight away. Yank!  They are gone once you realize you are the gardener of your possibilities. The pause helps me reflect, refuel and recharge.

Yes, I’m pausing.  And in that pause I am exploring what it means to be a middle-aged female servant leader with limited time on Earth.

When the sounds of your body clock start ticking louder you need to pause more. When your physical body continues to break down and needs to be tuned up, pause with purpose. It is each trial that forges the steel of conviction hotter and stronger. The trial that battles the frailty of the human body, growing ever more apparent with each passing year.  Yes, the pause fuels the fire.  The pause provides the rest needed for the next “buen camino” and energy to tend to the weeds and chart the course ahead.

Yes, I’m pausing.  And in that pause I am enjoying being a learner again, excited about taking on new roles.

I haven’t felt this urge to learn since I went back and got my master’s degree a decade ago. Being a student of life is both invigorating and humbling, as there is so much to learn and so little time.  The pause, my poignant professor, reminds me that as humans if we aren’t learning, we are not growing and if we are not growing, we are falling behind.

Yes, I’m pausing.  And in the midst of pause the realization that its OK to just pause is part of my learnings.

In the pause we find meaning and purpose. The pause is then a gift of time to block out the noise that envelops us constantly.  I haven’t watched television in a month and you know what?  I haven’t missed it. Instead, hours have been spent pouring over books and plucking weeds from my life’s garden.  I’m encouraging you to do the same. Pause, to see where the gap guides you to next. Just don’t pause too long; the world needs us to hit “play,” to engage, to be change makers and to live with purpose.

We all have limits.  It’s moving beyond them that calls into question our character, inner drive and sensibilities. I can easily count the times in my life when I’ve been at the edge of my comfort zone and had to make the call to quit or to push forward. I faced the demon once again recently on our family Colorado adventure to summit Mt. Elbert, (altitude 14,433′, 2nd highest peak in the lower 48 and high point of Colorado). Footnote: My husband has a bucket list item – summit all the lower 48 state mountain high points.

Not one who wants to be left behind, I added this June Colorado trip to my “vacation” itinerary.  That decision triggered training for distance (which I know how to do) and for altitude (which Illinois doesn’t allow for at 586′).  My DNA is not wired to do sustained distance high altitude climbing efforts. I am a thoroughbred through and through. A “drop dead” sprinter as all my past swimming coaches would confirm for you. Fast twitch, white muscle fibers – the opposite of slow twitch, red muscles needed for such a feat as summiting Mt. Elbert. But nonetheless, the adventure began at 6:00 am, an “alpine start,” the best way to reach the top and get back down to avoid afternoon weather systems.

Perhaps the challenge is what appealed to me. Or was it not wanting to have my family leave me behind? Whatever the reason, I found myself again at the crossroads of pushing beyond on Sunday, June 18, 2017. The early hours of hiking were pleasant, I could talk and laugh and enjoy the scenery. Once we got above the tree line (about 12,000′), I stopped talking and the struggles began. My pulse raced above 160 at the slightest exertion and with rest, only barely dropped under 140; exhaustion began to consume my body. This first nod to the possibility that I wouldn’t summit crossed my mind while plopped down on a rock and mumbling, “I don’t think I’m going to make it” to my husband. A little encouragement, a swig of Powerade and a bite of energy gel got me back on my feet.

The second realization I was in trouble happened at about 13,500′. Again, collapsing on a rock in utter exhaustion, I barely got out verse two of, “I don’t think I’m gonna make it.” Steve, who had been hiking slowly with me (I have 31″ inseam, so add that to the list of why I’m a slow high altitude hiker) at the end of the group, started to articulate options. All I could think of was that I was the weak link on this family chain and I just couldn’t see holding back my husband’s checking off this state (and mountain) from his list, so got back up and pressed on.

It was the third time sitting down and muttering, “I really don’t think I can make it” that the reality of a failed attempt, just some 500′ feet from the summit kicked in. The weight of my weary body in relation to the thin air seemed insurmountable. My physical self had given in, so it was time for my mental side to convince my body otherwise. A check of my pulse was my only way to verify if I had recovered enough to press on. It was either time to submit or summit. Pause, meditate and take a deep breath; I focused on overcoming. Once my “resting” pulse got under 140, somehow my spent body listened to my inner will to summit. (Meanwhile my husband was making plans in his head to get me back down the easier side of the mountain, but first we’d have to reach the top). I left my poles next to the snow ledge at this point so I could better navigate the rocks with both hands.

Spying family members taking their first steps on the summit was just the motivation I needed to put one foot in front of another. Traversing between the snow route and bouldering over the last pile of rocks, my weary feet finally found the flat summit. My son Owen’s welcoming hug enveloped me, giving way to my silent, uncontrollable sobbing.  I had made it, yes, made it. It wasn’t pretty and I had to push beyond to get there, but I got there. Everybody else looked like it was no big deal.  But to me it was a really big deal.

So, indeed, this photo is one of sheer joy and utter exhaustion. We discovered a home made cardboard sign left for us by others to help mark and revel in the accomplishment. Cracking open the summit beers they brought, the kids toasted the top of the mountain. As I raised my Nalgene, I could finally bask in the accomplishment. Enjoying the makeshift backpack picnic I had prepared at 9,000′ the night before, energy slowly returned to my aching limbs. It is amazing how good salami and cheese tastes on top of a mountain. Nothing better I thought. Lots of photos later, it was time to think about going back down the mountain. As my legs tightened up, I was looking for the elevator or a helicopter service…

So if you are wondering if I got down off Mt Elbert, yes I did. I’m not blogging from the mountain top, though the cell reception was excellent up there. Our group split up into two – my nephew Jonathan drew the short straw to accompany me down the front of the mountain, which was shorter and less strenuous (thanks Jonny). The others went back the way we came up. I used Steve’s poles and he retrieved mine, which were waiting some 500′ down the mountain for him right where I left them. Although Jonny and I encountered lots more snow on our route, some of which ended up in my britches and down my socks, the easier way down was what I needed.  The scenery coming down was euphoric and a steady pace helped my pulse stay under 140 the rest of the trip. Sure, I fell 6x coming down (twice in the snow and 4x on loose rocks), we hit patches of mosquitos attacking us and to top it off, we came upon a washed out road with a raging river running through it and hitched a ride across in a most precarious manner. Twelve hours later we were all back in the same car, sitting in the same seats where we had anticipated the day. We all swam in a silent sea of accomplishment as we rode back to the cabin.

So now the only thing left to do for me is to sew this patch onto my backpack. It is truly a badge of honor for me and will be a reminder of the day I pushed beyond.  Will I feel the need to do this again?  It may be like childbirth – time makes you forget how painful the labor is.  Yes, time will tell.  I am ever thankful I made it up and down safely and can spend years sharing stories and memories imprinted by Mt. Elbert.

I wonder what’s next?  I hear Machu Picchu calling…