Deer In Headlines II
By Gery Deer
With 2026 just around the corner, I was all set to write about the usual New Year inspiration. You know the list. Get in shape. Find the perfect job. Move someplace warm where shoveling snow is only a rumor. Usually, this is the time of year when we convince ourselves that a calendar flip magically turns us into a better version of ourselves.
But after the year we just had, simply making it to the finish line of 2025 feels like a minor miracle. For a lot of people, survival deserves its own parade. So no, I’m not here to rain on your celebration. I’m also not here to sell you on New Year’s resolutions, because we all know how that story usually ends. Somewhere around mid-February, the gym bag becomes a storage container, and the resolution quietly slips out the back door.
What I do believe in is change that actually sticks. Not because it’s trendy, or because someone on social media told you it would make your life perfect, but because it genuinely makes your life better. Let me explain how I stumbled into that lesson.
Not long before the pandemic, I was approaching my forty-ninth birthday while also caring for my father. One evening, I set his dinner plate in front of him and, without missing a beat, he looked up and said, “You’re gettin’ fat, ya know it?” There is nothing quite like blunt parental honesty to take the edge off a long day. He wasn’t trying to be cruel. He was being accurate.
I had gained weight. I was stiff, sore, and tired more often than not. This wasn’t about fitting into smaller jeans or impressing anyone. It was about the slow realization that my body was filing formal complaints. Something needed to change, and the holidays were closing in fast. I had no interest in starvation diets or workout plans that required yelling at a mirror. Whatever I did had to be sustainable.
The first step was figuring out the real problem. I’m not a foodie, so overeating wasn’t the issue. The issue was movement, or the lack of it. I needed to move more, on purpose. So, I started where I felt comfortable. I went to the pool. Swimming has been part of my life since before I could walk, and it felt familiar instead of intimidating.
From there, I added small pieces. Basic core work. Flexibility. A yoga class where I learned that balance is mostly an act of optimism. Eventually, I got back on a bike. None of this happened overnight. It was slow, awkward, and humbling. But I showed up and did something every day.
A few months later, I was swimming two or three times a week, riding a hundred miles on the bike, and doing daily core exercises. It was hard. I mean, really hard. I still don’t love gym culture, but I found my way around it. Over time, the effort paid off. The weight came off, the aches eased, and I even collected a couple of cycling medals.
The real lesson wasn’t about fitness. It was about intention. If you want change, you need a plan, even a simple one. Write it down. Make it realistic. My goal was never “lose twenty pounds.” My goal was “have more energy, less pain, and better sleep.” Not flashy, not measurable, but deeply meaningful.
That approach works for more than health. It applies to careers, relationships, and even how we treat ourselves when things don’t go perfectly. Big change usually comes from small, consistent steps, taken for the right reasons. It doesn’t require January first, fancy equipment, or public announcements. It just requires deciding that you’re worth the effort.
If you’re thinking about making a change, skip the resolution. Choose something that serves your health, your peace, or your happiness. Start small, stay honest, and give yourself credit for showing up. Progress counts, even when no one else notices, and you are capable of more than you think. Keep going, be patient with yourself, and remember that every positive step forward, no matter how small, truly matters more than ever. Happy New Year.
The Jamestown Comet 