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Family January 9th, 2008
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The Pleasure of Life
Just do your best
Chuck Hansen

Today I went for my annual physical, so I can tell you with certainty that I am 45 years old (actually, I knew that before the physical), stand five feet, eight-and-three-quarters inches tall, and I weigh 209 pounds.

I also can tell you that my doctor, no beanpole himself, says that my "ideal weight" is 169 pounds. That means I haven't been my ideal weight since 1978, when I was in 11th grade, just before I got a job at Bill's Barbecue. (Mmmmm, onion sticks…)

After the physical, I went to a life-expectancy calculator on the Internet. After plugging in my info I received the verdict. I won't tell you what the number was (I don't want to scare my kids), but let's just say that tomorrow I'll be calling my financial advisor about some changes we can make in the retirement planning scenarios.

So now it's early January 2008 and, along with 270 million other Americans not quite at their ideal weight, I am thinking about New Year's resolutions.

Eat less and better. Clean the garage and keep it clean. Exercise every day. Clean the attic and keep it clean. Track expenses better. Go to church every week. Be a better friend. Be a better husband. Be a better father. Build the patio out back. Paint the porch. Read more. Write more. Maintain the cars on schedule. Volunteer more.

Yikes. Last month, I wrote a column about how life is an unending game of Whack-a- Mole, with every problem that pops up just another mole we have to bash with our big, soft metaphorical mallets. Problem is, more moles pop up than we can bash, and the daggone game just will not end. Ultimately, the keys are to be realistic about your limits, focus on the most important issues first and, above all, as my mom and dad told us growing up, "just do the best you can."

In other words: you can't do everything, so do the most important things as best you can. I think the same goes for personal improvement resolutions at the New Year or any time of year.

But wait! Is it acceptable in our culture to say "not everything is possible"? Not according to most motivational speakers, selfimprovement books, women's magazines, management gurus, do-it-yourself home improvement television shows and Victoria's Secret catalogues, it's not.

I've seen personally the power of positive thinking. In 1988 (already well above my ideal weight), I turned my life around, going from a job-hopping, heavy-partying, beach bum with no plan for my future (or even for my day) to a motivated professional-to-be, on my way to graduate school and a real career. How did I do it, you probably didn't ask? To quote Sister Hazel: "If you want to change your life, change your mind."

To change my mind, I listened to Dennis Waitley's "Psychology of Winning" about 1,000 times (as it happens, during a crossing of the Atlantic in a small sailboat). Between the positive-thinking motivational program and the sailing journey, which was a cold, wet and inescapable living metaphor for long-term goal setting and daily action, I changed my life.

So, for me, entertaining the idea that "anything may not be possible" feels like telling the regulars at an AA meeting that you've been spiking the coffee for the last three months. It is an insidious, foundation-shaking, confidence-rattling shock.

But is anything really possible? Ask alltime greatest basketball player (and profes- sional baseball failure) Michael Jordan. Or ask war-hero and Senator (and three-time presidential candidate failure) Bob Dole.

Anything is possible. But not everything is probable.

Three of America's greatest minds have weighed in on this subject. Henry David Thoreau wrote, "I know of no more encouraging fact than the unquestionable ability of a man to elevate his life by a conscious endeavor." But notice that Thoreau says "elevate his life," not "perfect his life." That's an important distinction.

And Oliver Wendell Holmes said, "The important thing in life is not where we are, but in what direction we are moving." No matter where you are.

And my dad said: "Do the best you can. As long as you've done your best, I'm happy." But, he emphasized, for this to work, you have to be honest with yourself about whether your effort could have been better, how it could have been better, and do it better next time if you can.

You hear it all the time: "Nobody's perfect." So why won't we allow ourselves to admit that we can't become perfect?

Like my dad says, just do your best. As long as you've done your best, he's happy. And I'm happy with that.