In my life, I have set goals no less than one hundred thousand times.

That sounds like an exaggeration, but I’m not kidding.  One hundred thousand times.  At least 33 years, times 365 days, times 10 goals a day.  That’s at least 122,275 goals in my life.  (and yes, i did the math. i heart math.)

I was born a chronic overachiever perfectionist.  And, like most overachiever perfectionists, goal setting is in my nature.  I set goals for EVERYTHING.  How much I’m going to eat, and by when.  How much I’m going to weigh, and by when.  How many workouts this week, and how much weight for each exercise.  How many books I’ll read this month, and what kind of books, and how many words.  What classes I’ll be able to take.  What grades I’ll get in those classes.  What time I’ll get to bed.  When I’ll get up.  What time the kids will do which things.  What I’ll do for a job next year, and how much I’ll make, and when I’ll get my next promotion, and what tasks I’ll complete by when in order to get it.

For most (normal, not control freak, not obsessive) people, that probably sounds exhausting.

To be honest, sometimes even for me it IS exhausting, but it’s what I do.  I love goals.  I live for and through my goals.
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