A New Pace for a New Year

Carinne Geil Botta

The first time I stepped on a track was in the early 2010s, lined up at the start amongst a flood of new spikes and jersey-clad teenagers. Racing was all about speed—from the sprints at practice to the hard-fought competition ribbons I’d later hang on my bedroom wall. Fast forward a decade, and I still run as an adult, but as the years have stretched on, so has my mileage. My pace has slowed, my distance has increased, my mentality has shifted. And rather than resenting this change, it’s made my life—and this sport—feel even more rewarding than before. 

Whether you choose to mark the start of a new chapter by the 1st of January or the Lunar New Year or a life milestone, seasons of change can feel motivating for some and anxiety-riddled for others. I would often view these new chapters as a time for ‘self-improvement’, compiling lists of what I wished to better. It was always about optimisation and speed—bought into the “new year, new me” mentality that floods society and our feeds incessantly. How rapidly could I overhaul aspects of my life? Yet rarely did I pause to consider the “why” behind the decisions I was making, the goals I was so frantically chasing after. I was stuck on a treadmill, like many others, pressing onwards, full steam ahead. 

I’ve heard more and more psychologists explore the term “golden handcuffs”, an increasingly common phenomenon of allurements and benefits that are designed to keep individuals stuck in their current working cycle, despite unhappiness, burnout, or stress. ‘I already have a mortgage, and my job isn’t that bad,’ one friend shares. ‘In five years once my stocks vest, then I can finally leave,’ another says. I watch more and more people in my orbit crave change but succumb to current circumstances, feeling stuck. And even if they did leave, even if they did change, what would be next? 

Change is undoubtedly, often terrifying. It forces you to stare into the cracks of your life, the ugliest, most maddening, disappointing parts, to acknowledge what isn’t working. But it’s only through this process of self-reflection that one can understand what’s worth carrying forward—and what isn’t.

After a few years of massive personal and professional change—building a life in a new country, starting (and later stopping) medical school, and moving across the Atlantic—I started over, in every sense of the word.

New home, new career opportunities, new city, new continent.

And as I crested towards the start of 2025, The Year of the Snake, I knew after this time of reinvention, I was ready to change how I greeted the Lunar New Year too. 

Rather than my usual sprint from the starting line, I stopped. Counterintuitive, right? But that year, last year, I was determined: there would be no list of flaws or resolutions. Instead of picking apart what could be improved, I re-learnt how to dream. I pondered what parts of life made me naturally curious. What was I drawn towards? When did I get lost in what I was doing, forgetting about time? And by zeroing in on the overlap of skillset and desire, I found the start of my path forward. 

I replaced optimisation with orientation. I replaced quantity with quality. And I took the time to not just “better” what I was already doing but radically reimagine the life I wanted to have. Through intentionally manifesting, thanks to a journal and a pen, I wrote down my biggest, most audacious dreams. Especially the ones that seemed out of reach. The more specific I got—adding in visuals, sharing with my husband, even creating a computer background that I would be forced to look at daily—the more those dreams became reality. I let go of what I “should” be doing and embraced what I wanted to be doing. Not only was the act freeing, but it resulted in the most impactful year yet, my cornerstone as I build towards the life I’d always wanted. 

2026, the Year of the Horse, encourages this bold momentum, of moving forward without the fear of obstacles. It brings with it an appetite for life and an invitation of ambition and expansion. But it also honours the widespread need for recovery—intention as power is most meaningful and sustainable when guided. This Lunar New Year reminds us that movement doesn’t have to mean rushing, and ambition doesn’t have to come at the expense of pausing, of resting. 

There’s a framed Mary Oliver quote that has sat in the right-hand corner of my desk for the past decade: “Tell me, what is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life?” I doubt the answer for most would revolve around a passionless job or waiting for stocks to vest. It would likely centre from curiosity and courage and choosing to amplify the truest version of yourself, again and again and again. So when you lace up your shoes to take that step forward, whether your first or your thousandth, channel every glimmer of magic that comes from this Lunar New Year to visualise, and create, your one wild and precious life.