It's inevitable.

Whenever New Year's rolls around, we all get introspective and reflective.

We take a hard look at our lives up to this point and wonder — hopefully not out loud — "So, what just happened again?"

Did I miss Halloween? Is the marathon over? And when did I suddenly become so fond of elastic?

For me, New Year's is the time when I start dwelling on the could'ves, would'ves and really should'ves.

If only I had more time! If only I had more money! If only I wore size 0!

Basically, I start freaking out.

And I know I'm not alone.

The gyms are packed. Friends promise mandatory monthly dinners. Fridges are filled with tofu and broccoli.

Let the annual ritual of pledging sincere promises to be leaner, stronger, smarter, faster, nicer and, ultimately, better humans begin.

Last week, I started drafting my annual List of Things I Must Do or Die for 2006.

These resolutions always start out so vague and inspiring: Eat healthier, read the classics, schedule more "me" time.

Then somewhere in the writing process, they get a tad more specific.

Train for the paddleboard race across the Kaiwi Channel! Write a New York Times best-seller! Become vegan!

(OK, that last part can't happen. I love butter too much.)

At this point, one of two things can happen: I ditch the list entirely and deem myself unworthy of a gloriously new life. Or I come up with an easier list, a cop-out version of the first. Like "Buy new sheets" or "Take daily showers." Totally doable.

There's something deeply rewarding about crossing to-do items off a list. I've jotted down things I've already done just so I can cross them off.

The power!

Last year, I resolved to run for at least 45 minutes and not feel like flinging myself in front of a moving car just to stop the pain.

And, miraculously, I did it.

So I should feel proud of my accomplishment, right?

I do. But I can't help but think maybe I set that goal because I knew it wasn't impossible to reach.

I mean, if I can sweat on an elliptical for an hour, then, in theory, I should be able to survive a 45-minute run.

So halfway through writing my New Year's resolutions — which included scrapbooking every trip I've taken in my adult life — I stopped.

Why set lofty goals and hate myself come December when I haven't achieved any of them? Why not just resolve to be happy and healthy? Isn't that the most we can ask for?

So what's my New Year's resolution for 2006?

Not to have one.

Reach Catherine E. Toth at ctoth@honoluluadvertiser.com.