Start As You Mean To Go On

Ever have that feeling? You know, the one right at the start of something new. A new job, a new diet, a new Netflix binge. It's like standing on a diving board, just before you leap. And then there’s that little voice, the one that whispers, “Start as you mean to go on.” Sounds wise, doesn’t it? Like something your grandma would say after a particularly hearty Sunday roast.

But let’s be honest. How often do we actually do that? My personal record is about five minutes. I started a new fitness regime with the best intentions. Bright and early Monday morning, ready to conquer the world, or at least the treadmill. I was decked out in my finest Lycra. Felt like a superhero, really. I even planned my post-workout kale smoothie. Then, Monday afternoon rolled around, and a friend suggested pizza. And just like that, my superhero cape was traded for a pepperoni-stained napkin. Start as you mean to go on went out the window with the last slice.

It’s a tricky little mantra, isn’t it? It implies this unwavering dedication from minute one. Like a perfectly brewed cup of tea, every single time. No lukewarm, forgotten-on-the-counter disappointments allowed. And who has that kind of energy, all the time? We’re humans, not robots programmed for perpetual excellence. We have off days. We have days where the couch calls louder than any aspiration. We have days where the allure of a perfectly chilled glass of wine trumps all sensible decisions.

My personal record for ‘starting as I meant to go on’ is about five minutes.

Think about it. That first day at school. You arrive with a shiny new pencil case, a meticulously packed lunchbox, and a brain buzzing with eager anticipation. By lunchtime, you’re trading your perfectly cut sandwiches for half a packet of crisps and contemplating the existential dread of Friday afternoon. It’s a journey, not a sprint. And sometimes, the journey involves a scenic detour through a donut shop.

Perhaps, and this is a rather unpopular opinion, the whole “start as you mean to go on” thing is a bit… much. It puts a lot of pressure on those initial moments. It’s like expecting a perfectly sculpted sandcastle the moment you touch the sand. Reality often involves a few tidal waves and some questionable architectural choices. We’re learning, we’re experimenting, we’re figuring things out. And sometimes, figuring things out involves a few stumbles.

Take relationships. The first date. You’re on your best behaviour. You’re charming, witty, and you pretend to like all their obscure indie music. You don’t spill anything. You don’t accidentally reveal that you once wore socks with sandals to a wedding. You are, in essence, presenting the ideal version of yourself. You’re starting as you mean to go on. Then you realize they talk about their stamp collection for three hours straight. Suddenly, that perfectly curated persona feels a little… exhausting. And a little bit like lying. So, you might as well relax and let the real, slightly awkward, possibly wine-spilling you emerge. That’s often when the real connection happens, isn't it? When you can both admit you’ve forgotten each other’s names at least once.

Maybe the real wisdom isn't in the flawless start, but in the ability to recover from the less-than-flawless start. It’s in the “Okay, I messed up that kale smoothie plan, but I can still make a decent scrambled egg” resilience. It’s in the “I ate the entire box of biscuits, but tomorrow I’ll just have one” grace. It’s about picking yourself up, dusting off the biscuit crumbs, and carrying on. That, to me, feels far more achievable and frankly, more entertaining.

We’re all just trying our best, mostly. And sometimes, our best involves a detour. It involves trying to start strong, failing spectacularly, and then deciding that “good enough to keep going” is actually a pretty fantastic way to go on. So, next time you hear that little voice, feel free to acknowledge it. Then, maybe offer it a biscuit. Because sometimes, the best way to go on is with a full stomach and a forgiving heart. And who knows, maybe that slightly imperfect start will lead to a more interesting, more authentic journey anyway. Less pressure, more progress. That’s my kind of mantra.

“Good enough to keep going” is actually a pretty fantastic way to go on.

It’s like learning to ride a bike. You don’t start by cycling Tour de France. You wobble. You fall. You scrape your knees. Your dad yells encouragement that sounds suspiciously like panic. You’re definitely not starting as you mean to go on, in terms of smooth, effortless cycling. But you keep trying. You get back on. And eventually, you’re cruising. The initial wobbles and tumbles were part of the process. They were the prologue to your cycling glory.

So, let’s give ourselves a break. Let’s celebrate the effort, not just the flawless execution. Let’s embrace the messy middle. Let’s be kind to ourselves when our grand plans get derailed by a sudden craving for chocolate. Because ultimately, it’s not always about starting as you mean to go on. It’s about learning to go on, no matter how you started. And that, my friends, is a much more realistic and beautiful goal. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I think I’m about to start a new journey to the biscuit tin. And I mean to go on… until it’s empty.