When I was seven years old, my mum signed me and my older brother up for gymnastics at my local athletics club. Initially excited, we attended weekly for about a year before the complaining started and we both eventually convinced her to let us quit (much like I'd done with everything my mum had signed me up for, from ballet to Brownies).

In the short period of time we spent being gymnasts - the most sporty I've ever been in my life, might I add - both my brother and I learnt lots of the 'cool moves'. We were no Louis Smith, but we could just about muster the basics. Handstand? Yep. Bridge? Had it down (or up, you could say - BAD JOKE SORRY). Splits? Easy peasy.

Try to get me to do any of the above now - bar the bridge, which I can still do surprisingly well considering the lack of practice over the last ten years - and I'd probably break a bone or two (or five).

Over the past few years, I've been more involved in the less energetic activities in life, such as writing, art and, my favourite, graphic design. I turned my 'sporty' attention to horses and started to ride competitively. No more gymnastics for this girl (yet).

My brother, however, was pulled back into the world of gymnastics in his last years of high school. He joined the school team and ended up competing nationally all over the UK. At one point they did as well as to come first in their category when against all of the competing schools in the country. That was a proud moment. He gave it up at the end of his A Levels, but I still get him running up beside me when we're out and randomly doing a somersault, and he vaults over everything. At an Ed Sheeran concert we went to in the summer, he vaulted over the queue barriers like it was nothing.

I couldn't help but find it inspiring (and a teeny tiny bit embarrassing, everyone was staring).

That. That there is what sparked my idea for my 2018 New Years Resolution. I'll be 18 next year and I want to be able to do the things I used to do, back when I was just eight. Unlikely, I know. But I'm determined.

As I mentioned earlier, that bridge is still going strong. I learnt - through trial and a lot of error - that I can still use my hands to walk down a wall into a bridge and then I can come back up the wall out of the bridge about 75% of the time (ok, maybe 65%, but still). Just being able to do little things like this makes me want to try, try really hard to get back to the little gymnastic-crazed, splits here, there and everywhere eight-year-old I used to be.

So there you have it. 2018 for me will be less binge watching Dexter on Netflix in bed, and more stretching, handstands and somersaults. With any luck, this time next year I will be that eight-year-old again (minus the Barbies).

#WHINewYearsWriting