Why New Year's Resolutions Don't Work -- The Neurology of Change

Right about now, many people are starting to fail at their New Year's resolutions. It happens every year: You were good for a couple weeks, but right about now you're starting to slip with a few cookies, some skipped days at the gym ... Why? Because humans aren't very good at changing, which involves nothing short of rewiring our brains.

A while ago I wrote a story for O, The Oprah Magazine, called "Why is it So Damn Hard to Change," which looks at the neurology of why most New Years resolutions fail, and the ways understanding a bit of science can help people struggling to break old habits and form new ones. Here, below the jump, are some details, and a bit of follow up:

One thing that makes it so freakin' hard to change a habit: dopamine, a chemical in the brain that transmits signals from cell to cell and gets us hooked on everything from food to cigarettes to shopping to sex. I explain this in detail in the article, so I won't rehash it all here, but the basic gist is that we can get hooked on things that come with a reward that triggers a dopamine surge in our brains. Orgasms cause dopamine surges. So does hitting the jackpot when you gamble, winning a race, acing a test, doing cocaine or methamphetamines, smoking, drinking.

The big question I tackled in my story was, How do you get yourself hooked on something that's not inherently pleasurable to you--like living on salads and broccoli or, in my case, exercising? Many people get a natural high from working out. I, however, am not one of them. I hate exercise, but I know I need to do it anyways. So what I wanted to know was, "Isn't there some way to trick the dopamine system? Some way to fool my brain into craving exercise?" The answer, it turns out, is yes.

You can read all about that in the story. Here, I wanted to post a bit of follow up: Many people who've read the story have emailed me asking, Well, did it work? Are you exercising now?

I don't sit around craving exercise like I'd hoped. But the information in that story did change the way I approach working out (like, I actually do it now and I didn't before). In the story I write about how dopamine research led me to realize I should try roller blading for exercise. These days, my exercise of choice is racketball with Mr. Dish. We play several times a week, and I kick his butt probably 80% of the time. I don't win because I'm better at it than him -- not even close -- I win because I have the most absurd handicap of any racketball player in history. It's complicated, but it involves me starting with ten points to his zero (the game only goes to 15), I can let the ball bounce twice before hitting it, Mr. Dish only gets one bounce. Plus he refrains from the crazy trick shots he uses with his more, uh, capable opponents. But we still play hard, the game is usually close, and I can pretty much feel the dopamine rush every time I beat him. Which is why we came up with the handicap in the first place -- to trick my brain's reward center. And so far, it seems to work.

The other day Mr. Dish said, I think we should reduce your handicap, so we took away one of my many advantages, and he threw in a few trick shots. I started losing every game. Suddenly, I wasn't so interested in racketball. I kept playing, but it was a chore -- my energy lagged, I thought about things I had to do back in my office ... then I skipped a day, then another. And I realized, we'd taken away my shot at getting a reward from the exercise, which is (apparently) the only thing keeping my brain into it (lame as that may be). This probably sucks for Mr. Dish since it means he looses a lot of racketball, but he's one of those strange people who actually find exercise to be rewarding all on its own without any added incentive. Those people do exist -- I just don't happen to be one of them ... so I resort to trickery.