My 2025 looked a lot like the Minnesota Vikings. It began, as always, with hope—an early victory that made you believe this could be the start of something. Then came the injuries, the false starts, the failures, and the quiet realization that planning and execution were still passing each other in the hallway without speaking. By late October, hope had slipped into despair. But then December arrived, and despair softened back into hope—what is known as fake spring. In the end, the record will land just above or just below .500, exactly where uncertainty likes to live.
That’s how 2025 felt for me. There were real successes—moments that mattered, progress worth acknowledging, things I’m genuinely proud of. But there were also stretches when momentum stalled, when intention didn’t always translate into follow-through, and inaction led to failure.
So 2025 was neither disastrous nor satisfying. A very Minnesota Viking outcome—competitive but incomplete. A fair grade is probably a 5 out of 10, even with the wins, because consistency matters as much as highlights.
My hope for 2026 isn’t about grand promises or naïve optimism. It’s about clarity—and momentum. 2025 finished strong, which matters more than it sounds. It suggests that improvement wasn’t accidental, that progress is possible when effort and intention finally line up. The goal now is to carry that forward. Decide what matters. Align efforts with intentions. Invest accordingly. Losses can be endured. Wins can be celebrated. What wears you down is ambiguity—and the feeling that being better was always within reach, but never quite seized.
Sireadh Toileachas 