Dre's Takes: Resetting the Standard, Not the Goals

There’s something I’ve learned about myself over the years: I don’t really believe in New Year’s resolutions.

Not because I don’t want more from life or from myself—but because I don’t think growth comes from wiping the slate clean. For me, growth has always come from refining the standard I hold myself to every single day.

When a new year begins, I don’t try to become someone new. I don’t erase the person I’ve been. Instead, I build on her.

I think a lot of us feel pressure when the calendar turns—pressure to start over, to reinvent ourselves, to set big goals that promise a brand-new beginning. But I’ve found that the most meaningful progress happens when you stop chasing a reset and start paying attention to what’s already there.

Every year, especially around the New Year or my birthday, I take time to reflect. I look back on the last 365 days almost the way I would review a business P&L (profit and loss). What worked? What didn’t? Where did I show up in alignment with who I want to be? And where did I grow the most, even when it was uncomfortable?

It’s never about judging myself. It’s about observing.

I’ve learned that it’s far easier—and far more honest—to make small, intentional changes to who you already are than to try to become someone you’re not. Growth doesn’t require a full teardown. It requires awareness, ownership, and a willingness to keep going.

This past year brought a realization that’s stayed with me: time is the most expensive currency we have. It’s the most valuable asset we’ll ever own, and once it’s spent, it’s gone. That understanding has shifted how I want to live, work, and move through the world.

So if I had to name a goal for the year ahead, it wouldn’t be about doing more. It would be about moving differently.

My goal is to move slow.

Slow in my work.
Slow in my relationships.
Slow in how I respond, decide, and show up.

Even when moving slowly feels frustrating. Even when it creates moments of doubt or makes me feel like I’m falling behind. I want to move slow—but I want to keep moving.

Grounded. Intentional. Respectful of my pace.
Barefoot in my tennis shoes. Steady in my heels.
Always in motion, but never disconnected from myself.

And above all, I’m thankful.

Thankful for the version of me that didn’t quit. The version that kept showing up when no one was watching. The version that learned, adjusted, and stayed committed even when it would have been easier to stop.

That’s the version I’m honoring this year.
Not by changing her—but by raising the standard she lives by.

— Dre