So here it is, the onset of 2018 and I’m there with the rest of you. Thinking about jostling with each other at the crowded gym — crowded for at least the next two weeks, anyway — in the hope of exercising more and losing weight, but knowing that I can’t follow through on an exercise resolution.

Again.

A little proud of myself that I’m not going through the motions. I’ve always considered exercise a homemade version of sports, in a way. Problem: I look for reasons to not to exercise. And I’m not particularly good at sports.

But I am excellent at making excuses why I don’t have the time to exercise. It’s dark out when I get up. My son is sick. I have to make dinner. Holidays. It’s cold out. I see other people exercising — panting, sweating — and thus conclude I don’t want to.

However, I am overweight and determined to be healthier. But I am suffering. I hate most exercises. I look for reasons during the day to use my hands in hopes that my Fitbit thinks they’re steps. The other day, I actually started swiveling in my chair while I was on the phone just to see if I could gain some extra steps. Swiveling didn’t work but, sitting while moving my hand like I was walking, did. This is just how pathetic I am. Which is why I’m overweight.

Worse: The weather has just turned cold. Really cold. I tried continuing my outdoor workouts wearing the same sweatpants and sweatshirt. You know. Tough guy. But in this weather? Not working. So I started layering. That’s when I had the epiphany: It’s more exercise to get dressed than the actual walking or running.

First, I started with long johns. Are they still called long johns? And are the opposite short johns? I usually stand up to put on pants (but, like you, one leg at a time). However, in order for me to get these stretchy legging things on, I need yoga. I sit on the side of my bed and kind of shimmy in. I pull, stand, pull, sit, etc. Not pretty.

Next, I put on the thermalwear top. I am not svelte. This, too, is a struggle. The top has too small of an opening for my head, raising the question: Who designed this and how many martinis did he or she have for lunch? Nobody outside of an ant colony has a head this small. Kind of like the sweaters your mom would knit when you were little: nice, if you didn’t suffocate putting them on. And when I finally pulled it over my head, I’d hear a poof sound, my hair would have a static look, and my mom would clap and be happy.

When I put my thermals on, I actually started to clap a little for myself. Pathetic. I’m aware.

But I digress.

So now I squeeze my arms through and pull the rest down. Once it is stuck to my body, I end up readjusting my belly so that everything returns to its proper place. And I think: Do women really wear a bra under all this?

At this point, I feel like the kid in A Christmas Story. Fully dressed, warm, but unable to move my arms. Legs. Or breathe. And I’m feeling thin. Sucked in and ready for the runway. Except I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror and curse.

Then I layer on another pair of sweatpants. Throw on a sweatshirt, neck warmer and a coat. Extreme? Nope. Baby, it’s cold outside.

So then it’s time for the extremities. I have this tendency of using mittens to wipe my nose in the cold. And I am still trying to find a good strategy of what to do when that which is wiped freezes on my nose or on my mitten. It is gross.

But I digress again.

At this point, still inside, I recognize how well the heat works in the house. I am perspiring like an NBA power forward, layered up but still no place to go. I’m pretty sure 15 minutes have passed. Except that now I have to bend over and put shoes on. I’m not sure if I should wear snow boots or sneakers. The last time I wore sneakers, my toes nearly froze. (That rhymes). Boots give me blisters and are much heavier to lift than sneakers. But then, it’s not like I’m shooting an LL Bean commercial in the middle of Maine. I just want to go for a run. Or a walk. Or at this point, a constitutional.

The minute I step outside, I’m colder than Elsa from Frozen. The sweat is now frozen. I’ve worked up a sweat … the sweat is frozen … and yet I haven’t started to exercise. Again, the point of all this was … what, exactly? Getting motivated to exercise is hard. Especially when I’m on a budget that can’t afford buying a treadmill.

Maybe what I can do is petition Fitbit to add “getting dressed to go outside” as a new exercise.

Maybe I’ll just stop eating.

This is the opinion of (vexed) Day sports columnist Mike DiMauro