I am proud to announce that I was able to remain on track for my arbitrary goal of 10,000 miles over the Thanksgiving Holiday. I did it by employing the most dastardly tactic of the cycling weasel—the early morning trainer ride. I rose early on both Thanksgiving and Black Friday to push out as many minutes as family harmony would allow, and these ghost miles enabled me to stay on schedule for attaining my mileage goal for 2014, which will be celebrated with, well, there will be no celebration—no one gives a crap.

Speaking of not giving a crap, all of these miles are beginning to test my tolerance for monotony. There are only so many roads available for my quest for the “five by deuce” (I know that’s an awkward and inaccurate way to say 10,000, but I really wanted to wedge the term “deuce” into my training plans), and rolling over the same roads over and over at the same speed is a recipe for madness, but I am currently “all about that base.” (Am I the first to make that base miles joke? Some other coach has to have made that joke, right? I don’t know because reading about bike training is super boring—aaaand I’m just realizing the irony of that last sentence.)

If the previous 266 words haven’t convinced you, I’m starting to feel the strain of the bike monotony, but a goal is a goal—and I shall reach this random and arbitrary goal even if it means riding 260 ghost miles on my trainer on New Year’s Eve. I an that committed. I really should be on a motivational poster at Successories.

In other news, I’m getting fatter. This is what happens to old people like me. You overeat, and it takes forever to drop whatever extra weight you gained. I ate Thanksgiving dinner as if I were about to walk the Green Mile, and now I am a larger person because of it. Of course this weight gain is in pretend bike racer weight, so it has nothing to do with what I assume is the weight gain of regular people. But I am now so far removed from regular people thinking about weight that I have no frame of reference anymore. That being said, I regret nothing and I would eat and drink everything all over again. Now if you’ll excuse me, my wireless router is telling me that I have two hours of trainer time to take care of.