With two weeks left in the year, I reached my downwardly revised goal of 900 miles for the year.
I was at 894.74 through Sunday, so Monday — my day off — seemed to be a good time to cross that line. So after much trial-and-error in planning a long-enough route, I got myself out the door, onto the trail and across the 900-mile marker.
It was just like any other unremarkable milestone (turning 20, turning 25, reaching 100,000 on your car's odometer, etc.), in that it happened without fanfare. Heading in, I'd felt like maybe a sparkler should go off.
It didn't. I knew I'd achieved the goal, but I didn't spend much time congratulating myself on it — one text, only because someone else had texted me good news before; one brag on Daily Mile. Mostly I wondered: What's next? That is, how much closer can I get to 1,000 before 2013?
Poor 900. First it was a consolation prize, now it's a stepping stone. My gaze has moved on to 925 ...
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