Here’s our definitive ranking of January ambitions: From delusional to vaguely achievable and how long you’ll likely stick with each.
1. “I will ride every day.”
Time until failure: 3.5 days
This one always sounds noble. A romantic vision of daily dawn rides, personal growth, and maybe even a core. In reality, you’ll ride January 1st, take a ‘recovery’ day on the 2nd, and by the 4th, it’s snowing sideways and your bike is frozen to the shed.
You’ll briefly consider riding loops in the kitchen. You will not do this.
2. “This is the year I finally stretch after every ride.”
Time until failure: 1 week
You’ll do it once. Maybe twice. You’ll set up a yoga mat. You’ll bookmark a video.
And then one day, you’ll come home, covered in salt, and decide that flopping directly onto the couch while still wearing overshoes is, in fact, a kind of stretch.
3. “I’m going to do a proper training plan.”
Time until failure: 2 weeks, max
You’ll download something with words like periodisation and sweet spot. You’ll colour-code a spreadsheet.
Then life will happen. You’ll miss a VO2 session and spiral into a shame-based carb binge. By mid-January, the ‘plan’ will be replaced with “vibes and hope” and one FTP test you pretend not to remember.
4. “I’ll wake up early and ride before work.”
Time until failure: 1 alarm
This dream dies fast and quiet, like a headlamp battery in minus five.
You’ll manage it once, maybe twice, and then realise that riding in the dark is only romantic in movies. Or Rapha ads.
5. “No more unnecessary gear purchases.”
Time until failure: 12–36 hours
You’ll swear off buying things.
Then you’ll see a jacket that’s “windproof but emotionally breathable.” It comes in moss green.
You’ll buy it. It will arrive mid-April. You’ll say it’s an investment.
6. “I’ll ride indoors AND outdoors — balance, baby.”
Time until failure: Mid-January (indoors), then February (outdoors)
Great in theory. But after three icy commutes and one rage-quit from a virtual ride where someone named FTP_BabyShark69 dropped you on a climb…
You’ll be left with one dominant form of riding: staring blankly at your bike from the couch.
7. “I’m going to fuel properly and track my macros.”
Time until failure: The first time someone offers cake
You’ll start strong. Porridge. Hydration. Mid-ride snacks.
Then someone brings pastries to the group ride, and suddenly your spreadsheet is just sugar and vibes.
You’ll still say “I’m fuelling for recovery” while eating leftover Toblerone. That counts.
8. “I’ll take rest days seriously.”
Time until failure: First sign of guilt
Rest day = yoga. Maybe a walk. Definitely no saddle.
Until someone posts a sunny ride. Then you ‘accidentally’ put on bibs. Just to test fit. And now you’re 40 km deep into a ride you call “active recovery.”
9. “This is the year I finally learn to love Zone 2.”
Time until failure: 0.0001 seconds into boredom
It’s slow. It’s steady. It’s good for you.
It’s also what a toaster feels like while it’s waiting. You’ll do one perfect Zone 2 ride. You’ll learn nothing. You’ll return to chaos and caffeine, as nature intended.
10. “I found my helmet. That’s enough.”
Time until failure: This one… this one lasts.
Because sometimes, that is enough. In January, surviving the weather, the guilt, and the urge to become a different person overnight is a win.
You found the helmet. You showed up. You’re basically a hero.
January goals are like base layers: easy to pile on, harder to move in
Be kind to yourself. Celebrate the little wins. And remember: Any plan that survives past January 17th is basically elite-level commitment.
You’ve got this.
Or you don’t. Honestly, either way’s valid.
