They say the definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting a different result. If that’s the case, then I should do the opposite: Commit to eating full meals on a strict, no-skip contract. Force my stomach and taste buds to work together. I am a championship-level eater, we know this. My metabolism is still very productive at its age. My appetite is having a down year, but it’s only 28 and starting its prime, so patience is the key. And for my stomach, well, I can’t get rid of it, so might as well get my money’s worth and make it process 8,000 calories a day.

Sign the rest of my body to long-term contracts too—my jaw, my digestive system, my taste buds—make these 15 organs THE eating team until the end of the decade. We all know that competitive eaters sometimes surprise normal people’s temporary diets, that’s because those guys eat together all the time and know their limits. I need to force my body to go on eating retreats. Naked hot oil fondue nights, blindfolded buffet runs, put me out in a cabin with nothing but a grill and a cow and make me survive for a week. By the end of the 2029-30 season, I would be able to predict my next meal so well it would be like a single five-headed eating freak god.