I have mixed emotions about tracking my adventures. I know folks who LIVE to share their conquests. To the point where it feels like the only reason they actually go on adventures is to tell others what they have done. I do not feel this way. But, the other side of me, the accepting side says “Well, if that is what it takes for them to get out then so be it, and perhaps their doing so will inspire others.” It is with this idea I log posts like this. Maybe you will see something that makes you say “Hmm, I think maybe I want to do that too.” And with bikes, this is precisely what we need.
I love to ride. I always have and my hope is for you to either share your love or rekindle a love you once had. It is cold here now. Ten degrees yesterday morning, so riding for me is not easy. Hands, feet and head, all critical warmth protection required. I have almost no winter riding clothes. Seriously, even after all these years. So, I layer up with everything I have. Cheap CostCo underlayer, ten-year-old frayed wool layer, epically smelly cycling layer and buff, beanie, twenty-year-old ski headband thingy and wind shell. I looked like I robbed a yard sale.
Lungs burning in the cold. Sun in my eyes. A twenty-five mile per hour wind with gusts even higher. And it was grand. All of it. Every single thing was fantastic. Came home and collapsed. A forty-five-minute nap. One of those naps where you are so deep you aren’t sure you are coming out of it. You see Jesus and Krishna and all the rest reaching out for you, “Come, come to our warm embrace,” but you think “Wait, I’m having burritos later I don’t want to miss that,” and you somehow pull yourself out of nap death. Mouth gaping and bone dry. Walleyed. “I made it,” you say to yourself. “Madre de Dios.” I want to do that again, all of it. So if you are on the fence, just do what you can. Ride where you can. For however far.