Riding the temperature

17 miles in 17 degrees, with winds blowing at 17 miles per hour (and with gusts to 21)...

This feels like déjà vu; I know I've been here before.

A blue sky greeted me this morning, but brrr! it was cold. The early morning temperatures were in the single digits, and the wind was blowing. No work for me today on this odd federal holiday (Washington's birthday), and it wasn't a day when I wanted to be pinned down by the weather.

I wasn't going to ride today; I thought it was too cold. It was so cold that I waited until afternoon when the temperature warmed into the teens before I headed out walking. Right foot, left foot, right, left... walking, moving quickly... I was still warm when I finished my hour-long walk.

I opened the door, and I thought I heard my bicycle calling to me. What was she saying? That it was time to ride! Yes, it was still very cold and fairly windy, but the roads were dry (unlike yesterday when they were streaming with water just waiting to through salt onto my bicycle). So I agreed; it was time to ride.

It was cold enough outside that I stuck with some relatively short loops where other humans (in houses) weren't too far away. Rolling past Harold Parker State Forest, I was somewhat surprised that the frozen ponds didn't sport any people on skates. And unlike most of my other winter rides, I didn't see anyone else wandering on a bicycle. Do you think there was a reason? I couldn't have been the only person wandering on two wheels, could I?

The late afternoon sun cast shadows through the trees, shadows interspersed with shine from the ice-crusted snow. Winter beauty...

Success! A comfortable winter ride meant that I was still toasty warm when I got home. The remaining Gatorade in my water bottle was another story; it had changed from liquid to slush around a solid core of ice.

My final mileage for the day seems fitting, doesn't it?