I rode my bike to work this morning. I usually do. But today is different—there is a bright blue sky; crisp, clear air and it is 18 degrees outside. I thought I was prepared: lots of layers, extra socks, a thick scarf, and my super-warmest gloves. And I felt pretty good…for the first seven minutes. Then the cold began to creep in and my body responded: numb fingertips; tingly toes; aching cheeks; short, sharp breaths. “Keep moving, keep moving….”
Often, when the weather turns there is a comradeship, a solidarity among the bikers and pedestrians who brave the elements. Not today. A deep silence filled the spaces between car engines and squeaky brakes. No smiles. We each suffered our own personal endurance test (especially the guy with the drooping pants and exposed butt crack).
But I made it and am now cozying up to the space heater beneath my desk. I’m feeling lucky to be one of the warm ones; someone with a destination—a home, an office, a warm place in which to regroup. I’ll ride home tonight, and again tomorrow. Because these little moments of discomfort serve to remind me how comfortable I really am.
Often, when the weather turns there is a comradeship, a solidarity among the bikers and pedestrians who brave the elements. Not today. A deep silence filled the spaces between car engines and squeaky brakes. No smiles. We each suffered our own personal endurance test (especially the guy with the drooping pants and exposed butt crack).
But I made it and am now cozying up to the space heater beneath my desk. I’m feeling lucky to be one of the warm ones; someone with a destination—a home, an office, a warm place in which to regroup. I’ll ride home tonight, and again tomorrow. Because these little moments of discomfort serve to remind me how comfortable I really am.
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3 comments:
Good for you, Jenny. I spent 15 minutes this morning scraping ice off the windows of the family car. Shoulda just bundled up and pedaled, except I was delivering a Large Smelly Boy to his Institution of Public Detention, uh, Education.
You crazy girl.
I know, I'm a glutton for punishment.
Smelly boys might benefit from a wind-whipped bike ride...it might get some of the stink out.
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