I'm back to riding to work full time. I've decided that waiting for this cold to go away is pointless and I'll freeze the li'l bugger into submission since being nice hasn't worked.
It was 9°F (-12°C) and a slightly magical dusting of snow was falling as I left home. The color of the blue-gray sky combined with the twinkling snow and the muffling effect snowfall has made the environment that much pleasant to bike. For those who hang the wheels when the leaves begin to change, you are missing the best time of year to ride. The colors, the temperature, the sounds are something you don't see, feel or hear any other time. It even tastes differently -- the road salts used leave a wicked metallic taste in my mouth. The cold leaves me streaming liquids and suffering from hot and cold at the same time.
It's all part of riding.
The one problem I have is that when I get up in the morning, I'm not hungry so I don't eat breakfast until I get to work. This lack of fuel nails me about three-quarters of the way into work when my tank goes below E, as it were. I really have to push it to finish and when I arrive at the office, I'm not hungry for a half hour or so. Funny that. I try to eat, but I'm not interested. I know I'll pay for it on the way in to work, but I just can't do it. I don't have ready what would spark my appetite: a hot, savory breakfast (e.g., a bagel with egg and cheese or black pudding and eggs or eggs on a biscuit). Cold oatmeal or fruit isn't something that warms the body and soul before heading out into the hoary streets of Richfield, it seems.
Perhaps I could modify my morning routine and add a cup of tea with milk and sugar, but that assumes co-operation with the animals and I don't think that's going to happen without a lot of barking, hissing and complaining from all parties. We'll see how it goes.
Anyway, git on yer damn bike and ride. Wool is good and is your friend.