Nightglow Window

Winter Arrives

We have a weak, flaccid winter. A stiff breeze is worthy of comment and a rain shower warrants a five-minute conversation. We complain when it drops to the high 40s at night and pile on blankets to the bed.

Some of our complaining is because our houses aren't insulated well, but mostly it's because we're weather wimps.

So when I look outside at lunch time and it's misting hard enough to make puddles on the ground, I'm surprised. But not as surprised as my co-workers when I put on my bike shoes and go for a ride.

"You're going for a bike ride?" they ask, all aghast, as I walk my mountain bike out the door. I can't hide my smirk as I answer, "Nope, what makes you think that?"

No big whoop really. It's cold and wet and miserable and lonely along the 12-mile route. The crack heads and derelicts that hang out near the riverbed are missing. The kids are off the playground at the elementary school a few more miles up. I'm the only cyclist. Even the construction workers building those ugly-ass condos are safe inside today.

It's all about dressing properly and I admit that I'm not: shorts and a cotton T-shirt and my bike shoes (no socks because I want my one pair dry). I can't see, my glasses are coated with water. I'm soaked to the bone. A big black streak runs up my back because I don't have fenders. Dirt and grime coat my legs.

I couldn't be happier.