Jack Frost Nipping at My Arse

Jack Frost Nipping at My Arse

 

It was 5 below zero or a little colder as I pedaled my bike down the driveway on the way to the train this morning.  There was about an inch of fresh snow on the ground with a solid base of ice beneath it, which was a lot easier to pedal over than the heavy, slushy snow I last rode through.  The first mile or so was cold, but biking through the snow and ice on the side of the road with studded tires is a bit of work, so I was soon toasty warm.  Stars overhead twinkled brightly as I kept moving, my tires crunching and squeaking on the snow, ever mindful of the fact that I didn’t want to dawdle or stop.  The great gulps of cold air I took and the strain I felt in my legs served to calm me; something I have needed to overcome the recurrent mental health issues that I have struggled with over the past week.

 

By the time I got to the train, I was a bit overheated except for a tinge of cold in my thighs and along the outer edges of my arse.  Fortunately the train was warm and I was able to comfortably settle in to watch the sun make its way over the horizon as I reflected on the myriad ways my life has changed for the better since I had weight loss surgery 2-1/2 years ago.

 

RP

 

My California niece is here visiting. Yesterday she wondered how people in the frozen north get outside and exercise. I told her people are outside all the time walking, skiing, skating. I thought of you, RP, but didn't say anything to her. She'd never have believed me that there is someone out there in the dark and cold riding a bike. The thought would be too much for her. 

Way to go. If I ever get a bike I might try to go for a winter bike ride. Well, maybe not, but I'd think about it.