Yes. I rode my bike today. And it was pretty nice, too. It wasn't scary or dangerous, it was fun! I would love to ride with you sometime if you'd like to give it a try. Anytime, really. I can show you a whole new world...
This morning it was 14F, 6WC, with a 5mph headwind. I rode my bike.
I got my sweat on. I got out of the saddle. I sat back and loosened my grip on the bars as I rode over a washboard of ice. I climbed a hill, crossed a bridge, rode along the river and saw a tiny black dog with red boots and a houndstooth cape. Houndstooth. I raised my front wheel up over a few curbs and ice berms. The claws on my tires dug into corners. I rang my bell to alert a pedestrian I was coming up the path and the note sounded like it froze and broke off at the end.
I rolled on open pavement (yay!), bumped over ice islands, and crunched through slush hardened around asphalt crumbles. I took a left through a busy intersection while singing "Don't Stop Me Now," channeling Freddie Mercury and feeling 200 degrees, that's why they call me Mr. Fahrenheit. But don't worry, Mom. No headphones while I'm riding. All this music is in my heart.
I frosted my scarf beard with my hot breath. I watched the sun rise over the industrial buildings with bustling loading docks that back up to the Greenway. I gently tapped my fender with my boot while I was rolling, to dislodge some of the sandy sludge that likes to collect between my fender and tire, slowing me down. I mimicked a mogul run down a hill, feathering my rear brake and moving my hips to navigate around pavement bubbled by frost heaves and pitted by gaping craters that lead to yet a deeper circle of hell. (The 9th and final circle of Hell, as described in Dante's Inferno, was a frozen wasteland that imprisoned traitors for all eternity. Satan, the most treacherous of all, is imprisoned in the center of the circle, waist-deep in a frozen lake. So many winter metaphors there.) I commanded noisy, smelly, slippery-shoed behemoths to "stay behind," "come around," and "yield" with a wave of my arm and a flash of my mitten.
I smelled weed, coffee, exhaust, cigarettes, and wood smoke along my route. And maybe waffles, but that might have just been my hungry stomach messing with me.
I smiled my whole ride in, even though I cover my face with my scarf, with the hopes that my joy is beaming from the small exposed area of my body between the brim of my cap and the top of my scarf. I nodded at the other bike commuters I saw. I pulled over to a safe spot to let a line of cars pass me. A person waiting for a bus gave me a thumbs up as I passed.
Yeah, I rode my bike today.
All smiles under here!