Winter is here and I am still riding. This is the latest in the year I have ever ridden. I want to boast but I know that part of the truth is that the weather so far has been rather mild. It is also true that this year I prepared myself with the proper gear that helps me stay warm while the air is cold. I have also noticed that I have changed as well. Temperatures that I would of once thought of as to cold to ride in are now just numbers that don't seem to mean much to me anymore.
This became a little more real to me over the past few days I headed down to visit a friend, actually I was going to Dog-sit for her while she attended a funeral. Without much thought I threw some clothes into my backpack, grabbed my gear, and hopped on my bike. It was snowing. I ride down to her house in the snow and loved every second of it.
“You're effing crazy. You know that?” she said when I knocked on her door, still damp from the wet snow and still smiling. “I could of come and got you.” she said. Her face told me she really thought she was making sense
“What and miss out on ride like that.” I said, thinking that I was making sense as well. It was then that I began to realize that the way I was thinking was changing. Thinking back now I see how I think now and think of it as normal but I can also remember how I used to think and how that was normal as well. I don't pretend to understand how such opposite thoughts can both be considered normal.
On Monday I headed to town to volunteer my services as head towel boy and servant at Bike-Pgh as I left my house I remember thinking “What a nice day for a ride.” I agreed with my thoughts as I rode through East Liberty and headed toward the South-Side. I had already decided to take the long way around and enjoy the fine day. I was struck again with how much I had changed when I passed several puddles near the trail that were frozen. Now to be honest the trail is in a hollow (the Panther hollow trail) so it gets less sunshine than most places I ride. Wondering, I stopped and checked the puddles. A half an inch of ice on top of the puddle. As I crossed the Hot-Metal bridge I stopped. I always stopped on the bridge and looked down into town. You see I really enjoy that particular view into town. The wind was blowing up the river and it felt great. Two girls were walking across the bridge from the South-Side. I waited standing on my bike till they passed me. (I try to never miss a chance to smile as a pretty girl) I noticed they were bundled up like Nanook of the north.
Like I said, I guess I'm changing. Even now as I sit here and type this I can feel the dryness of my face. I can feel the beginnings of chapped lips.
I'm thinking this kind of change is a good thing.