My cycling top was still wet and cold from the rain during last nights ride home, despite my hanging it out overnight and giving it a blast in front of the heater this morning,
I clambered into it regardless, shivered, and pushed my bike out the door. I could feel the morning air bite into my skin as soon as I stepped out. Brrr. It was going to be a cold one this morning.
After a short climb up from my house, it’s pretty much a downhill splurge all the way into Hobart, and as my old mountain bike quickly reached its top speed I could feel the wind attacking my skin, stripping away my heat faster than my body could ever hope to replenish it.
By the time I got to the bottom of Proctors road, the skin on my arms was tingling and alive … my arms felt like they were encased in a thin sheen of ice. My fingers had that deep cold feeling which on a winter’s morning has you breathing hot air on them (or in more desperate situations placing them under your arm pits) at traffic lights trying to get some warmth, any warmth, back into them, even if it is only temporary.
|My commuter – An old hardtail converted into an eBike..|
But this was a summer’s morning, and this morning it just felt good. I knew I’d quickly warm up when I stepped into the change room at work, so this mornig the cold just felt like a gift, a reminder that right now I’m wonderfully, completely alive.
I’m sure some of my friends on the road (car drivers) probably felt sorry for me as they passed the poor, shivering cyclist, happy to be in the warm confines of their vehicle. If only they knew.
|View from my office window back up to the top of Mt Nelson where I live.|