Last week, I was in a strange place. That is, I didn’t feel like riding my bike — at all.
I blame our little road trip to Minneapolis, which included some truly excellent fat-bike riding on frozen bodies of water. Anything after that is bound to be a letdown.
And I blame the usual January thaw, which killed most of our snow cover, a good deal of what little lake ice there was, and most of my motivation. There’s something pretty damned tiresome about listening to the sizzling of your own studded tires on pavement covered with nothing more than sand and salt chunks.
I still rode to work every day, during that week of the doldrums, but nothing more. And I didn’t ride at all over the weekend, even though Sunday would have been the perfect day for a long, cold, windy ride to burn off Karen’s birthday celebrations from the day before.
Instead, I never left the house. But our friends came to us, in two waves. And it was good — and very often damned amusing.
But today, it’s still good and cold and I’m starting to come out of the pit. And how could I not, when the short ride to work nets a frost-beard like this:
For those of you playing along at home, it’s still not to late to participate in the little thought experiment that I posted at the end of last week. I’ll be posting at least one resulting scenario, if not two or three, in a day or two.