I rode to work today - the least I could do after washing my bike over the weekend. Good excuse to break out of my winter riding slump, plus - you never know - Lance could call needing assistance with his comeback. I need to be ready at all times.
Official Dan O thermometer read 34 degrees when I left. Cold, but not bad. That's what I thought anyway and left dressed for the occasion. Seeing sheets of frost on the road made me think my thermometer was off a few degrees. The Burke-Gilman trail was a mixture of iced pea soup fog and sections of frost covered trail - punctuated by flashes of blinding low horizon sunlight. A good all around combo.
I was not dressed correctly for the occasion, didn't realize this was a frozen formal affair, and promptly froze my ass off. Hours later, my fingertips still don't feel normal. I typed this post with my face.
I'll repeat the process on the way home later, except in the dark for added amusement. I'm not complaining however, it's still all fun. Well - sort of.
We cyclists are sick that way.