Winter around DC is normally cold and blustery. Cold winds blow down from the north and west unimpeded by leaves on trees. Day after day I typically find myself bundled in layers, grinding away into a cold headwind, spent by the time I get to work.
This has been a remarkably mild winter. The wind has not put its big cold hand on my chest as I pedal. At least not nearly as often as usual.
Today I rode to and from work in shorts. And I had a tailwind both ways. When I got home I made a sacrifice to the bike commuting gods. It was only a small child. I doubt my neighbors will miss him.
The ride to work really seemed effortless. Considering the fact that I was bedridden only 48 hours before this ease of movement made me positively joyful. People that I rode past must have wondered what brand of whisky I had with breakfast.
Normally this sort of ride leads to a trance. Today my trance had brain squirrels running amok. They were inventing awkward social situations for me to deal with with smart ass retorts. You know, the kind that you never think of during the situation but come up with three hours later.
Then Dave rolled up alongside to chat. I was thinking of telling Dave that I was already talking to someone but I feared he might call the folks from the psychiatric facility nearby. After a half mile my sluggish pace bored him and he rode off.
The ride home was every bit as fun. The slight tailwind made me feel like I was in midseason form. Runners, obviously fit ones, were everywhere. These folks were flying in t-shirts and shorts. I felt a pang of jealousy, as I recalled my long ago running days in Providence.
The only negative on my ride home was a dangerous pass. I was heading south, a cyclist was heading toward me going north. A tall (perhaps 6 foot 3 inches or more), helmetless cyclist riding a bike with a straight handlebar and with ear buds in his ears passed me without warning at the same time as the oncoming cyclist. There were mere inches of room between my left hand and Ear Bud. I yelled at him to not be a douche. I yelled at him last night in nearly the same spot, doing nearly the same stupid maneuver.
But that was two seconds of bad in 2 1/2 hours of bike commuting bliss.
I’ll take it.