Like riding through a culvert

Riding home at 10 pm, into an East wind of about 30 ks, with a heavy snowfall happening as well, is a bit like riding in through a large culvert with a flashlight. You're working hard to keep your eyes focussed five to ten feet in front of your front wheel. You don't notice what your legs are doing, unless you drift off of the hardpack and onto the soft gravel that gets humped up on the sides and middle of the road. Then you notice that you have to pump harder, and keep from oversteering. You just ease your way back to the good path. 

In a heavy snowfall, with a bit of wind, it's like riding through a storm of christmas mini-lights. You know that there's a lot of possibility for light, but not a lot of focus. You want to look up a bit to see the whole road and get a little perspective, but that doesn't always help. You know you're going to ride where you look, so you've got to look at the right place. 

I walked out of the school today geared up for the first bona fide winter ride of the season. The wind would be in my face for three miles. The snow was coming down good and steady. It was about -15'. Perfect. In a few weeks this will be no big deal. For today it's worthy of a smile and moment to tell myself to take it easy and concentrate. I blow out and I start riding.

On rides like this I can only guess what gear I'm actually in. I can't look down to check. I'm grateful that the bike's working well. I'm grateful that I'm moving pretty easily into the wind. I'm grateful when the ride takes less than 25 minutes on a day like this. Later in the winter, when it's twice as cold (is that how to say it?), it could take another 10 minutes. Maybe more. 

For today the only place that I wish I was better prepared would have been my ears. The wind got in a bit. Tomorrow I'll wear a headband over my skullcap, just to make sure. 

Ride report

in:       -8'C wind 10ks NW

out:    -15'C wind 30ks E (snow)