I wrote this a couple years ago around this time, so forgive the reference to the wrong month. After three hours today in the wind, I couldn't resist posting it here:
Ode to a Headwind
When the trees are all blown halfway over
And grit fills your mouth 'til it's cracked and it's parched
When your handlebars fight you like cobras
You're cycling New England in March
When the roads are all pot-holed and mangled
And you're struggling to keep your front wheel pointing straight
When you ride on the flats at 10-degree angle
At a glacial, detestable, crustacean rate
That's when you know that you're cycling New England --
Might as well go on a long tour of Finland --
When you're cycling New England in March
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