It was indeed exactly as I'd hoped this morning, 32 degrees (a bit chillier than expected) and spitting rain. Yum -- somehow I always manage to find a sweet little groove in-between the raindrops, and chug away like the roleur I fancy myself to be (but really am not). So it was this a.m., rolling steadily by snowy farm fields, the wind very chilled after passing over them, the rain spattering my glasses to a filthy film, the skin around my face and ears chilled deeply despite liberal pre-ride applications of Vaseline. All was right with the world. Could have used a buddy or two to make that stretch between 50 and 80 percent -- the longest mile, always -- a little more cheerful, but that's a nit not to pick.
Reminded once again of my deep gratitude for the progress so many companies have made in creating soft baselayers and glove liners out of virgin wool. Nothing, but nothing, works as well, especially once wet. Just having it on makes me feel safe and warm and strong out there in the challenging weather.
2 comments:
Your description goes a long way toward getting me out in that kind of weather. You're out there already, so you're definitely a flahute in my book!
Thanks, SOC. Don't think I'm quite a flahute -- maybe something like a "fla" or a "hute."
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