Quiet Winter Mornings
Riding a comfy fixed gear roadbike on a crisp December day, I realise that I know few better ways to achieve the feeling of all being right with the world. Something about the rhythmic motion of my legs and that perfect "wheels go round and round" sensation of fixed gear, just seems to make my body happy. I don't ride very fast and Mercy Anne is an even-tempered bike; a bike that does not demand I push myself but is happy to adjust to my mood.
I have been trying to get into the habit of riding earlier in the morning. There is almost no traffic getting out of town, and for a little while I enjoy the illusion that the streets belong to me. The sun shines weakly at first. The frost on the grass casts a bluish tint over the landscape. It is freezing and I can see my breath in front of me. I try to keep my mouth closed as I breathe. My eyes are tearing up and I remind myself to wear sunglasses next time. I wear two layers of medium-weight technical wool and a windproof jacket, finally having "gotten" how to dress for winter after 2 years. Still, brrr!
And then, almost all at once, it feels as if nature turns up the thermostat. Is it me, having gotten warmed up, or has it actually grown warmer? I look and suddenly there is no more frost on the grass. Probably a bit of both. The sun has risen higher now, and shines a warm yellow. It is almost 9 in the morning. Time to head home .