Friday, February 22, 2013

Revolution of a cyclist: The lost month

I had a stellar beginning to the year riding almost every day the first half of January. This is exciting for me because I come from Minnesota where the winters are long and definition of cold takes on new dimensions and only the certifiable ones are still out there riding. They resemble mad Vikings with frost covering their clothing and icicles hanging off their faces and a smile that's frozen in place. Here in Florence it only occasionally frosts overnight and stays in the 40's and 50's Fahrenheit. It feels colder in my opinion because the humidity, unlike Minnesota, is in the 70% to 90% range. Yes, I'm now a wimp.

But I digress. Stellar beginnings...then a slight equipment failure. Quickly fixed and thankfully paid for by a woman I babysit for. She said it was a Christmas present. Then (dah, duh, daaaaaaaaaaah) the dreaded influenza. I tried guys, honestly I did. Once a week whether I felt like it or not (usually not) I would go for a ride with someone and feel a thousand times worse for days afterward. But I should get points for trying.

Now I feel better. Not just for today, but I've felt good for several days in a row. I think I'm ready to re-enter the world of cycling. Leif has been fine tuning the bike. One new rear tire because the cords were visible in the old one. Checking the brakes. Oh yeah, the biggie in his opinion, dusting it off and cleaning up everything so it shines as much as it can.

My biggest concern? Go ahead and laugh with hair. Do I wear it in sporty braids or a sophisticated up-do at the top of the calf or in a tasteful chignon at the ankle? That's right. Soon I can get rid of the CuddleDuds and the Target leggings and wear just the shorts. I'm trying to figure out just how long I can wait before having to tackle the hair on my legs. In Minnesota I'd still have months before having to think about leaving my legs out for God and everyone to see.

This is as deep as I get some days, folks. Not how fast or how far I'm riding, not how much I'm climbing, not even deep enough to wonder if I'm improving. I just want to know how long I can put off the inevitable need to shave my legs. Ridiculous but true.

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