The sky is still asleep, but I can’t hit “snooze” anymore. My senses are awakened when the smell of frying bacon fills the room. “Don’t go outside, stay home today, a winter storm is on the way.” Cries the Weatherman. Call me stubborn, call me stupid, I’m still pedaling, the same as any other day.
As I open the door my face is whipped with the frozen morning air. The crunchy hollow hum of fat tires on refrozen snow fills my ears as the crisp air bites my cheeks and eyes. Within just a few minutes my legs begin to warm up. I settle in to a rhythmic spin as the trail weaves through the darkness of mixed forest, illuminated only by my headlamp and the ghostly glow of moonlight. It seems to be snowing as a gentle breeze shakes the remaining flakes from the tree tops. Jack Frost should be proud of his glittery light show as the ice crystals refract and reflect any available light.
The turning of pedals is therapeutic, almost meditative. A new day begins as the moisture from exhalation freezes in my beard. Fueled on the power of converting negative to positive, I exchange sadness, madness, and frustration from past days for productive energy and happiness, and the chance to start fresh on this new day. Soon to forget anything that was bothering me, my mind is free to wander.
The morning sun begins to glow and I am reminded that I still have responsibility. I have to work today, contribute to society. As the ride changes direction for home, I am ready for whatever the day throws my way. Whatever standard societal pressure is in store, I got to ride today, and I will get to ride again tonight. Eat. Sleep. Ride. Repeat. It’s more than a lifestyle, it’s life, with style.