Wicked Cold and Fast

Getting dark and cooling off as the Sun goes down for the rides home.

When cold weather comes to the Western United States, with rain and snow —the Desert down near Ol’ Mexico gets a blast of cold crisp air. Now that the intense Sun seems to be backing off roasting us down here in Tucson (it was 91 just a few weeks ago and I got all beat up riding out to Mt. Lemmon) things have cooled off. But the wind arrives which makes temps drop a bit more.

For cyclists it means headwinds, and headwinds are tough enough—but when they are biting cold headwinds—we suffer. See we’re so used to getting roasted and having it being hot as Hell, that when it’s cold, we’re sort of slow to catch on.

Like yesterday on my commute in for example. I wore the usual thin cycling socks and my feet were frozen and stinging all day. I am happy to report that I wore two pairs this morning and I was fine—Duh!

Riding home the sun is going down in a brilliant fireball. I am racing through and past a few dangerous spots so I can hold on to the last rays of light. Headwind made that difficult as usual, and I was starting to feel the front half of my upper body—muscle bone, and blood—coldly harden like cement.

I had been dressing like it was still Summer. I had ridden so fast, and against the headwinds that now I was ten minutes ahead of my rendezvous with Little Egypt and voiture. The sweat started to pour out, soaking me, and I began to shiver in the parking lot of the YMCA. My morning jacket was at the bottom of my tightly packed Carradice bag—I dug it out, put it on, and while waiting for her I reflected on why I was freezing.

In the Desert, in the Winter, when the sun is out—Baby it is warm and beautiful… When the sun is not in the sky—it is cold. Got to be at work and in the office for that warm beautiful part I’m afraid.

But when you see shooting stars fall into the Sun as it begins to rise over Mt. Lemmon—Gentle Reader of This Blog, for an instant you are thankful Winter is in the House.


Allure Libre!