Still, cold, slow sunrise and glorious autumn colours were the features of my ride. Beforehand was a flurry of fluffing about not really wanting to venture out into another frigid day. The yellows, fading greens, oranges, reds and browns of the foliage was truly magnificent as the early sun did its best to burn through the lifting mist. I was enveloped by cold, not wanting to stop for a pic in case a pocket of cold penetrated the cosy homeostasis created by my layers. It would probably have been worth it to stop but the focus was on moving to stay warm-me and the cold are not the best of acquaintances at the moment. I think that 4°C is my limit.
Hometime was just as cold, the dark night devoid of the early morning promise 12 hours beforehand. There was more fluffing about deciding on a route but in the end I chose points of deviation depending on how good I felt. And I did feel good, almost strong. About 5km stronger anyway. Rather than the painful pushing against a tired, complaining body of last week, the rhythm was almost effortless in the sense that there was plenty in the tank to go faster.
Which I did. Just. I can’t ride tomorrow so gave myself a license to push it without the fear of suffering as a result on another bike commute the following morning. Maybe this will be normal service over the next few weeks instead of pushing myself to the point of exhaustion and dislike.
It may also make the cold a little more bearable.