This time of year, if I don't ride to work I have to ride first thing in the morning before work. That means I either have to roll out of bed straight onto the bike or as close to it as possible. If I miss by more than a few minutes, I'll be noticeably late to work.
I've never been passionately addicted to punctuality. Those who know me may now laugh. Yes, I'm known for the opposite. But I do try to hit a time slot, if not a dot. Too late and even I think of myself as late.
On the other hand, if I go too many days without exercising I will kill somebody. So it seems a small price to pay, dragging in a little later than usual, in return for a sunnier attitude.
Sunny is relative, of course. My favorite clothing color is black. But the druids considered black the color of life and white the color of death. So there. I'm mister black sunshine.
This morning, riding was work. Overnight rain had left wet roads and temperatures around 36 F. The damp cold coming in met my sweat moving out and joined forces to chill me progressively throughout the hour. Not even the constant effort of the fixed gear generated enough heat to warm and dry me. I knew I wasn't going to die of any of it, but the endless clamminess made me glad I wasn't going to spend a night out in it.
It's over now. I reap the benefits this afternoon. I have more energy. It doesn't make work any more interesting, but I can nurse the hope that I'll do something worthwhile with my evening. I got the ride out of the way. It had to be done.