For Thanksgiving we always head to my mother-in-law’s for the long weekend. This may seem like a horror story in the making if you follow the M-I-L stereotype, but I ended up with the exact opposite. Mine is one of the best in recorded history. This is the second year that Mrs. Bgddy and I brought our bikes up so we could ride off the turkey and pie.
We had a nice warm and sunny ride on Thursday and I had to head home for the day on Friday so there was no room for a ride… Then came Saturday. It was gray and windy all day and the misses and I went back and forth for some time trying to talk each other out of it… Then I came up with the old, “we’ll feel better after dinner if we ride”, talking point and that sealed it for the both of us.
We got dressed in out winter wear and headed outside… To find that our winter wear wasn’t quite “winter” enough. We made it all of 2-1/2 miles at a nice leisurely pace before turning around and heading into a gnarly wind. It froze us both to the bone – and I’m not one to complain much about the cold. We had planned on an eight miler but we cut it to five after the horrendous 2-1/2 mile ride back. It was utterly nasty cold. My hands were so cold they hurt, my leg muscles were too cold to work properly and I lost the feeling in my face a quarter mile after the turn around on a nice 25 mph descent.
It was so bad that I failed to find any enjoyment in the ride… And that’s a rarity. This morning we woke up to this:
It’s all over but the shouting now. Winter is here.