Most people who know me would agree that I’ve got a “melancholic temperament.” Ray of sunshine I am not. It sounds sociopathic but in general, I cheer up when others are miserable and am miserable when others are cheery. It’s not that i enjoy their unhappiness; it just somehow lifts me out of my gloom. Hence, my love of winter. I ride more in winter than anyone I know. I love everything about it. My commute is better, the trails are better, the air is better, the people you meet are better. Everything looks new and less complicated. In the summer –peckerwood yuppies in spandex riding $5K bikes don’t acknowledge your existence –meet someone in a blizzard and you’re fast friends.
anyway
Crack of dawn guzzling good hot coffee/listening to jawbreaker/reading Harrison/eating a hot breakfast. Watch the snow drop like atomic fallout. –Throw on thermals, underarmor, tights, lobster gloves, balaclava, winter jersey –fire up the truck –load up the Discipline –let a little air out of the rear wheel. No cars have even attempted to drive in my neighborhood and the snowplow wont be here for 2 days. Its like I’m the Omega Man. No one left alive on earth. Fishtail 10 miles to the trails. All fresh powder. Virginal and pure. no tracks. Manual off the bed of my truck and eat it. Lay in powder laughing. Cross my eyes and watch a snowflake land on my nose. Brush snow off, climb to the top of the parking lot to build speed, turn and hammer as hard as I possibly can at the trailhead hitting the powder like an ICBM and pulling a perfect midair split as I soar over the handlebars- front wheel lodged firmly in unseen snow bank. Why is no one ever around to see that kind of stuff? Again, lie in snow laughing. Watch flakes drop from heaven. The climb up the first hill is tough. Powder on ice. Spinning out every 1-2 minutes. Pushing a bike in 6” of snow is still better than going to work. Or grocery shopping. Or watching TV. Or sitting on couch feeling sorry for myself. Feet can only be cold for so long before they go numb and cease to nag. Standing in the woods, alone listening to snow falling. Breathing hard watching breath
Get to the top of the hill- the transcendental part is over. This trail is tough when it’s dry, treacherous when icy. Dropping in and sliding out. Snow makes familiar trails new. The scritching popping hissing sound of tire on snow is music. Gliding around corners w/o fear of damaging trails. Going faster than is really safe but unable and unwilling to slow. Laying in the snow post-endo and watching a squirrel watch me. 2 hours out and no one in sight. Last man on earth.
What the fuck does spring have to offer but density, bugs, sweat, dogs, mud…
