I am sometimes accustomed to bouts of nostalgia when atop the bicycle, even in the basement on the rollers as I was this snowy evening, unable or unwilling to stop my mind from drifting back to many youthful moments of joy and abandon.  The instant that my foot is firmly on a pedal, and the taught chain engages perfectly with a sprocket, muscles tense, circles making circles and the spokes set to hum, I am a boy again, caught in the grip of the sport in a way that has woven me into the fabric of not just cycling but its history and, if I am fortunate- if we all are fortunate- its future.

A confluence of events has brought me a step closer to the last ride I’ll ever do today.  Of course, this could be said for us all after every ride.  It was a difficult week with the weather forcing most of us indoors.  I had a work  commitment that didn’t allow for any quality time on the bike recently.  So I approached today’s ride with some disdain, albeit philosophical.  

It was cold today and I am often surprised by the large turnout of riders at the Bakehouse for these weekend battles during inclement or just plain cold weather.  But you know what you’re getting when you leave the house on a day like today.  It’s going to be very cold.  You’re going to overdress.  You’re going to sweat and get cold to the core.  If you’re lucky, you’ll make it home with the group and avoid hypothermia.  Repeat next week.