The plan was to meet Bill to do hill intervals after work. I kept an eye on the temperature all day. 23 degrees seems much warmer from inside my office than while walking across the parking lot. It was a damp, windy, grey 23 degrees. I figured Bill was about to call me to call the ride off so I decided to call first and save him the effort.
Bill answers the phone: “No you don’t!”
Me: “Hey Bill…It’s pretty cold out there.”
Bill: “The heat is in the bike.”
Me: “Right…where are you at?”
Bill: “Just leaving the house.”
Me: “I mean, it is really cold out there, sure you want to ride?”
Bill: “Days like today separate the boys from the men.”
[Pause]
Me: “So…you’re serious about riding?”
Bill: “I will be there in 30 minutes.”
Me: “All right then, I’ll see you at 4:15.”
Bill answers the phone: “No you don’t!”
Me: “Hey Bill…It’s pretty cold out there.”
Bill: “The heat is in the bike.”
Me: “Right…where are you at?”
Bill: “Just leaving the house.”
Me: “I mean, it is really cold out there, sure you want to ride?”
Bill: “Days like today separate the boys from the men.”
[Pause]
Me: “So…you’re serious about riding?”
Bill: “I will be there in 30 minutes.”
Me: “All right then, I’ll see you at 4:15.”
We fit in two more climbs than we did on Monday. My feet and hands were still numb when I got home. I read blogs while I had dinner. The first blog I read (http://corticowhat.blogspot.com/2009/02/fashion-statement.html) was about a man giving away all his bicycling jerseys because his Corticobasal Ganglionic Degeneration has progressed to a point where he can no longer ride and it becomes self-evident I am a pussy. I am like a little girl whining because she wants a Malibu Barbie Beach House. I am done complaining. I have a good feeling about this season.
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