Sun 'n' Fun in February

You’ll be chagrined to hear that very little went wrong on my 20-mile ride this past Saturday. I nearly headed to yet another spin class, but claustrophobia won out over fear of becoming a lycra-dipped Fleming-cicle, and I had to get on a real bike that went some where, cold be damned.

I arrived at the right location at the Oak Street School parking lot, was on time, and wore all the right clothing to keep me comfortable in this wintry weather. Saturday’s weather was actually quite accommodating: the sun was out and shining, there was little wind and there was no sign that precipitation of any kind would throw a monkey wrench in the works.

To give you an idea of what one has to wear to stay warm, here’s what I was wearing from head to toe: a lyra head warmer, with a balaclava over that, a Pearl Izumi jacket, with a North Face fleece vest under that, then a lycra shirt under that, with a polypropylene thermal shirt under that. On my legs I kept it simple: long ski socks, with full length spandex tights over these winter weather tights that block the wind. Under all this was my biking shorts, and I had those neoprene booties over my shoes. I had fleece wrist turtles on my wrists with Fox winter biking gloves keeping my fingers warm.

There were about five of us out there, including the indefatigable Janice, Dwight and our ride leader Kevin. I had my usual attire, in addition to a balaclava, so only my eyes and nose were not shrouded in black. I looked like an overweight ninja in a wetsuit going for a bike ride. Kevin sported a shockingly neon green jacket that would have probably caught the eye of Stevie Wonder.

So off we went, for a quick 20 miles, which one can knock off in about an hour. Within about 15 minutes, I itched to get away from the pack and pick up some speed, which is usually 15 minutes longer than it usually takes. And off I went, coaxing Janice along for the ride. We were cruising along at about 18 mph, which can feel like light speed, until Dwight breezes past you without even breaking a sweat. Dwight is the ultimate reality check.

So, we tore ahead, thinking that we had left the group long ago. In reality, the rest of the group was probably never more than 75 yards behind us.

We got the ride done, and every body finished intact and feeling good. I didn’t even feel tired. That sunk in later that night. An interesting thing happens when riding – your hands get tired, not so much the fingers, but the muscles that pull the thumb into the fingers, like a crablike pinching motion.

I might not have noticed that my hands were worn out, had I not gone to a birthday party for one of Jessica’s friends where the utensil of choice was chopsticks. And that’s where those pinching muscles come in handy. Watching me fumble with the chopsticks, I looked like a penguin trying to work a pair of scissors. It was torture, because I was so hungry.