So there I was, grunting through another climb with a huge grin on my face. I was surrounded on both sides of the trail by golden grass dried stiff by the season. Above me, a cloudless deep blue sky hung bright. It was cool, but definitely not cold with the sun out in full force. I was glad for my gloves, but the winter shoes were probably over-kill.
It actually took me some time to prepare for this ride. I haven't been out in this cold of weather yet this year. A few weeks ago, and just before I left on a trip to the southern hemisphere, I looked at the weather and saw storms and cooler weather on the way. I remember on my last ride that week saying to those riding with me, "Well guys, this is probably it for me for the year. What a great ride." (And it was!)
After a week away, I came back to find that, though the temps had dropped, the trails were in excellent condition and neither mud nor snow was a problem. So, here I was, out in 38-degree weather with a silly grin plastered across my face.
Was that my last day out on the trails for this year? Probably not. I'm determined to milk this season as long as possible. And thanks to this ride, I feel just a little more prepared for tomorrow.
For the feast. I mean, The Feast.