Nine Months Gone

Today marks nine months along in my quest to bike commute every day for a year. To honor the occasion, Old Man Winter, himself, decided to frost the town with a new couple of inches of snow. While I am not in any way interested in having more snow on the roads, it at least covered the black remnants of last month's snow over so that we no longer have to look at the rotting corpse of a White Christmas.

I left the house, this morning, with the same amount of layers I had on yesterday, with the addition of a short-sleeved bike jersey to give me a little more core protection. As I walked past the thermometer, I realized I was probably overdressed since it was 24 degrees!

Thirty seconds later, as the moisture from my breath froze into a thin layer of frost on my face, I realized that I had mis-read the thermometer. It was, in fact, 2.4 degrees F (11 degrees when I arrived at work).

The snowy streets were pleasant to ride. The snow had come down wet and heavy, and provided great traction for the studded tires.

I made it to the lab in 40 minutes, only to find that the gate on the west end of the parking lot was still closed. Sighing that heavy sigh of the put-upon, I pulled out my keycard and swiped the gate release.

Nothing.

Tried it again.

Still nothing.

So, I rode around to the other (open) gate on the east end of the parking lot. I have to say that the extra half mile of riding was not really what I wanted at that moment. I had, in my mind, arrived at the door and was ready to go inside. Another three or four minutes of riding was not really on my list of things to do.

Needless to say, however, I survived.

The ride home was a breeze. The only slowdown was waiting for a train of empty cattle cars to cross Holly at Smith Road. Once past that impediment, I had smooth sailing to the house.

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