Today was the coldest day thus far for riding to work. When I started out at 7:30, it was 2 degrees with a -11 windchill. The wind was blowing out of the northwest. Brrrrrr, to say the least.
To ward off the cold, I wore a pair of slacks I rarely wear as they are lined and make me too warm. I truly abhor sweating through my slacks. Not a good look. Today, though, the lined slacks were exactly what I needed to keep my legs warm. They along with knee socks (I love wearing knee socks; they make me feel 13 all over again), a heavy sweater with really wide sleeves that I found annoying when trying to write or type, my uber-soft wool scarf, my long wool coat, and my newest knit hat kept me toasty warm during my ride. The only spot on my body that cried a little because of the cold were the apples of my cheeks, but even they only shed a tear or two.
As I rode home late this afternoon, my thoughts turned to how riding in the cold has become just something that I do now. Everyday, my colleagues ask me if I rode to work, and when I say yes, they appear astonished. This morning, my eco-warrior, green is good, save the earth friend said, "You're killing me. You're making me look bad." Making another person look bad isn't why I ride. I ride because I want to see the morning awakening. I ride because the exercise clears my head. I ride because I want to slow my life down. I've created my own slow life movement.