I woke up this morning before I needed to get out of bed and I lay there for awhile trying to muster some gratitude. It wasn't that hard, because I'm pretty fortunate, so I just had a mundane little list going through my head as the light streamed into our pine-paneled traincar of a bedroom and the Brit gently snored away. The boy, the house, the job, the annoying cat, the heat kicking on, the fridge packed full of food after a weekend of grocery shopping and prep.
But I forgot one thing that I am grateful for, something I couldn't have anticipated: MY FACEMASK, oh dudes, my FACE. MASK. It is so clear and sunny today that I decided to get on my bike even though the forecast said something about "feels like 15 degrees" and "gusting winds from the NNW up to 20 mph." I head north for 6 of the 7 miles I ride to get to work, PS.
So anyway, I ordered this very thin balaclava (remember the first time you heard that word and thought it was "baklava"? I do) awhile back when I got some exciting super-light wool long underwear and cold-weather tech tops with thumbholes. I am all about thumbholes now and basically think all shirts should have them. But until this morning I hadn't trotted out the balaclava yet, and man am I glad I did. Without it, the ride would have been unbearable. I probably would have turned back. As it was, I found myself half-seriously singing "fuck...fuck...fuck" every time I pedaled through a particularly bad gust of wind. This happened every few minutes.
The crazy thing is that it didn't take any longer to get to work; it was just 4 times as hard and a lot colder than usual. I do feel like a bad ass, though, so mission accomplished.