I’d read the weather reports, I knew what to expect. One last check before I left confirmed the prediction: 15 degrees with a wind chill bringing it down to a “feels like 0”. 0! Fahrenheit!

I girded my loins (or did I? What exactly does that entail, I wonder? Gold lamé underwear, perhaps?), put on my layers and set out.

It was cold, sure enough. Certainly felt like the coldest I’d ridden in, though going by thermostat readings without factoring in the windchill I know I’ve ridden in colder.

My feet were quite chilly by the end, Vapor Barrier and all.

Yet I wouldn’t have traded it for a 20 minute drive in a heated car, not even in those temps with that wind and my freezing feet. There is no comparison to the feeling of accomplishment as I keep up with traffic making my left turns, no replacing the enjoyment, satisfaction, and general feeling of well-being that comes from my morning ride.

To any who are contemplating biking as a way of getting places: it is wonderful, it is empowering, it is addictive. You’ve been warned.