So Saturday I went for a fabulous ride.  It was the 6th of January, and I wore shorts and a short-sleeved jersey.  It was 70 degrees, sunny, and an all-around gorgeous day.  I rode 50 miles–Holly Springs, Apex, Morrisville, then home–during the course of which I saw no fewer than 20 cyclists on the road (and several questionable folks riding road bikes on the sidewalk!).  This, I thought over and over again, is why I live in the South.  Welcome to winter!

 I’m hoping I didn’t gloat too soon.  Night before last, Greg Fishel said that NOAA’s long-range forecast calls for one more warm weekend, and then a complete flip-flop–the second half of the winter may be as cold as the first half was mild.  Hmm.  Given that I spent most of Sunday poring over a calendar, filling up the next few months with long bike rides, this weather prediction gives me pause.

 I try hard not to be a wimp, but sometimes it’s hard.  Cold-weather riding just sucks.  There–I’ve said it.  No more whingeing.

 In the meantime, I’m painting our exercise room pink.  Why?  Because I can.