I know this feeling well.
February and March is a tricky time as a cyclist. One minute you’ve detected the mere hint of spring in the air, and the next it’s back to the joys of full-on winter riding.
“Where’s my crisp, sunny, winter morning gone?” I thought recently as I pedalled through the deepening gloom. The late winter sunshine promised by the forecasters was all but gone, replaced by sleet, hail, snow, and every other kind of cold rain. It was looking like a cold few hours on the bike.
I can be strangely optimistic when it comes to the weather. If the forecast is grim I refuse to believe it and expect better, if the forecast is good I take it as gospel and prepare for nothing less; hence the slight chill running through me on this Sunday morning in February, wearing a layer too few and getting wet.
An hour in…
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