I admit, I'm still having a bit of trouble with my new 20-mile-round-trip commute. I was spoiled by that "ten minutes on the bike, no need to shower" luxury. When I have to drag myself out of bed early enough to put in 40-45 minutes of ride time and grab a shower on the other end, it feels a little like a chore.
When I peered into the darkness this morning and saw a thick blanket of fog, the dread set in. An early Monday morning with even more limited visibility than usual? Ugh. But sometimes, lowered expectations can set the stage for a truly sublime ride.
First, the temperature was Goldilocks perfect... not too warm, not too cool. And that fog? Sure, it made me all but invisible (even with flashers blasting) during the first three miles of street riding, but nobody's out that early anyway. Besides, that same fog did amazing things for my ragweed-ravaged sinuses. It was like riding with a cool humidifier on my handlebars -- I felt like I was packing a third lung. Plus, there's just something spooky-fun about slicing through the fog, like riding across Dagobah minus the swampiness and the Muppet on your back.
The trails were wet, making traction a little treacherous, but I got to see three deer (including one that I almost t-boned as he stood mid-trail, nonplussed), I greeted Grumpy Jogging Lady Who Scolded Me For Not Saying "On Your Left" Once, and I passed Tom the IowaGriz on his eastbound commute (I can only pass Tom if we're going in opposite directions).