No longer fall; not yet winter.

18 11 2015

November is the grungiest month.

Sure, well-meaning people can try to dress it up by growing facial hair for a good cause and change the name of the calendar’s 11th month to Movember.

But the harsh reality of November isn’t tempered.

The roads may look dry and clean; but the bike always comes back a mess from November rides.

The roads may look dry and clean; but the bike always comes back a mess from November rides.

It’s no longer fall in November. And it’s not yet winter. Wind and rain storms have stripped the golden leaves off the trees to decompose into muddy mush along the sidewalks and in gutters.

The radiant light of October has dulled to flat grey.

The sun’s rays no longer warm.

It rains. A lot.

The wind blows cold. And often.

The grey sky and flat light mean it's November; no longer fall, not yet winter.

The grey sky and flat light mean it’s November; no longer fall, not yet winter.

So when there’s a break in the bleakness, it feels like a stolen opportunity to ride. More often than not, it turns into a chore.

The summer fitness is wearing off.

Evening snacking as if you’re riding 3-400 kms a week takes its toll when you’re lucky to get in one 70 km jaunt.

Tights and wooly socks and booties and multiple layers just add to the feeling of bulk.

And even though it hasn’t yet snowed, the roads and bike paths are already a mid-winter mess. The asphalt may look dry, but the decomposed leaves have turned into a viscous, dark goo that kicks up the tires, coats the carbon fibre frame, splashes around the ankles.

The Lapierre will sleep outside tonight, until she can get properly cleaned in the morning.

Can’t afford to bring that November grunge inside, where it’s warm and cozy.

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