A confession

I'm a wind wimp.

There.  I said it.  It feels better to get it out in the open.

I didn't ride today because it was too windy.  The sun in shining, the temperature is comfortably in the 60s, and there isn't a cloud in the sky, yet I'm not riding.  To be fair, though, there isn't a cloud in the sky because the damn things have been blown to the other side of the globe by these ridiculous winds.

They're allegedly 25-35 mph.  It feels like more from time to time, but I suppose that's a pretty accurate number.  All I know is the trees in my yard look like they're doing toe-touches -- wild, sweeping bends from vertical to near-horizontal, over and over again.

As soon as I heard the winds last night, I pretty much wrote off riding today.  See the first sentence above. Earlier this week, when the spring winds were merely mild distractions on glorious 74-degree days, I had already rediscovered my lack of tolerance for cycling in windy conditions.

I'm pretty much fine with cycling in the rain.  In fact, once I get going, I kind of like it.  We haven't had really cold temperatures this winter, but cold riding doesn't bother me too much either.  Even our scorching summer heat is tolerable when riding, as the self-created breeze cools you off until you stop, when you can usually jump into a shower or swimming pool.

But wind, for some reason, unleashes my inner psycho.  There's something about the invisibility of it, I think, that makes it seem unfair and kind of jerk-like.  I know, crazy, huh?  All I know is that when I pedal against the wind all the way to work along the river and then find it in my face again on the way home, I get beyond irked.

So, in the interests of my peace of mind and of harmony in the universe, I'm going to enjoy the wind from my balcony of the home office today.