I just got home from a glorious ride.
the skies are that blue that pulls you in so deeply, that stretches so far beyond our comprehension in a never ending echo of a summer day. sunlight spills onto everything, defining and illuminating and reflecting back to itself off the miles and miles of snow that still cover much of our land.
and the air is so very clean and fresh and . . . well, crisp.
well, actually, freezing.
less than, truly.
it was 30 degrees when we started, and about 34 degrees when we got back.
it's never so bad on the way up; it's the way down that can kick your butt.
we rode up emigration, then down to the frozen reservoir, across to the east end of the reservoir and the locked gate at the base of the East Canyon (Big Mountain) climb. on the way back home, we paused at the emigration canyon summit to add our extra layers before the big downhill.
I already had my full booties and my skull cap on, so I just added my arm warmers and headband.
and wished I had brought a full face mask.
about a mile and a half into the downhill, my right nostril and my brain were just frozen. the wind was hitting us from the right side, and that side of my face paid the price.
it's just like eating those big spoonfuls of ice cream too quickly: my head was pounding in situational pain. I knew it would disappear as soon as I warmed back up, but in the midst of experiencing it I thought it might split my head in two.
then comes the dilemma: do you slow down, in hopes of lessening the intensity of the cold wind rushing against you? or do you go as fast as you can so that it will end sooner?
I played back and forth between the two possibilities, and neither seemed to solve my problem.
thank God it was a gorgeous day.
and now that I've showered and warmed my core and external temperatures back to those of living humans, I can relish the joy and thrill of the ride.
but I'm not in a rush to go pound down any ice cream.