Ride Report: Silver Springs Sixty, Yorkville, IL

Yep, as predicted last night, I looked like a dork...and still froze. Brrrr. 39 degrees, 25+ MPH wind, single digit wind chills. An intrepid training partner and me on bikes. WTF? Starting out, our intentions were noble: the full 60 miles. We're tough...we're triathletes...we're training...we're tough triathletes in training. We can do it. Elements? Ha Ha. We LAUGH at the elements.

Right. After 10 miles we agreed through frozen smiles that 45 miles made way more sense. After 20 miles we agreed through clenched teeth that we'd be lucky to make 25. In the end we did about 30 miles in three hours and called it a day.

Some wag attempted the "Well, at least it isn't raining like last year" half-hearted cheer-'em-up blather. She's probably the same sort of person who, upon leaping out of a plane without her parachute says "Hey, what a terrific view!"

I've concluded that cold-weather riding is just, well, not my thing, and I'm not doing it any more. Single digit windchills and single digits on the speedometer are no fun either alone or in combination. And I'm NOT buying any cold weather riding gear in a futile quest to make it more pleasant.

Maybe I'll move to the Sunbelt. Any suggestions as to where? Anyplace but Florida or Texas. Not California ('cept maybe Paso Robles.) Nowhere south of the Mason-Dixon line. Not the desert southwest either. Hmmm. Doesn't leave much, does it?

I guess I'll have to consider the strange possibility that I'm stuck here in the Great Suburban Outback for a while longer. And now you'll have to excuse me. The jacuzzi's calling my name. Again.