The wind had subsided. As I lay in bed in the pre-dawn dimness I knew the wind was gone. And I knew from the quality of light outside the window that it had snowed.
Without completely waking I did a quick internal diagnostic and decided my body was in significantly better condition than when I'd gone to bed. And that's when I decided I'd ride my bike in to work.
I ambled down the hall; and under the peachy ambient light reflected off the low hanging clouds over the metro area I could see there was only a couple of inches of snow on our street. Nothing was falling from the sky then.
And so I went.
By the time I reached I-70 snow was coming down like a heavy blanket, piling up on the Clear Creek Trail, sticking to every part of me body and bike.
I stopped under the I-70 overpass long enough to send a couple of texts. Then I pushed on into No-Man's Land. The farther west I pedaled the deeper the snow became and the heavier it fell from the sky. On one small hill I floundered to a stop and walked to the top of the rise before pedaling on.
Progress was slow. Snow was 6 to 8 inches deep. I was sweating under the shell of snow over my sweater.
I walked up the long hill as the path climbed alongside highway 58 and over 44th. Then I pedaled into Golden and clearing skies. I weaved through town, avoiding the busier slushy streets to avoid being splashed. Then I walked up the long hill from the end of Illinoising to the Jeffco campus. Two hours it took...
I didn't think I'd be able to ride home in the afternoon, but from the citadel on the hill overlooking Golden it looks like the paths and sidewalks are getting cleared. I'm going to venture toward home this eve on my bike. Hopefully the return trip won't feel the folly that the ride in felt.
I'm off tomorrow. Probably too much snow out to pad my miles for the month. But you never know...
Not being sick feels good. Gave me more courage to ride, inspired me to face down an impromptu mini-snowpocalypse.