I get around, apparently

When talking about using a bicycle as your primary means of transportation in this sort of weather (and by this sort, I mean -10 with a windchill of -23), it seems there are two approaches that are generally taken. On one hand are the people who pretty much do nothing but bitch about how awful it is, but yet refuse to either A) stop riding or B) stop complaining. Now, I'm not going to tell them that the should quit riding just because I'm tired of the complaining. They should keep riding. I'm telling them to stop being so damn annoying about it. On the other hand, there's the self-righteous types who talk about how amazing and liberating and important it is that they do this, and how everybody who doesn't do the same is a fraud or hates the environment. Even more annoying.

When it comes down to it, getting around on a bike these days does explain both attitudes. Sure, it sucks - your toes get cold, your fingers get especially cold, and your bike is a pile of rusted steel and/or corroded aluminum at the end of the season no matter what steps you take to prevent it from happening. But it's also pretty cool. It helps out with the cabin fever, helps to keep you from getting too out of shape (sorta), and I'll admit it - riding in this cold makes you feel like a fucking warrior.

Despite the highs and the lows, most reasonable people will find the two pretty much balance each other out. To illustrate my point, I'll share a quick anecdote from my ride home from class this morning. I was cruising down Albert near Collingwood when I passed another dude on a full fendered 'cross bike (a pretty rare sight around here). On a nicer day I might have tried catching up with him to meet a new biking friend. But today this clearly wasn't happening. By all outward appearances we were both just fighting the cold, hoping to get wherever we were going as quickly as possible. A nod was the most either of us could muster up.

I guess sometimes you have to deal with the fact that your favorite things are just going to be, for lack of a better descriptor, kind of whatever.