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Awkward

It was dry and very cold (23F/-5C) this morning, so I put on pretty much all my clothes, wrapped my face in a pashmina, stuffed my helmet on over that and a wool cap, put on three pairs of gloves, two pairs of socks and some furry-lined boots, and headed out on Eleanor.

Now, my newly insulated house (about which I cannot say too many great things!) is comfortable on an icy morning, so I wasn't pre-chilled before going out, and when I stepped out the back door bundled like the Michelin Tire Woman, I didn't feel a thing.

I brushed the ice crystals off Eleanor's saddle, broke the slight ice-seal on the left brake lever, tested for stopping and shifting power (all systems go--yay Dutch bike engineering), and set off.

After two blocks I was wishing I'd buttoned my cuffs a little more securely, but it wasn't bad. After about six blocks, I was sniffling and teary-eyed, and I could feel the chill through the airholes in my helmet. By the time I rounded the corner of 9th and Multnomah, the lack of fingertips on the third pair of gloves was beginning to tell on me.

I was sailing along Waterfront Park, my face-covering pashmina a bit damp with breath, when I had a hot flash.

LOL! Suddenly, I'm freeze-roasting. I honestly can't tell whether I'm too hot or too cold. Weirdest thing.

I'll say this, though: if you gotta have hot flashes, there are worse moments for them than outdoors on a 23-degree morning.

Crossposted from Dreamwidth, where there are comment count unavailable comments. | Comment at Dreamwidth.

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