O. M. Winter, you son of a bitch! Your douche baggery is as weak as a middle school bully. Your 30+ mph winds are only successful at incapacitating half of my face. This leaves me plenty of face for eating, drinking, and cursing. Your ice provides a welcome surface for my carbide teeth. Even when you drew your strongest weapon today, moisture, it only made me debate for an extra 5 minutes about whether or not to ride. Your massive drifts serve only to render cars useless. I thank you for closing down the roads of S-ville so I can train in carless peace. Your random crosswind gusts sometimes turn my front wheel such that I have to run alongside my bike, providing me with a wonderful opportunity to warm my toes. You only have one more month to exact more vengeance, so I suggest you reach deeper into your bag.
Cyclists rise up. There are numerous ways to defend against Old Man. Just like one can survive a grizzly bear attack by playing dead or by using a big gun, you can either run or hide from Oldie. Both are equally admirable approaches. So, whether you decide to avoid him by riding inside on a trainer(wimp), taking a day off(coward), moving to a temperate climate(lazy), or suit up get out in it(warrior) you will be held in the highest repute for keeping your fitness. For some reason, Old Man chooses to bully us La Grande riders and ignores the prima donna westsiders. Regardless of their good fortune (as I witnessed last week), I plan to be more prepared for racing this early spring. I take great pride in having good form at the end of February.
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