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Light snow had begun blowing in from the west. But the roads hadn’t yet turned slushy. So I headed west along the bluffs overlooking the Willamette, rolling a few more miles on the last day of the year. It was quiet, just me and the snowflakes, the swoosh of tires and the click of gears, the sort of day you’re glad to have to yourself.

I’m not a racer. But I ride year ‘round in small chunks of ten to twenty miles, sometimes running errands, sometimes riding just for the fun of it. When temps drop to low 30’s, wind chill can be uncomfortable. But I layer up and head out, just the same as I peal down and ride when it’s 100.

On bike, it’s all good, right?
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