Winter's Legacy

Yesterday was a challenge in terms of commuting -- mid 30s and rain. Today was much the same except the rain was replaced by pelletized snow. There was a relentless headwind most of the way. I started the ride in a pissy mood and I ended it equally unnerved and almost inexplicably angrier. I met up with a coworker for the last quarter mile and it diffused my frustration a bit as we laughed and commiserated about the wind.

I keep telling myself I'm over the cold, the snow and the wind. I am all but convinced I want to ride in a single layer of clothing. I'm certain I want to enjoy the warm sun we had a couple of weeks ago on a daily basis. I want to sit in the grass at a park and drink beer with friends until dark.

But then I remember the nuisance of warm weather and the trails -- specifically the lakes trails. All of a sudden when the sun shines warm it's as if a faucet full of fitness freaks has been opened wide and they spill all over -- flooding the right lanes, wrong lanes, blading, pedaling, crawling, gaggling, with iPods plugged into their ears, walking dogs, walking boyfriends, chuckling in huge groups of extended family stuffing the whole path during an afterdinner stroll in the wrong direction of flow. And the indignance should you attempt to politely state while rolling by that a walker is in the wrong path. While it might not be in human nature to take correction very elegantly, it seems to especially stress the code of "Minnesota Nice."

I don't hate people. Really. (April most assuredly would disagree at times.) Methinks I am a bit of a curmudgeon. May I make a public confession? I astound myself because my personal spirituality is aligned with one of the most humanistic set of ideals imaginable. But godammit if people behaving mindlessly don't make me sometimes want to join the Manson family circus.

So, winter, you're played. Spring's officially here. However, I welcome your icy grip a while longer. It's rapidly weakening and the wind's teeth cut more like cheap steak knives than freshly broken glass. But hallelujah -- it's enough to keep the soft-skinned, fair weather freaks at bay just a while longer.

Amen.