A Sight To Make Sore Eyes

I'm back to bike commuting. Whoohoo! The last three mornings I layered up against the cold, including a balaclava that would get me stopped at the door of any pharmacy, and pedaled my way downtown, my raspy breath puffing and sounding like a steam locomotive and my nose running like a faucet that stops momentarily when you crank on the handle and then resumes its relentless dripping once you're five steps away. My apologies to those drivers to whom I treated to the sight of a burst of vapor accompanied by mostly failed snot rocket launches. Yes, I wash my gloves. Besides, that's what the fuzzy patch on the back of them is for. But you have to admit, I did have that one time where it was very cleanly shot.

The temperature rose quit a bit yesterday, so much so that it felt oppressive while I was running and I had to take my shirt off. So my apologies to those on the Centennial Trail who were blinded by the sun reflecting off my fish belly-white upper torso still carrying a slightly jouncing holiday season five pound gain. No, not President's Day. Christmas.

But look at the bright side. (Get it? Bright? Trying to add to the humor here so please play along.) Riding twice a day will help trim down that slight belly bulge, the sun will transform me from a whiter shade of pale to more of an ivory, and the warmer weather will dry my sinuses. Until then, just look away.