Death March Nostalgia

By no means was this morning a Death March, not by my definition, experience, or current standards. I can even say with complete confidence that my personal definition of such will continually redefine itself in the coming months. However, it’s been the frustratingly difficult winter weather we’ve been dealing with this winter in NYC, and the culmination of the hours and triple digit miles logged by foot, and a few more by wheel to date, spent in frigid temps, rain, snow, and ice in the wee hours of the morning…

Even still, it’s rad! Really. And trust me when I say there isn’t much in this life that makes me happier, more in tune with the core of my very being, and completely at peace than times like these. Sure, sometimes it’s hard to put one foot in front of the other, saddle up, or kick some water, but once it happens, there has never been a time I regretted the decision.

Ross, the Nostalgia part, that’s all you man. Damn, those were some rides; sun poison, near hypothermia (shut up, I couldn’t stop shivering!), and more rain and snow than NY could throw at me in ten winters. As I trucked it over the Manhattan Bridge shortly after 6AM this morning at 38F in a steady rain shower, completely solo in a city of 8 million, eyes over the East River and feet kicking over towards a waking Manhattan still shrouded in darkness, nothing but a big smile was smeared across my face.

And sure, 15 miles in a balmy 38F, with some ’sprinkles’ is hardly a Death March, but this morning as my mind wandered, it pulled back some great memories of the real ones, and the stiff competition it’s going to take to knock them from their reigning status in my books.

Something tells me though, I think I’ll manage this time.