I have the joy of biking to work. 

Though I stand by calling it a joy, I have to do a shoutout to all the bike lane dwellers.  We earn our (reflective) stripes through biking in the dark, the wet, and the windy. To the cyclists who frequent the bike cage all year round, my helmet off to you! For those who fall into the fairweather biking category, listen up.

Winter does not smile on the cyclists. The surprisingly vulnerable part of the body when biking? The ears. Those in the car crank the heat. Those at the bus stop pull their lapels higher. The cyclists? They bike on valiantly, cursing themselves for forgetting their buffs, yet again, and swearing tomorrow will be different.

Read no further before you are reminded of the curse of the wet socks. The days at work when fate would have it that I squelch around with wet feet because my rain booties, rain pants, and fenders just didn’t cut it. Did I mention that I never thought I would be THAT cyclists who justified rain booties. You don’t make the decisions, they make you.

I could go on about looking like a flashing christmas tree on wheels, the cars that own the middle of the road oblivious to the meaning of a bike route, or the awkwardness of paniers, but I digress

My commute is my process time. Some people have yoga mats, others their meditation pillows, I have the motion of my legs, and the time to let the day fall away. Something about spinning those wheels in a productive way that really soothes the brain. The patient that yelled at me, the lack of resources or my weary feet, become less poignant, and by the time I’m dismounting, laughing with my coworkers and the beauty of the ocean have replaced it all.