I didn’t die, and that’s got to count for something.
I went to Buena Vista Colorado this weekend to ride a bike over a mountain to raise funds for my daughter’s youth group, Young Life, and though I had every intention of riding the full 68 miles, I have to say I was not exactly crestfallen when the event organizers cancelled the ride because of foul weather. By foul, I mean snow, ice, sleet and rain which combined to create a cold that sheared through my multiple layers of clothing like a surgeons scalpel, and rendered my cycling gloves about as effective as a screen door on a submarine.
