Cycling in the cold

requires layers. Michael’s evoke a slightly more elegant impression than mine do, being various shades of black and charcoal. I have a navy blue long-sleeved woolen undershirt, over which I wear my turquoise, white and yellow cycling t-shirt. It says Astana, which I later discovered is the capital of Kazakhstan. I bought it because it has a sun on it. I wear black cycling shorts over pale grey leggings. My helmet is dark red, my gloves are bright red, veering on fluorescent orange. My socks are black but they have pink stars. At least I am visible.

I’m rather proud of us for getting out there. It was ten degrees. You hardly sweat at all but puff lots of cold air. The hot shower at the end is heavenly.

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