Most days the weather really doesn’t mean that much to me anymore. Whenever I’m going out to ride, hike, and maybe soon run, the assessment of the kit I would wear, which direction I would be going in, and how long I would be out are paramount. But as I spend more time indoors (usually working for a living) the weather makes not one iota of difference to my life. I have realized that without going out on my bike, my exposure to the elements is sadly limited.

It was cold in the morning back when I took the train into the City. At the station each morning it was about a ten to fifteen minutes wait. The station was packed at 7am every morning, but no one got there on foot or by bike. Many people are dropped off like little kids going to school, everyone else drove their car. Many of those folks would sit in there car with the engine running burning expensive gas, creating pollution, and going nowhere but staying warm until the last second. They then would bolt out of the cars completely under-dressed for the conditions knowing that they cacooned in moments, and then for the rest of the day. Sad. Get outside every day.

Other things I’ve noticed:

• I’m usually the problem. Simply by being flexible about an outcome I toss away stress, worry and concern. Sometimes the outcome is worth the effort or even the argument, but that’s rare. Which leads to…
• Having expectations is problematic. Because it leads to fighting for the outcome I “expected”. When I examine the outcome though it probably does not diminish my happiness at all, until I started trying to change it.
• It’s ok to mess up once in a while. This is somewhat obvious, but I rarely leave myself any room for this. Wrong.
• It’s ok to feel pain, mentally or physically. It will pass.
• Go big or go home.
• Everything always happens for a reason.
• Everything works out the way it’s supposed to.
• Being of service to others makes me happy.

“My disappointment came from expectations, from proposing a shape for the experience I was seeking and then feeling let down when the experience arrived in a shape other than the one I’d proposed.” Bill Barich’s “Laughing in the Hills.”