Baby Steps

In many parts of the USA, March enters like a lion and exits like a lamb.  Here in America’s Dairyland—more often than not—March enters like sour milk and exits like sour milk, first failing to satisfy our craving and then leaving an awful mess to be cleaned up later.

But today wasn’t so bad: sunny and dry and 40 degrees (though a persistent wind did its best to make us feel colder).  Armed with new bib tights, the day was good enough for me.  Right after work I got out for a 1-hour ride.  That means no trainer tonight!  The bib tights did what they were designed to do and I’m relieved.  Buying them was a move into uncharted territory.  I have many pairs of cycling shorts and tights, but my last bibs had duckies and kitties on them:

Il Piccolo Cammello, Marzo 1966

In January I ordered bib shorts for the racing season and based on today’s experience I expect to like them too.  A few people recommended bibs to me over the years but I resisted.  Oops.