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Now that the cold weather is here in full swing, getting out and about is as much a struggle of the mind against the elements as it is of the body. Part of it is a matter of peripheral circulation issues; part of it is a matter of equipment and gear. Since the Dolce is a lot more serious a vehicle than the old Excelle was, I need more "technical" apparel to ride it comfortably. In addition to my new headlight and a replacement helmet, my December purchases included a winter cycling jacket, hat and balaclava, a couple of long-sleeved jerseys, a second pair of tights, and some better-fitting shorts.

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I've often mentioned that my diabetes role models in someways mirror the "dos" and "don'ts" of "proper (Type 2) diabetes management". When we are presented with a "what not to do" scenario taken from a real person, in real life, we often call that an "object lesson". 

While our original plans for last Sunday were to head into the City (New York City, for those who care) to meet up with other members of the Diabetes Online Community, the combination of short finances and The Other Half's ongoing issues with foot pain and the aftermath of his sciatica attack made those plans a "no-go".

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One of my scariest trips ever on bicycle was a seven-mile jaunt home from Watertown, Massachusetts to Cambridge in the middle of winter, after dark, on a three-speed commuter with no lights, on a stretch of road which had no street lights but a moderate amount of high-speed traffic. My fingers were freezing despite the warm gloves, and as much (or as little) ambient light as there was from the other side of the river, I found the lights of cars behind me to be a helpful aid as they approached -- but a bane as they passed, leaving me temporarily blinded by their relative brilliance.

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Rather than the bell lap at a local bike race, one is the number of days until my second-ever Tour de Cure ride. 

The good news is, I have my bib and helmet number, my VIP wristband, and I've been able to up my goal twice: I'm now aiming for $900.

The bad news is, I may have come down with that same sinus infection that put The Other Half out of commission all of last week. I'm hoping it's just a reaction to a whole lot of insect bites which have not been behaving in a typical (for me) fashion, but the effect has been a systemic histamine reaction rather than something that's site-specific: I'm dealing with the whole running nose, watery eye, swollen face and extremities thing.

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When I pre-registered for the Tour de Cure, the organizer asked me if I'd like to say a few words before setting out. It's apparently the tradition to ask a Red Rider to "rally the troops", as it were, and she offered me the honor since it would be my birthday -- unless, of course, I was too shy to speak.

I may be a number of things, but shy about public speaking is not one of them. Give me a microphone and and audience, and I'll ramble on until someone comes with the big hook to pull me offstage. However, trying to figure out what to say might be challenging.

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Winter coats and cycling helmets????

In early on the 11th for my shift, I walked over to the supermarket at the other end of the strip mall to pick up a few things. On the checkout line next to me, I noticed a woman shorter and older than me, wearing a bright red cycling helmet.

"I'm glad to see I'm not the only person who cycles to my errands," I said.

"It's new," she said, referring to her helmet. "It's red, so I hope they can see me." 

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Put aside the images of the Kingston Trio's Boston-area rewrite of "The Ship That Never Returned" and think instead of a group of riders, runners, walkers, or drivers following one after the other, or a flock of migratory birds, or any group trying to travel a significant distance, using the strongest to protect the weakest from wind and weather, each member of the group taking a turn at the front to allow the others to recover.

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If I've been a bit incommunicado during the early part of the month, a chunk of it can be attributed to the pre-Christmas time crunch of cookie baking and working retail. I actually had several ideas sketched out — two of them even drafted — but no time to sit and get them posted. Finally, I had some time over Christmas Eve and Christmas Day — but for some still-undetermined reason, every time I tried to access my page to post, I got a 404 File Not Found error. Worse yet, I got this error for everything under Blogabetes — so I missed Carey's posts on Charlie's Christmas and all but the first paragraph of "Prickings" as well.

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