Glad you asked . . . it was cold. COLD, I said. And I made a mistake by not layering legs with my thermal pants, just long spandex in zero F windchill. First morning that my thighs were colder than my fingers. So I concentrated on my fingers, inventing new hand positions to keep my index finger out of the wind. Grin and bear it. I couldn't wait for the first hill to warm up my insides. Ahhh, that felt good. Now, I'm praying for a red light. But nooooooo. I hit all the greens for some odd reason. I pass a car failing to start in the frigid cold. Aaaaruhaaaaruhaaaruhruhrhu. Hah, sucker! Then the long slow hill, warm again. A cyclist flies by on my left. "Morning". He's standing up the whole way! Is he panicking in the cold? Accepting his wheel, I hop on for the ride. He blows all four stop signs, jerk. But he is pulling me. I'm breathing de-oxygenated air through my spandex mask, gasping for O2, sweating profusely. Slow down, jerkoff. Argh. He pulls off. Now I am really warm. I reflect on all the comments this week from work colleagues and friends, "You're riding your bike, it's COLD out!" Doh. At work the window offices are complaining how cold it is. St Louisans are wimps, I reflect. No doubt about it. They need to spend a couple winters in Chicago. That will provide perspective.