The temperature on this morning's bike commute hovered in the mid-30's. As I rounded a corner a mile and a half into the commute, I found myself muttering "Sweet Jesus." Then I remembered my fervent prayer ritual. When people ask, "How do you do it?" in reference to winter biking, I only have a few responses:
- Long underwear, goggles, a balaklava, and lots of socks.
- Four-letter words
- I pray. A lot.
Sure enough. Four blocks north of my school, I approach Christian Park. As my bike glided across the intersection and I began to ride parallel to the park, I began to pray aloud the Hail Mary in Spanish. (It is a long, unfortunate tale as to how I learned this prayer.) I do this everyday in the winter. Somehow, it holds me through the last moments of the cold.
So I guess I do pray sometimes.
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