The alarm went off at 6:00, loudly and obnoxiously.

“Muuuuugggghhhhh,” I said, and rolled over to bury my head in the duvet.

Then I remembered it was Thursday, and Thursday means it’s bike commute day.  I didn’t exactly jump out of bed when I remembered that, but I moved a little quicker than a snail’s pace, which is what I was doing before.

In ten minutes we had made the bed, put on about two layers each, carried our bikes down the stairs, loaded up our panniers, and taken Henry outside.

I also got viciously growled and barked at by the neighbor’s dog quite a bit – and yes, it’s the same dog that bit Joey once when they walked past each other on the sidewalk.

We are not very keen on this particular dog.

Anyhey, by 6:20 we were whizzing down the frontage road for Central in the blueish, pre-sunrise haze.  Y’all, it was COLD.

39 degrees outside, cold.

“I’m….I’m freezing,” I chattered to Joey as we hit Mile 2 of our commute.

“Me too,” he said.  “But really only my face.”

It’s true, our faces were the only thing exposed because we had layered up so well.  But seriously, 39 degrees at 15 miles an hour feels a lot colder than 39 degrees.

By the time we reached the Katy, the sun had crested the horizon.  The birds had begun to warble and chirp out their morning melodies.  I heard a particularly melodious one and said, “That bird’s telling you to toughen up, that it’s not really that cold outside.”

Another bird chirped.  Joey said, “That one said ‘I don’t have to go to work, all I have to do is survive.’”

Warble, warble.  “I eat worms and regurgitate them for my young,” I translated for the bird.

On and on we went, for about a full mile.  That is a lot of bird chirping translating, even for me.  I wondered if the runners and walkers we passed heard snippets of our conversations and thought we were a few bricks short of a load.  (Heck, sometimes I wonder that about us.)

A runner who really looked like she was suffering lumbered past us, her face a contortion of pain and something else I was unable to identify.  Once we were safely past her, Joey and I looked at each other.

“Didn’t she look like she was about to die?” I asked him.

“I know, I thought she was going to pass out right there,” he agreed.

Normally we don’t comment on runner’s facial expressions, because surely ours on our bicycles are something to laugh at too, but this poor lady really looked like she was about to die.

Explode.

Vomit.

All of the above.

“You know, her facial expression reminded me of that painting, The Scream.  Ya think?” I asked, grimacing and puffing a little bit myself as I tried to increase my speed.

“HA!” Joey bellowed.  “Yep, I think that’s it exactly.”

Happy Thursday, everyone.