Narrow road tires going thru freshly fallen spring snow, the offspring of a squall I'd been dodging for days. Always wanting a little more chamois time even if it meant a pair of burning feet in the post ride shower. Regardless of the weather I was going, it didn't matter to me. Only the feet. I should have worn better socks or winter shoecovers, gear is just crap, if they have it, it sucks, if they don't it's why they didn't go out. Mine is fine, no reason for being slow. Aggressive in my mediocrity, void of excuses for not being better. I'd like it less if it came easy. The wins or the time. If I was at sea level and warm all the time I'd feel guilty. I prefer my cocoon of vapor barriers, wool and synthetic armor to help quiet the wind, bide my time, hide out where it's warm only after the work is done.