Taco Bell is always the right decision.

Early winter is full of promise. It is dark, but the sky is lit with stars, and the trees and houses are covered in color. Fitness is still good and there are no races to worry about. Late winter becomes monotony. The buzzing of studded tires as I roll to work. It’s light outside so it feels like it should be warm, but it isn’t. My fitness has faded as my clothes have grown tighter. My studs combined with my expansion, equal an uncompromising slowness to my roll. Late winter is monotony. As I prepare for my ride home I lean forward to tighten my boots and a hint of ease comes through. Relaxed I’m stuck hunkered over on the bench in the locker room for several minutes. Someone walks in and embarrassed that I’ve just been staring at the floor I head out the door and mount my bike. The slow roll continues, buzzing all the way, struggling to slowly creep up hills that become bumps in the summer. No attacking, I’m too slow, just monotony. I do get one break every day. Riding through 200 feet of unplowed snowmobile trail that is usually a path in the summer, I pass a man walking his dog every day. After I pass him I have to ride down the hill and over the snow bank to get into the road. Some days the snow bank is bigger, some days it is smaller, but every day I know I have to pound through it since the man with the tiny dog is watching. Soon the stud’s buzzing will turn to birds chirping, and the sun will no longer be a siren’s call to certain cold. Soon my extensive collection of socks of varying thickness will no longer be required. Soon the monotony of late winter will end. Soon the fast pace of racing will begin. Soon I will lust for the monotony of late winter.