Winter '95 - the Strike, French Style part 2

My student was due at 8:45 and I decided to play the prudent card by setting off at 6:45. The Parc de Boulogne was deserted. I could feel the cold wind on my hands, my face and my feet. I shoved a copy of FUSAC in the layer between my vest and my aran jumper to block out the wind - a trick I learned many years before on Channel 4 or RTE watching Tour de France riders descending the alpine stages.

I had counted on my effort pedalling through a a foot deep snow to keep me warm. And it did. However the trip across the Parc was taking way longer than I anticipated. The bike was robust and responsive. The angles were perfect for the task. Occasionally I'd see the odd car struggling to make headway as I would pass them with a friendly if smug wave. I could feel the point when I mounted and descended curbs more than I could see them. The technique was to keep looking ahead to find the line. Find the line, find the line, find the line I kept repeating to myself. From a distance I could makeout the approximate position of curbs and roundabouts from the gently sloping contours of the snow banks. What a wonderful way to start a day. I was conscious of the cold but I no longer felt cold.

When I reached the southern edge of the Parc I could see slow moving traffic ahead. As long as my trip took I felt regret that it ended this way. I arrived at the school at 8:30ish. At 9:00 I got a message from my student who was stuck in traffic and cancelled the lesson. I relished the trip back home but first I needed to warm myself up with a cup of coffee, courtesy of Berlitz Boulogne.

The trip back was as the mornings trip. A lot of white, deserted and cold. It was hard to get the legs going at a steady rhythm again after the pause at the school. I was happy to see that most of my tracks were still discernible in the noon snow. When I was climbing the final hill back to my flat in Puteaux I felt that my legs were still good and I regretted that I hadn't gone faster than I had. I also considered that I could have stayed in bed. But if I had, I would have missed one of the most enjoyable bike trips of my life.