This morning I got on my bike and set off on the journey to work.
Someone has turned the thermostat down recently, it’s not freezing yet, but getting that way. I decided that my thin gloves would be ample to keep my hands warm, I was mostly right. My hands ended up cold, but not frozen.
There’s something unique about the warmth that gets generated after our extremities have been at the mercy of the elements.
It reminds me of playing in the snow, keeping going until my hands are absolutely frozen and then coming in to warm up.
It reminds me of winter weekends gardening with my parents.
It reminds me of long hikes crunching frozen leaves through woodlands, by streams and up mountains.
It reminds me of early morning paper-round deliveries with stiff hands that make it difficult to slot the papers through the letterboxes.
It reminds me of winter rugby training, running in the snow trying everything to keep my fingers warm.
The glow is almost worth the pain of the cold.