Each breath trailed behind me like a plume of smoke puffing from a steam locomotive. My shins reddened as the pedal-induced wind chill got to work on the bare skin lacking body fat for insulation. My lightly gloved fingertips and thinly covered toes feel the cold sooner and to greater effect. It's only 30 degrees! During these last few months my body's tolerance for cold has noticeably diminished. It must be a function of age.
A quote about pry this bike from my cold dead hands seemed appropriate by the time I arrived at work.