The 55 degree weather in January made me re-realize how absolutely fantastic this is.

I ride a bike to work every day.

Well, most days.

I have nothing to prove in thunderstorms

or umbrella-shattering winds.

It's a 20-ish minute commute from my apartment to my classroom.

I get to ride the elevator.

I park my bike near the window.

At least once a day, a student makes a comment or asks a question,

mostly out of fascination that a grown-up actually chose this.

But it's a very accurate observation.  

I'm the grown-up who chooses this.

I get so excited when the sun comes out.

I have often shouted, like an eight year-old,

"Let's ride biiiikes!"

Because it's how I still feel.

As a kid, riding a bike was the first taste of freedom.

It was the first time I went anywhere

by myself

where my mom couldn't see me from the kitchen window.

I'm not sure about most things in this department, but I know this:

I want my kids to have that.

It gets cold here, you know.

Sometimes I wear two pairs of gloves on top of each other.

Sometimes, in addition to my regular winter gear,

I wrap an extra scarf around my head and over my ears,

babushka-style,

and put my helmet on top.

I think my floor limit is 29 degrees on a clear day.

I'm happy with that.

I ride at night, too,

with a blinking red light.

I carry the light in my bag

and clip it to whatever I'm wearing.

Sometimes I will walk into Trader Joe's or something

and realize ten minutes later that my butt is blinking bright red.

I can live with that.

Bicycle commuting has been one of the greatest discoveries in my New York life.

Truly.

I didn't think the city could get much better

until I started seeing it from a bicycle seat.

Now I think I'll have a bicycle no matter where I live.

If I can make it there, I'll make it anywhere ...

I love thinking about the simplicity of a bike.

And how I power this thing to move with only my energy.

Friends.  Seriously.

It really, really, really

does feel like flying.