This is Living with a capital L

A couple of nights ago as we were getting ready for a night out my husband asked if we should ride our bikes to our destination three miles away, and I responded sincerely and enthusiastically, "Sure!" despite the frigid temperature (I don't know what it was exactly, but it's been hovering around 0 to 10 below after dark lately) and the foot of packed snow and ice on the streets of our neighborhood (I hold my breath every time I come and go, certain my minivan will not make it).

Neither is my bike well-equipped for snow...my townie (more on that in a minute) is a converted 1980's Schwinn 10-speed with a moustache handlebar for comfort and three ample baskets for carrying veggies home from the farmer's market.

And ride we did! It was totally exhilarating. And it made me think - just a few years ago, I would never even have considered such a suggestion.

Now, granted, I've changed in a number of ways that have led me to this point. My husband has always been a bicycle aficionado...but it took me years to understand why on earth anyone would need more than one bike. I now own three (mountain, road, and townie - down from four, by the way, I sold my fixed gear recently), I understand bike porn, and my preferred mode of transportation for a night out is the bicycle. Still, I'm a relative novice and mostly a fair-weather rider.

So it turns out, this post isn't really about riding my bike in the snow...its about what happens when you push yourself out of your comfort zone.

That's where Living with a capital L happens.

Even as I write this, I realize the potential naivety of that statement and the luxury it implies. So a 40-something mom rides her bike to a book signing on a cold winter night, and you call that Living? Ho hum. But for me, it is an opportunity to remember (because in daily life, I sometimes forget) that I love the way experiencing new things makes me learn and grow, and that life really is too short not to take that opportunity to get out of your comfort zone every chance you get, in big and small ways.

And when you do, remember to savor the experience by being present to the cold air on your face, the reflection of moon on the snow that guides your way, the way your bike slips a little in the snow making you fear the loss of teeth is imminent...until, phew, solid ground reappears once again and the fear magically transforms to confidence.

Alex, testing the limits of what's comfortable