I've got a cold. It actually hasn't happened that often, but, man, got one right now and I've

got to record. I'm not a fan of the month of November. Like, I've got beef with it. There's the

Seattle rain. That doesn't help. It's not quite falling as snow in the mountains. But it's not really that.

It's how my body reacts to the changing and the loss of the light. Something shifts. And during that

month, I just kind of like lose motivation to be outside. Even though rationally, I know I want to be

out doing stuff. I'm more tired than normal. When I do lace up the running shoes,

it feels more like work than what I want to be doing. And I never regret those runs or night

mountain bike rides, but I'm also kind of glad when they're done, like I've upheld my end of a bargain.

I missed this long summer days and bright mornings,

and the fall's gentle warmth amongst the dug firs,

and final pleasant swims in my local rivers.

But in November, I'd rather just sleep in

than be outside before work in the dark,

the cold, and the rain.

But slowly, my body adjusts to the shifting light, and sometime just after Thanksgiving, I

emerge into December, one of my favorite times a year, feeling like my normal self.

Our community is sending eager texts about weather reports and awaits the arrival of the

season's first powerful winter storms. Here in town, Seattle dresses itself in lights to stand out against the dark,

and my nighttime runs get a little more pleasant, and somewhere in the rhythm,

I stop wishing for the summer or the fall or the spring.

I get excited to mountain biking the dark, and I'm just grateful for it all.

Even November.

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