The days are long and the temperatures are hot enough to turn the British Isles into pudding, so that can mean only one thing—Summer Dan is here! Yes, Summer Dan (SD) my seasonal self who has worked his way into a state of semi-passable fitness and also doesn’t post regularly. This is because SD has summer things to do. He has to drove an hour and a half to get to FBF races on Tuesdays. He has to ignore all the creaking and squeaking noises on his bike because maintenance is for the fall. He needs to consume enough margaritas on a Friday night to wipe away any motivation to get up at 4:30 to race in a City Park. You know, summer stuff.

It’s summertime and the living’s easy. It’s during the summer that I feel bad for all the people that live in climates that are temperate all year round. How can they experience the joy of shoving every warm weather activity into a few short months? How can they appreciate the warmth without the cold? Do their bike jersey farmer’s tans ever fade? How can they appreciate adding ice to a water bottle when they’ve never had a water bottle turn to ice? We cyclists in the northern climates live a seasonal, um, cycle. In January, there’s usually a bit of leftover globally warm days that allow a few days riding outside. Then comes the snows of February, and the subsequent retreat to makeshift training caves. Zwift happens. March seems like it’s a time to race bikes, but it really isn’t. April is moist and uninspiring. May shows promise for what will come, but it still rains too much. June turns up the heat a bit. July and August are a feast for the two-wheeled, albeit a sweaty and race-filled feast. September is God’s gift to the lazy, ambling cyclist. October still somehow manages to stay warm. November is a good time to do other things. December starts the new training year, with all of its promise and hopes that “this year will be see tremendous gains in FTP and other nonsense acronyms”.

How could anyone not want this yearly variety? Without the other seasons, there is no Summer Dan, there would only be “Dan”. I see posts of pictures of sunny rides in warm places from cyclists I know across the country, but I always think to myself, “Surely my two hour Zwift ride is a better workout than their sun-dappled winter rides? How can they possibly appreciate the joy of the sun on their skin without the agony of putting on two layers of booties?” (This is usually just after I’ve attached a makeshift set of antlers to my tiny dog in my mountain cave lair.)

I think I try to feel superior to those with equatorial proximity because we bike weirdos equate suffering with virtue—we think misery is a superior state to comfort. A hard cycling effort feels like you’re being boiled from the inside, so how could a ride that is less wretched be preferable? An endless summer is the opposite of the delight of bike suffering. Can you know the warmth without the cold? The warmth of summer is fleeting and if it isn’t temporal, I can it be appreciated?

Geez, Summer Dan needs to lighten up, eh? Facing the change of the seasons can be a morose affair for us in our later years. Will Summer Dan return next year? How many summers does he have left? No one knows. But I do know that Summer Dan is going to ride this one out like an escaped zoo animal.