Quietly rolling over, I glanced at the alarm clock on the nightstand—5:30AM. The short days of November ensured that darkness would blanket Southern California for at least another hour as I stumbled downstairs in search of anything that would help pry my eyes open and get my heart into the ride I needed to squeeze in prior to heading to the office.

The coffee maker, pre-set last night, was gurgling from the kitchen as I stumbled down the stairs, bouncing from step to step like an awkward gunslinger who has had one too many bourbons at the local watering hole. I absent-mindedly flicked my wrist in the general direction of the light switch as if trying to shoo a bothersome fly and lucked into catching it, shedding some light while I squinted and instinctively reached into the cabinet to grab my favorite coffee mug (favorite because it is of course huge). Why do I do this, I wondered?

After a couple of much needed swigs, the fog in my head began to clear and I grabbed the bottles of Cytomax I had mixed last night from the fridge. The thermometer outside read 40°F and the prospect of an ice-cold beverage was not high on the list of my favorite things at the moment.

Still fighting to get my act together, I staggered into the downstairs bedroom to finish the dregs of my coffee and begin getting dressed. My "Hollow Man" was laid out on the bed: bib shorts, long sleeve jersey, undershirt, socks, knee warmers and shoe covers. Next to this bodiless form, which I lie out as if dressed so I don’t forget anything, were my shoes, glasses, iPod and HR strap. Pulling on my socks, I laid the HR strap out and sat on top of it to warm it before putting it on while I chugged the final bit of coffee from the cup, swirling the grounds in the bottom of the cup like panning for gold in the Sierras. Again I wondered, why do I do this?

Suited up, I grabbed my bottles, PowerTap computer and headed to the garage, twin jets of steam pumping out of my nose like a 19^th century locomotive on hitting the outside air. As I rolled out of the driveway it dawned on me: I had forgotten my full finger gloves. "Hollow Man" had failed me! A little too late, I was sure that if I went back inside I would just get in bed and enjoy the warmth of a nice, thick comforter for a while longer, not getting up again until I had to shower for work.

Dropping down the hill from my house, I could see the morning star in the pre-dawn darkness and resigned myself to its meager company along with that of my iPod and a fresh play list. It was quite cold and the skin on the back of my hands was tingling like some crazy spinster seamstress was emptying her pincushion one pin at a time. Seeking the equilibrium point between maximum possible speed and freezing my buns off, with pedals turning I headed down the road.

I had planned on a local route that would involve some minor climbing, a good thing as it served to warm me up and offer something to focus on other than the chilly temperature. Ascending through the first canyon without the benefit of any headlight or street lamps, I could barely see the road in front of me while I waited for my legs to warm up and the blood to flow to my stiff muscles. I could begin to see hints in the distance of the pending dawn and the incremental warmth it would bring as I turned east and rode toward the inviting light like a moth to a flame.

I could feel the dawn rising in my legs too as they began to move with more authority like the pistons of an automobile that has been missing but suddenly kicks in with all cylinders. I wondered to myself how many other cyclists were out in the dark, suffering to get their saddle time in here in Southern California and elsewhere in the world. Nothing like shared miseries to draw you close…Why do we do this?

I have always been more partial to sunrise vs. sunset. Sunrise symbolizes possibility and potential while sunset, although beautiful, closes the day and bookends that which has already passed. Cresting the highest point of the climb, directly into the rising sun in the east it occurred to me. I looked at the shades of purple in the high dawn sky, slowly melting into blues and rosy pinks above the distant horizon - everything became so clear.

This is why I do this.