Céad Míle Rothair

   This past week Winter made it clear it wasn't done with us yet, and on Wednesday it dumped a good ol' fashioned blizzard on Buffalo.  There wasn't a lot of snow, but the winds were blowing at around 50 mph, leaving some fancy "snow sculptures" behind when things died down.

I'm pretty sure this thing tried to talk to me while I was out shoveling.  The next day revealed some picturesque scenes, but I think we've had all the pretty winter vistas we'll ever want or need.  Here's one anyway.

   Like most winters, this one had its share of plow mishaps, with the latest falling into the "whodunnit" category;  a plow rammed into 5 cars in the middle of the night on Humboldt Parkway in February and left the scene without so much as a "Ha ha!" horn toot.  Now, after some Buffalo police sleuthing, the plow has been identified as belonging to the state DOT.  As to be expected, the wheels of justice, or wheels of insurance claims, are turning very slowly on this one.  In various comments sections, people are either angry or dismissive.  The anger is generally directed toward "big government", and the dismissiveness is of the, "the plow operator probably didn't even know it happened, so give the guy a break" type.  The latter attitude is entirely congruous with the state of our laws regarding traffic, which can be boiled down to - if you hit stuff with your car and you're oblivious (not fleeing the scene counts for very little these days), as long as you're not drunk there's nothing wrong with you and it was all a terrible accident, oh well.  Of course, it seems to me that if you're stone cold sober and you smash into things with your car without any of it capturing your attention in the slightest, there is something really wrong with you.
   But back to blizzards - because of our biggest claim to fame, the Blizzard of '77, the city comes to a complete halt whenever there is a blizzard forecast.  This allows for yet another drinking holiday, like our McCinco de Mardi Gras celebrations.

And for my spouse and me in this instance, it was a day of utter laziness complete with breakfast for lunch and the consumption of an entire package of fake Stella D'oro Elegant Dipping Cookies found at the corner store, which was still open.
   Another thing that Buffalonians do right after a blizzard - go for a bike ride.  Yep, today was the inaugural ride of the Niagara Frontier Bicycle Club's spring season, the St. Patrick's Day Ride.  I had every intention of going on this ride.  I even dug out the Forbidden Hat.

My wife considers this hat to be a form of spousal abuse, so it stays hidden in a drawer most of the time.  Sometimes when I'm the only one home I will put it on and prance around like a leprechaun.  So yeah, I was ready for a bike ride!  Then I noticed that there was a 3°F wind chill, which would only increase to a sweltering 5°F wind chill by the afternoon.  Having vowed in a pique sometime in February that I would not ride a bike in temperatures below 20°F ever again (or at least until next winter, which should start in June), I am now beholden to this solemn vow.  And I just don't want to freeze my ass off anymore.  Besides, I don't really remember how to put on a helmet.  But I have this handy chart in case I need it.

So, once again, in this blog about cycling, I will be writing about the enormously captivating activity I engaged in instead of riding my bike.  And I won't disappoint!  Because this time I did two things:
I walked the dog, and did a High Intensity Interval Training workout, also known as Insanity.  Insanity is basically the opposite of riding a bike, and really isn't good for anything but developing crazy endurance for Insanity workouts, but I do it anyway for two reasons:

1) I'm an idiot.
2) It's the only way to get warm these days.

Here's the promotional image for the workout, and I'm not really sure what happened, because I'm supposed to be in this photo.  See where that big space is?  Well, it's a good thing I have my own copy so I can show you what it's supposed to look like:

That was when I was in shape.

 So Shaun T., the inventor of Insanity, basically figured out that if you jump up and down until you collapse, like an eight year-old after eating a bowl of Lucky Charms, you will end up extremely fit.  Who knew?  We make Lucky Charms here in Buffalo, by the way, and everyone will smell them in the air tomorrow, as a special hangover treat on St. Patrick's Day.