I’m not suggesting any particular biking-dating correlation. The most important piece of equipment for winter biking is a good pair of gloves.

“I could tell, even from the beginning, you weren’t totally over your ex.” 5. In books about meditation you’re told to picture your mind as a conveyor belt: a thought appears, you consider it, and then you pull the lever to whisk it away.

The key to uncluttering your mind isn’t stillness, but motion. But my mind is more like a lazy Susan, the same thoughts circling past again and again. I tried, just now, to estimate how many first dates I’ve been on in my 30s, but I don’t even know where to start with that math. One of the most important lessons of online dating is that it’s best to meet up with someone fairly quickly, rather than waste a bunch of time sending long-winded messages back and forth.

It becomes a familiar checkpoint: a month, or six weeks, the amount of time it takes to start really getting to know a person, to see their habits and quirks and flaws, and for them to start noticing yours.

It’s the real moment of decision, more so than when you sent an initial message, or responded to theirs, or when you asked them out on a second date, or when you kissed on a street corner or took each other to bed.

This year I made a resolution to bike through the winter.

Usually by January I’ve traded in my bike for public transportation and taxis, but I always feel biking’s absence from my life. In winter it’s too easy to spend your days shuffling tiredly between dark and dark.

On our second date, we were eating dinner when it started to snow, and it was still snowing maybe 30 minutes later when we kissed in front of City Hall.

Later still, both of us back in our respective beds, we exchanged a series of emails, recapping the date, putting off sleep.

It snowed a lot that winter, and I hardly biked at all. One Saturday we went to a matinee, and I spent the whole movie worrying over my stomach, which was tying itself into increasingly elaborate knots.

I felt better once the movie was over and we were back outside, and better still after a couple drinks, though I had to fake my way through our discussion of the film, which had something to do with French schoolchildren.

Once I hit the traffic of Center City my adrenaline starts to flow, too.