It rained. It poured. It stopped, then showered some more by the time I was ready to leave work.
I forgot my rain gear. I was offered a jacket. Vacillated. Went with gut instinct: Suck it up and deal.
T-shirt and shorts. Swatting biting flies lighting on my behind as I cruised down long muddy driveway. Grit scratched around low clearance fenders.
Stand in pedals. Grunt up ungodly hill. Arrive on pavement.
And just like that I pedaled home in soft rain, splashing through puddles, the wetness teasing consciousness. In the moment. Refreshed. Rivers on asphalt. Streams flowing from mind.
Drips teetered across helmet visor, falling on ground. Wet legs. Arms. Heart pumping. Thoughts churning. Words. Phrases. Sentences rushing forward, spewing.
I wish I could capture the RAM (not RAAM). Rambling Access Memory. Perform brain dump. Retrieve data later. Tiny notebook does not suffice in wet weather. Nor do I want to stop. The thoughts. Momentum. It's catch 22.
Weather chases after work lycra-clad skinny butts from roads. I'm all alone. Reveling. Releshing. Flying on tailwind through showers. Loving it.
Five miles from home I contemplate once again, going without that second car. Especially if I work closer to home. Bus it, walk it in snow. Ride other times. I've just proved I can.
One mile to go. Chilling. Soaked. Against odds, would my boys have started dinner? I can dream.
Arrive home. Peek inside. Hello boys. Can you heat up pizza, make salad? Got to wipe down my bike.
Retreat to garage. Back rim dark grey muck. Four rags later, all polished. Metallic blue, sparkling. Shiny chrome. My friend.
6:30 p.m. Indoors. Boys still on computers. Flick router off.
Husband riding a longer commute. Time for a glass of wine. Patience.
From mom, to part-time employment, to bike rider, to teenage-director-get 'em-to-help-with-dinner-coach.
And so it goes.
You make riding in the rain sound like fun! I don't usually mind when I get caught in a shower, so long as it's not cold it can be refreshing, just as you say! Vicki
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