As I've mentioned in other posts, I don't mind riding in the rain, as long as it isn't cold. What I like even more, though, is something I've described as "playing chicken with the rain."
So it probably wouldn't surprise you to hear that one of my "guilty pleasures" as a cyclist is starting a ride just as the rain ends and arriving at my destination, or simply ending my ride, just as the rain begins.
That is exactly what I managed to do today. Of course, only leaving just as the rain ended, albeit temporarily, was intentional on my part. Arriving at work just as the rain started again was merely a consequence of crossed fingers (or, what we called "birth control" in my teen years. Don't ask!)
Anyway, it's always nice to start the work day feeling as if I'd won, or at least gotten away with something. Tonight I'll see whether I can do the same going home.
You know it's May, and you know you're a cyclist, when it feels strange not to have ridden to work.
That is how I felt today. When I went to out this morning, what fell wasn't just the mere pitter-patter of a morning shower or a tingly, misty drizzle. Rather, the rain fell so heavily I could barely see out my window.
The weather alone might not have dissuaded me from riding to work. However, I had two far-flung appointments more than ten miles from each other, and each was more than fifteen miles from work. Perhaps cycling to them would have been a character-building experience, had I been younger. But I wasn't thinking much about building character today.
As I rode the train and bus, I felt a little guilty--and, paradoxically, cheated--over not riding today. I guess I'm greedy: We had gorgeous weather this weekend and, of course, I did two longish rides. So I wanted to continue the "high" I got from those rides.
I got to work and found only two bikes parked in the racks. One looked as if it had been there long before today. Its owner could at least have given it the treatment it deserves:
Whenever I ride to a seashore, I can't help but to imagine who might have landed there first. I always think about, not only who they might have been, but how they got there.
I also can't help but to wonder what they found
and what they left behind.
Also, I want to know how they left. If they were forced out, did they leave on their own vessels?
And: Will they return?
