It's been a while since the morning training ride got good and wet, so I guess we were due. Being a Monday, there was just the usual small group looking for the traditional easy 25 miler; and a good thing too as my legs were still sore from the weekend training rides; but off to the North there was the rumble of thunder. We went ahead anyway - funny how a group is always more bold than it's individual members - since this time of year the weather a mile a way has little relevance to the weather where you are, and in this neck of the woods you quickly learn that skipping rides because of the threat of rain is usually a mistake. As we neared Williams Blvd., maybe 10 or 11 miles out, it started to drizzle. Not those little feathery drizzle drops, but those big heavy ones that you can hear hitting your helmet. We decided to turn around at Williams, about a mile up. Just as we're nearing the turnaround there, this tall black guy on his way to work is coming the other way and he smiles as he wobbles by and announces "it's raining down there!" I look up and can see the wall of rain about a block away. We make a U-turn and start heading back as the rain starts to pick up. In a minute the lightning is starting to strike nearby and I can feel my rear tire getting mushy. The spray from the wheel ahead has a radar-lock on my eyes now that I've got my clear-lens Oakleys stuck in my helmet because I can't see through them any more. It looks drier ahead, so I shift my weight to the front a bit and got another mile or so down the road before the dreaded "clump, clump, clump" of the valve stem hitting the ground starts. With the weather closing in, every second counts, and before I come to a stop I've shifted down to the small cog and I have my pump and tire lever out of my bag and in my pocket for quick access. I do a lightning-fast tire change as the others wait in the drizzle, pump in all of maybe 50 psi with my anemic little pump, and we take off again hoping for the best. The best is not to be, though, and by the time I get home I'm soaked. I peel off the sticky wet jersey and shorts and take my time showering and changing, and finally the rain starts to let up so I can hop on the commuter bike and make the 4-mile trip to work with a change of clothes in my messenger bag.
At least I got in a few miles, since I'll be driving up to Iowa City tomorrow to deposit Danielle in her new shared apartment for school, which means I'll be sitting on my butt for a good 13 hours and likely getting little chance for exercise, much less training, for the next 4 days. I'll bet Lance doesn't have to miss his training rides like that.
2 comments:
Hey cool, you're a natural weblogger! :) Eek, you got a flat at the wrong time there! =/ I remember getting stuck in a sotrm but quickly finding a plaza to wait it out at; I got soaked in no time flat though; rain soaking all of my clothes, running through my helmet and in my eyes. Didn't bother me too much because I like the rain! :)
The worst part about riding in the rain is that one moment when the water makes it through your shoes and socks and you first feel the cold and wet hit your feet! The second worst part is when you finally get home and peel your shorts off and discover that the edges of your chamois have chaffed through the softened wet skin of your butt and associated nether regions and then when you get in the shower ..... Yeouch!
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