Friday Follies ~~ Rain

It’s been a rainy night in Georgia.  Riding in the rain comes to mind.

An observation:  It’s easier to ride in the rain, when you are already riding.  It is very difficult to start riding in the rain.

This particular bout of wet-and-nasty reminds me of two incidents, both taking place on brevets.

Scene 1)  A 600K in North Carolina.  It was a wet and drizzly day in early May.  We started off in a steady light rain.  In the dark.

One group hit the loud pedal and took off.  I ignored them.  This was a 600K, that’s about 375 miles!  I didn’t feel a particular need to rush, but there are always those who do.  I was rolling along with a small group of like-minded folk.  We were approaching a traffic light.  We’d barely gone 10 miles.  The light was a stale green, and the pavement was smooth.  We all reached a quick consensus and slowed, as the light was changing.  We were almost finished with executing a stop, when…

A rider who had been coming up form behind us had decided to accelerate and try to make the light.  Suddenly he was confronted by the group of us…  stopping …in front of him.  He locked his brakes, slid, and fell, and slid more, knocking into me, and dropping me to the wet pavement.

I found an appropriate set of words of thanks, and then continued on.  (I should have taken it as an omen.)

It rained, of and on, throughout the morning, and into the afternoon.  Temps were not warm, but not cold either.  I was getting to the point of really anticipating a lunch stop at a controle.  I was counting the miles.  I would be able to get off the bike, get dry, get fed, and get warmed up.

The store/restaurant came into view.  I dismounted and went inside.  The place was airconditioned to near arctic levels.  I was going hypothermic just standing in the line to order food.  I went back outside, into the rain, to get warmer.  That wasn’t working.  I needed to make some heat, and quick.  I shoved my sandwich into a bag, and mounted the bike.  I rode hard for about five miles (yes in the rain) to warm myself, and then ate a soggy sandwich on the bike.

Comfort is relative.

Scene 2)  A 400K, out of Bonifay, Florida.  It was a grey morning, with a forecast of “light and widely scattered rain” for the afternoon.  My friend Ed and I were riding along in good order.  Occasionally the sky would spit a drop or six on us, but we elected not to stop and pull on rain gear.  We were riding through the desolate back roads of Eglin Air Force Base, when it started to rain in earnest.  It wasn’t severe, just wet.  We stopped and geared up for it.

About a half hour later, we turned north.  It was raining steadily, but not hard, and the temp was a decent mid-sixties.  Shortly after we made that turn we saw it.  We could see the cold front coming at us.  A wall of darker, heavier rain.  It hit us, and in the space of three crank strokes, the temp dropped 15 degrees and the rain increased to torrential.

About an hour later, we had left the Air Base, and were again on trafficked roadways.  Multiple drivers stopped or slowed and practically begged us to let them give us a lift.  (I guess cyclists in the rain are not a common sight in those parts.)  In each case we declined, with thanks, laughed, and kept riding.

Distress is relative too.

Some of the best rides I’ve ever done have been rain rides.  Some of the worst have been wet too.