Rainy Days and the Wimp

"So it's raining?  You're 

not sugar.  You won't melt....

enjoy it."

Anonymous 

 

A century plan abandoned in light of the forecast for rain. It is not supposed to be terribly windy.  It is not supposed to be a hard rain, or even a steady rain, or an all dy rain, and it is not supposed to be particularly cold, lower fifties, but the plan is abandoned none the less.  I really need to purchase a new rain jacket.  My old Showers Pass jacket is in shreds, and when I last checked they were sold out of the cheaper one. I "think" I remember asking to be notified when the jackets are available again, but so far no luck. I tell myself to remember to check their web site. In the end, however, deep down, I know these are excuses.  Fifty in the rain is very doable.  

 

My husband would have laughed and called me a wimp for even thinking of backing out, and I, I would have ridden regardless at that point.  It was why he did it. And he was right.  I am definitely NOT sugar and would  not melt. How often did he challenge me leading me far beyond where I might otherwise have gone?  Sometimes it made me angry, but on the whole, I normally was glad and grateful.  For there are sights and sounds in the rain that you don't find elsewhere.  I certainly would not have the accomplishments I have under my belt without his encouragement and support.  But back to the ride.

I still plan to ride, however, just not so far and after the weatherperson says most of the rain will be gone.  Jon and I agree to meet in the afternoon when the rain is supposedly going to be gone and ride 35 miles with about 1,800 feet of climb with most of the climb due to three hills we will encounter.  Afterward we are to walk a bit over six miles in a loop around Madison ending with the walk up Hatcher Hill.  I am beginning to learn some of the names in this city despite not living there, but it certainly has taken me long enough.  I think Rich Ries was the first to take me up that hill on his St. Nick's Hick ride, a ride I showed up for despite not knowing Rich other than a FB follow or any of the other riders.  It was about a year after Lloyd's passing and I was still struggling mightily redefining myself and keeping my feet under me.  I will be forever grateful for the welcome I received that day and hold the ride close to my heart. 

Frankly, if we had not made plans to ride, I don't think I would have been able to force myself out on the bike.  With the gray, dreary weather, it would be too comforting to sit on my butt on the couch reading the book my daughter recommended and that I have found fascinating, "The Girl with Seven Names."  But there will be time for reading and relaxing.  My body is crying for exercise, and I do so prefer being outside over the trainer despite the fact the trainer is probably better for me. Jon and I talk a bit of how much easier it is to get out with another person on bad weather days or gray days.  And I know, for me at least, this is true. 

 

Despite our slow pace, and I mean slow, I am pleased with how I feel on the hills.  I don't press, but I also don't suffer as much as I expected to. My thighs complain,  but it is not an injury complain, just one of laziness and being out of shape.  My knees are quiet, always a good thing. Now is the time of year to begin including hills, and lots of them, into my routine.  It is just too easy to become afraid of hills on the bike, to avoid the hills on the bike, because, well, because they hurt, particularly if you push on them.  But, oh, how much scenery and beauty one will miss if one sticks to the flats.  I may be getting old, but I am not ready to go there yet, to lose the feel of of your lungs gasping for air, your thighs calling for surcease, your mind trying to deceive you and tell you can't because, of course, the mind tries to quit long before the body really needs to.  And the rewards, not only gained strength, but beautiful vistas and long, quick descents, the kind that require every ounce of concentration because a fall could, most likely would, be disastrous and inevitably painful.  For as much as we like to think we are invincible and/or strong, we are in the end just weak flesh and bones, easily trashed, broken, and torn.  It is the reason I don't encourage people to begin riding.  I will help them if asked AFTER they make that decision, but I don't want the responsibility of talking someone into riding and then seeing them get hurt.  If you ride, you fall.  It comes with the territory.  The question is how badly will you be hurt.  

I think of my frailness as we descend knowing that we have ridden through numerous cinder patches laid down on the roads during the recent ice and snow.  But neither of us flats.  As Jon points out, any flat due to cinders would likely be a slow one, not the rapid deflation that grabs your handlebar. And we are back to the ride start too quickly despite my going rather slowly the entire day.   Still, I am chilly.  Yet again, I overdressed and the dampness of sweat, the worst winter enemy one has, chills me. Due to the late start much of our walk will be in the dark. But thankfully I have dry clothes to change into.  The river is lovely in the dark with lights reflecting out across the water.  Due to the cold, it is mainly deserted other than a man out walking his dog.  Indeed, we meet very few people on foot anywhere on the route despite walking a bit over six miles.

So no century for the day, but a good ride and a reasonably challenging walk.  No rain, just wet roads.....we didn't melt.  And I did, for the most part, other than chilling, enjoy it.  There will be other days for century rides, but I do believe I have become quite the wimp.  Perhaps next go round I'll show a bit more fortitude.  There will be time to rest.....just not yet.  I am not quite done.