My friend Joe invited me on a bike ride yesterday, and we had a great time catching up and chatting for an hour or two. (He’s in great cycling shape, so I was gasping more than chatting toward the end). We rode south, stopped to say hi to his partner Sunni, and then I turned back north to head home.
It was starting to drizzle started at I left Joe’s, but the rain just got stronger. 10 minutes into the ride, it was pouring. Halfway home, it was at monsoon levels. I thought it couldn’t get worse. Then it started coming so hard that the drops were stinging my arms, like there was maybe some hail mixed in. By this time I was hungry and cold, passing 18th & Halsted, so thought about stopping for tacos in Pilsen and waiting it out. But that was a trap–I was already soaked to the bone, and knew I’d get so cold sitting inside that I’d never get back on the bike.
So I just had to grit it out. Turn off my brain and keep peddling. Dream of a hot shower. Sometimes you get caught in the rain, and that’s all you can do.
sabbatiblog 