A couple of months ago, I found myself on a country road just north of town. Despite the blue skies you see in the picture, the skies to my back were angry, with rain-laden clouds moving in faster than my early-bike-season legs could get me back home.
Mind you, I didn't help my case by continuing my originally planned big loop when I probably should have turned for home two concession roads back. But I'm stubborn that way, and I didn't want to cut the ride short.
Bad move. Because I had just turned south, headed back to town, and was about as far from home as I would ultimately be on this ride. And although up until that point I had been riding in blissful ignorance of the weather, the turn for home brought me face-to-face with reality. Unless I rode like a madman, I was probably going to get wet. Which I hate. Because riding in the rain is miserable. And dangerous. And then miserable some more.
So I accelerated into the crosswind and began the long fight against time and Mother Nature.
Until I felt that little twinge in my left calf. And ignored it. And then felt it again. Bigger this time. No ignoring it anymore: It hurt! I eased back on the pedals and tried to coast it out. No go. I had to stop. So I pulled onto the shoulder and tried to walk it off.
While I was busy trying to fix myself so I could get back to racing the approaching storm home, I figured I may as well shoot the moment for posterity. Which explains this picture. I'm not sure what passing motorists thought. Not that their opinion mattered.
In the end, five minutes of pacing took care of whatever temporary boo-boo I had, and the rest of the ride home was fast and dry. The first drops started to fall as I was two blocks from home.
Some days, you just get lucky.
That looks like real cycling! Bet you managed to get wet even only two blocks from home (how far is a block?? And is it the same distance in any town? What if the road wiggles - few roads in English towns are straight for long!)
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