Today's ride was some 55 miles of mostly downhill. Claire's ride wes somewhat shorter than that.
Ever since we arrived in Hemet, everyone had been apprehensive about the weather report for the rest of the trip. Would it rain? Would it hold off? What percentage chance of precipitation indicated just a sprinkle and what percentage a soaking downpour?
In the morning I looked at the weather report, and thought I might be able to outrun the rain if I got started early and shook a leg. I tried to appear helpful, but those in charge took that to mean that I *actually* wanted to help and gave me things to do. By the time I was actually put together and ready to go, half of the riders had already rolled out and it had started to sprinkle. Also, the ride leader was looking at me accusingly. "I helped with clean-up, and I'm not feeling super awesome so I'm going to try to roll out and beat the rain..." I said by way of explanation.
"Have you ever ridden this route before?" he asked.
"No but.." and I waved my cue sheet to finish the sentence.
"Let me show you something..." he said, and proceeded to read the sheet to me line by line. I had already memorized the first 4 turns, but his monologue had obliterated that memory.
At the turn at mile 44 I stopped him. "Trying to hold all this in my head is going to break my brain," I told him, trying to take my cue sheet back. He relinquished it, but not before returning to mile 22 to tell an anecdote and make a pun.
"... so don't go the 'Wong way!'" he finished.
Yeah, yeah, yeah, I thought as I finally broke away. I'd had a conversation with him the night before as one equal to another, and it had been fine but when he had his "leader" hat on he was insufferable.
I had gone back and forth while getting dressed: winter clothes or not? Booties or no? I had settled on a summer weight kit with a base layer and fleece lined arm and leg warmers. I hadn't brought any rain gear, thinking desert rain or San Diego rain would somehow be less wet than San Francisco rain. As I rolled out and felt the icy clammy wind on my shoulders and neck through the jersey, I started to realize that I'd made a terrible mistake. I thought of turning back, but my stuff was already packed and buried under about 100 other suitcases. I was committed and I could already tell it was a bet I was going to lose.
After about 10 miles I started feeling icy rain drops, but it wasn't the sort of rain that made you wet... yet. By mile 15, though it was raining hard. The cold rain stung like needles and made the road slippery. The rain was also making my rims slippery and my brakes weren't working too well. Every time I've tried to ride in the rain lately I've hit the deck and shed some blood, so I was feeling pretty skittish. With the cold and the wet and the slick it was a damned crappy day to be riding almost exclusively downhill.
By mile 20 I was soaked and frozen. I have a policy against finishing any ride or run that is going to make me want to quit riding/running. So when I hit Temecula and saw a Starbucks next to a donut shop, I called it a day. I bought a coffee and called the sag wagon, and then went to buy a donut. Once I had eaten 2 donuts, the rain had stopped and I probably could have kept riding except that the second I stepped back outside I started shivering violently again. There will be other chances to beat the shit out of myself. I got in the van.
From the van I got to see the beautiful oak-lined road and canyon that everyone said, "looks like riding in northern California." It did in fact look like wine country... which is only 2 hours away and easy enough to get to. Not to mention the road looked pretty slick and had plenty of sand patches and crumbly potholes. I didn't feel too bad... instead I felt inspired to find other rides, on other days, when it probably wouldn't be raining...
No comments:
Post a Comment