I arrived back home from work a little while ago and I must admit, I am all tuckered out. The weekend up in Maine combined with sleep deprivation and 15+ hours of riding in the back of a car smushed between two of my brothers took its toll. It was worth it though! The wedding was simple and sweet, the reception was fun and seeing my cousins, aunts and uncles again made my heart happy.
My mom and dad spent the first years of their married life in Maine so every time we visit, they point out different places they worked or houses they lived in. This trip though I found out my dad has been holding on to a secret. He was a bike racer! (It may have been one race but I am pretty sure that still counts.) He took us on the loop the course was on, around Lake Auburn. So beautiful. I didn’t have my camera on me of course, because I make foolish decisions in life.
And even though I rode in between my 15 and 18 year old brothers for over 800 miles and we were all pretty squished, the trip up and back was its own brand of fun. We fought over Swedish fish (and named them all), convinced our mom that we had various health problems, planned out a future of petty crime for our 15 year old brother involving tomatoes and cliffs, made faces at cars (that was all them), I sang the educational songs I listened to on car rides in days of yore (they threatened violence so I ended without singing the States and their capital’s song, which made me sad), ate junk food and tried to sleep. It was great.
I was able to crawl into bed at a fairly decent hour last night and when I woke up the first thing I heard (after my alarm clock) was rain pounding on the roof. We have had a dry spring, with a light rain here and there, so this was our first real downpour of the season. At 4:15 I decided it was time to face the storm.
There is something to be said for biking in pouring rain. It makes me feel so vulnerable to be exposed to the weather, but also so strong because I can conquer it. It is similar to the feeling I get biking in a snowstorm, but during the winter I am all covered up in layers of protective clothing. In a spring rain, I get to feel it all, there are no barriers. Water covering my arms and face, soaking through my clothes, dripping into my shoes. It feels like being a kid again, I get to splash through puddles!
And then I arrive at work and I have become the puddle, a walking puddle. I spread the rainwater all over the floors, so much water that once I have changed I grab a mop to clean up my tracks.
“It is nasty out, you should have called someone to pick you up.” My boss tells me.
“But rain is fun, and there are puddles.” I reply.
“Then more power to you, I guess.” She says.
But there is one part of biking in the rain that isn’t fun. That part happens after my shift when I take off my oily, food-scented clothes and replace them with my still wet biking clothes for the ride home. I hopped on my bike as soon as possible to warm up. And all the way home it rained.
After all, if my clothes are wet they might as well get dripping wet, right?