What’s more fun than going fast on a bike? Going fast on a bike in the pouring rain.
The week so far has been wet and dreary, and there’s no break in the forecast until the weekend. So when the skies cleared this evening, I ducked out of work and to get in a quick ride before the clouds came back. I wasn’t quick enough, though.
The air was warm and so humid it was like riding through meringue (but with gnats), and somewhere around mile 7 the skies unleashed an apocalyptic deluge. The nearest bridge where I could shelter was well ahead of me — so I continued on through drops as big as diapers and just as wet. Within a minute I was soaked. To the point that my shoes were literally full of water, with little streams spouting out of the ventilation patches by the toes. By the time I got to the bridge there was no part of me left to keep dry, so I just kept tearing along, laughing at the ridiculous, sopping spectacle of myself, praying that my slick tires wouldn’t send me careening to my doom in the Potomac, and reveling in the fact that I had the entire trail to myself.
Of course, the storm was only about a quarter of a mile wide, which meant that I quickly rode out of it and had the somewhat more dubious pleasure of riding through neighborhoods that hadn’t felt a single drop, looking like I’d just run through the car wash and having swarms of gnats stick to my dripping skin.