during spring and fall I am always trying to outsmart the weather.
I don't know who I think I am.
I went to bed friday night thinking that saturday was going to be a wet and rainy day, forcing me to be ride-free.
when I got up saturday morning, it was clear and dry, though a bit windy. by 8:30 the sun was shining and there was a wide expanse of cloud-free sky, and I started thinking that I had been wrong to write the day off.
I wasn't quite ready to hop on my bike, though, as I was still sipping coffee and adjusting to the weekend. but my internal gears were starting to slowly spin.
by 9 I decided I would be getting on my bike, as I watched the skies darken to the southeast. my desktop weather channel predicted raindrops by 10, but I felt certain I could get at least a small ride in before the rain got serious. the sky to the west was still blue, lightly streaked with clouds.
by 9:25 I was on the road, headed up toward emigration.
about 3.5 miles into my ride the first raindrop landed lightly on my helmet. a few more joined it, and then a few more. it was sprinkling, though, not really raining.
that's what I told myself.
it kept sprinkling, and I was only a quarter mile past ruth's. I set my sights (through the drops on my glasses) on the fire station: I wanted to at least make it to the fire station before I turned around and gave in to the rain.
which remained in the "sprinkling" category.
so I kept riding.
past the fire station, and after another half mile or so the sprinkles dwindled to occasional drops, and then even to a bare mist.
so I kept riding.
at the summit I could see the faint outline of my shadow, as the sun forced itself through the clouds that hovered and kept their moisture within.
so I rode down to the reservoir, knowing that I was pushing it, that the skies could very well unleash at any moment on my way down, drenching my human form and its metal steed.
but they didn't, and as I reached the lower mile or two of the canyon I was riding on water-stained asphalt: the rain must have hit hard while I was further up the road, then stopped.
weathermen on television, the weather channel on my computer, and my own eyes are all partially effective in predicting future realities. I use them all, and then push the limits of what I will tolerate because there are times when I just