Anyone who knows me at all knows that I’m NOT a morning person. I always wanted to be but have never been. My parents can tell you nightmarish stories of trying to get me out of bed in the mornings to get to school on time. Just not going to happen. So when I do arrive early for an activity for work or pleasure – it’s forced behavior. Especially those 6am spin classes.
So a long-time friend of mine has recently gotten into cycling and asked me to ride with her for a bit. Sure! We’re to meet at her house at 8am. Huh??? Let’s make it 9 and I’ll probably by there by 9:15. The alarm goes off – GET UP, GET OUT! It’s going to be hot and humid today. I checked the weather forecast before I left and was reassured that the rain wouldn’t come until later in the afternoon. Fabulous.
We’re leaving her house, sun is out and as we head out we hear rumbles of thunder. WHAT??? Weather forecasters suck. I want their job where I can be wrong 98% of the time and keep my job. I look at the sky and assure her we will be fine. Uh……no. The skies opened up and we’re now riding in the middle of a monsoon. Now remember she hasn’t been riding much so I try to coach her as best as I can but now we have a new element – blinding rain and wet roads. I see a place of refuge ahead under the canopy at the entrance of a church. The canopy had holes in it but it was better than standing on the side of the road in the rain. As we’re standing there shivering I take the opportunity to give her some “wet road riding tips” as well as snot rocket etiquette. Then I had a brilliant thought: I’ll call my boy toy and have him check the radar.
Here’s how this went down:
Me: "hey, is it raining there?" Him: "yep." Me: “can you check the radar for me so we know if we need to come back or continue on”. Him: “well I’m watching Ninja Warrior right now and it’s getting really good” (Seriously????? I have a visual of him sprawled out on the couch in Batman boxers, one hand on the remote and another..........in a stale bag of Doritos and crumbs in places I can only imagine). Me: @#$%$#@#$%$#@#$%$#@ GET UP, GET OUT……click.
So we stayed under the canopy for quite awhile and chatted about bikes, life, and how every bike ride is an adventure and had some good laughs. The rain finally tapered off but the thunder continued for awhile and she was starting to freak out. So we headed back to her house and she had a chance to practice her wet road skills she just learned in our huddle under the canopy. She also knows what a rooster tail is now too! We both were soaked to the bone but there’s still something cool about riding a bike even in the rain no matter what the mileage. We didn’t ride as long as we had planned but it was still a good day – especially that evening when she invited me back to her house for a cookout and cocktails with her husband/ex-bartender helping us replenish the fluids we lost. And I’m thinking it didn’t rain that morning in other parts of Louisville like it did where we were. What gives with that?? As I type this I see my shoes drying out and my bike looking at me as if to say, “can we go out again today?” you better believe we’re going to be together today. Great company.
As far as the boy toy – I went to the post-ride cookout by myself and at my next band gig when we play Song for the Dumped by Ben Folds Five, it’s sooooooo dedicated to him. GET UP, GET OUT. Boys are stupid. Bikes and friends rule.