Monday, June 29, 2009
Singing In the Rain
wa⋅ter⋅logged - to soak, fill, or saturate with water so as to make soggy or useless. waterlogged with fatigue.
Waterlogged. That's certainly what we were on Sunday, during a 36-mile attack of the hills in the Cuyahoga Valley. The day started out pleasantly enough -- out for a ride with my friends from Kent State...cooler temperatures making for easier riding conditions -- unless you count the hills I mapped out!
It was a ride intended to challenge, that's for sure. But every time I thought we had shaken off some of the riders on the team...there they were, catching up again. THAT is dedication. I'm not kidding when I say you would be nervous driving your car on some of these hills...let alone your bike. And the downhills? Nothing like 40+ m.p.h. to get your heart pumping with terror -- errr, ummm -- EXCITEMENT.
So halfway in, the skies opened up. Drats! It fooled us at first. A light rain fell for a few moments...just long enough for several members of the team to stop by Szalay's Valley Market for a break, indoors. But two of us (Cathie -- she's about as psycho as I am on a bike - moreso on the downhills) pressed on, just long enough for the TYPHOON that ensued.
I don't know that I can desribe it. A blinding, driving rain -- there wasn't anything on me that wasn't waterlogged completely. But it was all good. It felt good, actually...and I couldn't help but think that an hour in a downpour was better than 15 seconds in a chemo session. Sure, there was that moment on the downhill on Everett Road (where I usually try my best to hit 45 m.p.h.) where I thought death was imminent...but here I sit, grinning manically...wishing I could do it all over again.
Ever notice how as kids we all played in the rain, and as adults we run for cover as if FIRE was falling from the skies? That ride on Sunday made me think back to a looong looong time ago, before we had to face all this SERIOUS stuff associated with adulthood. Like cancer.
Ride on. Live strong.