The rain hammered hard. It fell from the clouds and dragged my spirit with it, it ran from my head, rolled down my back, round the cheeks of my butt and eventually fell off the rear of my saddle into my rear wheel, only to be slung around and splatted against my white staining jersey. This was going to happen for at least another 50 kilometres. The joy.
Glasses don’t really help either, they fog up as my heavy respiration forces warm breath from my mouth upwards onto the cold lenses. I wiped them often, but they just get smudged and grimy from the dates I ate and the sugary energy bars that kept me going..
My helmet may as well have been a swimming pool. Every time I tilted my head captured rain would fall through the vents and run down my back. The helmet was essential due to the fact that the chances of crashing were considerably higher as the lack of friction was becoming a problem.
Damn the rain.
I aquaplaned a few times leaning into corners. It’s scary, but exciting in an adrenaline boosting way, it grabs your attention and makes sure you don’t forget that every corner is now your enemy.
My shoes were completely waterlogged. Each turn of the pedals created a squelch, an irritating noise it would seem as time goes by. My toes were going numb, a feeling I’m still getting used to.
The only parts of me that stayed warm were my hands and legs. Mainly because I had two pairs of gloves on and my legs were constantly spinning around.
Had it been a warm day we would have been travelling a lot faster as there would have been a reduced risk of crashing. But no, I had decided I would ride in this weather.
People often ask why one would go and ride in the rain. The answer is simple.
I love cycling more than anything in the world. More than eating rhubarb and custard sweets, more than a cold one in the summer, more than the smile on my girlfriends face…
When you truly love something you’ll do anything to feel that feeling of happiness, joy, ecstasy…
