Solitary ride

So I'd hoped that I'd be in my first road race today, but my category filled up before I could sign up.  As penance, I got up early this morning to join in another group ride, but as I pedaled through the raw, cold wind and the stinging rain I began to wonder if this was such a good idea.  I was running late and didn't see any sign of any other riders, so I either clean missed the ride or else good sense got the better of them and they stayed in their warm beds.  Trying to ignore the wet rivulets running down the back of my collar, I veered east towards the lakefront path, hoping to get a few good miles in before my own mindgames got the best of me.  As mental exercises go, solo rides are by their nature un-complex: how long can you turn the cranks over while your mind pleads with you to turn around?

Riding by yourself is difficult enough, but it's made exponentially harder when you're fighting a headwind that feels like a fat kid on roller skates who's hanging on your handlebar, straddling your front wheel, and sticking his tongue out at you.  No fun.  But I kept surging south, as the rain slowly saturated the seams of my raingear and my feet turned to blocks of wood in the cold.  Every day on the bike isn't going to be a glorious one - but that's okay, as long as it leads to yet another day on the bike.  And so far, I haven't yet run out my string.

By the way, big ups to Mike Capello, my co-worker at the shop for taking third in his category at the Leland Kermesse under what must have been grueling and truly hardman-type conditions.  Good on ya.