Rain Ride

Not until I drove back into town last evening after work did it start to rain, just lightly, so it made sense to me this morning that the light sprinkling as I pedaled up the driveway to ride to work would soon taper off. It wasn’t cold–nearly sixty degrees–and my lights seemed steady in spite of the moisture, so I decided I’d ride a mile or two and then reevaluate.

A mile or two out, however, there was no sign of the rain letting up. I was getting wet, but I wasn’t cold, so I pressed on. Soon, though, it started raining even more–and later, even more. Primarily exhilarating thoughts of Obama’s victory kept me cheerfully moving forward. I even thought of the ride as “fun.”

I did realize that I was getting drenched. Even before I got off my bike at school, I could hear my squishy sneakers, but it wasn’t until I was unpacking my panniers that I really thought about the clothes for my day that I’d stowed inside.

“Uh-oh,” I thought. “This could be catastrophe.” Only several months ago had I learned of a colleague who jogged to school and then, after showering, realized he’d forgotten his dress pants at home. His wife had to drive a pair over; in the meantime, for the first ten minutes or so of the day, he wore his dress shirt and tie–and short jogging shorts pulled as low as possible.

Fortunately, only my undershirt was unusably wet. My collared shirt was wet in spots, but after I put it on, it dried quickly. Everything else was fine, it turned out, even though at lunch time, when I checked on my bike, I actually wiped puddles of remaining water out of the bags.

At the end of the day my riding shoes were still squishy, but I put them on anyway, and headed out into the sunny afternoon. Now they’re drying.

And tomorrow, when I carpool to school, I’ll take along a whole extra outfit for keeping in my classroom for just-in-case situations.