Rain, rain, rain

Developing sufficient enthusiasm to pull on the togs and ride in the morning has become something of a challenge. I get up, look out the window, and see a world of grey and gloom. And often that world is wet.



I console myself by riding along bike paths next to major arterials like the City West Link and looking at the drivers going past and thinking, "I am so much tougher than you. I make Bruce Willis look like a girl".

Trust me - it makes me feel better when rain is pouring off my helmet and running both up and down my nose and my feet are soaked and... you get the general idea. If riding in the rain was exceptionally pleasurable, then the paths would be packed with sodden cyclists. But given that I saw only a handful of people walking, running or riding today, I will assume that most people don't relish it that much.

The worst of it is getting ready for the ride home. Clothes and shoes and socks never properly drip dry in the change room at work, so one has to pull on damp and icky clothes. I don't mind a wet shirt. Wet gloves are not an issue. Wet knicks are not that great, but I just can't accept wet socks. If I have half a functioning brain cell in the morning, I throw a spare pair into my back pack, but most days the sit at home forgotten, and I am stuck with pulling on soaking socks.

Yuck.

The weather is a fickle thing too. One morning, it was bright and clear at home, so I considered taking off my jacket halfway into town. 10 seconds later, it was pouring down. Same on the way home. I rugged up before leaving the office, only to emerge from the underground car park into bright sunshine. Just as I thought about taking off my jacket, the heavens opened.

I will have to name my jacket "Thor".