Did I say that?

How wet was it?

It snowed here yesterday and bombed rain last night. This morning I left our house, or as the survivalists like to say, "our compound," in full rain armor. Booties, rain pants, jacket, gloves, beanie, neck gaitor, etc. It was wet and windy. There was standing water everywhere. My headlight illuminated the blowing rain. Water was pooling in the folds of my inadequate rain jacket. Despite being more than fourteen degrees warmer than yesterday, my arms felt cold. I am too self absorbed in the image of myself as a Belgian hardman to describe a twenty kilometer ride as "epic."

As I was less than two kilometers from my place of employment, I approached an intersection where another bike commuter was waiting for the light to turn green. The hard rain was being driven at a forty five degree angle by the wind. The other rider, a woman, was likewise adorned head to toe in foul weather gear.

I stopped for the light and there we stood like two crew members on an episode of "Deadliest Catch" being pelted by wind driven rain. When she turned to me I said it was a nice day for a ride. She laughed and asked if I rode every day.

I smiled and said, "I ride two or three days a week." I paused and then added, "unless the weather is bad."