today I showered with my socks on

Every time I have a good rain ride I want to come home and write about it.  Celebrate it.  Because there's something--I don't know what, if I had the words to articulate it I surely would--pretty gosh-darned magnificent about a good rain ride.

Today was not a good rain ride.

I left the house to sunny skies and temps in the low 60s.  After an hour or so it was raining heavily and the temperature had dropped at least 15 degrees (my Garmin reported 42, but on temperature it's a bit unreliable).  I was expecting neither.

Fortunately, I had tucked my rain jacket in just in case--one of those be-prepared boy scout tendencies I can't seem to break.  But today I sure needed that rain jacket. I also needed better hand and foot protection.  Lacking either, my hands and feet got cold.  Really cold.  Cold like they do during the winter months, when you're used to it, when it's just what happens.

On a good rain ride I come home triumphant.  I feel powerful--there's really no other word.  I feel powerful.  And it's a magnificent feeling.

But today I just slogged through.  And when I got home, I couldn't quite bring my cold hands to do the work of getting my dirty, wet socks off.  So I showered with my socks on.