This is How Much I Hate The Trainer

Home from a Super Bowl party and in bed by 10:30 pm.  As I fall asleep, I’m uncertain about riding in the morning because of the late night and forecast of rain/sleet/snow.

The alarm goes off at 4:45 am.  I check the weather before even getting out of bed.  Rain and 40°F.  Ugh.  If I lay there another 30 minutes, I can get on the trainer and get a decent trainer ride in.  I lay in bed for about 2 minutes and do not fall asleep.  I get up, and decide then and there that I’m riding outside.  Riding the trainer sounds like torture.

I get ready, dressed for cold rain, and step outside into a steady rain.  It’s not too bad, but it is wet.  I make my way to the Rusty Bridge, and wait.  No lights indicating bikes.  At 5:45 I push off, hoping a little that I’ll still run into Dan somewhere along the route, but it is dark and raining and chilly.

It is about mile 7 before I feel the cold water seep into my right boot.  It sloshes a little.  I’m glad I’m wearing wool socks.  Within a couple more miles, my left foot is now getting wet.  The water is blowing back off the front of my front tire and hitting my shin and getting down into the boot that way.

The solitary ride continues.  There is a steady drumbeat of rain on my helmet that is at times soothing and at other times irritating.  Drivers of cars are quite courteous to this lone rider.  As each one passes, I wonder what they are thinking.  Is it about how crazy this guy is?  Is it feeling sorry for the rider in the rain?  Are they irritated that I’m taking more of the roadway than usual?  I have to because the potholes are full of water and it is hard to determine which are deep and which are shallow.

The  headlights from oncoming cars blinds me with dozens of bright stars because of the water on my glasses.  The tires splash through running streams of water.  The rain is steady and persistent.

The water in my boots gets deep enough that I feel it sloshing with each pedal stroke.  It is not unpleasant, but I’m glad that my ride will only be about an hour.

When I arrive home, the porch light is on and a towel is laid out for me.  Gloves, helmet, and shoes all come off on the porch under that stark white light.  Water pours out of my boots and drips off of my socks.  My bare feet have patches of red skin, but they don’t feel overly cold.  The thermometer now reads 38.

I linger in the hot shower just a little longer than usual, enjoying the comfort it brings and extending the peaceful morning.

I really did enjoy the ride.  Too bad others slept in.

It was a short ride … I rode the winter route just because I didn’t want to be along a dark isolated trail if I flatted.