Wednesday Morning Trial Time

Phoenix weather progresses like clockwork. Mid-summer monsoon leads to late-summer dry heat leads to early fall blue skies leads to late-fall rain. During my first fall I found myself caught in the rain on my bicycle for the first time here while going home from work the Wednesday before Thanksgiving. It was the start of the rainy season and was a very light drizzle, the kind we get where it's difficult to determine whether water is in fact falling from the sky unless one happens to see the descending droplets amidst the hazy glow of the streetlights. The ground was still dry, and I was comfortable and relaxed and thinking not of the weather but of flying to Houston and family the next day.

Like clockwork. This year the rainy season again started the day before Thanksgiving. But unlike my pleasant experience two years ago, today's rain was a sloppy, cold drizzle that had the pavement spotted with puddles and layered with oily grime even before I awoke. Months of morning time-trial commutes to work come to an end, and before me await the get-through-it experiences.

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I was a fair-weather cyclist for all my time in Texas. If there was one puddle anywhere in the city then I stayed off the bike. If it got just a tad nippy then I stayed off the bike. I have no regrets for not trying to make carlessness work while living in Houston; both the motorists and the weather there can be especially brutal. I was especially soft.

I'm now much better prepared to deal with uncooperative weather. I have to be. The worst experience I've had was two years ago when I cycled to work the morning it froze. I wore shorts and a short-sleeve T-shirt. My light attire was further exaggerated by gripping a rather efficient heat sink of a steel-everything bike for the half hour. I arrived at work shivering and with a splotchy red, frost-nipped face only to discover that the office building's heater wasn't functioning that day. It was a miserable, miserable experience, the kind I laugh about now.

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Since going carless I've been caught in the rain only twice. The second time was today. The first was on my way to a dodgeball game on the south side of town. I rode through a monsoon thunderstorm that started shortly after I left my apartment. I got off the bike and donned my neoprene booties and covered my backpack with a rain cover while under the protection of a store-front awning. I then proceeded ahead and spent the next half hour completely soaked. It was tough, though I did think ahead enough to laugh about the situation while in it. The booties did nothing, but my backpack remained dry, and I was able to suit up for the game as if nothing unusual happened. I considered the ride a success even if it was boneheaded to ride under a thundering sky while sharing a road with motorists who don't experience rain very often.

And so I got wet again this morning. I put on the same booties and learned from my monsoon experience to cinch them tight over some wool socks. I covered my backpack with the same reliable rain cover. I wrapped myself in a jacket I bought long ago explicitly for these situations but haven't yet found much use for. And I reminded myself that today is one of those days that will be good for me. I hopped on the bike with enthusiasm only to discover within two minutes that I made a few mistakes. I didn't think to pack an extra pair of shorts for the return ride, and I should have taken the time to install the rear rack on my bicycle to act as a fender. These mistakes compound each other; my rear wheel was slinging a steady stream of very cold street water at my bottom the entire way to work. I arrived wet and sloppy but was okay after giving myself and my bike a quick wipe-down. I saw no need to laugh at my situation.