On the west side of Oregon, they have a “Worst Day of the Year” ride. I think our Eastern Oregon version of that was today. It looked like we might have a good afternoon ride, avoiding any heavy rain. On the way in, I flatted. Bad luck since I only flat about every other year. This puncture was in the exact spot I saw a errant bag of garbage when driving into work last week. I guess that’s payback for not stopping and cleaning it up. Then, I had a blue Chevy truck speed up just to take a right turn literally right beside me. Fortunately, I was heads up and anticipated the move even though he wasn’t signaling. I reflexively signaled to him to compensate his neglect.
Bri-Tel, Mt. Whits, and myself (I’ve decide to start instituting pseudonyms/nicknames, but I’m sure you locals know who I’m talking about) ended up out front of our group, but we couldn’t turn back to help our comrades for fear of lowering core temperature. After all, on airplanes they tell you to first put the oxygen mask on yourself. Good thing we’re not soldiers. Anyway, I’m not sure what was driving harder, us or the rain. By the time I got home, my feet didn’t exist. My toes went through numerous transformations while I was warming up in the shower. I guess that is the chance you take when you live on the edge with clothing decisions.
Days like this make you appreciate the good days. You might tell yourself it doesn’t get any worse, but I know it does. At least is was good rain training for our locals going to the west side for the first race of the year. I’m confident they will do well.
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