Friday afternoon I looked at the Rescue Bike sitting alone in the garage, then turned my back on it and continued about my day.  Saturday morning I looked outside then put my head back under the covers and went back to sleep until the screeching, thumping and banging that only the most delicate of 5-year-old girls can make finally forced me awake.  Sunday was in essence a repeat of Saturday, spent cleaning up the yard and chopping spongy wet wood which is not nearly as exciting as it sounds.  Again the Rescue Bike sat untouched.  Monday rolled around and still, still, I could not find the enthusiasm to throw on my helmet and go for a ride.

You’d think I would be excited to try out my new proper cycling stretchy pants or the new stretchy bibs which shall henceforth be known as my Shamu shorts.  The white on black colour scheme seemed like a good idea at the time as matches the Rescue Bike’s but once I’m stuffed into them I feel…whale-ish.  Not so much killer-whale as just whale.  On the up-side, they keep everything tucked in nicely – like cycling spanx.

Come Tuesday, I was officially out of excuses.  My legs had stopped aching, I was fully re-fueled (and then some), the weather was forecast to be nice and wonder-of-wonders, there was no wind to speak of.  Despite all this, I still dragged myself out of bed 30 minutes after the alarm first went off – which pleases Best Wife to no end I’m sure – dawdled through the shower and finally, finally was out the door more than an hour after the first alarm sounded.  Not exactly an enthusiastic start to the week.

The general lack of wind and warmer temps made for a fantastic ride and it wasn’t long before I was relaxed and happy to be back on the bike.  The ride was uneventful as I engaged George Washington Allston’s quote: The only competition worthy of a wise man is with himself.  This automatically makes me a wise man and precludes me from any defeat at the hands of others.  Win-Win if you ask me.  Which you haven’t.

At any rate, I was pleasantly surprised to see a consistent traveling velocity that I’d not seen a lot of this year thanks to the omni-present wind, the cold, dense air and forgetfulness.  Forgetfulness you ask?  Indeed.  I forgot what it felt like to apply oneself like that.  I’d been so busy clocking up distance that, with one or two exceptions, I didn’t ride out to the limit.  I haven’t yet had a day when I step off the bike wobbly and shaking, gasping for air in between litre-sized gulps of water.  I miss that kind of riding.

Sadly, the forecast was not what I would call entirely correct though it’s only my own wanton self-deception that would ever suggest a forecast would be.  The dark clouds of the morning gave way to darker clouds in the afternoon with an ugly black sheet of rain marching in.  I made the call of shame to a remarkably accommodating Best Wife and arranged for a warm and dry ride home.  Once more the Rescue Bike is alone on it’s perch and it appears that’s where it is to stay for a few days.  Rain today, rain tomorrow, rain Friday, Sunday and Monday. It seems one frigid, slushy snowstorm and it’s ruined me for riding in the rain.

Note to self:  Get your act together – it’s just water.