THIS IS NOT AN ACRONYM LIKE RICE* I know that I am fully back, because a week ago this past Saturday, I woke up and the sky looked pretty low, but I didn’t care.
Not as low as it gets, I am guessing, in Scandanavia or Alaska, but the sky here can seem like it is sitting on your head, like a dour gray hat. I am always amazed when I go to NYC and see how high the sky is. Are all the buildings keeping it way up there? It’s bizarre.
So: low, gray sky, little spits and splashes of rain. I got up, got dressed, got out the door and headed for my lesson.
Now, when I was unhappy with my Saturday lesson [my Saturday self] I would have absolutely talked myself out of going. And that would have been okay, it would have been correct for where I was at the time, but now? Now I am back, and feck the rain and all its relations.
Considering that this is Ireland, I have only once, one single time! had to stop riding because the rain was so bad. Did I ever blog about that time in England when I went on a ride out in a monsoon? It was hilarious. Some dude, who was driving and had pulled over to let us pass, actually bothered to roll down his window, lean out, and say to me, ‘You’re mad.’ I love that.
And yeah, you know, we are mad. All of us in that lesson who showed up, all seven of us? Eight? Mad as feckin’ hatters, going around and around in the uncertain conditions, which decided to achieve certainty in the last fifteen minutes. The water was dripping off the brim of my hat; the jacket I wore, in concession to the changeable sky, was soaked through.
Connell and I were doing pretty well, and I could have stayed at it for another hour. Sure, I mean, we were wet enough already, what difference would another hour have made?
*Rest, Ice, Compression, Elevation