This past Saturday, we were supposed to do a road ride across the bay in Marin. Last week, as you know, it rained as if the great flood was on its way, so we were tentative about whether or not we were going to be riding.
For most of the week, Jerry and I had been talking and he kept referring to his friend Doppler. I assume this guy is some sort of weather expert since he would say, “Doppler's radar says heavy rain, or Doppler says it should clear up or Doppler says…..”
So, Saturday morning, as I stood in the kitchen watching the rain blow sideways down the street, Jerry called and said, “Doppler says it’s going to be clear in Marin, so we’re on”.
Now, as I stood there in the warmth and comfort of my kitchen, a nice cup of coffee in my hand, it was hard to fathom how we could possibly be riding when I could clearly see everything outside was soaked and getting wetter by the minute. But hey, who am I to question Jerry’s friend Doppler who obviously knows more than I do about the weather...so I gathered my things and got ready to go.
Sure enough, as Jerry came by to pick me up it had dried a bit. And, as we headed across the bay, it actually looked like it might clear up. Even as we pulled in to Chrissy Field it appeared Jerry’s friend Doppler and his magic radar might have been right.
Even when, as we started getting our gear together and a little shower hit us, I felt comfortable knowing Doppler said it was going to be clear. Although, I guess since he didn’t show up for the ride I probably should have gotten a clue that he had duped us.
Sure enough, as we crossed the Golden Gate Bridge the rain began. It wasn’t really a hard rain and since there was very little wind, it wasn’t too bad. It was only after doing a portion of the Marin Headlands that I realized I was starting to get soaked. And later as we rolled through Sausalito it dawned on me that my feet, even with booties over my shoes, were starting to squish inside my socks.
Finally, as we got further into Sausalito, the rain started in earnest and I started looking for an excuse to stop. Eventually, as the others realized my whining probably wasn’t going to end any time soon, we agreed to stop for breakfast.
After a nice breakfast of custard stuffed French toast, we headed back out into the cold. Luckily it wasn’t really raining much any more, but the damage was already done. My feet were squishy and with the chamois in my tights soaked through, I felt like I was walking around in a wet diaper. (no wonder my grandson was always cranky, this isn’t fun at all)
Stopping for breakfast was one of those good/bad ideas. Good in that I was hungry and wet and breakfast solved the hunger and let me dry a bit. But bad in that once I had eaten and warmed up, I was freezing when we got back on the bikes. Chris and I spun like crazy trying to warm up but it wasn’t until we got to the climb out of Sausalito that I finally started to warm back up.
As we got back across the bridge and down to Fort Point the rain had stopped and we took a moment to watch the surfers. The joke then was that with their drysuits and being in the water, they were probably both warmer and drier than we were.
Back at the car we changed into dry clothes, loaded up and headed home. According to the garmin I had burned almost 1000 calories in the 20 something miles we rode. According to my belly, this means I burned almost 1/10th of the calories contained in the custard stuffed French toast……
If I ever meet Jerry’s friend Doppler, I’m going kick his azz…..