Call it what you want – a misjudgment, an amateur mistake, a schoolboy error.
It was a cold and torrentially wet Sunday morning in April. A friend and I had cooked up a plan to head out and ride for an hour and a half, on the basis that one of us had suggested it, and bullishness on both sides prevented either of us backing down and bailing out…
Which might have been the sensible option.
Whenever I find myself out riding in far from ideal conditions – in weather which makes me think twice about leaving my bed, never mind my house – it’s usually a result of these little mind games we play.

(Image: leehaywood – Flickr CC)
So we found ourselves with an early and very wet start, and one or two doubts as to whether this was a good idea. For the first 45 minutes it was going well; we were wet, but riding hard and keeping warm, and feeling pretty pleased with our disdain for the weather.
But then came the error of judgement; we decided to stop for a coffee, just to be sociable.
‘Nothing unusual there’, you might think, ‘what could possibly go wrong?’
In the café we peeled off layers of dripping wet kit, causing puddles to form around our feet as we sat, and talked bikes for half an hour. It was when we came to put our drenched jackets, hats, and gloves back on, that it dawned on us what we were in for – it’s never a good sign when you’ve got to wring the water out of your gloves before you can squeeze them back on.

Back outside, the rain had somehow managed to increase, the air temperature was a chilly 2 degrees C, and the wind was really starting to blow. Anyone who knows anything can imagine how it feels to go back out in that weather, and ride a bike wearing wet kit.
Cold would be an understatement – It’s fair to say our bullishness was long gone.
I wouldn’t use the word ‘epic’ – it was only a 25 mile ride, after all – but the 45 minute spin back home was a bit more memorable that we were hoping for. We made attempts to laugh off the perilous and near hypothermic situation we were presented with, but quickly decided to keep our mouths shut, put the hammer down as much as our chilled limbs would allow, and get home as soon as possible.
I swear my friend had tears running down his face, but mingled with rain water it was hard to tell for sure.
To stop for a warming brew and a bit of cake when the weather is bad seems like the most natural thing in the world; funny how sometimes it can all end in tears.
But oh how good the sweats and hot coffee seem afterwords!! And the story to tell! Yep. Epic!
LikeLike
Yep that’s true – all is well afterwards, although hands got so cold it was a while before I could hold a cup of coffee properly…(not that I’m trying to be dramatic, of course!)
LikeLiked by 1 person
Oh no brother… You have the coffee and cake AFTER the rainy ride. That musta SUCKED! Good on ya for muscling through. You have my respect…
LikeLike
Yep – definite schoolboy error that one. You’d think i’d learn, but it’ll happen again one day too
LikeLiked by 1 person
Love the ‘tears mingled with rain’ bit!
LikeLike
Thanks!
LikeLike
Been there, done that. Onset of hypothermia as we pedalled away from the cafe… The only thing we could do is to pedal harder in order to raise the body temperature. We had steam rising from our backs and looked like a group of turd on wheels going up a minor col. It was hysterical. Of course, it’s funnier in retrospect…
LikeLike
That’s a lovely image Chikashi – hard as I pedalled I couldn’t quite generate steam
LikeLiked by 1 person
Poetic, isn’t it? 🙂
LikeLiked by 1 person
I have 2 kids under 5 – it’s a common topic in our house!
LikeLike
Pingback: The pro:files #6. Esteban Chaves | ragtime cyclist
Pingback: The pain ebbs, flows, and throbs – ragtime cyclist