Wednesday, August 26, 2009

Racing the Rain

The sky was clear and sunny when I decided to ride from Mom's house to mine but clouds had gathered by the time I got everything together. Rolling down the driveway, I considered turning back.

At the trailhead, the clouds were thick and menacing and the air smelled like rain. I pushed hard every inch of the six miles across the trail and even harder down the three miles of highway. Surrounded by cornfields and straddling a hunk of metal, I scanned the sky for lightning. My legs hit a rhythm: round and down, round and down. Harder. Faster. Now. Now. Now.

Stray raindrops bounced off my helmet. The headlights of the cars coming toward me flashed in my eyes. My breath came faster and faster. Another mile. Windshield wipers flapped on approaching cars, but I wasn't getting wet. Turning at the stoplight, leaning farther into the corner than I've ever dared, momentum carried me up the hill.

In moments, Molly and I reached the driveway. I punched the garage door opener in my pocket and rode straight in. The skies opened before the garage door closed—crazy, splashing, driving rain.

I won. I raced the rain and won. Victory is sweet.


BONNIE K said...

Lucky you! Your legs must be pure muscle at this point.

Deb Shucka said...

Victory is not nearly as sweet as your joy!