There was a little rain in the morning. Drizzle, really. Or just mist, at least. Heading up the foothills, again, again, the rain grew heavier, as is normal. But still it seemed just mostly light, and looking closely up into the clouds I could almost sense the approaching light, the sun, a bit of warmth seeping through. It wasn’t cold, really. And I didn’t expect the rain to continue, which is why I was continuing up through the foothills, in the rain, without a rain jacket, in shorts, and a fleece pullover.
I actually thought the mist would have gone by the time I got going but it only increased with elevation. But it was fine, it was good. And in fact, even though I’d neglected to bring my trusty rain cape along for the ride, I went over the circumstances in my mind and I decided that even if I’d had it with me it wouldn’t have been much use to me riding up the hill, where the trapped perspiration would likely have equaled the falling precipitation. And at least without it there was still some breeze for evaporation.
Eventually, just as I was almost there, or at least almost to the top of the last ridge, after which I could cruise easy for a while and rest before the final push up, this particular destination way the heck up there at the base of the real mountain region, the wilds, it started falling more like rain than mist. But I was still sure it was going to be a beautifully grey day in just a matter of moments. And in fact, within just a few blocks the drops were gone and I was starting to dry out with the wind, speed.
Again, again today…