‘Tis the season. The season of the monsoon downpour that inevitably starts the second you hit the road. The season of short-lived sunshine that sneaks out of nowhere only to be unobtrusively swallowed by more clouds and rain. The season of gloves, both dry and wring-out wet.
The season that, sometimes, makes you want to hunker under blankets and drink tea.
But it’s also the best season ever to ride. The activation energy is higher — it’s harder to throw yourself out into a world that seems nothing if not sloshy and cold — but gosh if it isn’t worth it every time:)
Though the idea of being soaked isn’t necessarily appealing, I’ve found that if I embrace the wet, I actually really enjoy it. It’s like being a kid again, splashing around with my rain boots, getting soaked with a giant smile on my face because I want to be out playing. I want to be outside, in all of nature’s incarnations.
I can’t think of a single day, ever, where I’ve retrospectively wished I’d spent less time outside. There are days for sure that were not necessarily enjoyable at the time — riding back from Astoria in 10 hours of snow and rain come to mind — but even those I wouldn’t ever want to trade. It is always worth it. Always.
The world is a fragile, precious, beautiful place, and its various moods are all part of the year’s tapestry of death, growth, renewal. I want to be part of it, reveling in the sunshine as well as the monsoon. Bring it.