It doesn’t take long to get from the city centre to the outer suburbs of Dublin, and I’ve cycled out to those suburbs as an explorer. By “explorer,” I mean that I stopped frequently to take pictures, to have coffee, to find my bearings, and so on. And I used my commuting bike, which is comfortable — and can carry a lot of cargo — but is not a speed machine.
So, today, it was time to switch from Explorer Mode to something more closely resembling exercise. The skies darkened as I fixed a few glitches on my mountain bike. But rain on a day like today usually doesn’t last long. So I headed into the drizzle.
It felt great to accelerate so well past the traffic. Before I left the city centre, though, the drizzle turned into a downpour. I was wearing a t-shirt and no jacket, so I waited for a while under a building’s overhang. Pedestrians came and went. Sometimes, waiting under a building by the street is pleasant, a kind of enforced break in one’s day. This was a long break, and I was already damp enough to feel a little cold. Score one for the rain.
I saw a patch of blue sky over Phoenix Park, my destination. And if I gave up, rain would win. So I headed for daylight. The further I went, the less rain fell, and I had a great ride through the enormous park. (Anita and I only made it halfway through the last time.) As I rolled downhill, I began composing this post in my mind, and I judged the match a tie:
Will 1, Rain 1.
Well, it had not stopped raining in the city centre during my absence. The bike paths were underwater and the rain was relentless. My legs were fine, but my torso was quite unhappy. A stripe of water and dirt ran up my t-shirt from the water off my rear wheel. I looked like a wet dog by the time I got home.
Will 1, Rain 2.
Close followers of this blog may remember that I suffered a defeat at Sandycove Beach several days ago. Rain didn’t bring its A-game (like it did today), but it scored nonetheless. In that post, I didn’t mention the most dispiriting part of that day. A drizzle blew into our faces as we sat in our chairs. Anita reached into her bag, found her umbrella, and popped it open. The umbrella was between us, so she couldn’t see the open-mouthed look of incredulity on my face. Score one for the rain, with an assist from Anita. Thus, for the 2007 season, the overall score is:
Will 1, Rain 3.
And, as I finish this post, the rain is gone again. That’s what gets to me — Dublin weather actually gloats.
I wonder whether that banker who lost 20 million dollars did it? Or Sue Ellen? She started drinking again, after all, and she found a gun. And J.R. called her a slut!!!! He insulted her a lot, but if somebody called me a slut…!!! But the writers really want us to think that it’s one of the investors in J.R.’s scheme.
We fetched our chairs from the car and set up on a grassy patch overlooking the cove.
Anita read her book, satisfied with the temp in her black fleece zip-up. I tried to read a local political magazine …but I spent most of my time watching the clouds and hoping that the next patch of blue sky would bring me some warmth.
Here it is, mid-July, and I can’t get warm outdoors! We sleep under two blankets and a comforter. We run the furnace from time to time. This is absurd.