Taking a day off after a hard week in the saddle is always rough on me. Once I take a minute to rest, it seems everything creaks and clicks until I throw a leg over the top tube again. After four great days in the saddle, we had a rain day on Wednesday. Plus a cycling club board meeting, plus a meeting-meeting… and we had to fit my birthday dinner in there somewhere, too.

Now, this wasn’t a “maybe I’ll go out and play in the light rain on my gravel bike” kind of rain. This was torrential, with lightning and rumbling thunder. It decided to let loose on us at exactly the right time, on the best day possible.

It was supposed to rain again the following day, and there was plenty of rain south of us, but somehow we stayed dry. After planning on taking the day off, I had a chance to ride, so I obviously took it.

I spent the first half of the ride fighting a little breeze and wondering if I was going to get soaked – and I almost turned it into a ten-mile time trial just to make sure I got a ride in. Once I got rolling, though, I just wasn’t feeling another hard ride. I tried to will it to happen, but there simply wasn’t enough want to. I couldn’t get there.

I settled on going out till it sprinkled, if it sprinkled, then I’d head straight back if it did.

Not a drop.

I just rode, trying not to bother with looking at the head unit. I didn’t want to bother with speed or average. And it was wonderful. I pulled into the driveway with some miles and an average, but I don’t even remember what the final numbers were, and I’m not going to look them up. It was just a bike ride. I love it when that happens.

And so it was.

Sometimes those are the best. When you can just get lost in the pedaling and the whisper-quiet feedback of the tires on the asphalt… then you notice the breeze and the birds chirping in the background… and everything slows down… and you get lost for long enough that it builds on your love of cycling.