I exited my house this morning with high hopes.
Hope that the grey sky was just that, grey.
Hope that the wind howling at my window would subside once I got into the valley.
Hope that I had dressed right for the occasion and that my vacation hadn't killed the brain cell responsible for dressing me in the morning.
Hope can be such a silly belief that everything is going to be alright. And why was hope the only good thing trapped in Pandora's box with all the evil in the world? Is it because Hope is just as dangerous?
The rain let loose from the grey sky 3 blocks from my house.
The wind stayed as constant and pushed the rain into my face.
My brain cell didn't stand a chance this past week and I was adding layers 4 blocks from my house.
Despite this I continued to turn my pedals and maintained a silly satisfaction from riding my bike...until...2 miles from work, my Sidi moisture defense barrier was finally breached. It doesn't matter how far you ride...the minute your feet are drowning so is your motivation.
I just hope they dry out by the time I ride home.