Like a virga

4 03 2011

It’s that awkward time of year, when the weather can be your friend one moment, and your mortal enemy the next.

Today is one of those days.

For the time being it’s dry, and I’m itching to ride. But the forecast calls for showers starting a bit later. When exactly? Well, they’re not being very precise.

What to do? What to do?

Check the online forecasts.

They say the showers will likely start by 1 p.m. It’s also cool; but that’s not a deal breaker. I can dress for cool. But cool and showers aren’t much fun.

How about the wind?

When it’s cool, and threatening showers, wind IS a deal breaker. I don’t much enjoy riding in the wind at the best of times. Riding in a cold, wet wind is just no fun at all. Unless I’m in Flanders. Then it’s a badge of honour.

The trees and bushes outside in the courtyard aren’t swaying, but the online forecast says the winds are 20 kmh, a stiff breeze in anyone’s book.

Maybe if it’s this hard to decide, it’s a sign I shouldn’t ride?

So I shifted gears and went out for a 35 minute run.

It was cool, and when I hit the boardwalk, my ears were whistling from the breeze that was indeed zooming down the river at a brisk clip.

The feeble sun was slowly being swallowed by clouds advancing from the west. And from those clouds I’m sure I could see some virga (yes, in another life, I would be a weather forecaster).

It's March, but the weather is hardly palm-worthy.

A 35 minute run is nowhere near as great as a four-hour ride, but at least it’s something. I still can’t help but feeling like a bit of a wimp. I hope I made the right decision.

Let it rain.