promises of portland

Like any good cyclist, I have dreams of Portland, OR.
Never mind that I've never been there, or that I hate rain, or that a city overflowing with cyclists is more than a little bit intimidating. It's the ultimate destination for anyone who is completely obsessed with cycling, even if, like me, they can barely stay on a bike.
I've been having doubts about the rain, though. Because lately, Boston feels like PDX.

There was a weekend and a day of sunshine, and now it's back to unusually low temperatures with accompanying rain. Which should mean more preparation to just get to work. But have I told you that I'm incredibly lazy? Because when it starts to drizzle, then rain, I'll foolishly choose to bike through it, even with a raincoat in my bag.
"It's not that bad," I kept telling myself. Then 4/5s of the way there, it finally dawned on me. It's fucking raining. Not like showers, or drizzle, but straight up motherfucking rain. And I was drenched.

Barely able to keep a decent grip on slippery brakes and hoods [gloves, like chamois shorts, are yet another item on the "to purchase" list that consistently gets deprioritized for bike parts], I attempted to wipe my hands on a damp t-shirt while sliding around the Public Garden. Goosebumps were running up and down my arms and water was dripping down from my elbows. Great.
I arrived at work, cold, wet, and already miserable. Coffee hit the spot and once again I was grateful to be changing into a long sleeved shirt. Sheltered for most of the day behind a desk, I headed out to the gym under suspiciously gray skies. And once again, emerged from an intensely sweaty run to a sky that had turned blue and clear, the weather dry but cool. Perfect bike riding weather, in fact, if my legs weren't already dead.

Maybe this is just a preview of a future in Portland. Maybe the powers that be are conditioning me for the rainy, seemingly schizophrenic weather way out west. One can only hope, I suppose.
In the meantime, it's July. Can we get to the part where the sun's shining and it's not pouring every other day?

storming through

There were some crazy thunderstorms this morning. Like the kind where lightning flashes blindingly bright followed by a shaking crash of thunder and you wonder if the world is ending.
It's funny how the weather reflects your mood sometimes.
Although the thunderstorm this morning is more reflective of yesterday where everything seemed to go wrong. I locked myself out of my apartment by accident, headed to work late as a result, and battled two paragraphs of a gigantic appellate brief for...8 hours.

It was the first time I nearly cried at work. I know how cliche [and consequently, lame] that sounds. I managed to check the tears, but ended up spending three minutes [three whole minutes] with arms crossed, pouting furiously in the bathroom.
And when 5pm came around, I was completely worn down. But on the way home, someone drew up alongside me, and surprise, surprise, it was Mr. Croth. I hadn't seen him in forever, and chatting while riding with him [my first time, ever] definitely lightened my mood.

It was a hint of a much better end of the day that I was hesitant to anchor a definite hope on. But like the currently clear skies after the thunderstorm from hell, riding out to run some errands, I ran into two people who I only know through this blog [I ran into one twice!]. Which, of course, made me smile. And finally arriving home, I shrieked a little in joy when I found a slim package waiting for me, from Portland.
But that's for tomorrow. For now, I'm out to get coffee while the skies are still a little bit clear.