So, I had a full week and a half of epic bicycle riding, including riding our entire trail system one day (22 miles round trip) and lots of quick trips here and there. And then it started to rain. Let me clarify, the skies opened up and we had torrential downpours, severe thunderstorms and flash flooding. The rain started last week on Wednesday (we rode Tuesday) and won’t be completely gone until this upcoming weekend. That’s right, a solid 10 days of a 30% or higher chance of rain every single day.
Now, I would LOVE to say I’m one of those people who can ride in the rain and NOT get wet. I’m not.
No, I’m one of the people who is instantly waterlogged and invariably get soaked, muddy and end up looking like a drowned sewer rat basically. Now, fast forward to Friday, my husband is getting sicker by the day, and I’m right behind him. By Saturday I was laid out , sicker than a dog , sleeping 12-16 hours in the day. And then there is this week.
I know, it’s ridiculous right? If nothing else, I was able to ride for a bit yesterday, at least as far as the 3rd flooded area of the bike trails were concerned.
Maybe I should look at this like divine intervention, because lord knows, worse things could happen than losing a day of riding!
South Dakota in the Spring
Home: The sprawling South Dakota plains. When I think of Home, I think of lazy days laying in the grass, staring at the clouds as they roll by, looking across a farmer’s field into the horizon, with nothing to obscure my vision other than the gently swaying stalks of corn. This isn’t to say that my literal home is in the country, it’s actually in the city, but to me, home is more than four walls, it’s a state of mind, and mine will forever be the plains in their constant state of growth and change.
Soil: Squishing it between my hands in a garden, hoping that what I plant will be able to grow, feeling the coolness of it against my feet as I wash my dogs in the yard during the summer, turning it to mud as they avoid the hose for the rinse cycle. Ending as a crust around my feet, between my toes, until I wash it away with the cool stream from the hose, jumping as the cold water hits the tender skin on the tops of my feet.
Rain: What we don’t have enough of anymore. Rain brings me memories of splashing in the gutters, half remembering to avoid glass bottles that could be broken, half in the moment as it falls around me in waves. Memories of kissing my husband outside his mother’s house after watching him perform in a high school play, me wearing his hooded sweatshirt with a tribal emblem on it (this is significant because this was 12 years ago and I remember it like it was yesterday). Shivering as my temperature drops, but staying outside as long as possible under the cleansing drops. My arms are outstretched and I twirl in the rain, my head facing the sky as I give thanks for its cooling mist falling around me. Driving through puddles and watching the water cascade over the passenger window of the car.