I wake up feeling an uncontrollable urge to pedal.
Motivated by the reading, the previous night, of bold adventures of cyclists who outdo themselves after overcoming all sorts of obstacles, I get up determined to join this sort of crusade of courage, physical resistance and fearlessness.
However, right from the start I encounter the unforeseen realization that it’s raining.
But, then, I tell myself, “That’s the challenge!” I’ve already heard the defense of pedaling in the cold, I’ve already commented on pedaling on the water, I constantly read reports of pedaling in deserts, on mountains, under the hardest conditions, so pedaling in the rain is a piece of cake.
Comforted by this thought, I take my hooded rubbery cape, put on some waterproof shoes and voilá! I feel ready to enjoy some pedaling in the rain.
I take my bicycle and get to the gate of my house whistling “Singing in the Rain”.
In the street, maybe because it’s Saturday and the day is cloudy and rainy, there’s little traffic.
A few cars, just some sparse pedestrians walking under their umbrellas.
Even though the rain isn’t heavy, the humidity is high, typical of our town, and, as always, it’s unpleasant.
Well, all that I can do is to get on the bicycle and pedal away.
It’s at this moment that I realize that I don’t have a definite destination.
What had moved me, till that moment, was simply the desire to pedal without further consideration.
Now, however, the lack of a clearer goal paralyses me.
I also start to notice that my bicycle doesn’t have any kind of protection. It’s going to get wet and, since it doesn’t have any fenders, the wheels are going to splash water up.
Maybe I should install some proper system.
None of this, I try to convince myself, can stop me.
Not even the smell of percolated coffee that comes from inside the house, or the recollection that the fireplace was still lit.
On the other hand, I can’t move, as if I am frozen.
I start to deal a very short route with myself, a ride around the block perhaps. Just to feel the taste of pedaling in the rain.
That’s what I’m ready to do when, taken by an impulse as sudden as the one that made me decide to go out, I give up the idea and go back inside.
Of course I’m not very comfortable, a feeling of guilt running through my thoughts.
But it doesn’t last long.
When I get to the kitchen I hear:
- Where were you? Coffee is ready, it’s going to get cold… and I cling, at this moment, to the certainty that I had done the right thing.
Cold coffee, let’s face it, is not tasty at all.
