It's Not the Boom That Kills You
I woke up to the sound of the rain on the roof.
Then there was a roll of thunder off in the distance.
Then there was the nervous padding of my parents' large yellow lab, who happens to be afraid of thunder.
I kitted up anyway, and ate my pre-ride sandwich while contemplating the folly of my intended actions. The rain slacked, and I loaded up the bike and started to drive out to the Parkway.
That's when I noticed the lightning. The clouds and fog made it more of a glow than a flash, but counting the time between the lightning and thunder made it clear the storm was pretty much over my head. I waited for 30 minutes, then turned around for home when it didn't look like it would end.
Halfway home, it stopped.
I drove to the Parkway again.
Lightning lit up the sky around me.
I threw in the towel.
As much as I enjoy riding, dodging lightning on the crest of the Blue Ridge is not my idea of fun. So, a day that I intended to get in some miles became a rest day. Not the end of the world.
There will be other days.
Then there was a roll of thunder off in the distance.
Then there was the nervous padding of my parents' large yellow lab, who happens to be afraid of thunder.
I kitted up anyway, and ate my pre-ride sandwich while contemplating the folly of my intended actions. The rain slacked, and I loaded up the bike and started to drive out to the Parkway.
That's when I noticed the lightning. The clouds and fog made it more of a glow than a flash, but counting the time between the lightning and thunder made it clear the storm was pretty much over my head. I waited for 30 minutes, then turned around for home when it didn't look like it would end.
Halfway home, it stopped.
I drove to the Parkway again.
Lightning lit up the sky around me.
I threw in the towel.
As much as I enjoy riding, dodging lightning on the crest of the Blue Ridge is not my idea of fun. So, a day that I intended to get in some miles became a rest day. Not the end of the world.
There will be other days.
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