Ballets in the rain

Few steps outside the door with a snapping tater of my shoes bring me to grips with the seconds-minutes-hours that are going to be spent in the saddle.  Feeling a few drops of crisp water shutter against my face, I don’t think twice about being a tough guy and put the rain shell jacket on.  Shortly after those same drops of mist turn into ballets of rain that could be found on a sheet of music paper, everything is coated in sleek clear coat saliva.  The submission of water starts to fill my shorts and leg warmers revealing my brown skin underneath.  The cold weather didn’t bother at first but when you feel like the cold is about to seep into the mind, the pedal rotations begins to be pick up.

Warm feeling is supplied by the circulatory system, the rythme and beats of the heart begin to make your mood that much sharper to the sensations all around you. 

Grunts that never echo back are the constant reminder to you as to why we do this to our selves.  Many thoughts and reasons but mainly today was adding that card to the deck.

Always checking over your shoulder for cars is a known fact when riding in this weather we call rain.  Even with lights you can’t begin to trust a soul only thou. 

Sniffs of new sensations hitting the pits in the  nostril appear to be fresh and wondering if there is more fresh soil and grit of earth around.  Different moments occur when seeing soybeans and crops turning colors from green-yellow-brown.

 Is fall coming? 

The rows engraved into the farmed landscape -stands best viewed when wet by this rain.  The road is mostly red and brown with the hints of black-n-grey amongst it all.  Riding that white line and just inside of it is comical in such away that avoiding pedals and rocks isn’t the slightest of worries.  Riding that white line brought me to Lawrence and back home.