First ride of the year

Kranji, 41 km. This post could've also been titled "dressed up, messed up". "Washed out". "Weather beaten". The day is so sunny, it shouldn't have been necessary to look at the weather radar. But I do. Just a handful of tiny scattered showers, including one patch where I'm going. Surely it'd pitter patter out by the time I get there. I dress up, colour coordinated from headware to socks, sunglasses, arm warmers and sun block. Camera. And a freshly cleaned, lubed drive train.

The grey clouds look down on me and sprinkle some water. I quicken my pace, hoping to ride out from under the cloud cover. It is a tease, it is a trap. When I'm neither here nor there, it pours. I stop at a bus stop.  And wait. A foreign worker from China talks to me and learns something. That taxis with red lights on the top don't stop. His bus comes, he beams and says goodbye. When the rain turns from "pour" to "trickle", I ride. Another trap; it pours again. I stop to eat. The rain trickles, then pours again. I wait no longer; all in all 1.5 hours have gone by in the rain. I'm cold, wet, hungry. I zip up my jersey and blink at the rain stings my eyes.

Is this first ride of the year a harbinger of things to come? Today is the first day of the year and the first day of a new decade. But yesterday is another day, it ended well as the last day of the year and the last day of a decade. Anyway, What's with all this symbolism? Reminds me of my Timor race, where I slipped and fell down the steps before the start of a day's race. "And that will be the last fall of the day," I told my stunned audience. And so it was.