Average Speed: 10.5 mph
Distance: 51 miles
Distance Cycled Total: 727.9 miles
Feet climbed: 636.5 (that seems very wrong- I'm positive I did more than that... but that's what it says) ; 33,944.4 total
Difficulty level: Somewhat easy
Let the rain kiss you
Let the rain beat upon your head with silver liquid drops
Let the rain sing you a lullaby
The rain makes still pools on the sidewalk
The rain makes running pools in the gutter
The rain plays a little sleep song on our roof at night
And I love the rain.
-Langston Hughes
For the first thirteen miles, to the town of Ripon, the rain steadily increased in intensity. Normally my mind wanders off, and I don't much focus on the ride itself unless I'm cursing at a steep hill. But the only thing one can think on a bicycle in this kind of weather is Wow. I'm really wet.
I tried to distract myself by reading road signs aloud, practicing the different types of British accents Tracey and I had discussed during my stay in Harrogate (this is as ridiculous as it sounds), but instead I always found myself saying "It's raining!"
I also encountered a brand new challenge, literally fighting through a current of rainwater as it raced downhill, eager to flood the bottom of the road.
All of this might sound bad. But it wasn't. In fact, it wasn't even close to bad. It's easy to be miserable in these types of conditions- too easy. However, nothing is more out of one's
control than the weather. And, while it might take a little more work and mental effort, you may as well enjoy it. The alternative certainly doesn't help.
I crossed paths with about five cyclists today. Every one of them was smiling, and shouting greetings and encouragement from across the road.
I watched a man practice sprints on the main street of his town- back and forth- while I checked maps under a bus shelter. His smile seemed to grow every time he passed, and when I left he stuck up his hand for a high five.
Sure, I would've preferred the sun. Yes, I was looking forward to drying off. Of course, I would've liked to have been able to take more pictures. But no way was I going to let my own misery become another obstacle.
Taking fewer breaks than usual brought me the 51 miles to the town of Hawes faster than it normally would. Hawes is located in the Yorkshire Dales National Park. It's a strange concept to me- that the national parks have normal, populated towns within them- but they're relatively quiet, and attract an older, more mature crowd of tourists.
The "youth hostel," where I was lucky enough to book the last available bed, is full of cyclists and hikers, and I'm among the youngest. There are no drug-induced midnight conversations about whether or not human beings are robots, like there are in the big city hostels. Just people who want to go to bed early and get a jump on the day.
I'm still not quite one of those people though.
Instead, I quickly found a local pub, ate a plate of ribs, and had a refined conversation about cultural differences between Americans and the English with Phillip, Moyra, and Karen, three native Brits on holiday.
As if to counterbalance this, I visited another pub where a raucous crowd was singing karaoke.
They asked me to sing.
So I did.
Although I introduced it as an old American folk song, perhaps I should've reconsidered my song choice of My Ding-a-Ling by Chuck Berry. Normally, it's quite the crowd pleaser! And while about half the pub drunkenly sang along with the chorus, the other half looked on with curious expressions.
"You're not shy then, are ya' mate!" a man said when it was over.
"Not at all!" I replied.
At least I gave them something to talk about tomorrow.
Still, I found a way to nonchalantly sidle out and head back to the hostel, where all my clothes and gear was drying in a heated room.
It'll get wet again tomorrow. And perhaps the day after that.
And while I may not always be able to maintain the same level of optimism as I did today, I can certainly try.
It wasn't a good ride today. It was a great one.
"Rain is always good for someone," Andy had said.
It may as well be you.
P.S.
Difficulty level: Somewhat easy
 |
| Tiny Bicycle Zip-Tied to a Road Sign |
Let the rain kiss you
Let the rain beat upon your head with silver liquid drops
Let the rain sing you a lullaby
The rain makes still pools on the sidewalk
The rain makes running pools in the gutter
The rain plays a little sleep song on our roof at night
And I love the rain.
-Langston Hughes
We knew it was going to rain today.
Andy put things in perspective the night before while sipping on his evening tea.
Andy put things in perspective the night before while sipping on his evening tea.
“Rain is always good for someone. It just might not be you.”
Still, he couldn’t help but choke back laughter when Tracey opened the front door to see me off.
“Sorry, mate.” It was pouring.
“I’m sure it won’t get much worse than this,” all three of us said in some form or another at the same time.
And I was off, momentarily forgetting which side of the road I was supposed to be cycling on (see video).
For the first thirteen miles, to the town of Ripon, the rain steadily increased in intensity. Normally my mind wanders off, and I don't much focus on the ride itself unless I'm cursing at a steep hill. But the only thing one can think on a bicycle in this kind of weather is Wow. I'm really wet.
 |
| Ripon |
I also encountered a brand new challenge, literally fighting through a current of rainwater as it raced downhill, eager to flood the bottom of the road.
All of this might sound bad. But it wasn't. In fact, it wasn't even close to bad. It's easy to be miserable in these types of conditions- too easy. However, nothing is more out of one's
 |
| A momentary break in the rain |
I crossed paths with about five cyclists today. Every one of them was smiling, and shouting greetings and encouragement from across the road.
I watched a man practice sprints on the main street of his town- back and forth- while I checked maps under a bus shelter. His smile seemed to grow every time he passed, and when I left he stuck up his hand for a high five.
Sure, I would've preferred the sun. Yes, I was looking forward to drying off. Of course, I would've liked to have been able to take more pictures. But no way was I going to let my own misery become another obstacle.
The "youth hostel," where I was lucky enough to book the last available bed, is full of cyclists and hikers, and I'm among the youngest. There are no drug-induced midnight conversations about whether or not human beings are robots, like there are in the big city hostels. Just people who want to go to bed early and get a jump on the day.
I'm still not quite one of those people though.
 |
| "Everybody now! My ding-a-ling! My ding-a-ling!" |
Instead, I quickly found a local pub, ate a plate of ribs, and had a refined conversation about cultural differences between Americans and the English with Phillip, Moyra, and Karen, three native Brits on holiday.
As if to counterbalance this, I visited another pub where a raucous crowd was singing karaoke.
They asked me to sing.
So I did.
Although I introduced it as an old American folk song, perhaps I should've reconsidered my song choice of My Ding-a-Ling by Chuck Berry. Normally, it's quite the crowd pleaser! And while about half the pub drunkenly sang along with the chorus, the other half looked on with curious expressions.
"You're not shy then, are ya' mate!" a man said when it was over.
"Not at all!" I replied.
 |
| THIS BEER SPONSORED BY MOM-TO-BE STEPHANIE BYRNE! CLICK HERE TO SPONSOR A BEER! |
At least I gave them something to talk about tomorrow.
Still, I found a way to nonchalantly sidle out and head back to the hostel, where all my clothes and gear was drying in a heated room.
It'll get wet again tomorrow. And perhaps the day after that.
And while I may not always be able to maintain the same level of optimism as I did today, I can certainly try.
It wasn't a good ride today. It was a great one.
"Rain is always good for someone," Andy had said.
It may as well be you.
P.S.
If you think for one second I would stick my head in one of those stupid
tourist cutouts, and ask someone to take a picture...
You'd be absolutely right.
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