A Very British Summer Spin.

Today, my cycling club's road ride was, shall we say, "postponed" thanks to a rather enthusiastic downpour and the distant grumbling of thunder. But me? I was up, I was ready, and by God, my bike was coming with me. So, with a defiant sniff at the weather gods, off I pedaled to HQ.

The rain wasn't just rain; it was a biblical deluge, rendering my sunglasses about as useful as a chocolate teapot. I decided to improvise my route, a spontaneous adventure, as one does when the world is dissolving around them. From Club HQ, I aimed vaguely in the direction of Lichfield, picturing a warm, dry coffee stop in "Lichvegas." A grand plan, until I realized the rain had lovingly penetrated every single one of my carefully chosen layers, turning a potential coffee break into an exercise in hypothermia. No, thank you.

En route to Lichfield, I navigated what could only be described as pop-up lakes on the main roads. Lichfield itself offered a brief respite before I decided to meander through its more residential nooks and crannies, eventually finding myself at the base of Abnalls Lane. Now, Abnalls uphill is a bit of a beast on a good day. On a day when the sky is actively trying to drown you, it's an outright survival mission. At one point, I swore the road surface was wriggling. Turns out, it was just thousands of tiny frogs, all hopping in the same direction, presumably off to their own froggy convention. I pedaled carefully, sincerely hoping none of them ended up as unexpected tire adornments.

The rain briefly downgraded to a drizzle, lulling me into a false sense of security, before the heavens staged an even more dramatic encore. Twenty miles in, with a delightful cocktail of rain and sweat stinging my eyes, I conceded defeat and pointed my trusty steed homeward.

Upon arriving, I performed the classic "wet room striptease," a delicate dance of peeling off sopping layers. My clothes were not just damp; they were utterly waterlogged, and my shoes? Let's just say they were less "shoes" and more "personal aquariums." I'm fairly certain they'll be staging a full-scale olfactory rebellion in the coming days.

Everything went straight into the washing machine, and I finally collapsed, ready to bask in the glorious afterglow of my self-inflicted epic.

As I gracefully (and ever so slightly creakily) age, I've come to a profound realization: time is precious. I could have spent this rainy day cooped up at home, doing precisely bugger all. Or, I could get out and fill my time with life. There will be plenty of time for "bugger all" when my body finally raises the white flag of surrender.

MMMMMMM? maybe if the rain continues.

Abnalls the wrong way in the rain.

Today, I filled three rainy hours with life. Life on a bicycle, tasting the surprisingly sweet essence of a summer downpour. What better way to spend a day?

Lichfield rd floods

Lichvegas housing estate tour.

How to read a garmin in the rain.