Safely over the mountains

If you've kept with the weather in this part of the world at all, you know that this weekend has been wild to say the least. Tornadoes, storms, thunder, we've seen it all. Fortunately for husband-dear and I, this weekend was a "recovery weekend", i.e., a weekend where training is reduced just a little to give one's body time to rest. So this meant that when scheduling our bike ride, we only had to find a two-hour window with limited rain and winds, as opposed to a four or even five-hours window. And we had it all figured out. Saturday morning from 8-10am was going to be ideal. A thirty percent chance of rain, some cloud cover, and 70F. Ideal for cycling. It was going to be great. Just like that one time we were convinced that 35F was a fine temperature to ride if only you dressed warmly enough. Or that one time we were sure we knew where we were running to in a strange city. Whenever we use the word ideal, you all need to start worrying. But, as usual, we were completely oblivious.

So off we went. And the first eight or nine miles were promising. Light wind, nice temperature, a little sprinkle, but all in all, we were happy. Well, as happy as one can be when trying to push one's average speed up over 17mph, but happy nonetheless. Then, for a mile or two, the sprinkle turned into a brief, but torrential downpour. Glasses were put into pockets, feet were unclipped to shake water out of shoes, and then the rain stopped. We cruised along, and conquered the infamous four-minute-straight-climb hill about thirteen miles south of our house.

If there's one interesting climatological feat about our town it's that we've never been hit by a tornado. It came very close about three years ago, when clouds were funneling right over our subdivision, but nothing ever touched down. And as any tornado-alley resident will tell you, it ain't a tornado until it's touched down. Anyway, although a major tornado devastated a town south of us a few years ago and several tornadoes have ravaged several state parks not too far north of here, our town has always been spared. It could have something to do with the fact that it's on a plateau. Or perhaps it's because there's a lot of water around, I'm not sure. But the bottom line is, I have never really had to worry about tornadoes down here.

Well, until today.
As we were whipping down the four-minute hill, the wind suddenly picked up. And then it changed direction. And then it changed direction again (nothing like riding a bike with tires as wide as your thumb to make you aware of the wind). Folks, that is not a good sign. When the sky suddenly turned to lead, the fuzzies on the back of my neck woke up hard. I looked to my right, and noticed thick clouds sinking low to the ground, swirling and swirling around. If a change in wind direction is bad, people, swirling clouds are double plus bad. So I sped up, caught up with husband-dear and said, "Do you remember what to do when you're caught outside in a tornado?"
"Sure. Lie down in a ditch, right?"
"Yes. Good." I pointed to the right.
"Oh. That's not good."
"No, it's not."

But, you know, you're on a bike, thirteen miles from home, out in the country, and there's not a house in sight. So what can you do but cycle home? Nothing, obviously, so that's what we did.

We took a right, and the cloud cover lifted a little, as did our fears. The wind died down too, and we turned on our afterburners. But then we came upon an intersection, and suddenly the sky opened. Rain came pouring down, drenching us in seconds. Even worse, husband-dear pointed to the sky across the road, where the clouds had dropped to just above the trees. You didn't need to be a storm chaser to recognize the funnel clearly forming among the dark grey clouds.

"Oh $%^&" I said.
"Yeah." Husband-dear nodded his agreement, "Let's get out of here."
Peddling as though our lives depended on it, we took off down the road. The wind picked up again, and buffeted us left, right, left, and pretty much all over the road. Husband-dear kept looking behind him, and at one point shouted over the road of the wind, "Make sure you keep listening for the siren!"
The tornado siren, people. That's one piece of advice I really didn't want to hear.
"OK." I was wet, cold, and so worried the wind was going to blow me off the road, I held on to my bike for dear life, "I'm kind of scared."
"Me too." That's also not the kind of response you want from your fearless better half.

So I did what any other person would do when trying to ride as fast as they could, while fighting the wind, rain, and running from a possible tornado, I recited Habakkuk 3:19.  Shelly once taught me this verse on a very intense 5k, and explained how that was "her" PT verse when she was at the academy. The parts referring to the "speed of a deer" seemed especially applicable, as I really just wanted to be home right then and there. Now you may not be religious, but let me tell you, there's nothing like feeling as though you're riding for your life to have you consider your celestial options. I might have also sung a little, anything to keep me focused on just riding home.

Well, as I am currently comfortably seated behind my laptop, you can all surmise there was no tornado. And there wasn't. It never formed. The rain did turn to hail for a few miles, which was just lovely, but I will take hail over a tornado any day.

Should we have gone out to ride today? Probably not. Will this stop us from going out during bad weather again? Probably. Does that make us slightly insane? Definitely.