MuddySweaty

Last night was a muddy, sweaty night.

Toronto had a record level of rainfall yesterday (at the airport, anyway).  I rode my bike home from work just as the rain was stopping.  I arrived at the house splashed with mud.  I grabbed my sailing kit, ate a frozen burrito (after heating it), got changed into shorts and a tshirt, and rushed out the door.

Twenty minutes later I arrived at my sailing club, splashed with mud that now had a solid foundation of sweat.  I checked my Blackberry just as an email arrived from the sailing club:  Events were cancelled due to the threat of lightning along with the complete and utter lack of wind.

I got back on my bike and headed home.  ½ way there, I remembered that I’d offered to investigate some things for my friend Rox, so I made a detour.  I made my way back through downtown, splashing and weaving my way through the gridlock.  I do love the flexibility and efficiency of a bicycle. As I locked up my bike and entered the office building, I realized that when I scratched my face I flicked mud off.  Gross.

I went inside and got what I needed, and headed back out into the humid evening.

Another 20-minute ride got me home.  I walked inside, peeled off a disgusting layer of sodden brown-camouflage, and showered for the 3^rd time that day.  I was specked with mud from head to toe.

I live in a large city.  I DON'T get that dirty.  EVER.  This was weird, and not particularly good.

This morning when I was ready to have a nice dry ride to work, I got a good look at my bike.  It as filthy, looking as if I’d just finished an off-road adventure.  A quick wipedown fixed it, but I don’t think I’ve seen a bike that muddy since I was a kid.