The ride in today was cool and wet and gray. I tried to think positive thoughts but everytime I did I was confronted with cool and wet and gray. Cool and wet and gray doesn’t float my proverbial boat. I did finally get a bit of a treat for all the gloom. As I was about to leave the troll bridge (underneath the supremely ugly TR Bridge) I spotted a large great blue heron on the river bank below. It was tucked in, not stalking for food like a praying mantis with feathers. It was one colorful bird. I decided not to take a picture to leave it in peace.
The ride home was something else all together. The gloom and wet of the morning had given way to dry air and tropical strorm force winds. Once I made the descent to the Mount Vernon Trail I felt a force like an enormous hand on the middle of my back. It started pushing me with all its might. I was barely pedalling and going 17 miles per hour.
Occasionally there would be gusts. At one point opposite the Washington Monument a massive gust shoved me forward. I yelled “WOW” and started laughing. A man on a CaBi tank bike came zooming past. He had spun out and was sitting straight up using his body as a sail. Margaret Hamilton, phone home.
I had to follow the path due west at the airport. Now my tailwind was a side wind. I leaned into it and rode on a slant for a couple hundred yards. When I climbed up from under the Woodrow Wilson Bridge I was again heading west. The sound wall to my right was creating a funnel for the wind. My speed slowed to 4 miles per hour and I was doing everything I could to keep moving. Dang!
South of the Beltway I encountered tree limb after tree limb. Debris was falling out of the trees all around. As the comedian Ron White says about hurricanes, “It’s not THAT the wind is blowing, it’s WHAT the wind is blowing.”
I pulled into my yard and began to ride around the side of the house when I spotted several small logs on the ground. They appeared to be part of a large rotten limb that had snapped off a tree and shattered on impact with the ground.
There’s a hell of a lot more blowin’ in the wind than answers.