By Erica

This Sunday started out so beautifully.   Camila, Eileen, Chris & I participated in Moving 4 Mental Health, a benefit 5k for Chrysalis, a wonderful non-profit that helps people with mental illnesses transition to jobs within the community. The morning was a little chilly, but I still wore shorts and was a bit overheated in my long sleeve shirt.

We had a 60 mile ride planned for later in the day, and because of a spin instructor meeting that I had at 2pm, we started at 2:30.  It was in the low to mid fifties when we began, so we were all wearing long sleeves and spandex pants under our bike shorts.  The first 30 miles to New Glarus were normal and fun. The sun never really came out, but the weather report said there was only a 20% of rain.  Chance was not in our favor, though, and about 35 miles into our ride, it started drizzling.  Then it started raining. Then it started pouring.  By the time we got to Paoli, about 15 miles from home, we were all wet rats.  (Impressively, wet rat Chris managed to patch a leaking tube in the rain.)  One of our crew bailed and called his wife to pick him up.  Chris, Camila, Eileen and I, though, decided to bike the rest of the way home. I was cold, but still laughing.  By the time we were 10 miles from Madison, though, I was not laughing.  I couldn’t feel my feet or my hands.  To shift gears, I batted blindly at my shifters, knocking my bike to the side more often than successfully shifting.  I don’t even know how I got through the last bit of the ride. Going down a curvy hill, I remember thinking “Wow, this seems dangerous but I’m too cold to actually process what’s going on enough to be scared.”

I had parked my car by the entrance to the arboretum, which is our usual pre-ride meeting place.  When I got back to it, the rain was still pouring down.  As I searched for my keys, I realized that my fingers were too frozen to be dextrous enough to turn the key and open the door.  I managed to get it open after a few tries, though, and somehow got my bike into my car.  During the short the drive home, the local classic rock station played “Glory Days” by Bruce Springsteen. 

When I got into my house, I started having full body convulsions.  I peeled off my wet layers, stuffed my bike shoes with newspaper to dry them, and shoved myself into the shower.  I don’t like taking long showers (water waste, time waste), but I told myself that I’d stay in until I could feel my extremities.  This took about 15 long minutes. 

Despite staying in for the rest of the night, wrapped in fleecy layers and my down comforter, I was still recovering psychologically the next morning.  I looked out the window at the gray skies, and the thought of biking to work sent a shiver down my spine despite the fact that it wasn’t raining anymore.  I took the bus to the office that day.