Promises Bent

I don't like to complain. Really, I don't. I much prefer when everything is perfect and I don't have to say anything negative about anything, because there is nothing that anybody could possibly say negative about anything ... it's just that darned completely wonderful.

But, weather in winter in middle Tennessee being what it is, what it is is not exactly wonderful. We get close, and we've been getting some forecasts that'll get you all excited about getting outside, but it definitely misses the mark.

Maybe it's because the mark for me was Naples last winter, and I'm spoiled. Actually, change that "maybe" ... it's gotta be that, since this didn't used to bother me as much. When I lived here before, I was used to "making do" with days that were cold and windy, but at least it was dry. Or there were days that were warmer, but wet and windy.

"One out of three ain't bad," as Meatloaf once sang. It was on an album that only had one good side, however.

My complaint, however, is primarily around the weather forecasting lately. Saturday was supposed to be warmer, and I was looking forward to a 200K in Memphis that was only "cool" and breezy. What I got was cold and breezy, however. Sunday, RandoGirl, Jeff Bauer, and I went out for a ride that was supposed to be just cool and breezy, but it rained on us.

The weather people were all talking this morning about how freaky warm it was supposed to be today: 70 degrees and sunny, although there would be a stiff 15 mph wind out of the south.

Does this look sunny to you?

I went out planning to ride 65 miles with a group from the Harpeth Bike Club that gets together most Tuesday and Thursday mornings. I got out a little late and missed them at the start, but instead ran into Vida Greer and Tom Gates. We had a nice ride up Stillhouse Hollow and Big East Fork Road, then came back on Hester Beasley. It was there that I noticed the bicycle-lawn mowers in a yard that seemed otherwise full of junk. 

Vida and Tom had other commitments, so I left them in Pasquo and suffered my way south into the nasty wind. Still feeling pretty fresh, I pushed further south on Carter's Creek, finally taking my nose out of the breeze to go climb Perkins.

The regular bits of drizzle had ended by the time I got to Leiper's Fork, and bits of blue sky were showing when I turned off on Bailey.

There was even a little family that had steeled themselves against the elements, and came out to cheer me on.

Maybe it was a nuclear family.