So much rain fell that my wheels made a wake in all the standing water. This morning’s city-sized puddle made for a new record of standing water I’ve seen in Seattle. Even on inclines I passed through enough water for my wheels to spray and ripple through like one giant puddle. For miles I could see a water line in the bike lanes as the curvature of the roads created edge puddles inches deeper than that in the middle. I pedaled along in joy, as the rain beaded up on my jacket and smothered my pants. Even though the drops pounded my face like little daggers falling from the heavens, for the most part it created the feeling of freedom, knowing I could penetrate the wet shield and move forward. It wasn’t until the 7th mile that I felt the cool water seep in through the tiny opening between shoe and pant leg at my ankle. I felt the wet trickle down my ankle to be absorbed by my fleece sock at the bottom of my foot. I felt the fleece sock slowly growing bigger, wetter, and more water logged. When the sock could take no more, I felt the water squish out from under the bottom of my feet with every down stroke. It was the same time that I felt water sneak in to the tiny gap between my gloves and the wrist of my jacket. I felt the water stream down my hand and pool into my palms. Braking distance multiplied by four even though the pressure of my hand squeeze doubled. Other than braking and that last soggy mile, I remained dry, warm, and comfortable the entire ride.

I waxed poetic at length, mesmerized by the wake around my front tire. I considered the alternate concept of wake; the morbid but celebratory vigil for the dead. I decided today’s wake would honor those ancestors who died and provided the fossil fuels to create all the things that made this ride in a downpour so pleasant. I felt so much gratitude for the plastic fender that kept the wake low. I reveled in amazement at how my Title 9 “ColdKiller” nylon/polyester/spandex pants and Pearl Izumi softshell and thinsulate gloves kept me dry and warm without leaving me hot and sweaty. I thanked the stars for my Showers Pass Artex rispstop  jacket that kept all water from touching my skin and somehow kept the sweat out too. I felt gratitude for my Salomon Gore-Tex shoes and Dana-made fleece socks keeping my feet cozy and dry most of the time. I thanked my Pearl Izumi fleece headband, plastic helmet, and plastic helmet cover for keeping my head dry, warm and safe. My lunch and workwear stayed dry thanks to my Ortlieb plastic and 3M Scotchlite panniers. With the exception of the aluminum frame of my bike, I was nearly entirely sounded in materials originated from fossil fuels.

With each ribbon of water I contemplated the circular nature of things. In some small way, the manufacture of each of these helpful items contributed to the global climate change that made today’s rain more like a Rocky Mountain rain than the Northwestern rain the earth here is accustomed to. It is the fact that I work for a living that requires me to purchase all these items, yet the expense of all these items is why I settle for a (higher-paying) job that requires such a commute in a major city. It all comes around. 

Fremont Bridge Bike Counter: 154