When you start riding at 5:30am in a heavy downpour with 30mph wind gusts...on a Sunday, you know you are going to an organized ride. When you see dozens of other riders on the streets with you, you know it's because they are going to the same ride as you...and that they are only going because they paid for it.
Beautiful start to #EmeraldCityRide! A little light rain isn’t gonna stop us! pic.twitter.com/UDQ0CrvpJq
— Cascade Bicycle Club (@CascadeBicycle) April 8, 2018
We started out wet and chilly. My Showers Pass jacket lost its waterproofing, so I layered another rain jacket underneath...that also lost it's waterproofing. My right arm has streams of water running down my sleeves within moments. I tried to prevent my Reynaud's fingers from acting up by lining my thick winter gloves with hand warmers, even though the 45 degree temp didn't call for that much warmth. It didn't work. Water soaked through to my hands and my precious shifting digits went numb before I even got to the start. Abby didn't have shoe booties and struggled having the same disappointing jacket as me. Bryant had a better jacket, but didn't seem to be any more comfortable. The cluster of a start line didn't know anything about our "souvenir" tickets and lacked the breakfast-y food options I planned for. What were we doing?
The the road started. Riding up the SR-99 viaduct opened up into quintessential Seattle; rain, ferries, the big wheel, The Space Needle (complete with construction), construction cranes as far as the eye could see, sea gulls, Elliott bay. We reveled in the glory of riding on a wide, smooth carless road. What would it be like to commute to downtown, safe from hazards and with views of the Olympic Mountains?
We rode up Aurora Avenue, crossing the Aurora Bridge. This infamous bridge is known for the tragic tour bus collision of 2015 and the bus driver shooting of 1998. Judging by it's outdated design, I can only assume many more died less sensationally over this bridge. On a bike, the bridge felt pleasant and delightful. The road seemed more accommodating on a bike than it does in a car.
Then, it was onto the I-5 express lanes. As we rode of the ramp during Emerald CIty's inaugural ride, I only felt tingling sensations of splendor with increasing magnitude. Today's express lane experience couldn't have felt more opposite. The cold wind howled. Water dumped in regular breaks from the breaks in the bridge above. The dismal view gave nothing to the spirit. And it just kept climbing. The deafening sound from cars on the freeway hurt to listen to.
Then we hopped into the tunnel. Fun again! Hoots and hollers, call and response, bells dinging. I even caught a guy writing graffiti in the soot of the tunnel walls. The day increasingly improved from here. The spirits of each Wooleater lifted. We crossed the finish line, and started the ride all over again. More people seemed to be starting the ride than when we started the first time. The sky got a little brighter, the air got a little warmer, and we started having a lot more fun.
