Every day is a test

Despite the soggy path, it was pleasant riding through the woods after leaving Cecina

Today was supposed to be an easy one. A 57 km ride down the coast from Cecina to Follonica, but nature has a way of humbling us. Every day is a test. A physical one. And a mental one.

I awoke to rain. I delayed my departure, hoping that most of the rain would pass. I played that well, because when I left Cecina the rain had stopped.

My cycle map took me on a dirt path through a wooded area for about seven kilometres, before directing me to a busy two-lane road. It was here the rain started. I tried dodging the large puddles, but there was little I could do to prevent being sprayed by passing cars.

As I neared San Vincenzo, not quite halfway, the rain grew more intense. I was already soaked, but I was looking for a place to get out of the wet for a bit. I passed an abandoned building and thought about turning around but continued. Then, I spotted a small bus shelter.

Marcus and I seeking shelter from the rain

While waiting for the rain to end, I decided to eat my lunch, which consisted of small pieces of ham (that looked like raw meat), a banana, and some protein infused yogurt. Sometimes, you can't be discerning about meal choices.

The sky was dark and angry. I tried to figure out which way the anger was going. It was coming toward me. The rain grew heavier, and the wind directed it sideways into the shelter. Imagine a tropical rain without the tropical temperature.

I was cold, wet, and shivering. I was looking forward to a warm shower when I got to my hotel (sometimes, writers use a narrative device called foreshadowing. This might be one of those times). The sky was a mess of gray with no cloud breaks. But I knew it wouldn't last forever. I thought of the lyrics from one of my favourite singer songwriters, Dermot Kennedy.  

The rain, it ain't permanent
And soon, we'll be dancin' (or cycling) in the sun
We'll be dancin' in the sun

I'd been at the bus stop for more than hour when I caught sight of a small break in the clouds. But the end of the storm was vengeful, as a torrent of water poured from the sky.

And then it ended. Thes storm moved on, to unleash its fury elsewhere. I stashed my rain jacket, hopped on my bike and headed out of San Vincenzo. One challenge was replaced by another. I struggled to pedal into a strong headwind, which grew stronger when I came out into an open plain. I was now sparring with the wind. Anticipating a gust, I'd duck to avoid a jab.

Three cyclists together passed me going the opposite direction. They were smiling and yelled, “Ciao”, from the other side of the road. Yah, they were smiling because they had the wind at their backs.

The long tree-lined driveway of Donna Olimpia Winery caught my eye

Head down. I pushed on, pulling inspiration from a heart shaped stress ball that Carrie snuck into my bag. Written on the ball: We love you. Just keep pedaling. And so I did.

Nearing Follonica, I stopped at a small pullout and studied the information sign. The road I was cycling on was the route of the Via Aurelia, built in 241 BC, to connect Rome and Pisa. Typically, the Romans built roads in straight lines. Look at a map today and you'll see these ancient routes. And when you see them, you can't unsee them. London-Canterbury-Dover for example, or the straight roads that radiate like spokes on a bicycle wheel from Amiens and other cities in France. I was oblivious that the 30km I rode from San Vincenzo to Follonica was on a straight road.  

Once inside my hotel room, I turned on the shower. The water was cold. I turned the handle the other way. Still cold. I waited a few minutes. Still cold. That warm shower I was looking forward to would have to wait. And just like my lunch, sometimes you can't be discerning about the hotel rooms you choose.

After the cold shower, I dried off, put my Seek Discomfort t-shirt on (which seemed appropriate for today), and went out for a walk along the beach.   

The reward at the end of the day is a pizza and an Aperol Spritz