Lightning, no. Hail, yes.

They say that lightning doesn’t strike the same place twice. Apparently the same saying doesn’t apply to hail. I was having a lovely ride on a slightly warm day with beautiful blue skies and lots of big puffy clouds. I got just about to the point near Burden Lake where last I was assailed by very large, very painful hail, and started to feel some drops. Looked up to find the only angry cloud within view (granted, this ain’t exactly big sky country), directly over my head and ready to pounce. Tried to figure out whether pressing on or doubling back was going to be to my advantage; first did one, then as the sky started to open up some more, chose the other, based on how far away blue sky looked to be. Then it really opened up on me.

This hail was much smaller than last time, so it hurt considerably less. But man that cold dowsing does the legs no good — turns them into painful wood, in fact, so that even if I hadn’t had fish swimming in my shoes, I’d have started the slog home. Made my legs ache all night, and I’m not sure they’re entirely recovered this morning. When endurance athletes complain about the little things like an ache here or there, it’s because every little thing takes an edge off your performance. Suddenly being 8 pounds heavier, 15 degrees colder, and slightly bruised by the ice falling from the sky can really take the edge off.

As for the lightning, I decided to apply the theory that if I kept on moving, there was much less chance I’d take a strike. It was all I had to work with. Please don’t tell me I’m wrong.