Wet, Wet, Wet And Prune Toes

Yep, it's been a bit wet here. Constant rain for over 24 hours. A weather radar that looks like this.

Now the rain has settled a bit and the wind has come up. But I'm one of the lucky ones - no flooding and haven't lost power.

This weather makes it hard to actually do anything. And I'm not that great at twiddling my thumbs so I've taken a few teaspoons of concrete (it's more palatable mixed with chocolate powder) and gotten good and wet.

I've become a bit of an authority on human nature in my almost 50 years on the earth. When it starts to rain, the majority of the population like to hide in their houses. And yes, that includes the vast majority of cyclists that usually get out there in their lycra-clad droves every Saturday morning. Their absence was definitely noted this weekend. We runners were still out there pounding the pavement but not our two-wheeled fitness companions. 

Which begs the question - where do they disappear to when the weather turns foul? Do they send out cancellation texts from under the safety of their warm blankets to the same numbers that they usually send texts coordinating their weekend outfits? Do they set up their bikes on wind trainers in front of their televisions watching reruns of the Tour de France and pretend they're making that climb up the Pyrenees? Do they get their spouses to speak to them in French accents and prod them with baguettes if they start to slow down? 

We runners would never think of pulling out the treadmill in front of the television and watch the Boston marathon, pretending we could run like a Kenyan. And we'd certainly never do it with Chariots of Fire played loudly on endless repeat. No, a little bit of torrential rain and gale-force wind doesn't keep us indoors. We just pull on a cap and splash through the puddles like we're three year olds. And then we get home and pull off our socks to find that we look more like ninety-three year olds. Prune toes are particularly attractive in strappy sandals. 

Saturday's prune toes were from a lovely 12k with the group. Sunday's prune toes were from a long walk with my two pooches who also don't do house-bound very well. They'd spent a happy hour on Saturday night trying to burn off pent up energy in our lounge room. Our lounge room isn't really big enough to burn up any energy. They were climbing the walls and straightening pictures and generally making a nuisance of themselves.

"Almost straight - just a little higher on the left"

An hour and a half walking was enough to get them good and tired ... and wet. Our house smells a bit like wet dogs and wet shoes. Nice!!

Today's prune toes were thanks to an expedition into the city to check out the flooding and the damage. Sam kept me company and we both had a fun time jumping over downed branches, little lakes and random debris. The rain coming in side-ways and the wind gusts that kept buffeting us were not quite as much fun.

The river is well up and has started flooding all along the bike path that's our usual Saturday stamping grounds. The other side of the river is lapping over the boardwalk that leads to Southbank. And that's just the start. There's more water expected as it flows into our catchment area and more water = more flooding. It's not expected to be anywhere near the flooding of 2011 but it's still heart-breaking for those who were just starting to get back on their feet.

I'm really hoping that this weather settles soon. Aside from all of the damage and havoc, I'm down to my last pair of dry old runners and I really don't want to use my new ones.