Around about the 18th mile, I turned to start heading west on Vaughn off of Runge.

"No, no!" I told the wind. "You’re supposed to be at my back now! It’s supposed to be easier now!"

The wind didn’t oblige me. Bastard.

It’s one of those things that seemed like a good idea at the time. Over the weekend, Jennifer and I had ridden 11 miles to the UC Davis campus without much grief. And since I work in downtown Davis, I thought it would be an excellent idea to ride my bike to work and back home today.

Silly me, I thought it was going to be just as easy as it was on Saturday.

Actually, getting there this morning wasn’t all that bad. Sure, it was a bit of a workout, and even with the cold outside air I still worked up a decent sweat riding my bike (note to self: bring clean t-shirt with me next time). And during lunch, as I wandered the streets of Davis, I noticed that there was a wind coming up from the north; and since my ride home is mostly southward, with a few jaunts westward, I was anticipating a nice, easy, relaxing bike ride home after work.

The wind, of course, had others ideas. Just to spite me, it decided that it was tired of blowing south and wanted to blow north east for a change… which meant that whether I was riding south on the way home, or west, I was against the wind. That fact, coupled with the heavy backpack I was wearing (note to self: invest in something else besides a backpack to carry my clothes in), plus the fact that I really needed to urinate for the entire trip home, made for a less than entirely pleasant experience.

Mile 18 — that is, the 11 miles to work in the morning, plus the 4 miles from work to this intersection, plus the additional 3 honorary miles that I had awarded myself at that point as a morale booster — is where I decided that the route simply had it in for me. The sun, which was shining right in my face, was against me. The road, bumpy and littered with pebbles and bits of cracked asphalt, was against me. The stupid red-winged blackbird with its annoying little "Eeep! Eeep!" was simply trying to drive me insane, just to heighten the experience.

And, of course, the wind, as I have already indicated, was exercising some sort of perverse vendetta against me as well.

There were times when the ride reminded me of my days in grade school. I remember sitting at my desk, trying to think about how long it had been since the last time I checked the clock. "I’m sure it’s been half an hour," I’d tell myself, counting down until the bell rang. "But it’s probably only been twenty minutes. I’ll say fifteen, just to be safe." Then, of course, I’d check the clock on the wall and note with agony that only three minutes had passed since the last time I’d checked it.

That’s what it was like at points today: Certain that I’d traveled another two miles, I’d look at the odometer on my bicycle, and curse to see that I’d gone less than a tenth of a mile.

It was the wind. And the blackbird, whose song was tuned to just the right wavelength to interfere with my brainwaves, causing disorientation. I’m sure of it.

In the home stretch now, and I get to turn left from Vaughn and southbound onto Pedrick. Going south, the wind might not be less but it might be at least slightly different. Panting and puffing to myself, and proud that I was hitting twelve miles an hour in second gear, I heard the sound of two other bicycles behind me. I glanced and saw two people, dressed in full Lycra and riding expensive road bikes and each of them skinny as rails. The caught up with me easily, of course, and passed me, probably doing at least thirty — no, fifty — miles an hour against the wind. I was annoyed. Would it have killed them to have given me a little encouragement, a little "Hang in there, buddy" or something like that? Or perhaps one of them could have keeled over from a cardiac arrest. Yeah, that would have made me feel better.

Well, okay, that’s a bit harsh.

I got home just before Jennifer, who commented how proud she was of me for having made the ride, than muttered something about me needing a shower as she headed into the kitchen to start supper.

My legs were hurting, and so was my butt. I was leaning so hard on the handlebars at some points that I cut off the bloodflow in my palms and my fingers became numb. I stank to high heaven.

And the really, truly frightening thing of it all is that I’m looking forward to doing this again on Thursday.