Mud On My Face

Today started off with a bit of a scare. I rode my bike to the office when it started raining like hell. I knew this didn't bode well for me. A long time ago, on a beautiful albeit rainy spring morning back in Belgium, I entered the office with mud on my face. The only thing was, I didn't know it myself. I greeted my colleagues and stepped into the elevator. Like most people do when they ride an elevator with mirrors, I looked at my own reflection. Oh my God! I saw my face -- splashed with mud. It was way worse than a little bit of salad stuck in your teeth. And my colleagues didn't even warn me. The diplomats of private practice. It wasn't  easy to keep my composure while I wiped my face and took the elevator back to the garage to go back home to hide for the day.

(Mattentreppe, Bern. The Mattentreppe brings you a few hundred steps lower: from the Altstadt to the level of the river Aare. The staircase has large windows that offer a view of the houses and gardens built on the slope.)

This morning, my heart skipped a beat when I thought back of that painful morning. How could I possibly forget that you need mud guards when it rains and you have the nerve to defy the weather gods and ride your bike to work? Ugh! And this morning, I thought the situation might turn out even worse. We've all seen what mountain bikers's backs look like when they've been through the dirt. What a glamorous way to start the day. Miraculously however, today was my lucky day. I had somehow managed to avoid all mud puddles. Maybe it's because Bern is so clean and well-kept. But I still think I will sneak out with Annelien's bike tomorrow morning. Her bike has monsters of mud guards.

(Soap box race)