How to begin...

A Rain Dog is a dog caught in the rain, with its whole trail washed away by the water so he can't get back home.

A stranded dog, who wants nothing better than to get home.

Loners knit together by some corporeal way of sharing pain and discomfort.

A term coined by Tom Waits on his album named Rain Dogs.

Inside a broken clock
Splashing the wine with all the rain dogs
Taxi, we’d rather walk
Huddle a doorway with the rain dogs
For I am a rain dog too

(from Tom Waits' Rain Dogs)

Its nearly 4 in the morning on a Tuesday. I'm sitting here in the studio marveling at Mahler's Symphony no. 9 and praying that the rain in today's forecast will hold off.

The rain has been rather oppressive lately. It has been a wet and chilly summer so far. In fact, summer hasn't even really gotten going...but yet it still kinda feels like its already half over.

I'm doing everything I can to get ready for my 6th annual mountain bike dirt worship trip and if it keeps raining like this I'll get very little trail time before heading to Crested Butte.

I got up yesterday afternoon and took care of all the necessary chores...cut the grass (which it needed badly) and then headed to my guitar lesson with the idea that I'd head to the trails afterward.

After my lesson, I rushed to get to my car and drive south to Lebanon Hills. Exiting the elevator and turning toward the door, I found that my ride would once again be postponed. I nearly wept.
Since it has been nearly two weeks since I've ridden my mountain bike, the whole idea of a Rain Dog seemed rather fitting. The rain has washed away any scent of the trail that I had...and even though I know my favorite trail like I know my own face, I still feel a bit lost and unsure about what is around the next turn. The frequent rain isn't helping me to improve that issue at all.

I was reminded by my friend EOB that rides in the rain can be good...true. On a road bike. But you shouldn't ride in the rain (and not until after the trails dry) when you're talking about a mountain bike. One of the reasons that the Twin Cities has such a splendid cadre of mountain bike trails is through good stewardship, regular maintenance, and staying the hell off 'em when they're muddy.

So, I went out on the roadie when things dried up. I like the roadie more than I thought I would. There's nothing like clicking the shifters a few times and just taking off with minimal effort...nothing quite like hitting 40 mph going down the hill on the downtown side of Grand Avenue...and I know this because I caught up to a van and hollered through the open passenger window "WHAT DOES YOUR SPEEDOMETER SAY?"

The last few days, the rain has also been a catalyst for melancholy. I've found myself pining for things more than usual. Old friends. The familiar. 'Home'. Understanding.

Melancholy isn't a bad thing, in fact I kind of like it once in awhile. Its good to remember that you can feel this way. So I revel in it when it happens and try to remember to not let it hang on too long.

Again, the concept of a Rain Dog seemed fitting; you get going along pretty good and feel like you've got a firm grasp on things. You know where you've been and you're pretty excited to see where you're going. Then a storm comes through and shakes everything. Your senses get all screwed up and the connections you've made or the progress you've made doesn't count for shit because...you're kinda lost.

It doesn't stop you from carrying on, from pressing forward. But it can make you wish and wonder what might be if you could just get back to where you were before the storm.

So rather than wallow, I'm going to take advantage of this technology and my fondness for writing ocassionally to try to maintain the connections I've got, and maybe find the ones I lost during past storms.

Follow my blog if you like. I'll try to write once or twice a week.

Cheers,
Blank