Guess who crashed... crashed again

The day started like Odysseus's voyage back home: with more water than you can handle in places that you do not want water. The heavens opened in tears as though someone stole a lamb from Zeus. We knew it would rain. And we dressed for it. But there's an island of difference between some rain and non-stop rain. That's a lie. I have to be truthful so I don't get struck by lightning. We did enjoy about twenty minutes without rain. Twenty minutes in which I saw hubris rise among the other mortals I was riding into the sunset alongside. Someone mentioned, as if trying to be smarter than the gods, that if we rode fast and far enough, we could leave the storm behind us. Zeus heard us and took it personally. Non-stop rain would deter you from non-stop cycling. A break in the rain would make you feel instead that maybe, you truly could outrun the tears from Mt Olympus. No you can't. The rain caught us and exacted more intensity than it carried in the morning. At lunch break, more than 60km in, an announcer declared there was a leeway for those who were tired of toiling in the rain. A bus was available to pick them and move them to camp. I was riding with Sylvie and Anthony, just as I did in 2025. I was confident that as long as we rode safely and calmly, we would make it to camp in one piece. When we got to slippery intersections, we dismounted and walked slowly as if in regard to Hermes. We hoped that by abiding the rules and calming the storm in our heart, we would be safe. And we were safe. Until we slowly drifted apart and became isolated. If you ask me, I would say the sirens were singing Asake's Fuji Vibe to Odysseus and it was his inability to gbese and dance to the rhythm that pushed him to tears in agony. After 100km, with just 22 to go, I started to hear the music from my bone conduction headphones clearly again—the rain had subsided and the wind was now behind me. When I heard Davido shout fia fia! it lit a fire in me. Despite my exhaustion, I dug into cosmic pockets previously unbeknownst to mankind to pluck some energy and push myself as if I were just starting the ride. It was how I first abandoned my companions. Before they returned the favour. The music went on and on as I was soon transferred into a world of my own. You know the story of Icarus. You know how he flies and flies and flies until his wax coated wings soon melt in the sun, leading to his demise. I wouldn't say that I was Icarus. But the more in tune I got with the music, the less attention I paid to the speed threshold I had previously set for myself. It wasn't that I was going fast. But with wet roads, I surely could be going slower. However, I was less than a kilometer from camp. The next part of the road was downhill. I didn't have to do anything but tuck in and let the wind carry me. Indeed, it did. Keshi. Skiboroboskibo. Baddest. There is a bend. So I slowly apply my brake. Keshi! And I take the bend like a god takes a sacrifice; entitled and proud. Roboskibo. My front tyre follows the direction of a tar surface smoothened by rain. It felt like being on an ice rink. Then the world turns black. I throw out my palm to brace my fall as I feel my sunshades fly out of my face. The tar drags me across as a dog drags a ragdoll. It swipes me here and there until there isn't anywhere else to go. Then it stops. The last time I rode in the rain, I crashed into a mailbox. I had been so careful today not to repeat the same mistake. I bought a cycling cap to keep rainwater out of my face so it doesn't wash my sunscreen into my eyes. I bought a new, better raincoat to replace the one the mailbox ripped into as it worked its way to my rib. This new one was now bleeding around my elbow. But it still looked usable, although very dirty. I paid $70 for some new gloves with extra padding; the right hand sacrificed itself to protect my palm from any significant damage. By some providence, I had managed to escape with minor scratches to my right leg. My new 360 camera wasn't so lucky. But it still worked so its dents and scratches won't bother me much. Two men helped me up and checked that I wasn't concussed as I picked pieces of myself across the road, checking the bike before I checked myself. My chain had fallen off. My bike had some scratches. Otherwise, everything was fine. I got on the bike and finished the rest of the ride, with sorries and take care coming from a support car that met us at the scene of the incidence. It was not my intention to defy the gods but it has happened. And I have a new (albeit minor) injury on my elbow as a warning. Tomorrow, I'll be more careful. It will rain again tomorrow.