What happened to the desert country of Jordan? It rained all day today, the last Friday before the Dead 2 Red, so hard that Rami, Omar and I canceled our training plans in the hopes that we’ll have better luck tomorrow or some other time in the week.

I forgot I hadn’t set my new LG mobile to go off on the weekends. Rami called me 10 minutes before our scheduled 8:20 meeting time and warned me that he was going to be late, to which I blearily told him not to worry about it, I’d also be a little behind. The road-bike tires on my borrowed bicycle did not enjoy the wet, cracked road and the climb to the summit of Jebel Amman, but at least I didn’t have to worry about puddling here…unlike later. Rami met me at 3rd near his house, and we called Hussein and told him we were on our way.

Rami and I prepare to start out from 3rd Circle

Rami and I prepare to start out from 3rd Circle

Zahran Street was a roaring torrent of improperly drained rainwater, fog, and what suspiciously looked like oil slicks. I felt like I was in a bad 80’s video game, dodging honking taxis that came at from me behind like angry bees, swerving around overflowing sewer grates, and trying to see farther than 10 meters in front of me so I wouldn’t smash into a partially hidden curb. “ISN’T BIKING FUN” I bellowed to Rami, who was grimly hunched over on his mountain bike behind me. “IN MY STATE IT CAN BE THIS WAY FOR WEEKS.”

I’ve only realized in the past week that there is a 4% grade from 3rd circle up to 6th circle, something I never noticed in a taxi or when walking. But when you’re on a bike, a four kilometer slow uphill slowly saps you until you want to fling yourself under the tires of the next smog-belching semi that wheezes past you. And today as I crested 6th circle, I found with a sinking feeling that a sudden downhill in the rain on a bike with no fenders is a recipe for leg drenching. Rami roared with exultation (he loves downhills and he was wearing Gore-tex) and tore past me, vanishing into the fog.

Hussein wearing a hat you don't see very often in Jordan

Hussein wearing a hat you don't see very often in Jordan, which he uses as raingear - or to dress up as a cowboy.

By the time we reached Cycling Jordan, I weighed an extra three kilos from the water I was carrying in my jeans. Hussein guffawed at my bedraggled appearance and pulled up a chair for me next to the electric heater under his desk. Apart from a couple of Cycling Jordan guides and Omar, the place was deserted. He explained to the three of us that they were canceling the beginner group’s ride because of the weather. We decided that discretion was the better part of valor and postponed our own ride, too. No sense in getting sick a week before the largest ride of the year.

We finished off our morning at The Bakehouse, an excellent American-style pancake and waffle place near the Anglican Church on first circle. While we were in the restaurant, hail started pouring out onto the metal roofs of the buildings nearby, stilling conversation and making us and all the other patrons stare out the windows with amazement. So what if we had only done 7.5 kilometers instead of 80; it isn’t every week when you find your city in the middle of a monsoon!

Rami enjoys a "Bakehouse Grand Slam." Unfortunately, that's only beef bacon on his plate, not ACTUAL bacon.

Rami enjoys a "Bakehouse Grand Slam." Unfortunately, that's only beef bacon on his plate, not ACTUAL bacon.