I Told You So!!!!!

I was looking through my photos on the plane this morning.  One picture reminded of the number of times I've been spared those awful words “I told you so.” 

Several years ago, when our kids were still in school, I decided to run home from a school event late one Wednesday evening.  The kids were in the van, Donna was ready to go and I had my running gear so I could run home, roughly 6 miles. 

As I was about to leave, it began to sprinkle and Donna suggested that I might want to skip the run due to the rain.  I decided to run since I KNEW the rain would not be very bad and I like running in the rain.

As I progressed through the first mile, the rain became steady.  It was harder than a sprinkle, but still not a problem.  About a mile from the school, Donna was waiting in a service station and told me I should probably get in the van and skip the rest of the run.  I assured her that I was fine and liked to run in the rain.  So, we parted ways.

In the next half mile the rain turned hard and the wind came up.  Now my superior running skills were being challenged and I was ready to begin doing battle with the elements.  I figured I’d come home wet, tired and victorious, further enhancing my masculine alpha-male status. 

A half mile later Donna was, AGAIN, waiting in the van.  I received another gracious, but more urgent, invitation to get in and cancel the rest of my run.  

My wife was concerned for my health, safety and welfare.  She had delayed her trip home twice to help me make a rational, potentially life extending, decision.  While I’m well insured, she did not know whether the life insurance policy had a clause excluding death from stupidity.  Not knowing whether she was at risk of being a poor single mother or a rich widow, she extended another offer for me to ride the rest of the way home.  I, in turn, exercised my macho prerogative and stated the following; “None of the other guy's moms are making them ride home.” (I think there might have been an exclamation point at the end of my remark.)  Donna’s response was simply “fine.”  (I’m sure there was an exclamation point on her response.)

It’s difficult to fully describe the running conditions as she pulled away.  The first 100 yards were fine and I felt my decision to slug it out with Mother Nature was a good one.  However, at yard 101……  the bottom fell out.   I witnessed one of the most exciting lightning displays of my life.  The thunder was loud, the lightning was bright and the rain was hard. 

I’m 6’1”, which makes me a tall moving lightning rod in an electrical storm, so I KNEW Donna would be waiting at the next service station….. or the local drive in…, or maybe the high school…….  All of them had covered parking for her to pick me up, after all, my life was in danger.

30 minutes later, as I sloshed and squished my way into the garage I realized that I had been left in the elements at my own insistence and now I would have to hear “I told you so.”  The conversation, as I stepped into the kitchen, went like this:

Donna:  “How was your run?”  (I think I detected a slight smirk, but the kitchen wasn’t very well lit at the time.)

Tim:  “Fine”

This should be the end of the story – after all, I’m a mature intelligent adult.  I learned a powerful lesson that I could apply for the rest of my life. 

Fast forward to early March 2013.   I no longer run, now I’m a cyclist (another story for later).  The difference is; I have 15-years of additional life experience and far superior technology, in the form of iPhone weather apps, to prepare me to face or avoid adverse weather conditions. 

Friday afternoon, I took a 20 mile ride.  Sunny conditions and unseasonably warm temperatures in the mid 60’s.  It was a great ride.

Saturday, the temperature dropped to a high in the low 40’s and it was cloudy with a few flurries to our west in the mountains.  Yes, I looked at WeatherBug.

Granddaughter Sophie was over for the day and headed for her nap, so I decided I would take a quick ride while she was napping and Donna was busy.  I put on my cold weather gear and headed for the door.  Donna mentioned that it was snowing in the mountains and it might snow at our house too.  This was her way of suggesting I spend my time on the elliptical in the comfort of our little gym.  I told her it was not going to snow and I was headed out.

Headphones in my ears blasting Edgar Winter “Free Ride,” I cranked into the first mile (bliss).  About 6 miles into the ride my phone rang.  I answered and Donna told me it was snowing at the house and I might want to consider returning.  I told her it was clear where I was and that I planned to continue.  After all “snowing” could mean anything from a couple of flurries to an all-out blizzard.

I did decide to cut my ride shorter than normal and made a right turn to begin heading home.  Less than a quarter of a mile from the turn “snowing” got defined, I was in a blizzard.  Cars coming at me had 2 to 3 inches of snow and the road was covered.  They were coming from the direction of my house.

For non-cyclists – I ride on skinny slick tires.  They just don’t work on wet, snowy or icy roads…period.

I made it about a mile to a rural fire station then pulled off.  This is where life experience and wisdom kicked in.  Yeah, a little late.

I could call home and ask for a ride, but:

·         I did not want to wake little Sophie,

·         I did not want to stand in my spandex in a blizzard and wait for Sophie to wake up (hypothermia),

·         I did not want Donna to drive in these conditions,

·         And, I did not have a good answer for “How was your ride?”

This is one of those points in life where men should be able to count on other men – those “go-to” guys that always have your back.  These men should aid and remain supportive and silent, primarily because they are headed toward their next colossal mistake and they will need the same support from you.

Donna had no idea how bad the conditions were where I was, besides, she was busy getting our toboggan out of the attic.

I called my buddy Bruce.  Bruce and I have been riding together for nearly a decade.  I count him among my closest friends.  More importantly, he knows how to keep his mouth shut.  I dialed him up and found he was sitting in front of his fireplace writing a chapter for a medical text book.  I asked if he would mind doing me a little favor and, like the true friend he is, he agreed before even hearing what I needed.

Bruce also knows how to laugh with abandon.  I could hear him even after I hung up.  15 minutes later he arrived in his Toyota van – but he didn’t open the back of the van, he jumped out with his camera laughing and mumbling something about Facebook.

Conclusion:  I had a 20 minute ride home to craft my answer to “How was your ride?” When I got home, Donna was in the back yard sledding with Sophie, so I had another 20 minutes to practice my answer while I changed.  She never said “I told you so.”

The next morning I was sitting in my favorite coffee shop very early and an acquaintance walked in.  We see each other maybe 3 times a year in passing.  As he was leaving he looked at me and said, “You know, you’re famous.”

I don’t have a Facebook account, but Bruce does.