Rain can be a funny thing. Not necessarily funny “HA, HA,” but funny “Oh man this isn’t going to turn out good.” Thirty-five degrees and raining is the worst combination to be out in. You can’t stop moving because you’ll promptly freeze. Freezing is bad. You also can’t go too fast because you’re sealed up in a waterproof-breathable cocoon and would roast. All things considered, I’d rather stew in my own juices than get cold. There have been times I would have killed to have another layer of clothes add under my raingear to help stay warm.
Heat is another issue. I’m a dainty flower and start to wilt when it’s gets hotter than hell’s half-acre. Given my druthers I’d rather deal with the cold than the heat any day. Actually, once you get acclimated to the heat it’s not that big of a deal. I try and tell myself this when I’m sweating my tail off and the mosquitoes are feasting on what’s left of my curdled blood. The power of positive, delusional, thinking.
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