A Mile in My Shoes.

While Krafty and JediJosh battled the ticks of the Econ, Popeye's  Honda Elephant carried us southbound down the old I-95 trail to ride at Crossroads, where we were treated to a typical Ft. Pierce Sky. 

Everywhere else in Florida, summer rain arrives in late afternoon, like a gigantic and perfectly programmed sprinkler system.  Not Ft. Pierce.  

About two miles shy of our exit, sure enough...

But it waited until we were on the bikes, departing the trailhead, to really let loose.  

It's a whole different trail in a deluge. 

TriLady waited up for me under one of the overpasses, but honestly we were soaked anyway, and with rivers running down the center of the singletrack, the novelty was just too much fun to pass up, and we continued our loop in a pouring crashing flashing thunder booming storm.    

You know what they say about Florida.  If you don't like the weather, wait ten minutes.  It'll change. 

OK, so it took twenty.

The rain pounded.  Temps were soothing and cool.  And just as we gave up on the bikes and pulled on the run shoes, the sun came out full force. 

In the time it took to change to my new "toe shoes" (and apply a second layer of Deep Woods Off), the flowing trail had drained completely, with a thin surface of dry to hide the slidey stuff.  

In other words, the bike loops were a pounding wonderous whoop and hollor joyride, but moments later the trail became a hot, steamy, slippey, slidey, bear-of-a-loop to run.

The new Toe Shoes - pretty glam, huh?

As predicted by the happy clerk at Happy Feet, the little toes were first to feel the acute separation anxiety, necessitating a return for the tried and true Nikes somewhere around mile one. 

Nikes, which were every bit as slippery on trail as the unhappy Toe Shoes, but with a whole lot more sole.  So much sole that I caught one on a chunk of carpet and did a face plant in totally dry sand underneath the overpass, the exact spot where my only bike crash had occurred as well.  Proving once again that you don't need no stinkin' rain to crash!

So.  Big shoes.  Gallons of sweat.  Dry sand. 

(Try running as a big fat sugar cookie sometime.  Yuck.)

Just so you know there's more to Crossroads than gray sand and grayer sky...

Taken before the fall:

Headed for the overpass.

Carpet covered ridges - great for the bikes - not so great for the Nikes.

Under water one loop, drained the next.

One reason why short people love mtn biking.

Ahh, a couple of well washed bike loops, a sugar cookie run, a big lunch with TriLady and Popeye... 

A nap back home would have made it the perfect day.

But, as everyone knows who's been to Ft. Pierce;

The woods are lovely, dark, and deep...

... with bikes to clean before I sleep.