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Pat in transition from swim to bike

Resting in the shade I took a long drink and said, “It isn’t as bad as I was afraid of.”

“What’s that?” she asked, wiping the sweat out of her eyes, moving the hair off of her forehead and taking an equally long swig.

“The heat. When I saw 93 degrees and 97% humidity I thought there’d be no way I could stand being outside but it’s okay. In fact, God help me, I think I like it.”

“You like it this hot? You? You kept telling me the reason we couldn’t move to Florida was because you love crisp, cool days and that you’d have to cower indoors during four months-”

“And that I’d love the four months of winter! I know! And really, four days isn’t much to go on but if the first four aren’t too bad then what will it be like after I acclimate? We see these old guys out in long pants and long sleeves riding their bikes and I wonder how they can stand it but my buddy Tony lives up in the panhandle and he says that after a while cool feels cold and cold is unbearable. I just can’t imagine.”

“Tony? From Atlanta? Isn’t he from Massachusetts originally?”

“Yep. He swears that once we’re down here a while that’s what’ll happen.”

“Can’t imagine. I hate the cold but nineties with ninety percent humidity is just plain hot.”

“Oh, it’s hot all right, it’s just not miserable.”

“Well I’ve been here nine weeks and this is still hot.”

“Yeah, It seems like you’re having a harder time than I am.”

“I haven’t been riding like you have. You ride everyday and I probably hadn’t been out on the bike ten times before you got here. Kind of hard to acclimate if we’re not out in it.”

“Too true. You ready to go acclimate?”

“We’d better. Those sure look like thunder heads up there. Lightning death capital of the USA as you like to point out.”

“You’re the one who’s making us move here. I just did the research.”

She wiped the sweat out of her eyes, put her helmet back on and said, “Yeah, yeah. Now your research better tell you that we need to get back to the car before we become lightning rods. Saddle up, son. Time to ride.”

“You know,” he said as the did a quick shoulder check and pulled out onto the bike trail, “I think I’m going to like it here.”

“I hope so. Kind of late to change our minds now. ‘Hey, ho! Let’s go!'”

“Okay, Joey. Whatever you say.”

If they hurried they could probably avoid the storm that was thirty minutes away and closing fast.