It's not. It's just riding a bicycle. Even for a thirty-eight mile round trip, it's pretty much the same as riding on a dry day, except that I wear a wind shell or rain cape.
And enjoy it sometimes a little more! The city fresh, the sky gray and mobile, the light shining from wet streets. Good smells. The city all fresh as it rarely is. Dull buildings look forlorn and somehow interesting; lighted windows sing of coziness within. The river running, for a change. The perfume of wet soil and growing leaves.
Even the flat front tire I discovered upon heading for home was no big deal. Swapped tubes and on my way. (But must remember to include tweezers in my toolkit, which would have speeded up the procedure considerably.) It gave me an excuse to visit Josef at Flying Pigeon LA on the way home to pick up a couple of extra tubes. Had a nice chat while I was there.
Went on through Silverlake, where I saw the most fellow rain riders of the day. (Quite a few in my home turf of the Miracle Mile as well.)
Now back at the apartment, and waiting for evening when my son will have dinner with us. A beautiful Winter Solstice.
It should be raining on the Solstice! New life never sprang from dead dry dust.