2:15 p.m.

After two days of gray glum, the sun broke through the clouds. I was both elated and frustrated. Elated to finally feel warmth. Frustrated because this was the one day that I could not ride my bike. I was wearing a skirt, carrying my computer and phone with their attendant chargers in a shoulder bag, and after my 8:30 a.m. presentation, had a full morning of other talks to attend and a three and a half hour drive Ithaca to Saratoga.

In addition to these travails was the fact that my bike and I would be parting company the next day for a full 20 days. After a night at home, I was scheduled to fly out the next day for an 11-day trip to Indiana. I would fly back and leave again the morning after returning for Salt Lake City. I like traveling and I was looking forward to the trips, but I also was anxious about the toll that the travel would take on my training.

And, then, I devised a plan: I could leave Ithaca as early in the afternoon as possible and sneak back into Saratoga quietly. Quietly means arriving a couple of hours earlier than the official arrival time I would give my husband. I could sneak in a bike ride in Saratoga and a swim at the local Y, and then conveniently have him meet me at the laundromat with dirty clothes. He had to pick me up anyway because I had rented a car and after returning the vehicle I would need a ride home.

Now, don't get me wrong. I don't lie to my husband as a matter of practice. I just get a little frustrated at times when he throws up barriers to things like my training, usually with the entirely logical and truthful argument that there isn't enough time. The problem is, he and I tend to view time differently. He gets perplexed if there's more than one or two things on the day's agenda. I prefer it when the days are fairly loose and relaxed, but I also thrive on sandwiching seven or eight or even more tasks or errands into a compressed space. So, in my mind, it made perfect sense for me to wake up at 6 a.m., pack up my car and check out of the dorm room where I was staying, give my talk, support my peers, have lunch, drive three and a half hours home, sneak in a bike ride and swim, and then have him meet me at the laundromat. I envisioned the day even more elaborately, thinking that I could use the time that the clothes were in the wash to pick up a couple of prescription refills at the Rite-Aid and do my expense report. And I further believed that we could just bring the wet clothes home and put them in our dryer to save a few quarters since our dryer -- contrary to our worthless washer -- was working fine.

And, so at 2:15 p.m., I got in the car and began the drive home.

Quickly, fate conspired to foil my plans. First, the voice guidance for the GPS on my smart phone didn't work, which forced me to keep looking at the Google Maps app while driving in order to know where I was going. Trying to do this and not create an accident caused me to miss a key turn and, as a result, I ended up on a 15-minute detour on tight, windy country roads. Next, as I neared the Albany urban area, I missed another turn. Rebounding from this error put me into heavy rush-hour traffic that culminated with gridlock on yet another country road. As traffic slowed to a crawl, the skies opened and rain pelted down. I decided to call my husband. "I'm stuck in traffic and a thunderstorm," I said. "Do you still want to meet me at the laundromat?"

I still had hopes that I might be able to sneak in a bike ride, a short one, if it stopped raining. I figured that I could drop my bags at my office, drive to the rental car office, get my bike out, and after returning the car, bike to the laundromat, which is just around the corner from my office. Only, by this point, my wise husband had caught on apparently to my tricks.

"It's too late to do laundry," he said. "At some point we have to eat tonight."

I shrugged my shoulders and assented. He was right.

Traffic finally eased, and I managed to get to my office -- where we agreed that we would meet -- at about 6:45 p.m. I was worn out from the drive, the traffic, and the various mishaps, and he was frustrated because he was waiting for me before putting gas in the car. But the rain had ceased and the evening sun was once again warming things up. We returned the car, decided to go home and grill burgers and enjoy the evening on our deck.

We made it home a little before 8. I emptied out the car as he lit the grill.

And then the skies opened up once again.