Well, that turned out to be a lot of hassle for nothing.

BMX, the newest goofy sport to make the Olympics menu, was set to run its finals in men’s and women’s competition today, and I was going to follow a kid named Day.

The thing about weird sports? You don’t know what they do in bad weather. Maybe they go. Maybe they don’t.

It’s not like football or baseball. Football? They play no matter what, so you get up and go. Baseball? Nothing doing, if it’s a serious rain. Such as the one pelting Beijing today.

So, not knowing what the drill is in BMX … I started off as if it were going to happen.
The issue is, the cycling complex is one of the longer bus rides in the Games. Forty-plus minutes in each direction. But I had to go, unless I heard otherwise.

So, up at 6:45, out of the room at 7:10, a pass through the breakfast area to inhale a couple of scrambled eggs (in maybe 60 seconds) and pick up some raisin rolls for later … and then a run to the mag-and-bag, and to the bus, where our kid volunteer said, “Guy, you better hurry ” As if I’d been dawdling while running/splashing the final 100 yards.

(I later thought of the Beatles lyrics. “Put on my coat, grabbed my hat. Made the bus in seconds flat.” Except I didn’t have a coat or a hat; it was a warm rain.)

Then 20 minutes to the Main Press Center, already fairly wet, standing up in an overcrowded bus filled with Latvians. I never did figure out where all the Latvians were going, this early on a rainy morning.

When we got to the MPC, our “Guy, you better hurry” kid made some broken-English announcement about how he was going to “lead you off one by one,” which never was going to happen, because probably half the people on that bus were about to run to another bus, and every second was precious. Anyway, we couldn’t figure out why he felt the need to lead us off “one by one.” I could see Latvians shrugging in puzzlement.

The bus stopped, the door opened, and I hit the ground. Or the water that was on the ground. I immediately began jogging toward the bus park, about 100 yards away … where a volunteer standing at the bus-stall grid told me where the MB05 bus to the bike venue was parked. And it was already 7:40, and the bus was scheduled to leave at 7:40, but I decided to run, anyway.

Why? Because the next bus wouldn’t be till 8, and that would put me at the bike venue at 8:50 or so, which was too close for a 9:08 start of the men’s BMX semis. And I’d have to stand in the rain for 20 minutes, waiting for that bus.

Anyway, I discovered this: The bus parking lot doesn’t drain. At all. Water just pools up on it, and I ran through about 80 yards of puddles, the water sloshing over the top of my Asics and soaking my socks. Not one of Beijing’s shining moments in engineering, this parking lot. It’s crumbling, too, but that’s another issue.

I got to the correct file for the bus to bikes, and it looked like mine was still sitting there, up ahead  I continued to run, till I got about 40 feet away. I thought I had made it.

Then the bus revved up and began pulling away. I put on a final sprint, beating on the side of the bus with my knuckles — to let them know one more late guy was trying to get on … and after banging on nearly the length of the moving bus, it finally stopped, the front door eased open, and I dragged my dripping self on.

There were no seats, of course. Not with so many photographers on board. They carry around so much junk that two photogs takes the space of three reporters.

So I stood. For 45 minutes. Dripping. I tried to wipe off my glasses on my shirt, but my shirt was too wet to absorb the water. So I just looked through water and steamy windows for most of the ride. And abut 10 minutes in, my heart eventually stopped pounding. The windows fogged over as 33 journos panted and dripped.

Why wasn’t I dressed correctly? Why no umbrella? No plastic poncho? I didn’t bring an umbrella, not planning to spend much time outside. And I gave my poncho away the night before, thinking I’d be in buses and buildings most of the day. Ha. At least I wore short pants; that was a good call; less pants to get wet and absorb water, and no cuffs to drag through puddles.

About halfway through the ride, the rumor went around the bus. “They’re saying it’s cancelled.” The BMX, that is. “Who said it?” “A guy I just talked to, on the bus behind us.” There was no turning back now, though. We were committed to the ride. If doubtful of its usefulness

I was almost dry by the time we got to the cycling venue. But the rain was still coming down. I went inside to the media workroom, which was nearly deserted – presumably because those with bike connections or who know BMX know they don’t race in rain.

About 15 minutes later, a volunteer announced the racing had been postponed until tomorrow. Which, of course, was annoying … because I’d run myself ragged before 9 and gotten soaked for, basically, nothing. As a photog had mused on the way out, “They should race in the rain. It would make for great pictures.”

Now, I’m on a bus back to the Main Press Center. Where I will 1) go inside and wait to see if track or softball goes off tonight … or 2) head on over to beach volleyball, muy pronto, to see if I can catch the end of the Misty May-Kerri Walsh gold-medal match vs. the Chinese. Which IS happening, even in pouring rain.

Rain. Day-long rain. What a hassle. Especially at an event as tightly scripted and thoroughly planned out as the Olympics. Means I get to go through the same early-morning, two-bus drill tomorrow morning — a day I thought I would be able to catch up on some sleep. Ack.