It seemed like the forecast got worse every time I checked it over the last couple of days, so when I awoke this morning, after looking out the window and noticing the sheen of the streetlights reflecting off the wet streets, the first thing I did was check the radar. It didn't look too bad, but nobody was making any promises. The hourly forecast showed the temperature dropping rather than rising during the day, but for the moment it wasn't raining and the temperature was around 58°. So I headed for the lakefront in shorts, a couple of jerseys, arm-warmers and my trusty Un-D Flector. There was a pretty good-sized group and things were going along as usual until the crash. There's one little stretch of the Giro ride where we're actually on the shoulder of an Interstate Highway (actually it's just a spur). I was over on the right threading a line between the reflectors when I heard it. When I looked back I saw Keith A. in a heap in the middle of the right lane, which is kind of scary all by itself. He had hit a piece of 2x4 that was in the road and gone down pretty hard, apparently landing mostly on his head and knuckles. He seemed to be OK, though, and knew what day it was and all that. Todd's truck wasn't too far away, so they turned right when the group turned left.
Soon enough we were flying down Chef Highway. With a couple of miles left before the turnaround, the pace suddenly surged and as my speedometer passed 27 mph, I eased over to see who was on the front, fully expecting it to be Howard. In fact, it was Brooks B. I did a quick assessment and gradually let the gap open in front of me. I was pretty sure they'd be back. A minute later there were riders flying backwards so fast we had to swerve to avoid plowing into them, but near the end Howard came past and I latched onto his wheel as he pulled us up to, I dunno, 31 or so?
After the turnaround, I noticed the sky ahead of us was looking darker and darker and by the time we turned off of Chef Highway it was starting to rain. Somewhere along the service road, the rain finally soaked through my socks and hit my feet. The temperature was dropping, the wind was increasing, and it was raining. We were really having fun now. Just before Bullard we waited to fix a flat and got really cold. Then, as we came over the top of the Seabrook bridge, most of us walking gingerly on the wet steel grating, somebody said that Tim had flatted. I turned around and rode back down (the wrong way) and waited again. Luckily there was a nice tailwind as Reo and I rode back from the Lakefront. I got home wet, cold and gritty. On the up-side, my legs felt good today and I was really wishing the weather was better.
The bleak weather remained all day. Temperatures around 47° F with an on-again, off-again light drizzle and strong wind. We ended up driving up to Baton Rouge to spend a couple of hours sitting in front of the TV with The Wife's mom.
One of the guys in Baton Rouge put up some photos from the recent 2-Man Time Trial, and got a good one of Realdo and me.
The Daughter's team is competing against Illinois tonight at 7 p.m., and I see they'll have live stats online, which is great. We don't know if she'll be competing or not, though. Her knee seems to be improving, and she's probably lobbying to compete beam at least, but I guess we'll have to wait and see if she ends up in the lineup.
Looks like it'll be kind of chilly on the Northshore ride tomorrow, but I really need a long ride, so I'll probably do it. Looks like the rain should be gone by then.
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