Tuesday Morning Machine

I reach out from under the covers, feeling for the little flashlight that lives on the nightstand. The numbers on the outdoor thermometer start with a "7." Nice. Jersey, shorts and socks. Grab a granola bar in the kitchen and then down the old stairs to the basement for shoes, helmet and bike. The air in the basement is musty from the warm damp air. It will stay that way now until late Fall. Ten minutes later I'm on top of the levee.

The group is larger than usual. A bright headlight illuminates the entire scene and without looking I know it's Brady and his helmet-mounted super-light. We roll out on time and start picking up more riders in the darkness as the pace starts to ramp up. A few miles out and the light is improving. We're hitting 27, 28 mph. now. Eddie, Rob and a few others are on their Time Trial bikes. There must be $30k worth of carbon-fiber up here, easy. When my turn at the front comes up I take a shorter pull than the others because I know what's going to happen.

As I drop back down the paceline I hear Ronnie saying "get in!" So the rotation is already down to five or six, with everyone else sitting on the back. There's almost no wind this morning, and although there are patches of fog, it's light enough that we don't slow down for it. When we hit the dip, a few riders turn back, but most continue on with the group. The pace slacks off for a little while, dipping down to 24 or so, but soon enough the TT bikes filter back up to the front and we're flying along at 28 mph again. I'm feeling OK and am mostly staying in the rotation at the front, but I'm careful not to eat all my cookies before the turnaround. It's a long way back and there will be a slight headwind for much of it.

There are a few miles of recovery after the turnaround and then it's back up to speed. I'm behind Rob who's on his TT bike. Tucked up a couple of inches from his rear wheel, I'm down on the drops, elbows bent, concentrating on staying in the draft as much as I can. Finally I'm starting to loosen up as the effects of four days off the bike begin to dissolve. A few miles from the playground the pace is starting to fluctuate as tired riders hit the front of the rotation. More than once I pull us back up to speed. The 40 miles go by fast. Bob and I ease up at the playground and cruise in the last couple of miles. Just before we drop down off the levee on to Oak Street, I check my average speed. 22.4 mph including the ride out to the levee and the cool down. A typical ride is more like 20.5, maybe 21. Two more miles and I'm back to reality, ironing a shirt, checking my email, and loading up the messenger bag for the little commute to work.

The ride on the commuter is precisely the opposite of the morning's training. With the temperature and humidity both rather high, and dressed for work, I cruise slowly, feeling the breeze through my hair and unbuttoned white shirt as I negotiate my way through mid-city to Banks St. Behind the old Dixie Brewery where workers are still busy trying to put the pieces back together there's a leftover sign from the Mardi Gras Marathon strapped to a light post. "Relay Transition Area." I roll the bike through the aluminum and glass doors to the Tidewater Building and swipe my ID to get into the hallway. Down at the end I swipe it again to enter the bike room. Spring break for the public health students is over and there are a lot of bikes, but they've saved me my usual spot along the wall. As I walk to the elevator I button up my shirt, roll down my sleeves, clip on the cellphone and the ID tag and hit the "24" button.

But for the light glow of sweat on my face, nobody is the wiser.