On the Porch, Pondering

It's 9:30 pm and I'm sitting on the front porch, an almost empty wine glass in my hand and a dinner of seafood gumbo in my stomach. My skin feels warm and sticky and off to my right I can hear my neighbor who came out onto his porch a moment ago talking on his telephone. Across the street, another neighbor was waiting for a friend to arrive and they just drove off in the direction of the French Quarter. The air is thick and still and sultry and has yet to drop below 80F. The leaves on the oak tree are motionless and the only movement on the street is a cat lazily patrolling the neighborhood. The smell of sweet olive hangs in the air, easily overpowering the Merlot, and I think I am a little bit lucky to be here. Apparently I've had too much to drink. We are starting to get into the meat of the summer now. It's already too warm in the morning to wear my "work" shirt during my short commute, and even though I've slowed my commuting pace down to the level of a little old Italian lady on her way back from the market, I still arrive damp with sweat. Yesterday I washed out the pads and straps of my helmet to get rid of the odor of stale sweat, and my gloves are getting pretty ripe after only a few days of riding. Yeah, summer's here.

My plans for this weekend's road races up near Natchez have yet to be made, but somehow I'll find my way there I suppose. The state championship course, more properly the 2-state championship course, is hilly enough to provide opportunities for the strong riders to wreak havoc, yet not so bad as to be too demoralizing for the rest of us. I'll ride the 45+ age group as usual on Saturday, and we will race together with the 35+ riders, and, if turnout is low, perhaps also with the 30+. It will probably be one of the largest groups of the weekend, and I expect the race will be fairly hard. Just how hard it turns out to be will likely determine whether I stick around for Sunday's Cat. 1,2,3 race. Am I ready? Ha! I haven't felt truly "ready" since some time in the 80s.