Interference

After another fourteen or so hours in a rental car on Monday I was kind of looking forward to getting back into my usual routine on Tuesday morning. Unfortunately, while I'd been cruising down I-55 drinking Cokes and eating gas station pretzels, my calendar was being filled up with back-to-back meetings starting at 9 am. Don't you hate it when work interferes with riding? So the best I could do was to meet the group at 6:15, turn around early at the parish line, time trial back home and rush off to work. Not to worry, I thought. There was always the Tuesday Worlds out on the Lakefront at 6 pm. Of course, there ensued another little rush to get home in time to change and ride out to Lakeshore Drive, but I was able to get on the bike just after 5:30, so I had enough time to make the training race barring unexpected problems. I was about halfway out there when the unexpected problem surfaced in the form of a flat tire. I found a nice shady spot on Carrollton Avenue, pulled a piece of glass out of my worn-down rear tire, and made a hasty tube swap. A bit too hasty, as it turned out. A couple of blocks down the road I could feel the thump, thump, thump of a tire bead coming off the rim, so I had to stop again and re-seat it and pump it up again with my tiny little Silca Mini, making a mental note to trash the offending tire when I got home. So needless to say I was a couple of laps late for the training race. I jumped in nonetheless, hanging out at the back for a lap before trying to get more into the action.

There were about twenty out there yesterday and although it was fairly active, the lack of significant wind made it feel easier than usual to sit in and harder than usual to get away. Of course the fact that I'd missed two laps might have had something to do with how good my legs felt. Everyone was being especially careful negotiating the Elysian Fields traffic circle where the big cracks remain unfilled, and despite a few good attacks and splits, it was looking like everything would end with a big sprint. In the last mile I moved up into a pretty good position and was all primed for big effort until about 300 meters from the finish when a car got in the way at a spot where they've got one lane closed. So rather than risk life and limb, everyone backed off except Mike who took off down the left side, shortly pursued by Brandon. Brandon was flying down the left edge of the road, up against the median, and as he closed in on Mike I though he was going to have to hop the curb. He ended up nipping Mike at the line without need for acrobatics, however.

This morning it was still fairly cool -- arm-warmer weather -- and we had a fairly smooth ride out and back, staying in the 23-25 mph range pretty much the whole time. We did have one stop for a flat (not mine this time), but otherwise the ride was uneventful. There's really no hint of darkness any more when I ride out to the levee to meet the group at 6:40 am. Don't you just love summer?

Mixed Results

Late Saturday night I checked the weather forecast up here in Iowa City, fearing the worst. All prior indications had been for cold and rain, so I was still keeping my options open for this one. What I saw, however, offered some hope. The rain seemed to be tracking south of the city, so I went ahead and mounted the Pro Race tire that I'd thrown in my bag at the last minute onto my rather heavy rear training wheel. The tire that was on there was essentially worn down into a rectangular section, so I figured at least the new tire would feel and corner a little better. I was really angry at myself for not checking which wheels were in my wheel bags, because if any race ever called for those nice lightweight SpeedCific wheels with the expensive cassette, this was it. Yeah, it's probably mostly in my head, but you know, sometimes that counts for a lot too.

By morning the forecast was much improved, and although the temperature would be only in the low 50s, it was looking like this race would be a "go" for me. It's always a little strange doing a race on an unfamiliar course where you don't know a single rider. Add to that the cold dry air, a steep little hill, and the somewhat subdued motivation of a "vacation" race, and it can make it hard to ride your best. I arrived at the course shortly after the women's race started and as soon as it ended I was able to get in a few laps around the course. I wasn't feeling too hot, but the big hill didn't seem as bad as I'd feared and otherwise the course was pretty wide open and fast. Knowing my usual response to cold weather and fast starts, I tried to get a good warmup before we were called to the line. As the official checked his start list I chatted with the rider next to me. His prediction was that the 40+ riders were going to basically blow the 50+ riders right off the road. He wouldn't be too far off the mark on that one.

The combined 40+ / 50+ race started out pretty fast, and since I got stuck behind a couple of riders who were fumbling with their pedals I found myself farther back in the group than I like. The combined race had maybe 25 riders or so -- fewer than I'd expected. Within the first lap or two, a couple of riders went clear. I was still stuck near the back and although my legs felt OK, there wasn't too much I could do about it at the time. Eventually I got up closer to the front where I could be more active in the race, but already I knew something was not quite right. Although the legs felt fine going up the hill, my lungs were having some real issues, presumably because of the cold dry air. Even so, I went with a couple of attacks and chased down a couple others, probably doing more work than I should have. Soon I was struggling to stay in contact when the pace would surge coming over the top of the hill. It was really frustrating. The two riders who'd escaped earlier were off on a winning break, and by the time we were halfway through the race I was having trouble just staying with the rapidly dwindling group. With maybe seven laps to go I was starting to lose contact just after the top of the hill and then clawing my way back, sometimes with the help of another rider or two, to the pack just in time to hit the hill again (lap times on the 1 km circuit were probably around 1:50). It was very much like doing intervals, only without most of the "recovery" part. With about two laps to go I finally came off the back for good, but by then the group looked to be down to eight of nine and there wasn't really anybody chasing me. I finished up the last two laps solo, rather demoralized, and in some minor respiratory distress. As it turned out I was 11th overall, which sounded about right. The surprise was that I was 2nd in the 50+ race, which meant I won enough to cover the gas back to maybe St. Louis!

The 31 year old race was apparently suffering from an unusually low turnout this year, but I was impressed with a number of things like the well-monitored intersections. At each one there were a couple of people from the local touring club, and each was armed with a broom that was used mainly to block clueless pedestrians when they tried to cross the street in front of the race. There were also lots of nice sponsor banners all around the course, and a small army of officials. The other thing that surprised me was how few actual police officers were present. Anyway, the race went smoothly, I felt substantially sub-par, but the weather worked out and I won more than my entry fee, so I'd have to give it a thumbs-up.

I just finished updating the Tour de La web page for 2008 (basically just changing the dates and stuff like that), and I got the online registration set up on BikeReg to open after the first week in May, so I just have to finish up the race permit on Tuesday. Tomorrow morning early I'll be on the road back to New Orleans after what must have been one of my lowest mileage weeks this year.

On the Road

The plan for Thursday had been an early solo ride, a quick drive up to Baton Rouge to pick up some stuff from the one of the lawyers involving the mother-in-law's estate, and then a prompt return to the office. No such luck. At least I got in an hour's ride. The drive to Baton Rouge ended up being by way of Madisonville to pick up one of The Wife's sisters, who is co-executor of the estate. Then there was the traffic jam heading into Baton Rouge, and a long drawn-out inventory, an even more drawn-out lunch, a visit to the old family house, etc., etc. The bottom line was that I didn't get home until after 5 pm, to be greeted by a zillion emails, some of which I still haven't answered. It wouldn't have been so bad, except that on Friday we were planning to get up at 4:15 am so we could hit the road to Iowa City at 5:00.

So Friday I drove 928 miles in a rather beat-up rental Ford, burned maybe $120 in gas, and finally arrived a mere fourteen and a half hours later, amazingly within five minutes of my Microsoft Streets schedule, which was pretty surprising since it's not like I was really trying to stay on that schedule. By the time I arrived, though, I was damned tired and essentially brain dead.

So I'm up here in Iowa where the low temperature tonight will be in the 30s. I brought the bike because I wanted to ride the 31st annual Old Capital Criterium on Sunday, and I'd be kind of excited about that if it wasn't for the forecast that is calling for a high in the low 50s and rain. Even that wouldn't be too bad if it weren't for the course profile and the fact that I just discovered that I'd brought a set of racing wheels that didn't have a cassette on it (and I didn't bring my tools). I guess I'm going to have to play this one by ear and see how the weather looks for my start around 1:30 pm. I mean, I'm looking at a criterium with a seriously steep climb and equally steep descent, on wet and unfamiliar roads, in what, at least to me, will be freezing cold temperatures and very likely actual rain if not the dreaded "wintery mix." I think I'm going to have to leave my options open on this one. I haven't even been on the bike since Thursday. I'd wanted to get in an hour or two today but ended up stranded at a shopping mall for (I kid you not) four hours. Sheesh. I nearly fell asleep on one of the mall benches -- more than once. The only good part of that experience was when I saw a guy wearing a T-shirt that said "The Hippies Were Right!"

I hope tomorrow it's either pouring down freezing rain, or completely dry. That would make the decision easy.

Another Day Another Crash

By Tuesday afternoon I was feeling pretty tired, and I admit to briefly entertaining the idea of skipping the training race. W had planned a Tour de La meeting afterward, so I figured since I'd have to take the car out there anyway I may as well go. So with a typical group of fifteen or so the training race started out in fairly civilized fashion, which was good because I hadn't had a chance to get any kind of warmup at all. Toward the end of the second lap the pace picked up a notch and a gap started opening a couple of riders ahead of me. I was kind of boxed in against the curb in the crosswind and it took me a little while to muster up the energy to go around. Just as I did, I looked up to see the lead group getting a nice draft from a conveniently passing car. Their pace increased. Pretty soon, mine decreased. So I settled into cruise mode and figured I'd turn around early at the other end to jump back onto the back of the group rather than ride by myself. Before I got the chance, though, Chad and another rider caught up with me and Brooks and another rider or two showed up, so I ended up chasing in a group of five or so. Although we were steadily losing ground on the lead group, we were getting a pretty good workout anyway, but then on the last lap as we approached the Elysian Fields traffic circle we saw the whole front group standing on the right side of the road. As it turned out, Mike W had dropped the wheel of his TT bike into one of the cracks and gone down. Everyone seemed to be OK, but anyway the day's race was over a little early. Well, except for Brooks who kept going for the win!

The Wednesday morning levee ride was nice and quick today, and even though I was still feeling kind of dragged out, it was a good solid ride for me. Later in the morning I got the free video from the Tour de Georgia going in a little window on my computer, which might have had a slight negative effect on my productivity but certainly had a positive effect on my mood. While I was listening to the commentary I remembered that Gina V had said she'd be doing some medical support for the race and so I sent her an email to find out which stages. A while later I got her reply in which she casually mentioned that she'd been hit by a car a couple of weeks ago, snapped off her fork, broken her carbon bars, flipped over backwards and landed on her head. Not to worry, she's planning on racing Athens twilight this weekend. Her ATL friend Emile Abraham took 7th in stage 2, and she'll be handling medical support for the team time trial and the circuit race in Atlanta.

Just Askin' For It

It must have been a little overcast this morning because it was definitely darker than usual when I rode out to meet the 6:15 group. After yesterday's quiet ride with just Joe and myself, I was expecting to see a fairly large group today. I guess we rolled out with ten or so, which qualifies as "fairly large" for this ride, and as usual we were just spinning at first as everyone got caught up. We hadn't gone more than a mile and were just coming together into a paceline when someone announced, "Walker up!" to which someone else added, "and it's that Crazy Guy." So as we approach the Crazy Guy he moves over so that he's right up against the centerline. (One has to wonder how he drives.) Anyway as the group comes up on him I ring my little bell a few times and then I hear Chad say, rather loudly, "Move over!" I mean, this guy has been just asking for it for months with us and it's getting old, not to mention dangerous. So as Chad goes by the guy takes a swing at him. "That's it" was all I heard before the brakes were applied. I rolled past a little bit with a few others, but a bunch of the guys decided it was finally time to deal with this crazy guy, so they all turned around. I was a little too far down the road by the time I turned around to hear exactly what was going on, but from what I saw, Crazy Guy was rather lucky that Rob didn't just let Chad loose on him. I think that when Crazy Guy found himself surrounded by a bunch of irritated riders he probably started thinking he might have bitten off more than he could chew because he was mostly walking backwards from what I could see.

Anyway, that was the day's excitement. I turned around early at the Dip as usual today because I want to make it out to the training race this evening, especially since we're having a little Tour de La meeting afterward.

The Rest of the Story

So with the road race in the bag, I bolted on the aero-bars and we headed off to the time trial course just east of Brookhaven. The promoter had already called me, worried that they might run out of daylight because of the large turnout, but we figured that everyone should be finished before it actually got dark. I'd done this particular time trial a couple of times before and it hadn't been good either time. The one-way course started out with a downhill, but the first two miles included a couple of little climbs. Both times I'd done this TT before, I'd overcooked it on one of the climbs and basically blown up. I had a pretty good idea what I needed to do to ride this course well, but I wasn't too sure I'd actually be able to pull it off. What I thought I knew was that (a) a good solid warmup was absolutely necessary, and (b) I'd have to keep my perceived exertion level fairly low until I cleared the second little hill. After that the course flattens out, so if I could just get past that point without going over the edge, I'd for once be able to actually take advantage of the last mile and a half of flat fast road. Well, to make a long story short, I felt like I finally got it right and finished thinking that I might even have been able to go a little harder. Of course a good TT for me is a mediocre TT for the specialists, and the masters field was chock full of good time trialists, so I ended up placing 17th out of the 53 road race survivors. A GC placing was looking unlikely, but as I walked back to the NOBC motor home (!!!) for some of Ed's pasta and salad I was nevertheless feeling satisfied with my effort.

Shane, the Chief Ref., told me later that evening that he thought it would probably be around midnight before he could have the full Day 1 results ready for me to post on the LAMBRA website. I guess midnight was around when I finally fell asleep, and it was around 2 am when I was awakened by the "new mail" sound coming from the laptop. By 2:30 I had the Day 1 results finally up on the website and so I fired off an email to the LAMBRA list and tried to get a couple more hours of sleep before the 5am alarm went off.

The criterium is really more of a "Circuiterium" as they say. Somewhere between a Crit and a Circuit Race, this is a very fast course that includes a little climb just before the finish line. The masters race was second-to-last, so I had time to take some photos of the women and Cat. 5s before I had to go get my act together. I was glad to see our Cat. 5s riding well, with Ed taking a hard-fought 4th place. I started the race rather undecided about what to do. There was a slim chance I could move up into the money if I was able to get time bonuses for both the hot spot and finish, but that seemed rather unlikely. Of course there was always the possibility of getting into a break and putting some time on the field. I knew, though, that there would be a couple of teams that would want to keep everything together since they had riders who were guaranteed top-3 placings on GC as long as a break didn't get away. Having everything come down to a pack sprint would be good for me for this particular stage, but it would also lock me out of any chance to move up significantly on GC.

So anyway the race was pretty fast as expected, but it looked very unlikely that anything would get away. I started to make a run for the mid-race hot spot but the pace got so fast coming into it that my plate was full just staying in contact. Then, Dan attacked after the hot spot sprint. Although he was brought back pretty quickly, that move ultimately set up a small break that included me. There were riders from most of the teams in this break, so at first I thought it would go for sure. The problem was that there were only a few of us who really had something to gain from having the break stick. Patrick Marr and I were trying to keep it going, but there were a couple of riders who were working against us because their GC leaders were back in the pack.

With four or five laps left a couple of key riders bridged up and I thought that their teammates would finally start working with us, but alas they didn't and we were caught with only a few laps remaining. I heard Patrick say, "this is going to end in another damned pack sprint!" He was right. There was one last attack with one lap to go and I went with it but it crumbled quickly and then things really started to bunch up in anticipation of the sprint. On the back stretch I was sitting on Dan's wheel maybe eight riders from the front when Jorge came by and I accelerated. We both went past Dan just before the second-to-last turn as the pack screamed down a long downhill. The final sprint back up the hill to the finish was a real gut-wrencher and I was fairly happy to nip Jorge at the line for 4th place because that was the last place receiving a time bonus.

So the bottom line was that I moved up only one spot or so on GC and didn't make it into the money, but still came out pretty well with two stage placings, 6th and 4th, and went home feeling pretty good considering the level of competition. Most of the final GC placings were determined by the time trial except for the three riders in the road race break. It was a really fun race and I won about enough to cover my share of the gas and hotel room, so I guess it was a successful weekend.

MS Gran Prix Stage 1 - Road Race Orphan

I'm sitting here at the hotel (actually, not THE hotel, it's ANOTHER hotel) waiting until it's time to head out to the evening Time Trial course for four miles of torture. Mark, Dave and I drove up early this morning and arrived to find a record-breaking crowd for this year's Mississippi Gran Prix. Although the Cat. 1/2/3 criterium on Friday night had been cancelled because of slick streets, everyone seemed pretty psyched. The masters field numbered 65 or so, with representation from lots of the stronger area teams from Louisiana, Mississippi, Alabama, Texas and Tennessee. As we rolled up to the starting line following the Cat. 1/2/3 start I made sure to get up close the the line because, frankly, I was a little scared by the combination of field size and road width, or lack thereof. We were to do two laps of a nice rolling loop that would give us something like 52 miles. As I'd expected, things started off fast and we flew down the first downhill after the first of many attacks. What I didn't know was that within the first quarter mile there'd been a crash and both of my teammates had gone down. Mark may or may not have broken his collarbone. Dave was a little scraped up but he had gotten back on the road and chased. Jim Phyfer (Herring) got an ambulance ride to the hospital. From what I heard he had a concussion? The problem was that the race was just ballistic for the whole first lap with one attack after the other, so the rider who had gotten gapped off because of the crash never had a chance to catch up. I was totally focused on maintaining a position somewhere near the front where I could respond if something went. This was going pretty well for the first lap and as we came up to the half-mile climb at the end of lap 1 I was expecting another attack. Indeed, three guys ended up opening a little gap, leaving me and Jason in-between them and the rest of the huge pack. This break didn't look too dangerous and after I took a pull and closed the distance a bit, I pulled off only to discover that Jason was drifting back to the pack. This was where I made a crucial mistake. The break had representatives from three teams in it and I was close enough that I probably could have closed it myself because they hadn't really fully committed to their break yet. Instead, I eased up to wait for the pack as one of the always aggressive Jeep riders took off to try and bridge. Well, soon the break really started rolling and the pack was not really responding. Midsouth put a few guys on the front eventually, but it was too little too late and they weren't getting much help, so five miles into the second lap the break was basically out of sight and out of mind. So I knew we were racing for 4th.

The rest of the second lap was definitely slower and it looked for sure like we were in for a big pack sprint up the hill at the finish. I did my best to conserve, but it was important to stay near the front, so it wasn't all easy. As we got within 5km of the finish things started bunching up and it seemed like there were about 40 guys who wanted a shot at the sprint. I was hanging out around Dan Bennett, who has really good pack sense, and we were staying in good position within the front ten or so. Naturally, when we hit the 1 km sign someone attacked and things started to string out. At 500 km the sprint really started, just before the long climb to the finish. I really really had to gut it out for the last 100 meters and found myself in a 3-up sprint with one guy already up the road. I think I ended up 3rd in the pack sprint, but it's hard to say for sure because I was waaaay over my limit.

So after the race I find Mark and Dave already dressed and neither able to race the next stage, so luckily I found Ali from Bicycle World who had an extra bed in the hotel and a car so that Mark and Dave could head back to NOLA where Mark may or may not get his shoulder X-rayed. Hopefully he'll be OK. It was swollen but it was hard to tell for sure if it was broken because it's been broken before.

The Time Trial starts in a couple of hours and this one's never good news for me. My legs already hurt!

Addendum from the Porch

I went home a bit early today, and by 6:00 I was sitting on the front porch, finishing off yesterday's leftover wine, and looking out over the street as the neighbors slowly filtered back home from work. The wine was working wonders; silencing the day's static and giving me a chance, however brief, to enjoy the simple pleasure and time-honored city tradition of porch-sitting. Granted, a glass of wine is no match for the mind-expanding recreational drugs of the 60s, but then again it carries a lot less overhead. Here in New Orleans we're in the last phases of Spring. The trees and other plants are lush with new growth, the buck moth caterpillars, mostly dead from the recent ritual of the spraying of the oak trees, are everywhere, and there's a momentary sense of calm and relaxation before the real heat of summer descends upon the city. It's almost like people are afraid to mention the nice weather for fear it will hasten the arrival of Summer. Talk of Katrina is gradually dropping off as the old redundant complaints and inner-city whining increase to their pre-hurricane levels, and things are for the most part starting to return to normal, whatever that might be. I'll sit here a while longer soaking in whatever this tree-shaded uptown ennui is, and once the wine wears off I'll guess I'll be right back where I was to start with. But it will have been worth the trip, anyway.

Piling Up

Man, this month is barely half over and so far it's been just one thing after another. We've got a position open in our department right now and I was reviewing some of the applications last night. Need someone who can fly Navy fighters? We've got one. Need someone who can speak Russian? Swahili? How about a JD or MBA? Should be interesting... Meanwhile, the things I've got on my to-do list at work are really beginning to pile up with no end in sight. That, of course, results in a major backup of the things on my non-work to-do list. Add to that the big check I just sent to Uncle Sam and the $500 deductible on the $4,500 repair bill that's coming for the car, and stage race entry fees that are reaching above $60 now, and things are getting a little tight.

So this morning the wind was still strong but now it has shifted around more out of the south, warming the temperatures and raising the humidity a bit. Actually, it was rather pleasant. The river is still just as high as ever, and yesterday the Corps decided to open up a couple more bays of the Spillway. You can see in the photo how much higher the water is than the road on the other side. I was on a tight schedule for the long levee ride this morning because I had to meet the Gas Meter installation guys for 8:15, which is about when I usually get home on the "long" days. With mostly tailwind on the way out to Ormond, the group was rolling along pretty fast today - fast enough that things started to come apart a couple of times and a few of the guys decided to stay out of the rotation. The big excitement, though, came maybe half-way out when a walker decided to make a U-turn just as the paceline was coming up to him. In fact, I had my hand on my bell and was about to ring it when it happened. Luckily, everyone was alert and collisions were avoided. It's a good thing, too. We've had so many crashes around here lately. First my little levee-surfing incident a couple of weeks ago, then a big crash on the Giro Ride on Sunday, and another crash on the Northshore training ride this week. Anyway, we had a long ride back into the headwind to get home this morning. The best part was when Max got on the front and just powered into it at a nice steady speed for about five miles straight. When he finally pulled off I think our pace dropped about two mph.

So when I rolled up to the house, there were two guys from the "underground" service waiting for me to install the new gas meter and connect it up to the house gas lines, which is complicated by the fact that the old meter was inside the basement but the new one is outside. Anyway, they got to work right away and had everything back up and running in about an hour, which made me about half an hour late getting to work, but under the circumstances I guess that's pretty good.

The Mississippi Gran Prix is this weekend up in Brookhaven. I got my pre-registration done this morning and as usual was irritated that the Active.com service fee was essentially the same as the late fee. I hate that. Then, as usual, the Active.com release form didn't populate properly. I forget what the issue is, but it's the same one that caused me to switch our events from Active to BikeReg a couple of years ago. So now I just have to figure out how to get myself to the race and where to stay! I'll have to make some calls this afternoon when I get a chance...

Unplanned Respite

Tuesday morning's alarm went off a mere four hours after I'd finally hit the sack, and ten minutes later I was on my way out to the levee, still half-asleep. The air was chilly enough for knee-warmers and the Kodiak jersey, and if I said I enjoyed the ride out to the dip I'd be lying. I was tired and uncomfortable, and within a few miles all I could think about was the fact that I'd be turning around early at the dip and riding back alone. The paceline was motoring along pretty quickly thanks to a little tailwind, and although I was trying to do my share, it was decidedly weak. So when we arrived at the dip I was only too happy to pull out of the paceline and head back down the river. Something was telling me to take a little break, and I wasn't arguing about it, so I put my hands on the tops, shifted to a low gear, and rode for a few miles at 16 mph, looking at the scenery. Slowly, almost imperceptibly, my speed increased as I rode through Kenner and Jefferson. It always happens this way when I'm trying to ride easy by myself. The last five miles or so into the headwind were fast enough to actually qualify as training, I think. Regardless, it was looking like the afternoon's weather would be excellent and I was determined to make it out to the lakefront for Worlds ... if I could just stay awake that long.

Since we were taking the Volvo to the body shop for repairs, I didn't get to ride to work. Instead we dropped off the car at Champs and walked across the little parking lot to the conveniently located Enterprise car rental place. The insurance company was springing for all of $15/day for a rental, so we ended up with a $25/day Ford of some sort with stained carpets, cigarette burns in the seats and reeking of that nasty air freshener crap that all rental car companies feel compelled to use. At least it reminded me why the Volvo was so expensive.

Tuesday Night Worlds! Today we had Dan Bennett, back in town for a while to attend a class reunion, along with most of the usual Zealots. For the first time this year the wind was practically calm, which made for a much more fun training race with lots of attacking and changes in pace. Woody, despite his extensive road rash from last weekend's Georgia Cup criterium in Chattanooga, was taking some long steady pulls at the front, as was VJ, and there was a whole bunch of guys sitting in the pack enjoying the draft. I made a number of hard efforts, mostly closing gaps as usual, and was kind of surprised how good I was feeling, under the circumstances. Every lap we had to negotiate some huge lengthwise cracks around the Elysian Fields traffic circle. They've been actually filling these in with some kind of asphalt/tar stuff, which is great, but at the moment a lot of them have had all the dirt and stuff blown out of them, but there's no filler yet, so you're left temporarily with this huge wheel-grabbing crack about two inches wide, along with little patches of sand here and there. Anyway, it was a lot of fun today. A mile or so from the finish Woody and one other rider (Mike C?) took off and got a huge gap as the rest of us contemplated the wisdom of launching a chase in the grey zone that's a little too long to go solo and a little too short to recover if you don't make it. Eventually someone started towing the group up and I found myself on Dan's wheel closing in quickly on the duo. Dan wasn't quite sure where the finish was, though, so when he eased off I launched with Noel on my wheel. If the finish had been 20 yards farther we'd have won, but I ran out of road and never got past whichever one was in the lead.

So this morning the alarm goes off and I reach up, turn it off, and fall immediately back asleep. Oh well, I guess I must have needed another hour or so of sack time anyway.

Alone in the Wind

***Warning! It's been a few days, so this one is going to be loooong.
You might want to go pop a bag of popcorn or something before continuing...

I looked down through the cloudy eye shield of my time trial helmet and made a mental note of the distance. Only half a mile into the 4 mile time trial, riding directly into a 25 mph headwind, I was already considering sitting up. This was not good. Motivation was lacking, aerobic capacity was already exceeded, and a lingering frustration from the earlier road race seemed to be holding me back like a badly rubbing brake pad.

I'd driven up to the Rocky Mount Stage Race with Mark, arriving in plenty of time for some unhurried warmup before the combined 45+/55+ road race on a nice hilly circuit that I knew fairly well. My history on that particular circuit, however, had always left me just a bit disappointed. This year, although I was old enough for the 55+ race, I'd entered the 45+ class more or less by accident, but since both groups were combined for the Road Race and Criterium I figured it wouldn't matter much anyway. So we head off on the road race around noon with the temperature still quite cool by my standards, and after a short neutral section we start to race. Almost immediately, it seemed, Geri Atrix rider Philip Sladek rolls off the front and starts opening the gap at an alarming rate. With four strong teammates in the group, plus a number of 55+ riders who had no reason to chase, it was pretty much me and a couple of others to do something about this. So I start pushing the chase along with Bo and a couple of others, and at one point, near the top of the longest climb on the loop, I pull us up to within 15 seconds of him. I ease over for someone to come through and -- screetch -- everything slows down again. That's about when I threw in the towel. Philip ended up riding the whole race solo and finishing about two minutes ahead of the rest of us. Since he was riding 45+, that left only one hot spot place up for grabs on the next lap, so I figured I'd better try and save a little something for that. I just love it when the hot spot is at the top of a climb, and I felt good sprinting for it but hesitated just a moment too long, just missing out on that last 45+ bonus. Damn.

Most of the next lap was punctuated by numerous attacks and counter-attacks by the Geri Atrix guys, and a few by the lone Oklahoma City Velo rider, and it seemed that there were only two or three of us who were responding to them. Well, maybe just 2.5 of us. Anyway, I was doing a lot of work, but I was hoping to get in a little break with one or two of the Geri Atrix guys in order to help compensate for the lousy time trial I was already expecting to do that evening. With maybe six or seven miles to go George Heagerty attacked and I instinctively reacted, pulling the group up to him a short time later. Within a mile or so he attacked again and as I started to go after him I heard Tom say, "Come on, Randy, he's riding 55+. Let him go." Of course, he was right, and as hard as it is for me to let anything go, especially for the second time in the race, we were too close to the finish for me to risk making such an effort for nothing and then being vulnerable to a counter-attack by one of the guys who was actually in the same race as I. So off Tom went on his way to a solo finish.

The end of this road race features a nice stair-step climb that's about a kilometer long that delivers you about 200 meters from the finish line at the top of Rocky Mount. My legs were still feeling fairly good and as we approached the climb I found myself in a decent position. The moment the road tilted up, Bo Bourne attacked hard down the left side. I thought, "waaay too early for me," but of course the front of the group had to respond anyway. I was being careful to stay protected, though, because I'd blown this finish more than once in the past. Sure enough, Bo blew up about halfway up and the two guys in front of me pulled ahead. For a little while I was riding right on Tom's hip, keeping him boxed in behind another rider. I knew that if another jump happened too early I'd probably blow before the finish. As we hit the stair-step the pace at the front eased and someone jumped from behind, which started the final sprint. By then I was basically hanging onto Tom's wheel, quite unsure about whether I should jump for the line or not. Well, I should have, but didn't, and ended up finishing 5th in the 45+. Guess how many places deep the finish bonus went. Yep, 4 places. Damn again. My NOBC teammate Mark finished right behind me, so at least we both got pack time.

Later in the evening we get to the time trial course and the temperature is getting cooler and there's a brutal wind blowing straight down the course from the turnaround. I was already thinking bad thoughts. I'd already missed out on all the bonus points in the road race, and now I've got to deal with a windy 4-mile time trial against a few guys who are easily capable of blowing my little 125 pound self right off the road in this kind of wind. This is not the way to start a time trial. Within half a mile I was already considering sitting up and bagging the whole thing (it usually takes me at least a whole mile). So I plugged along into the wind going alarmingly slowly and wondering if I'd get caught by my 30-second man. Finally, well after the turnaround I started to get into it with the tailwind, but by then it was a case of too little, too late. As I'd expected, my time was a good 15 seconds beyond respectable, so going into Sunday's criterium I'd be tied with Bo for 6th place, with the top three places pretty much out of reach. On the plus side, my lack of Time Trial motivation had left my legs fairly unaffected.

Sunday morning it was cold, and I ended up racing with a T-shirt and chest protector underneath my jersey and arm-warmers on my arms. It must have been a good decision because I was never too hot or too cold once things got underway. So here I was with a 40 minute criterium in a wide-open and windy parking lot, tied for the last prize placing and with a 5-rider team leading both the 45+ and 55+ races. None of the Geri Atrix guys had much motivation to be in a break, and without one I could move up in the GC only by snagging lots of bonus points, or going solo which of course they would never allow to happen.

Right away George Heagerty takes off solo, and since he's riding 55+ and I pretty much know I'm going to be counter-attacked at every opportunity, I let him go. Somehow Mark got gapped off early and ended up with a small group that never regained contact. After the hot spot, George eased up, and was back in the group. I went hard for that same hot spot and was able to nap the 1st 45+ bonus, so I was feeling good about that because it should have moved me up to 5th on GC.

This criterium was fairly fast and lots of fun, with attacks and counter-attacks all over the place. My only option was to stay at the front and respond to pretty much everything. An attack would go, I'd close the gap as quickly as I could, and then I'd look over my shoulder for the counter-attack. Wash-rinse-repeat. It was hard, but it was fun, and my legs were feeling pretty frisky. Coming into the last lap I could see the Geri Atrix guys coming together for a leadout, so I started to focus on Tom Bain's wheel which I knew from experience would be good in the sprint. On the first turn of the last lap I pull up even with the teammate who's on his wheel and when a little gap opens I surge into it. Sweet. There's a surge before the last corner and I'm about fourth wheel, still behind Tom, as we fly through the turn. The wind's coming from the left and I'm in Tom's draft between him and the curb. He's leaving a little room because he thinks one of his teammates is still behind him, but as soon as I can I jump just in case that door closes before the finish, and come past him just before the line taking 1st place.

So I ended up moving all the way up to 4th on GC and feeling like I at least redeemed myself after that dismal time trial. It must be my equipment. Yeah, that's it. I need one of those time trial bikes. That's the ticket....

Fractured Friday

With the wind still blowing strongly out of the south I swung my leg over the Orbea this morning, gliding sadly past the Volvo with its crumpled hood, and rode out to see who would be at the levee for the Friday ride. I'd been up rather late the night before after a nice dinner in a private room at Arnaud's in the French Quarter that someone else was paying for, a quick 10:30 meeting with Robin to trade off stopwatches and stuff for the Tour de Lis Time Trial tomorrow, and some swapping around of wheels, tires and cassettes in preparation for this evening's trip with Mark to the Rocky Mount Stage Race. I'd been up until around 1 am, thanks to the two cups of post-dinner coffee and bag-packing, so when I went out to ride this morning I thought I had things more or less under control.

Up on the levee it was just Scott and me at first, joined eventually by Ali who motored past us, completely incommunicado in iPod land, on his way to the turnaround. So I picked up the pace a bit and tucked into his draft as he towed the two of us all the way out to Kenner. I would have been nice if he'd given us a little more room in the crosswind, but I didn't feel like shouting and he apparently couldn't hear my more gentle requests. Anyway, we got out there pretty fast thanks to the tail/crosswind, and then on the ride back the pace remained fairly brisk, at least for a Friday. The river was a few more inches higher this morning, but the Corps announced it was going to open up some of the Spillway today, so I guess this will be about as high as it gets this time.

So I got back home nice and early, which should have left me lots of time to finish packing things up for an early after-work departure today. Then, as I was standing in the basement lifting the bike up to hang on its hook I heard a loud "crack!" I thought, "Damn, what was that?" Looking down I saw that the chain had come partially off the front derailleur, but when I went to put it back on I discovered that the derailleur cage had slipped down below the level of the front chainring teeth. Hmmmm. Not good. The damned clamp-on derailleur had spontaneously fractured at its aluminum hinge. As luck would have it, I happened to have a spare front derailleur and clamp, in this case a Shimano clamp and a Campi Centaur derailleur, but beggars can't be choosers, eh? So I rushed through installing it and finally headed off to work in the fractured Volvo quite a bit later than planned. I guess I should count myself lucky, in a way, since I was going up to the S'port race with Mark, so the car wouldn't be an issue, and the one thing that broke on the bike happened to be something for which I happened to have a spare. I don't know if that qualifies as good luck or simply temporary reduction in bad luck.

Too Much Going On

I thought today would be a little bit more busy than normal. Little did I know... First, I head out to the long levee ride this morning where Tim and Woody did some damage in the strong tailwind, dropping most of the group and leaving just Darren and me begging for mercy every time we'd get up over 28 mph. The return trip into the wind actually seemed easier, but then I did spend a fair amount of time just sitting on the back! The rest of the day has been kind of hectic with lots of work not getting done in-between a meeting about this weekend's Tour de Lis, various cycling-related emails and arrangements for the Rocky Mount Stage Race, and a planned dinner at 7:00. Just when I though I'd be able to come up for air, The Wife calls to say she's run into the back of a car on her way to pick up her sister at the airport. Sounds like the damage was minimal, though, and at least she has lots of experience in the accident-reporting area.

Wind and Water

Tuesday morning I worked my way out the door and past the mud and the new eight foot deep excavation that the gas people have made about three feet from the house, and headed for the levee in my usual rush because as usual I was running late. All I can say is that it's a good thing I don't live very far from where we meet. My legs were clearly still feeling a little bit of last Sunday, so I figured I'd take it relatively easy since my plan was to turn around at the dip anyway. It was looking like the weather would be fine for Tuesday Night Worlds on the lakefront, so I didn't need the extra mileage. The 45 minutes on the lakefront plus the ride to and from would most likely prove more than sufficient to satisfy the day's masochism quota.

The river level continues to rise noticeably, and after I turned around for the long solo ride back down the bike path I could hear the water lapping loudly up against the concrete levee apron. In most places it's already easy to see that the river water level is quite a bit higher than the ground on the other side. A few more feet and it will go from noticeable to shocking. It looks to me like a number of the businesses that operate on the batture are getting pretty close to having some flooding problems, but of course that's the price you pay if you need to build something on the wrong side of the levee. It's always surprised me that most of these buildings aren't even raised. I guess the cost of cleaning up every ten years or so is lower than that of building something a little more flood-resistant. So anyway, I had an enjoyable enough return trip into the headwind and got to work a little earlier than usual.

Later that afternoon The Wife called looking for an excuse to leave work a few minutes early, so I got a ride back to the house. That was nice because it meant I wouldn't have to rush down Carrollton Avenue in the crazy rush-hour traffic to make the training race.

I guess we had about twenty out there yesterday evening. There was a stiff wind blowing out of the southeast, which translated into a cross-headwind in one direction and a cross-tailwind in the other. It was going to be a hard one, and I was really not feeling up to speed. So we started out and within a mile or so Eddie, Woody and someone else (Diego?) had already opened a big gap. I was still basically fighting for a draft in the gutter most of the time, so there wasn't much I could do about it. The rest of the group seemed to be in considerable disagreement about just how important it was to chase. Even with the rather intermittent chasing, further complicated by the crosswind and the fact that only five or six were willing to stick their noses out in front for any length of time, we weren't losing much ground for the first couple of laps. In fact, I thought we got pretty close on lap 3 of 6 - maybe 20 seconds or so - but it kind of crumbled after that, along with my ability to keep track of which lap we were on. Matt was feeling particularly frustrated with the group's efforts, and his steady stream of verbal abuse wasn't having much of an effect. As a result, he would occasionally launch off the front, only to be slowly and painfully reeled back in. And of course Mike was in there swerving around in the crosswind on his fixed gear TT bike with a rear disk. It looked like he was having some serious difficulty in the headwinds, no doubt due to the Herculean gear he was riding. Anyway, I was getting a pretty intense workout even though I wasn't spending a whole lot of time on the front. With one lap to go Mike goes flying past all the way over in the left lane to take what he *thought* was the finish. The group rolls past him as he sits up.

On the last lap, which I thought was the second-to-last lap, there we were flying along the tailwind stretch toward the fountain traffic circle. I was sitting behind Ben and we were both being guttered by the crosswind coming from the left when **bam** I roll over something big enough to knock one hand off the bars. I'm thinking it must have been a clump of mud or a rock or chuck of concrete from the ongoing levee construction. A moment later **bam, bam88** Ben nails something even bigger, knocking his hands off the bars so he hits the stem with his chest. Right on his wheel I hit it too. Luckily Ben regained control and pulled over without going down. I know it must have hurt that elbow replacement that he just had done. So I close the gap and the pace picks up and I'm still thinking we have another lap to go. There's an attack or two and as I go past someone I hear him say something like "go get 'em Randy" and think "oh, this must be the finish." I guess I'll have to work on my counting skills. In the past, when we were using the longer course, I got pretty good at knowing when the last lap came up just by looking at the clock, but on this course I haven't quite figured it out yet since the laps are so much shorter. It was a lot of fun, though. As I was riding down Lakeshore Drive afterward with Eddie and VJ, VJ looked over at Eddie and said, "Yeah, we would have had a really good race if it hadn't been for you guys!" It's hard being dropped, even if most of the race is with you...

Back to Cuba

The alarm went off at 4:10 a.m. and I felt, not entirely unexpectedly, like crap. I'd slept only sporadically, my head propped up on a folded-over pillow, struggling to breathe through a congested nose. But damn, I really wanted to ride the race, so I decided I'd at least give it a try and if things got worse I could always just head back to the car early. So by 4:25 Ed and I were on the fog-shrouded Interstate to Cuba, Alabama for the annual road race. By the time we arrived at 8 am the temperature had dropped a full twenty degrees, it was still quite foggy and overcast, and I was feeling that uncomfortable chill that you get when you're running a mild fever. Luckily, it was time for another dose of non-drowsy cold medicine, so I gulped down two enormous translucent blue pills that looked like they should glow in the dark, and started getting my stuff together for the race. I hadn't really planned on how cold it would be and didn't have an extra jersey in my bag, so I decided to wear a cotton T-shirt under my jersey. That, together with arm-warmers and a chest protector, was just enough to keep the chill more or less at bay.

The A race started off with a combined Cat. 1/2/3 and Masters group of 46 and I was glad that things initially remained more or less civilized. Within the first few miles a little group of, I think, three rolled unchallenged off the front. The gap wasn't growing very quickly at all, not that I had anything to do with it one way or the other. My game plan, under the circumstances, was pretty simple. I would stay near the back, keep my effort level as low as possible, and hope that I'd start feeling better. If I started to feel feverish or otherwise worse, I'd just drop quietly off the back and head for the car. Thanks to the big group, lack of significant wind, and moderate pace, though, I was feeling OK hanging out way at the very back of the pack. Halfway through the first of the four laps in this 84 mile race I was still not willing to give myself more than a 50-50 chance of finishing, but I was starting to feel a more and more optimistic as the miles rolled by. Way out on the back side of the course I could see that we were starting to close in on the break. With big contingents of ACCM/Memphis Motor Werks and Herring guys along with reasonable showings from most of the other area teams, I wasn't too surprised. I was also expecting some fireworks once we caught.

This particular road course has a really fun and fast downhill on the back side that easily allows for speeds of over 45 mph. I couldn't resist a smile as the pack snaked its way down it and around the curve, but I was still basically hanging onto the tail of this snake. It wasn't long afterward that I heard the first unmistakable sounds of a crash up near the front of the group. I eased off at first and then went for the brakes. Riders were going down like dominoes and the crash zone was rapidly expanding outward from the middle of the road all the way to both shoulders. As I dove for the ditch I saw a wheel sliding across the pavement looking like it had been folded in half to fit into a rather small envelope.

Since I'd been so far back in the group I was able to avoid piling into the huge crash that had now consumed at least fifteen riders. I rode carefully through the grass and back up onto the road and focused on closing the gap back to what was left of the race. I passed Frank Moak who had practically stopped and was about to go back to see how his teammates had fared. After a brief effort I was back in the draft of the group. We were missing probably twenty riders. Although the group was still rolling at a reasonable pace, it was clear that most of the riders were taking it a bit easy in case any of their teammates were back there chasing. The MMW guys seemed to have fared the best since most of their riders had been on the front at the time of the crash. I kept looking back but couldn't see anyone chasing, even though I heard from someone that Frank Moak and some others were a couple of minutes back. A few miles later Rob suddenly showed up back in the group. I turned around again on a straight stretch, but couldn't see anyone down the road at all. By the time we were finishing up the second lap the group was starting to race again. Also, I was actually starting to feel better. My breathing was coming easier and my legs were feeling fine. I noticed that Diego was spending a lot of time on the front and started moving up there to give him a little break now and then. Even so, when the group split and ten riders rolled off the front I was still reluctant to do anything about it. On the plus side, I'm starting to think that maybe I can actually finish this race.

So this 10-rider group started pulling away without much of a response from what was left of the main group and I started to find myself closer to the front and even taking an occasional pull. Maybe fifteen miles before the finish two more riders launched from the pack and took off I figured I may as well go for it. I mean, most of the race was already up the road anyway, so why not. So off I went on this suicide mission.

I'm chasing about as hard as I dare but I'm barely making any progress. After a mile or two I realize that one of the riders seems to be pulling faster than the other. I look back and see that the pack hasn't really responded and I'm now in no-man's-land, halfway between the break and the pack. The option to sit up crossed my mind a couple of times, but for some reason my instinct told me there was still hope. The road here was nothing but rolling hills, so the gap kept changing. Suddenly the pair seemed do slow a bit as they climbed one of them and I saw my chance. I dropped my head, stood on the pedals, and made one last, long effort, finally making contact. After a brief recovery I got into the rotation and we basically started a smooth 3-man time trial. The two riders I was with were Wylie, a Cat. 2 from GCCA, and Eric, a Cat. 3 who I didn't know. We were all basically racing for separate prizelists, so I wasn't too worried about working in this break. Over the course of the last lap we passed one rider who'd been shelled by the lead group, and then, maybe five miles before the finish we picked up another who was able to stick with us. The finish was, at least for me, rather uneventful. The rider we'd picked up eased up when Wylie jumped, and I just kind of watched from behind as he and Eric sprinted for the line.

So I was pretty happy to be feeling better. Thanks largely to the big crash, I'd ended up 3rd in the master's race and 13th overall, which was a whole lot better than the DNF I'd been expecting. At the finish line I saw Brooks who was walking around with an icepack on his shoulder describing his front rim that had been broken in at least four separate places. Under the circumstances, I think he was lucky because it looked like his front wheel had eaten a pedal or at least a quick-release.

I made it back to the finish with my camera in time to see Ed sprint for 3rd in the Cat. 5 race. Considering this was a pretty challenging 84 mile race, and that this was only his second road race ever, I was pretty impressed. The rest of the NOBC contingent from the B race came in shortly thereafter with Rolan finishing 11th, Steve 13th, and Pat 15th in the Cat. 5 competition. Viv and Judity were 4th and 5th in the women's race, and Ed K. finished at the end of the Cat. 4 race. Somewhere out there on the chip-seal the old ErgoBrain passed 75,000 miles.

Below the Storm

I made it out to the Friday ride, but I already knew how I'd feel. The prior day's drip in the back of my throat was none the better and I'd already started taking pseudoephrine, which thanks to the popularity of home-brew Meth, now serves as a poor substitute for the good ol' pseudoephedrine that got me through my worst allergy years of the 80s and 90s. The morning ride was not exactly an easy recovery ride, and I felt sorry for the new rider (Monica, I think) who showed up and politely asked if she could ride with us. Although the pace wasn't what you'd call "fast," it stayed up around 23-24 most of the way, and the first time I looked behind me she was nowhere to be seen. Cycling can be so harsh that way. I'm hoping that she ended up riding with Richard H., who that morning had marked the return of Springtime by showing up for the morning ride. Anyway, it was a pretty nice ride, but I knew something was wrong.

By noon on Friday I was really starting to feel under the weather. My nose had been running like a leaky faucet all morning and I was starting to feel a little achy. Around 3:00 I walked down the street to the drug store and picked up some Zinc lozenges to try and reduce my chances of getting a sore throat. So far it's either working or there was never a sore throat to ward off. Who knows? Since we had to go across the lake to meet one of The Wife's many mildly neurotic sisters for dinner we left work a little early, arriving back home to find the Gas Line Installing Crew hard at work. They've been replacing all of the gas lines in our neighborhood since they were all compromised by the flooding after Katrina (they mostly filled up with muddy water), and the area around our corner house was ground-zero that day. Sadly, they were relying on an old map to guess where our gas meter is (it's inside the basement, so they couldn't see it) and ran about 70 feet of underground gas line down one side of the house, which turns out to have been about 50 feet farther than necessary. Oops. Sadly, I'd given their office my cellphone number a couple of days earlier but they never took the time to call.

By the time we left the northshore, around 10:30 last night, the storms were moving in rapidly. Driving through rainstorms in the middle of a 25-mile wide lake is always exciting. A couple of hours later the really heavy stuff moved through the city jolting me out of bed more than once with shockingly loud claps of thunder and intensely bright lightning that went on for hours. Now, though, it's mostly passed through and I'm sitting here sniffling and sucking on Zinc and listening to the sound backhoes and heavy equipment and hoping against hope that I'll feel good enough to make the road race over in Cuba by 4:30 a.m. tomorrow. To make matters worse, the rain washed away any chance of getting in a ride this morning. Of course that may have been a good thing, at least for me. With the head cold, sore ribs, twisted ankle, and dull headache, the Giro Ride might not have been such a good idea.

Twisted Chains

Really hard getting out of bed this morning. The "cool front" that never quite made it here dropped the morning temperature all of maybe two degrees while at the same time engulfing the levee in fog and, of course, 100% humidity. I made it out there anyway and we took off into the mist just a few minutes late. Every now and then I'd have to wipe the water from my glasses in order to see what little there was to see, and eventually I gave up and stuck them in my helmet for the duration.

We were out past the parish line when suddenly the pace slowed and Scott started coming through the group backwards, looking down at his chain as I heard Rob say something like, "No, don't pedal backwards!" Scott's efforts to get the chain back onto the chainring lasted no longer than his momentum, and soon he had to stop. The rest of the group hesitated for a moment, but when they realized that it wasn't going to be a quick fix they went ahead while Robin, Max and I stayed behind to assist. I turned around and rode back to Scott who was trying to unravel his chain, which by then had about three loops in it, one of which was jammed tightly in the front derailleur cage. I finally got them all unravelled, but the damage was pretty severe. A few of the links had been rather badly twisted out of parallel with the others, so we had to send Scott limping back home with strict instructions not to stand up on the pedals. Luckily, he made it there without any of the damaged links coming apart.

So the three of us who were left rode steadily upriver, turning around just before the Luling bridge to meet back up with the group. With a bit of a crosswind and headwind on the way back we tried to get a circular paceline going, but that never really works well on the levee. The road is so narrow and there are so many pedestrians and bikes that the double line gets disrupted way too often. For me, I also have issues with the double paceline blocking out most of my visibility ahead as well. Eventually the number of people in the rotation dropped down to four or five and it all devolved back into a single paceline.

Much work to get done today, which is good because it will keep me from thinking about The Mistress's 12-hour nose surgery and The Daughter's planned knee surgery, although every time I sneeze I can't avoid thinking about my damned ribs!

Drafting Rob

I was feeling a little deprived this morning after yesterday's wash-out of the training race, so I was kind of glad to see Rob in the group on his intensely lettered Argon time trial bike with its handlebars practically scraping the front wheel. The winds were quite calm, for a change, and the small group that started out picked up riders all along the way until we had at least ten in the paceline. A few of us, including Rob and Mark, were pushing the pace just a bit, keeping it around the 24mph mark, give or take, and I found myself drafting Rob most of the time. Since I was looking for a little extra work anyway, this worked out pretty well, and by the time I finally peeled off to head home I felt like I'd gotten in a decent enough workout. Drafting Rob when he's on his TT bike can be a challenge, even for someone as small as I. From behind I can barely see his head because his bars are set so low. This must be kind of what if feels like for normal people when they're behind me in a paceline.

The right ankle and foot are still tinged in purple and I'm still being cautious with them, especially when walking or riding out of the saddle, but as long as I'm seated I don't feel much discomfort, at least for the first hour or so. The ribs still hurt, but only when I breathe. It sure takes a long time for all this old grizzle and bone to mend.

Rising Tide

Tuesday morning was warm and humid. This time of year, that's a good thing because the only other option is generally hot and humid. I was running quite late when I left the house and time-trialed all the way out to the levee. The whole way I was thinking that I could make up a lot more ground on the group now while they were still going slowly than later when they really got up to speed. So I was rather surprised to find that they hadn't left when I finally arrived four or five minutes late. I was planning on turning around at the Dip today because I wanted to do the Tuesday Worlds training race in the evening out on the lakefront. As usual, the pace kept ramping up as we got farther out, so I wasn't too unhappy about easing up as we approached the Dip. Behind me, Big Richard had already eased up too, so at least I had some company for the ride back down the river. Richard and I make for a pretty unlikely pair. The other day when we were stopped waiting for someone to change a flat I discovered that I could slide my handlebars completely under his, which emphasizes the fact that his head tube is about as long as the seat tube on my sloping top tube Orbea. Even so, I very often find that he ends up on my wheel in the pacelines. Perhaps he likes the extra visibility, or perhaps it's just that he's quite a strong rider who rarely hesitates to close a gap or take a pull at the front.

Anyway, as we were Rollin' down the River into the ever-present headwind, I was surprised at how much the river level had risen since Friday. It was now lapping up against the base of the levee in most areas, and the batture was now covered with all manner of flotsam and jetsam representing a fine sampling of the junk that passes through our fine city on its way from the rest of the Mississippi River Valley states to the Gulf. Along the way I noticed at least two refrigerators.

By 3:00 pm I was already anticipating the Tuesday Worlds training race out on the lakefront, and even took a few minutes to update the NOBC "Rides Page" with the current information. Keith called and we agreed to meet at my house for 5:30 to ride out to the lake together. Then things started sliding downhill. The sky was growing darker and darker to the north, and by 4:30 I could see from my 25th floor observation deck that it was probably already raining on the lakefront. So I took a look at the current radar on weather.com to see how bad it was. There was indeed a little shower passing from west to east along the south shore of the lake, and another one right behind it, but they didn't look too big. I thought it was likely they would be gone by 6:00, and besides, it wasn't looking like rain at my house. So at 5 pm sharp I headed home and was surprised to get a few little sprinkles along the way. Looking north over my right shoulder the sky was not looking any better at all. At home I changed into riding clothes and swung open the basement door a bit before 5:30 to find a light drizzle falling. I rushed upstairs to have another look at the radar and what I saw was bad. In the time it had taken me to get home, those little showers had blossomed into much larger and more significant rainstorms. Damn. Just about that time the phone rang. It was Keith, of course, and as the rain started to increase we decided it was going to be a wash-out. I sat in front of the computer for another half-hour, still in my riding clothes, hoping for a chance to ride, even if it was meant taking the old full-fender Pennine out to the levee. By 6:15 the rain at my house went from drizzle to a full-on torrential downpour complete with thunder. Game over. I reluctantly changed back into civilian clothes and called it a day.