Winter Winds, Winter Legs

Once yesterday morning's cold front came through, the temperature started falling and by the time I headed off to the Reily Center for Spin class it was getting rather nippy. I was kind of dreading this class because the instructor is Milo, a rather large and loud guy who would make a nice drill sergent. He does not seem to have much of an appreciation for cycling, per se, and so his class is structured more like weight-lifting. How about fifty repeats of five seconds standing and five seconds sitting? Yeah, right. So I would stand for four of his cycles and sit for four. It probably drove him crazy, but my back still hasn't quite recovered from the last time I fell for that routine, and besides, I need to be able to ride the next morning. The worst part, though, was that someone had repositioned the fan! There are a number of fans on the floor of the Spinning room, and I always try to get one particular bike because it's right in line with one of them. I didn't notice until after we got started that someone had moved it a bit and I wasn't getting any breeze. Within ten minutes I was dripping sweat and the only wind I could feel was my own breath on my forearms. Since I'd missed riding in the morning, though, I was committed to getting a good workout so I just suffered through it. By the time I finished my cotton t-shirt was a couple of pounds heavier and I was sucking the last drops from my water bottle. It's a good thing my ride home from there isn't very long. I had brought a dry shirt, but my shorts, legs, shoes and hair were pretty well soaked for the ten minute ride back. Another ten minutes and I'm sure the residual warmth from the workout would have been blown away and I'd have frozen my ass off.

By this morning the temperature had dropped to around 40 and there was a strong north wind blowing. I tried to think up an excuse to sleep late, but just couldn't come up with anything good, so I piled on some clothes and headed out. The group was pretty small today - Woody, Mignon, Jeff, John, et. al. - and once we got into the headwind we were struggling to stay in the low 20 mph range. Woody was taking long pulls at the front. I wasn't. Soon, he looked over at me and suggested we turn around a little early. By then the relentless crosswind had split the group and Woody was thinking that those behind us would turn around early, leaving four of us with a very long and windy ride home. I didn't argue the point. So we turned around at The Dip and regrouped for the ride back. Even with the extra people, though, it felt like a long hard battle with the winter wind. Thanks to the prior evening's sweatathon, my legs were not feeling too quick and as often happens when they're feeling tired, I found myself riding one cog higher than usual. Anyway, I was glad I'd made it out there today because by the time I got back everything was feeling considerably better.

It Rained

The moment my alarm sounded, I reached down beside the bed, feeling in the dark for my Palm Pilot to check the radar. I pushed the "on" button and the screen filled the room with a pale blue light. A couple of taps here and there, and as the radar map loaded, the blue changed dramatically to green. I didn't even have to see the map to know what that meant. I lifted myself up on one elbow and peered out the window. The street was still dry, but there was a long line of rain ahead of a cold front bearing down on the city at 30 mph. I thought about it. I checked the street again. I studied the radar again - and again. There just wasn't any way around it. If I went out, even for a quick ten-mile sprint, I was going to get wet, cold, and probably blown right off the road, assuming I didn't get two flats and have to walk back home in the rain. I made a mental note to reserve a spot in the evening Spin class and shuffled off to the kitchen to make some coffee.

Half an hour later, with absolutely perfect timing, the rain started at precisely the moment I would otherwise have been walking out the door.

So I'm presently sitting here at the office waiting on a couple of return phone calls because the president wants to set up a meeting with Dr. Francis Collins who will be on campus next week to give a couple of talks (and pitch his book). Now, although I may not share all of Collins' theological views, his tenure at the National Human Genome Research Institute was an exciting time for people like me who were interested in molecular biology, and since his predecessor in that position had been none other than James Watson of "Watson and Crick" fame, it all kind of reminded me of my previous life. When Waston and Crick published their famous letter in Nature describing, remarkably accurately, the structure of DNA, I was probably about nine months from being born. By grad school Watson's book "The Molecular Biology of the Gene" was a standard textbook for the rapidly growing field of molecular biology. Even so, every time I read that letter the hair on the back of my neck stands up and a grin spreads across my face. I can't imagine how exciting it must have been when researchers around the world read for the first time, "In other words, if an adenine forms one member of a pair, on either chain, then on these assumptions the other member must be thymine; similarly for guanine and cytosine. The sequence of bases on a single chain does not appear to be restricted in any way. However, if only specific pairs of bases can be formed, it follows that if the sequence of bases on one chain is given, then the sequence on the other chain is automatically determined......It has not escaped our notice that the specific pairing we have postulated immediately suggests a possible copying mechanism for the genetic material." Here we are, less than a generation later, with the entire human genome, along with those of numerous other creatures, completely sequenced. It's all turned out to be incredibly more complicated than anyone imagined at the time, of course, but that little article was truly a watershed event.

See what happens when I don't have a training ride to write about?

Warm Weather = More Riders

It was at least 60 F at dawn today, with a nice humid southeast wind. I stepped out the basement door onto the sidewalk into the 6 am darkness, the only sound I could hear was a steady drip of morning dew as it bypassed the sagging roof gutter and fell directly to the ground beside the house. I might have ridden today in little more than shorts and a jersey, but I had pulled on the leg and arm-warmers anyway. I hate being cold for those first couple of miles.

As I approached the levee I could see a swarm of blinking red lights up on the bike path. A couple of minutes later we were rolling. Looking around, I could see it was going to get fast sooner rather than later, and after two or three miles the pace suddenly started to ramp up. I looked over at Tom and said, "Here we go!" With Tim, Woody and Rob at the front, I knew it would be fast, at least until the Dip. At one point on the way out something briefly disrupted the pace and a gap opened as three or four riders started to disappear down the road. I put my head down and tried to make the smoothest possible bridge up to them. It took a little while, but I finally made it, confident that I'd pulled the rest of the group across. A few minutes later I took a pull, dropped back, and was shocked to find myself at the back of a 4-rider group. This was not exactly what I'd planned. My legs were still feeling the prior evening's Spin class. I really like the instructor who does the Monday spin class. It's much more like cycling than the others - more smooth pedaling and less jumping up and down. Just before the class started I was talking with Lawrence, who teaches the earlier class, about all of the triathletes who are suddenly showing up for the Saturday training ride. The girl next to me looked over and asked, "Are you doing the Ironman?" How come nobody ever asks me "Are you doing Rouge-Roubaix?" Anyway, I noticed a couple of people in that particular class who looked, or at least pedaled, like they were cyclists.

A few more miles and we were joined by a bunch of riders who had made the bridge. It must have been hard, because we weren't going all that slowly ourselves. Nonetheless, I guess that close to half the original group was gone for good.

With a nice little headwind all the way back, the group was pretty good about keeping a smooth circular paceline going. My legs felt remarkably good today. They always seem to like warm weather.

Back at work, there were a couple of things that came up unexpectedly, keeping me pretty busy. Tomorrow should be the same, I think.

Bridge Work

It's hard to say why my legs still felt sore this morning. Sunday's ride was pretty good, and although it was a good workout that included a few little climbs up bridges and overpasses, I don't think any of that qualified as the kind of "bridge work" that would be expected to result in soreness the next morning. .....and don't tell me it's my age.....

Well, regardless of the reason, the Monday morning reality was that I could still feel the prior day's ride in the current day's legs. I considered staying in bed, but as usual I ultimately came to the conclusion that I'd be better served all-around by a nice quiet low-gear spin. After all, there are more things to consider than my legs, most notably the stubborn accumulation of adipose tissue caused by the months of November and December. Knowing I'd be limiting myself to sightseeing pace today, I dressed extra-warmly despite the 52° F temperature, a decision I'd soon regret. Last weekend in New Orleans was a genuine feeding frenzy of cycling, so I knew I'd be riding solo today. With the big half-ironman triathlon rapidly approaching, the number of tri-bikes on the road on the weekends has at least tripled. This is not a bad thing, of course, however since the bike portion of the Tri takes in most of the standard Giro Ride route, the Giro is typically having to overtake a couple of rather large groups. It can get a little messy, but so far no big problem. I've even noticed a few of the Triathletes jumping in to the Giro when it comes past. Maybe I should be more concerned about that, but nowadays most experienced triathletes have at least a basic understanding of the dos and don'ts of roadie training ride etiquette. Granted, it still makes people a little nervous.

So anyway, today I had a nice little hour's ride at 16-20 mph that was more refreshing than taxing. In fact, it was kind of nice to have the chance to sit up and enjoy the scenery now and then. On the way back I stopped to photograph the extensive preparations they are doing to allow construction of the extra lanes on the old Huey P. Long bridge. They are essentially building up a huge area of the batture area to get ready for the new supports and equipment that will be needed. It should be interesting to watch. Tonight I'm signed up for another dehydration exercise in the SPIN room, and I just have one question about that. Why is it that (a) almost everyone in the class is female, not that I have a problem with that, and (b) how come I'm dripping sweat and they're just "glowing?"

Fort Pike Ride

Saturday was kind of a long day. I was up early for the drive to Brookhaven by way of Mandeville where I picked up Rusty. Along with a couple of our other USAC officials, I was to give the Category C official's clinic and exam to a few new "recruits." When we got out of the car in Brookhaven we were surprised how cold it was. The sky grey and overcast all day in Brookhaven, although back in New Orleans they had a marvelous day for riding, with a big part of the Giro Ride group doing the longer "Fort Pike" extension. The clinic and exam took literally hours longer than I'd expected, so I missed most of the Promoters Clinic that Michael had scheduled for 3 pm. I think the main reason was that USAC had completely re-done the exam, going to more of a fill-in-the-blank format rather than the simpler multiple choice format of last year's version. It took forever for people to take the exam, and grading it was somewhat less objective and a lot more time-consuming. Anyway, I didn't get home until around 8 pm, I think.

Sunday morning the weather in New Orleans looked just like it had in Brookhaven the morning before. Foggy, misty, and cold. Nonetheless, the Giro group numbered about 40, and there were a couple other groups of triathletes out on the road as well. Many of us were planning on doing the longer Fort Pike Ride today. Old Fort Pike, which guarded one of the two entrances to Lake Pontchartrain at the Rigolets, has been a cycling destination for about as long as I've been riding. It isn't particularly scenic, and there's no wind protection at all, and since Katrina there isn't even a place to stop and get a coke, but at least it's a long stretch of smooth road with light traffic and few intersections. Once you cross the old steel bridge at Chef Menteur the rest if the road (Highway 90) out to Fort Pike is on a narrow ribbon of land with marsh and Lake Catherine on one side and Lake Pontchartrain on the other. Before the hurricane it was lined with fishing camps, each sporting a fanciful name. Some of them had survived in that unlikely location for decades. They were pretty much all wiped right off the face of the earth in Katrina, but lots of them are being rebuilt now, mostly up on twenty foot high concrete piers. I only noticed one new camp name sign. It was at the entrance to the drive down to the house, which was sitting out there in a barren looking area. The sign appropriately read something like "All Bayou Self."

On the way out we had a pretty nice paceline going for a long time. Being a veteran of many Fort Pike rides, I am always very cautious about doing too much work on the way out. I've been on more than a few painful death marches coming back down Chef Highway into relentless headwinds with cramping legs and low blood sugar.

I was in a nice little four-person group for a few miles, trading smooth pulls until the rest of the group put in a big chase and reeled us in. For some reason my legs felt achy all day today. Perhaps it was the cold. I was on the bike for around four hours today, and I doubt is was any warmer when I got home than it had been when I'd left. It was definitely more foggy and misty. So anyway, I got in some good exercise on the return trip, if only to keep from getting more chilled, and then spent a long time under a hot shower. I sure am ready for summer.....

Friday Flags

It was a little warmer on Thursday for the long levee ride, but I went out pretty well bundled up anyway. I had done another Spin class Wednesday night and was still feeling it, mostly in my back and quads, as I made the little climb up to the top of the levee. The group was a bit small, but as often happens this time of year, we picked up a few additional riders by the time we got to the bridge. Although the pace on the way out wasn't exactly one for the record books, it was nonetheless pretty brisk. I knew we'd have more of a headwind on the way back, so I was trying not to overcook my legs before the turnaround. Midway through the ride back the group split and I ended up sharing a good amount of work with a handful of riders. The legs felt pretty good thanks to my conservative tactics on the outbound part of the ride.

Friday morning was much warmer with a pre-dawn temperature close to 60° F., but the sky looked a bit overcast and the air was thick with Gluf of Mexico moisture, so I went with knee and arm-warmers and added a light vest at the last minute. When I got up to the bike path I was surprised to see how many people there were. Of course it's all relative, since the turnout on Friday is sometimes limited to myself. Today, though, we had maybe six.

I was glad I'd actually gotten out of bed for this one, because for a while I was definitely considering taking a rest day today. I guess what finally tipped the balance was the fact that I wouldn't' be able to ride at all on Saturday since I'd be driving up to Brookhaven to give an Official's clinic and hopefully get together with some of the area race promoters. There was a light breeze coming out of the south and you could tell it was going to get warmer rather quickly once the sun came up. The group today rode a really smooth and controlled paceline with everybody taking these really long steady pulls at 21-23 mph. In essence, a really nice Friday ride. By the time we were back around the pump hill the temperature was nearly perfect, the wind was at our backs, and I was wishing I could spend another hour on the bike. Then, just as I started to peel off to ride down the ramp onto River Road I heard a train whistle and knew I'd never make it, so I stayed up on the levee and rode down to the Corps of Engineers building instead. By then the train was long gone.

As I rode back home down Pine Street I noticed the variety of Mardi Gras flags that were flying in front of many of the homes. With Fat Tuesday just a month away, on February 24, people are already gearing up, although it will be a few weeks yet before most of the parades roll. Endymion will be back on it's traditional Mid-City route this year with Kid Rock as Grand Marshal, and Bacchus (In Vino Veritas!) rolls the next day as usual, although if they've announced who the King will be, I must have missed it. What I really miss, though is the Mistic Krewe of Comus parade. They still have their ball, of course, and if I knew who the King would be this year I wouldn't tell you. That would just be wrong. I'd provide a link to their website, but if they have one, you know it's a secret! I always liked their official proclamation when they had to cancel their festivities because of a little conflict that was brewing at the time:

To Ye Mistick Krewe –

GREETINGS!

WHEREAS, War has cast its gloom over our happy homes and care usurped the place where joy is wont to hold its sway. Now, therefore, do I deeply sympathizing with the general anxiety, deem it proper to withhold your Annual Festival in this goodly Crescent City and by this proclamation do command no assemblage of the
-MISTICK KREWE-

Given under my hand this, the 1st day of March A.D. 1862.

Damn, people really used to know how to write.

Calm and Quiet

Well, I guess it's just that time of year again. There wasn't much action up on the levee this morning, and so I had another rather quiet solo ride. Although the thermometer at the house was telling me it was something like 38°F, it was really more like 32° up on the levee. Whenever the wind is really light, my outdoor thermometer tends to fib since it's mounted on the front porch wall.

As I left the house I could feel the cold sting on my cheekbones and knew it would be a cold ride, but I was a few minutes early today, so I just shifted to a lower gear to cut down on the wind chill. Then, as I approached the end of Willow Street, I heard the train whistle. It was just a few blocks away, so I sprinted to Monticello Street and bounced across the tracks, glancing to the right to make sure I wasn't cutting it too close. The railroad crossing there isn't in very good shape, and when I heard the sound of something hitting the ground behind me I knew immediately what it was. The jolt had dislodged the guts of my tail light, leaving just the clip and back plate attached to the bike and depositing the batteries and circuit board in the middle of the street. Fortunately, there were no cars in sight, and after collecting the pieces and reassembling everything, it still worked. Now, this isn't the first time that's happened. In fact, I had a rubber band around the light to keep everything in place, but I guess it had slipped down enough that it came apart anyway. Guess I need a stronger rubber band.

So today the wind was calm and the levee was quiet. I waited a few minutes just in case someone else was riding, but nobody showed, so I took off down the road. I had neglected to put my wind-shell gloves on over my regular ones, and after a few miles my fingers were starting to sting. One thing I tend to do when it's cold is to remain locked into one position on the bike. In this case, the combination of cold and lack of circulation in my hands was the problem. Once I changed positions my fingers warmed up a bit and all was well. Granted, I was not going very fast, spinning along in the 39 x 14 or 15. The problem with riding my yourself when it's cold like this is that you start thinking of things like hot coffee and warm showers. Sure enough, I turned around quite early today, thinking to myself, "I'll have to remember to reserve a Spin bike at the Reily Center for tonight."

So yesterday was the inauguration. Big show. What sticks in my mind the most? Aretha Franklin's hat. Only Aretha could possibly have gotten away with that.

Just a Few

Another cold snap moved in last night, and the result, easily predicted, was that there were just a few of us for the Tuesday morning ride. It wasn't all that cold, really - upper 30s I'd say - but it was enough to keep the group down to just four, or five, depending on when you happened to take count. For myself, I can't honestly say I was particularly enthusiastic. My legs felt heavy, as always seems to be the case when the thermometer starts to drop. With Rob pushing the pace, I started questioning why I was there rather early. As the ride went on, though, I finally started to feel a little better. I guess it was just one of those rides. It will be interesting to see what tomorrow brings. The forecast is calling for a temperature in the low 30s, and I suppose it will still be fairly windy. I am sooo ready for summer!

So, back at the old homestead, on Monday afternoon I put the 20+ year old dishwasher out on the curb. A little while later I put an "ad" in the local Craigslist in the "free stuff" category. I don't think it was more than three hours before someone came along and picked it up. I admit I was surprised. I'll never know if it was just somebody who happened to see it, or if it was a result of the Craigslist ad.

Should Have Checked

After a nice late dinner at Cafe Degas Saturday night with Gail (Mitzi) Leedy, who was in town for a professional meeting, I threw the batch of cycling clothes that were in the washer into the dryer and hit the sack. Although Gail doesn't ride much any more, she's now into ultramarathon running. You know, those 100 mile runs in the mountains. Guess bike racing was just too easy.

The plan for Sunday morning was to meet Rick Carpenter from Tennessee, who was in town for a little vacation, to ride out to the Giro Ride. So I hit the road shortly before 6 am to ride down to the French Quarter. He was staying at a little Bed and Breakfast just off of Esplanade Avenue on the edge of the Quarter. Of course, it was quite dark, but the temperature was in the 60s and the wind mostly at my back, so I was enjoying the ride. Just as I turned onto Esplanade Avenue I felt a few drops of rain and thought, "Maybe I should have checked the radar." As I rolled up to the house I saw Rick on his bike waiting for me. Just about that time the drizzle turned into rain and we ran up the stairs to seek shelter on the front porch. A couple of minutes later the rain slacked off, so we figured, "What the hell? We're already dressed. Let's ride." So we headed out to the lakefront in a light rain. I figured that if it stopped soon, I'd be OK, and if it didn't, I'd be good for maybe an hour before hypothermia set in. Well, things were not looking too good as we made our way through the city toward Wisner Blvd. An then I had a flat. Perfect. I was just getting colder and colder as I stood there hunched over the wheel changing the tube, and the rain was not exactly letting up. We made it out to Lakeshore Drive, where the rain picked up yet another notch. When I could feel my feet sloshing around in my rain-filled shoes, I told Rick, "I'm going to have to bail before I freeze." He didn't argue. I kept the pace up a bit all the way home in order to keep from getting too chilled, but it still took a hot shower and two cups of coffee to feel normal again. Oh well. At least we tried! Kenny reported that he'd spent the morning doing hill repeats in the rain on one of the area bridges. Well, at least he probably got out on the road late enough to have dressed properly for that!

An hour later we were on the road for Ft. Walton where I was meeting my father in order to drive him back to New Orleans. We ended up staying overnight and driving back today, so I guess it's good that I at least got in fifteen or twenty miles in the rain on Sunday. Tomorrow morning should be cold and windy, and Wednesday morning will be around freezing. This is always the part of the year that tests your resolve. I just hope my shoes are dry by morning.

A Few Extra Miles

It took me a long time to get dressed this morning. Although I knew it was legitimately cold outside, I also knew that it would warm up by close to twenty degrees by the time the ride was over. What to wear? More importantly: What not to wear? I ended up overdressing, of course.


Earlier in the week, Mignon had sent out an email suggesting a long Saturday ride out to Fort Pike, which is conveniently located seven or eight miles past the usual Giro turnaround. That sounded like a good idea to me, since I knew I wouldn't be able to make the usual northshore ride on Sunday. So I packed a little gel when I set out for the lakefront today, anticipating a 75 mile ride.


The group was typical for this time of year and the ride started out in the usual way, but then Woody flatted. The front part of the group slowed down just a bit, but basically kept going. A second group slowed down a little more, but didn't stop. So those of us at the back really didn't know what to do. We rode along rather slowly, looking back over our shoulders periodically. Finally, Woody caught back up to us. Things kind of went downhill after that as far as the group was concerned. We went fairly hard down Chef highway, but things were quite disorganized, and it seemed a lot of riders were reluctant to do any work at the front. When we finally got to the turnaround, I was quite surprised how many riders decided to keep going out to Fort Pike. So we had a pretty good group out there on that flat, unprotected road through the marsh. I hadn't ridden that stretch since Katrina and although it's been a few years now, I could hardly recognize a lot of it. All of the old fishing camps were gone, but here and there were new ones, mostly up on 20 foot piers, and built in Florida summer home style. Anyway, we weren't too far down the road when a big gap opened up and a group split off the front. I tried to get the rest of the group to organize a decent paceline, but it just wasn't working. In the end it was just Howard and me. So once we got to Fort Pike, where a fancy new concrete bridge has now replaced the classic old steel drawbridge that used to be there, we regrouped. A small group continued on to ride all the way to Slidell. The rest of us rode over the bridge, turned around and rode back over it, and headed for home.


As is nearly always the case with rides to Fort Pike, the last ten miles were surprisingly hard. I guess it must be the unrelenting wind, but every time I do that ride, I'm surprised how tired I get by the end. I finally limped home from the lakefront at 14 mph with another 75 miles on the odometer.


The afternoon was spent installing a new dishwasher. It went remarkably well, considering. I mean, installing a modern dishwasher in an old house with antique plumbing and wiring is always a challenge. Luckily, I didn't have to0 many big surprises, although I did have to install a new junction box and replace some wiring, and of course as soon as I touched the sink drain something broke and I had to replace some of that too. On the plus side, nothing leaks and the machine works as expected. In fact, it's so quiet that I kept checking to make sure it was still running.


Tomorrow I'll head out early to meet a visiting rider downtown at a bed and breakfast so I can show him the way to the lakefront and the Giro Ride. After the Giro I have to jump into the car and drive over to Ft. Walton, FL.

All to Myself

Down here on the delta people tend to associate any temperature below 0°C with things like polar expeditions and animated movies about dancing penguins. Perhaps that explains how quiet it was this morning up on the levee bike path. My outdoor thermometer actually showed 31°F this morning -- precisely as predicted -- so I pulled on an extra shirt, one of those stretchy long-sleeve high-tech ones, and rolled out to see if anybody else would show for the Friday ride. There was a bit of a north wind, but nothing you'd call harsh, and I knew I'd be pretty comfortable for an hour or so, even at the relaxed pace I knew I'd be enjoying. My short trek from home to the bike path takes me in a mostly southerly direction, so in the winter I have the luxury of getting warmed up a bit before confronting the usual north wind. Arriving at the meeting spot a few minutes early, I hovered about, riding little circles at the top of the Pump Hill, just in case someone else might show up. When 6:40 came around, though, I didn't hang around since I knew the chances of having any company today were slim. I was out past the Country Club before I saw another person, a well-bundled runner, on the path. Spinning along in a 39 x 15, it was nice to have the path all to myself without most of the usual dog-walkers and other pedestrians. Even so, I turned back a little early today, knowing that my slow speed would otherwise lead to a late return home and probably also some rather cold toes. As I came around the long bend in the river at the Country Club where the road turns to the NNE I came face-to-face with the north wind and finally started to feel the cold air seeping through my clothes all the way down to the already-damp base layer. A few fingers were starting to feel cold, and my feet had been gradually chilling the whole time, but when above 31° it's pretty hard to get into trouble during the course of a 75 minute ride.

Earlier in the ride, when I was still trying to get warmed up, I was reminded of that infamous Rouge-Roubaix in 2002 when we started, and finished, the 100 mile race in sub-freezing temperatures. Just last night I was emailing the promoter of this year's edition of "the Rouge." Having finally grown large enough to run afoul of the USAC's 75-rider field limit (for any race that includes Cat. 5 riders), they will likely be expanding the usual two groups into three. It won't have much of an effect on the 100+ rider "A" race, since the only Cat. 5s in that one are a handful of the Masters riders, but it will probably mean a separate race for most of the Cat. 5s and smaller fields of 50 or so for the "B" and "C" races. Given the narrow country roads used by the race, especially for the first 25 miles or so, that's probably a good thing. We actually tried to see if we could get some flexibility from the USAC on the field limit, given the race's traditional format, but they weren't buying it. Not surprised, really, since there are some serious insurance and liability issues involved there. Meanwhile, I'll try and find some time today to get the announcements out on the upcoming Officials and Promoters clinics. The season's first race permit for a Feb. 22 time trial and criterium was just approved, and the Rouge permit will likely be finalized in a day or two, so welcome to the 2009 racing season!

Oh, I should mention that Bo Bourne (Herring) is in town this weekend and will probably be doing the Saturday Giro. It's going to be a really cold one on Saturday! Also, Rick Carpenter (ACCM/Marx and Bendorf) from Memphis is in town for a conference and will probably be doing the Sunday Giro. Hopefully I'll also hear from Mitzi who's also in town for the same conference.

Winter Yet?

The forecast low for tonight is 31°F. If it actually gets that low here, that would make it easily the coldest we've had all winter. In reality, it probably won't get quite that low here in my neighborhood, but I guess it'll be close enough. Right now, at 10 p.m., it's around 43°, which would be a regular heat wave up in Iowa City where it's presently 15 below zero on its way down to 21 below. Pretty damned cold, even by midwest standards. So I guess winter's here, or there, as the case may be.

Today's 6 am excursion into the darkness was relatively comfortable. The wind was rather mild and the temperature was around 40° I guess. I had done another Spin class the night before. This time I got one of those instructors who, as far as I can tell, doesn't really get the whole bicycle connection at all. Mostly out of the saddle stuff, silly games where half the room spins while the other recovers (why?), and other ridiculousness. If I'd wanted an aerobics class, I'd have signed up for one. Anyway, I turned it into a decent workout anyway, somehow managing to avoid pulling a hamstring or coming out with a sore back.

So anyway, I didn't feel too bad heading out to the morning training ride. Unlike Tuesday, today's ride was quite steady and controlled. We lost Woody, Erich, and I guess a couple others who had to turn back early for work, so the group was relatively small today. Luckily we picked up the Destrehan Gang along the way. On the way back it seemed like the wind was picking up the whole time, and we spent a lot of time around 22-23 mph even though we were pushing fairly hard.


Back at work, a couple of big projects are more or less wrapped up and by noon I was able to find a little time to catch up on a few LAMBRA things that have kind of hanging over my head. We had a little LAMBRA conference call at 12:30 which went pretty well even though only a few people called in for it.


So I'm kind of looking forward to tomorrow's morning ride. Given the fact that it will be near or below freezing, plus the fact that it'll be a Friday, I should probably be thinking more about taking the day off, but for some sick reason I kind of like the challenge of riding in miserable conditions once in a while.

What I Needed

It was the middle of the night when my old "talking" outdoor thermometer woke me up with an obviously incorrect alarm, repeating three times "the outdoor temperature it 28 degrees Fahrenheit." I don't know why it does that every now and then when its cold, but although it was probably about the coldest night we've had this year, 28 was completely impossible. When I finally awoke a few hours later, I noted the actual temperature - 38F - and thought for a while about my options. The temperature wasn't really a factor, but after yesterday's unexpected meltdown, a hard training ride didn't seem like such a great idea. So I dressed a little extra warmly, with knee-warmers and shorts under tights, just in case I decided I needed to back off the pace and ride alone.

So there were only three of us who showed up today. I guess a temperature in the 30s kept a few in bed this morning. We headed out at an easy 18 mph pace with a light tailwind, riding three-abreast so we could talk. I thought, "this is just what I needed today." About halfway out we saw Taylor, who had been riding toward us, turn around. He must have grossly overestimated our speed because we didn't catch him until the turnaround. He kept looking back over his shoulder for us, but for some reason just kept pushing. Anyway, we all rode back together, eventually starting up a paceline since by then the wind was starting to pick up a bit. Naturally, Taylor had his tasteless joke of the day: "Yesterday I got a gun for my wife. Best trade I've made all year." That one was about the same quality as the one Matt told me as we rode in from Saturday's Giro Ride: "What's brown and sticky? A stick." The legs felt good enough by the time I got home that I went ahead and called in for a spot in the evening Spin class.

Things at work have been pretty busy. One big proposal is about done, another is close, and maybe by next week I'll be able to get to some of the more routine things that should have been done a week ago.

Spinning and Dead Legs

Right now my legs feel D...E...A...D -- flat, toasted, loaded-up, whatever. It all started yesterday when I decided it was a good day to go to a Spin class after work. It had been at least five years since I'd done any of those, so I can't say I didn't know what I was getting myself into. In fact, I was determined to keep the resistance relatively light and my hard efforts short and sweet.

So around 6 pm I put on my mountain bike shoes, throw a towel and water bottle in my bag, and hop on the commuter bike for the short ride over to Tulane's Reily Center. I turn off of the 6-lane South Claiborne Avenue onto the 23 mph speed limit Ben Weiner Drive toward the Center and think, "this really feels nice." (Yes, the speed limit is 23 on this one stretch that passes the sports complex - everywhere else on campus it's 15. There's a story behind that involving LSU.) It's cool, but not yet cold, and as I pass the big practice field I can see the marching band, and maybe the cheerleaders too, out there. As I'm locking my bike they start playing the Tulane fight song.

When I arrived at the Spin room, the prior class is just finishing. Lawrence is the instructor for that earlier class, and I say hello and we compare notes about the lingering effects of Christmas chocolates as I get the bike set up. My particular session was pretty good, with three or four fairly long "climbs." I was being careful the whole time not to go too hard. It may have been a long time since my last Spin class, but I remember well how much damage I can do. Even so, it's hard to avoid putting in a few good efforts along the way. One thing I'd forgotten was how soaking wet I end up after these things. Luckily, my ride home is a pretty short one, because otherwise I would have frozen despite the fact that I had brought a fleece pullover and vest. Anyway, I did enjoy the class, and it was a nice change of pace too. I'm hoping to be able to work in two or three of the evening classes each week for the next month or so.

So anyway, I went out this morning and immediately noticed that my legs felt really flat. The group up on the levee wasn't very big, but it included Diego and Rob and Woody and Donald. I started out pretty much as normal, but as the ride went on my legs just started feeling worse and worse. I'm sure I wasn't quite recovered from the weekend rides, so adding that Spin class to the mix must have pushed my legs over the edge. I spent much of the return trip sitting on wheels since there were three or four guys up front who wanted to go a couple mph faster than I did. When we finally got to the playground I sat up and spun in the last few miles in a low gear, just trying to limit the damage. It'll be interesting to see how the legs feel tomorrow. Hopefully I'll be able to recover enough to get back to normal.

Cold and Quiet

The city has returned to normal. Well, actually the city's weather has returned to normal. The city itself could never return to normal because it's never actually been there -- but I digress.

Typical weather for January around here would put the morning temperature somewhere between 35 and 45F, and so today's 42 degree air seemed quite appropriate. The plan today was to do an hour or so of easy spinning, so I guess it's a good thing that nobody else showed up. I rode up the river in a 39 x 15 as the sun fired up the horizon over the west bank, which is where, in this convoluted part of town, the sun rises. The bike path was cold and quiet, and despite my effortless pace I warmed up quickly. That was of course because I'd piled on the clothes and was just a tad overdressed. But toasty warm, and toasty warm is good on a Monday morning in January.

Work calls today, and with some urgency, so I'm outta here for now.....

Smooth Asphalt, Tailwinds, and Everything

One thing about winter cycling in New Orleans is that you have to be prepared for everything. Everything is about what we got this weekend. After taking Friday as a rest day, my plan was to ride the Giro on Saturday and then follow it up with the Northshore ride on Sunday. The weather was warm on Friday, and by that I mean nearly 80°F, but a cold front was on its way, scheduled to arrive some time Saturday afternoon.

Saturday morning the alarm went off and I promptly fell asleep again. When I finally glanced at the clock, it was 6:30 am. The ride to the lakefront to meet the Giro is about seven miles. I jumped out of bed, took one fast step, and promptly slammed the middle toe of my left foot right into the leg of the dresser. Full-force. Four-letter words issued forth from my mouth, and I had to sit down for a moment to recover my senses. I figured there was an outside chance I'd broken it, but if I had, the best thing would be to immobilize it in some sort of rigid boot. You know, like a cycling shoe. So I carefully pulled on a pair of socks, grabbed a pair of shorts and single jersey and hit the road. The toe seemed fine as long as I didn't pull "up" too much, so I time-trialed out to the Lakefront, arriving right on time to meet the group. A few miles later we hit wet roads from a recent rain shower, and in fact spent most of the rest of the ride riding on wet, muddy roads that made a mess of the bikes, not to mention shorts, jerseys, glasses, shoes, etc. I had to sit up a few times to spray water on my glasses to wash off the dirt, and generally avoided drinking out of my bottle because the top was so filthy. Classic winter ride, I guess. Except for one thing. It was at least 70 degrees at the start, and quite a bit warmer by the time we finished. It stayed warm all day and I went to sleep with the air-conditioner running.

The Giro turned out to be pretty fast, at least once we got going again after the first flat tire. By the time we were halfway down Chef Highway we had a nice paceline going. I came to the front and glanced down at the computer. 30 mph. I held the speed as I came through and pulled off to the right. I looked over to see Mignon coming through at 30 mph - in the small ring. Sheesh. I'm such a gear sissy! After the ride a small group of us got together at the local cafe' for a quick breakfast and to talk over some plans for the Tour de La, the club jersey order, etc.

By Sunday morning the front had come through and it was cloudy and, by my standards, cold. At home the temperature had dropped maybe 35 degrees overnight and it was about 50F when I left. I stopped at Starbucks for a scone and cup of Christmas Blend, but nobody else was there. I wondered if the turnout would be low today because of the wind and change in temperature. By the time I got to the ride start on the northshore, about 35 miles away, the temperature was down to about 42. A few people arrived late, so I ended up standing around in the parking lot for about ten minutes. By the time we got rolling, the strong north wind had chilled me to the bone and I spent the next fifteen miles hiding from the wind and shivering. Someone behind me asked, "Randy is your headset loose or are you shivering." My headset was fine. Luckily we had a big group of about 25 riders, so finding a nice draft was easy.

Finally we hit LA-10 and turned away from the wind (after a long stop to fix two flats). The next stretch got pretty fast and I was finally starting to feel comfortable. We flew through the turn on Sie Jenkins and hammered up THE WALL, sprinting for the sprint line a mile later and finally stopping at the highway to wait for the rest of the group. It was another long wait since there had been yet another flat. After Plainview we had a pretty strong quartering headwind, but the group got a nice smooth paceline going for most of it that made it feel a lot easier.

After crossing Highway 16 at Enon we got onto that fresh smooth asphalt heading toward the Watchtower Hill with a nice tailwind. About halfway into the climb Todd started to roll off the front so I went with him. I was expecting that either he would pull off so I could take a pull, or we'd be caught and overtaken by the front of the group. Well, neither happened. Todd just engaged his auto-pilot and towed me like a Remora most of the way to Tung Road. Somewhere along the way Jaro bridged up to us. After turning onto Tung Road we eased up for a minute and a few other riders caught up, but soon Todd and VJ were motoring again so we didn't wait for the rest of the group. A surge up REDNECK HILL inflicted some pain and pretty soon we were down to four riders, then three, then just Todd and me. Rolling down that smooth asphalt with a strong tailwind was about as good as it gets. When we got back to the cars I was ready for more. I think if someone had said, "Lets do another ten," I wouldn't even have gotten off the bike.

Friday Off

Thursday's long morning ride started out a little cool and ended up rather warm, but otherwise it was a pretty normal ride. I guess my mind was on other things because not much about the ride seems to have stuck in my head. Of course, the problem could be in my head. Anyway, right after I arrived at the office, I had to ride downtown for a meeting. At least the weather was great, so that little commute was pretty nice. Some time around 5:30 I rode back home, bumping my way down Pine street past the 15 or 20 stop signs. For some reason I was feeling really tired, and after a little dinner and a glass of wine I was barely able to keep my eyes open. I finally gave up and was asleep by 9:30 pm.

So you'd think that after all that sleep I would have hopped out of bed this morning ready to roll. Not quite. I woke up still feeling kind of tired, so I figured I should it was a sign and decided I should take Friday off. Well, off from riding, not work. I've been thinking about maybe doing a few Spinning classes over at the university's Reily Center in the evenings, so I rode over there to get my ID card fixed (finally) so their card reader will read it and so I could check out the pedal setup on the spin bikes. Looked like some have Look, some have SPD, and of course some have toe clips.

There's just one little bike rack at the building where my office is. I'm pretty sure it's just a leftover bike rack from when it was a shopping center. Nonetheless, it always has an interesting collection of bikes. Today there was a Nashbar bike from some time in the 80s, an old mixte frame from the 70s that had been converted to single-speed, a couple of relatively ordinary bikes, and, there on the end, a folding Crescent bike with a nifty chainguard and one of the old metal New Orleans bicycle license plates. Interesting. I seem to recall that the shop that was on Carrollton Avenue for a while back in the 70s, Marcel's, sold Crescents. I think he also sold Holdsworths. Damn that was a long time ago.

I'd expected today to be a real fire drill trying to finish up a complicated grant proposal budget, but instead everything got kind of put on hold for most of the day. Finally, some time around 4 pm, I got word that we were likely to get something like $4M through the City as matching for the $5M we're trying to get through a federal agency. So a bit of re-scoping will need to happen over the next few days and I guess the fire drill will be postponed until about Tuesday or Wednesday. Situation normal. At some point during the day I got a copy of the current issue of the Tulanian and was surprised by the photo on the cover. As it turned out, there's an article on cycling, specifically commuting, in there. There's a student at Tulane who has started up an outdoor bike repair clinic on campus. I should stop by one day. Love the photo, though!

Giro Ride tomorrow, assuming we miss the rain, followed by a little club meeting, and then hopefully a nice Sunday training ride in the country after the next cold front comes through. Should be fun.

Easy Day Made Hard

Had a nice time at the Twelfth Night party that one of the neighbors (actually a few of them) threw last night, and since it was a "school night" I tried not to go overboard on the wine. I wish I could say the same for the artichoke and spinach dip, finger sandwiches, and King Cake. Even so, I blew off some work I had planned on doing and hit the sack before midnight.

A cold front came through yesterday evening, finally, and dropped the temperature back into the range of "seasonal." It wasn't strong enough to get cold, but regardless, the mid-50s temperature this morning felt refreshing until I met face-to-face with the wind. I also noted, as I rode out to the levee, that my legs were definitely sore. A smart person would have gone off for an easy solo ride somewhere that was protected from the wind. I, however, went to the levee where a small group of other morning lemmings was assembled for the Wednesday ride. By the time we had gotten to the Country Club where we stopped to help a couple of triathletes who had used up all their CO2 on a leaky tube, we were down to just four riders. The rest had turned back for various apparently legitimate reasons.

Jay was doing most of the pulling while I was trying to keep from exacerbating the damage I'd already done to my legs. It was pretty much impossible, though, and what should have been for me a recovery ride ended up feeling pretty hard. With a nice little tailwind on the way back, Jay pulled John, Taylor and me for what must have been six or seven miles before finally pulling off. The whole ride I was trying to figure out how I'd gotten all the way to Wednesday with such sore legs. Granted, the advancing years has extended my recovery period, but I guess I just didn't think I'd pushed myself so hard last weekend that I could still be feeling the effects. Oh well. I guess that's just one more time I've made the classic mistake of going so hard one day that I end up screwing up my training for the next three. The real down side at this time of year, though, is that it'll take even longer to get rid of those five pounds of stubborn fat currently insulating my gut. Damn, I may have to resort to some extra evening workouts or (*shudder*) cut down on the caloric intake. There's still one frosted brownie in the 'fridge, ice cream in the freezer, and cookies scattered all about. This could take a while.....

The Hard Season

The final straw was the gap that opened as the long string of riders negotiated the curve around the pumping station. My day had already been going badly. I had rushed out of the house a little late, but with still enough minutes in hand to make the 6:15 am group ride. It was warm and humid, which is to say 70 F and 98% relative humidity. Summer clothes weather. As is often the case in January, the warm weather won't last, and already there was a strong and gusty south wind building up ahead of the approaching cold front. I put a little more pressure on the pedals as I made the curve onto Willow Street and cut sharply across the streetcar tracks that lead into the big streetcar barn. Passing under a streetlamp at 20 mph I looked down at my watch. 6:12 am. No problem. I'd be there in a couple of minutes. A block from the levee I looked up to see the little cluster of flashing red lights gathered at the meeting spot. I bumped over the railroad tracks and around a couple of corners and started up the levee. The flashing lights were gone! I checked my watch. 6:15. WTF?? This was not a good omen. So I start out with a little time trial to catch the group, and it's immediately obvious that it will be a fast day. It's also obvious that there's a little bit of last Sunday still in my achy legs.

January and February are always the hardest months for me. After two or three low-pressure "base training" (aka "goofing off") months, a growing awareness of the impending racing season begins to creep in. So now begins the somewhat delicate balancing act among intensity, recovery, endurance, and of course, the weather. The tightrope isn't too hard to walk ordinarily, since the weather often inserts a sufficient number of excuses for rest days into my unstructured training routine, but when we get a whole week of summer at the beginning of January, things tend to go kind of haywire. And it's not just me. Lots of the other riders, most of whom know better, have trouble reining in the urge to hammer. Add to that the fact that January and February typically see the widest range of fitness levels within the local riders, and you have a recipe for what happened this morning.

So, getting back to this morning's ride, there were a few people up front pushing the pace, and with a long string of riders, in the dark, and a strong crosswind, it quickly got very stressful. The paceline wasn't rotating, which meant that either one person was just planted on the front, or somebody a few riders back was letting guys in ahead of him. Whatever the case, anybody more than six riders from the front was reduced to riding the edge of the road in a futile attempt to get enough of a draft to survive. Since the pace was fairly fast, moving up would mean a long stretch in the wind at an even faster speed, and I didn't see too many people trying that. I spent a long time behind John, and after nearly running into his rear wheel a few times when he'd suddenly slow down in the dark, I had to back off a bike length of so. So anyway, gaps kept opening and people kept surging to try and close them and things were generally a mess. It has all finally come back together when we approached the curve at the pumping station, but while the front few riders zipped through smoothly, the next two or three coasted through and let little gaps open. You can't do that when there's a crosswind if you don't want to get dropped, which of course is exactly what happened. I made my way to the front and tried to pick up the pace enough so we'd have a chance to catch, and I think a few riders came with me. At one point I made a big effort to close the last of the gap, but when I pulled off for the next rider to come through, there wasn't one. So I had to let it go and wait for the remnants of the shattered group to reconvene and reorganize at a slower pace. There were just a couple of riders By the time we got to the turnaround, only Brady was ahead of us. The others who had been with the lead group had already checked out.

The return trip was a little better, but things still came apart in the crosswind, especially after some really long pulls that left the back of the paceline (I use the term loosely) out to dry. I got home feeling pretty tired and sore. Still am. On the plus side, tonight is Twelfth Night, which around here is really just the beginning of the Mardi Gras season. Since I don't belong to the Twelfth Night Revelers of the Phunny Phorty Phellows, I'll have to be content with some King Cake at the neighborhood Twelfth Night party across the street! The way things are going today, I think I'll need a little wine to go with that.

Unseasonably Everything

I drove the rental Mazda SUV slowly over to Starbucks. I'd awakened quite early and had already checked the weather, eaten a sugar-coated christmas tree cookie for breakfast, killed as much time as reasonably possible. The weather was unseasonably warm, and although the weatherman had promised a low chance of rain, there were a few ominous clouds on the horizon. It didn't matter, though. I was going to ride regardless. Today is, after all, the last day of my long holiday vacation, and I wasn't about to spend it sitting on the couch watching television or doing any of the ten million household tasks that populate the bottom of my personal priority list.

In the parking lot I awkwardly arranged three bikes in the back of the unfamiliar vehicle, and, coffee cup in hand, headed over the causeway. There was already a pretty big group at the school where we park for the ride, and more were still coming. We ended up with at least twenty, including a few faces we hadn't seen in a while like Mike L., Todd, Diego and Ali. With all those people, it wasn't too surprising that we started out a good ten minutes after our target time of 8 am, but once we did, the first thing that struck me was that we were being treated to an unseasonable south wind. The second thing was that the second jersey and arm-warmers I'd put on were going to be coming off at the first opportunity.

I don't know if it was the warm weather or the light wind or the big group or just the time of year, but for some reason almost everyone stayed together today. At the beginning, a few riders seemed to be pushing the pace, and I was thinking we'd end up with an unseasonably fast ride today. Sure, there was the usual split on the long stretch on Highway 439, but everyone made it over the big hill together and the eventual split came a lot later than usual. As we came down the hill at the end of that section Mike said he'd drop back and pick up the last of the riders and take the Jap Little shortcut. The main group waited just a minute or two after Sie Jenkins Road, and by then Mike and Mignon were already waiting at the end of Jap Little. The next section, which is a long stretch to the northwest that's all rolling hills and usually into a stiff headwind was today a smooth and fast roller coaster ride thanks to that south wind. When we turned south on Lee Road, I thought surely things would blow up approaching the Enon sign sprint. Jay launched a couple of attacks, and I even ended up off the front quite accidentally at one point, but the main group was content to gradually chase down the little breaks without trying to keep the pressure on. Of course there was a sprint for the Enon sign, but it was mostly limited to the five or six riders who were near the front at the time. So next, I thought there'd be a big attack on the watchtower hill, but although we went up fairly fast and kept the pace high all the way to Tung Road, the front group never put a whole lot of time on the rest of the group. At Tung Road I let the group go and a few of us hung around to pick up the second group. I was surprised how close they were. We quickly got a nice paceline going and kept the lead group in sight for most of the last six miles without ever resorting to an all-out chase.

So all-in-all, this was a great ride. Big group, no rain, warm temperatures, and to cap things off right, Jason rolled an ice chest full of beer up to the car after we finished. Needless to say, we hung around the parking lot for a little while after that. Now it's well after 4 pm and the rain that was supposed to be here by now is nowhere to be seen. Instead, there's a good amount of blue sky and sunshine, and the temperature is probably in the mid-70s. They say that in New Orleans we have four seasons - shrimp season, crawfish season, crab season, and oyster season. I don't know exactly what season this is, but I definitely like it.

Not Too Worried

It's 8:20 pm right now and outside it's raining cats and dogs. Thunder, lightning, torrential downpour - the whole thing. It has actually been raining in some form or another since around noon, I guess. Luckily, the Giro Ride wasn't affected.

I had awakened early this morning, and so I was kind of looking forward to a leisurely ride out to the lakefront to meet the Giro Ride. I wasn't too far along, though, when Rob rolled up alongside, so I stepped it up a notch to match his pace. The early departure meant that I made it all the way around to the parking lot in time for the start of the Giro. As I turned into the parking lot I felt something unusual. It was my rear tire going flat. So while everyone waited for me, I changed the tube. Right next to me was Tim who was doing the same thing. We ended up rolling out a few minutes behind schedule, but it was nice that the group waited.

The Giro was fairly fast today, I thought, not that I had anything to do with that. I spent most of the time tucked safely in the draft somewhere near the back of the group. A handful of riders split off of the main group on Hayne Blvd. and they were long gone by the time I even knew they were up the road, but the group was rolling pretty well itself, so it was good. Later, I saw Ed, who had been riding his track bike, on the side of the road with a couple other guys. I couldn't quite tell what the problem was, but as it turned out he'd flatted out of the lead group and then discovered he'd forgotten his peanut butter wrench, so he couldn't get the wheel off to fix the flat. Robin stopped to help and had one of those glueless patches, so once they found the puncture they were able to patch it with the wheel still on the bike.

When we turned onto Hayne Blvd. on the way back, VJ took off with Ed and me in tow, and although he eventually dropped back a bit, Ed and I put in a nice little effort all the way back to Lakeshore Drive.

Anyway, it was a nice ride under an overcast sky, and as I started on my way home a light rain began to fall. "Nice timing," I thought.

So anyway, even though the weather outside is pretty bad, I'm not too worried about tomorrow's ride on the northshore. The weather forecast has been right on track this time, and it's calling for the rain to stop well before morning.

Some Kind of Weather

While yesterday found me desperately grabbing for an extra wind vest as I went out to ride, today my first thought was "I am seriously over-dressed."

I had overslept with a capital "O" this morning, and it was already nearly 7 am by the time I realized it. I looked at the clock and knew I'd be riding by myself. Then I looked at the outdoor temperature. I rubbed my eyes and looked again. It was well over 60F. Some kind of weather we've been having around here, eh? I guess it was just so odd that it didn't really sink in, because I still went out with both arm and knee warmers. Of course I knew immediately it was a mistake, but I was already so late I went ahead anyway. The sky was overcast and the air thick with that kind of sticky New Orleans humidity that, I swear, you can actually smell. The streets were just a little damp as I rode out to the levee bike path, and I wondered how many people had shown up. I was a good ten minutes late, so I settled into a nice pace and flipped the switch to "cruise control." It was a Friday in early January and my training plan for days like this can be summed up with three words: ride your bike.

Just as I came around the pumping station a mile from Williams Blvd., I saw Charlie coming up the levee. We merged neatly at the top and rode together for a mile or so until we spotted Rob and Brooks coming the other way, so we turned around a bit early and rode back downriver all the way to Audubon Park where I finally split off to head home. Some time later, the temperature got all the way up to 79F, which was almost a record. The weekend forecast seems to be changing every time I see it, so who knows what we'll actually get. If we're lucky, the rain will come Saturday afternoon and night, and Sunday will be nice. If not, well, we'll probably get wet.

The Mississippi Gran Prix folks sent out a little pre-announcement today. They're hoping to have a 5-day stage, $15,000 race (including a $5k team bonus) for the Cat. 1/2/3s this year, but only if they can get ten teams to commit by February 15. Hope they can pull it off. Hopefully they'll give me a link to a website or something for the LAMBRA calendar.

A Good Start

A particularly extravagant New Year's Eve dinner at Lilette, along with an equally extravagant quantity of wine and champagne, made me thankful that the first morning training ride of the year had been set for the luxuriously late hour of 8:00 a.m. At 7:30 I checked the thermometer, but didn't really believe it was as cold as it indicated. Well, not until I actually stepped outside. I suppose it was the dampness, or perhaps the overcast sky, but it felt ten degrees colder than it was. I immediately turned around and grabbed my vest. I'd rather be warm than cold any day, and I was certain that freezing my ass off would not make for a good start to the new year.

When I met up with the rest of the group, the first thing out of my mouth was, "it sure is colder than I thought." Everyone laughed, because apparently that had been the first thing each of them had said as well. A second later another rider rode up and immediately announced that it felt colder than he'd expected.

We rolled out a few minutes late, but nobody really cared since most were not working today. As we made our way down the bike path toward Destrehan, we started picking up more and more riders, and after a few miles the group was up to fifteen or so. I'm sure we had about twenty at some point. This being New Year's Day, the group stayed in a nice double paceline for a long time, but as usual the speed started to creep up until we devolved into a single paceline for the last few miles. Likewise, the speed on the way back started out slow and ended up fast, but what do you expect? Some of these riders really are bike racers, you know. When we got to the playground everyone sat up for a little rest and the idea of ending the ride with a coffee shop visit came up. Naturally, I was all in for that, but the decision on where to go came so late that the front of the group never really got the message.

Nonetheless, Keith, Michael, Mignon and I eventually ended up at Z'otz on Oak Street, where we had some awesome caffeinated beverages, and admired the unusual art and accouterments of this rather bohemian establishment where the coffee preparation area includes the usual jars of sugar, spoons, cream, and wooden stirrers, right alongside a large container of condoms. None of us ventured into the "back room."

After we'd decided to organize a trip to the velodrome and finished off our drinks, I rode home slowly, shivering a bit in my damp clothes, and thought, "This year's getting off to a good start."