Almost Like Summer

A south wind and cloudy skies signalled a change in the weather this morning. It was over 60F when I rode out to the levee wearing one jersey too many. The warm, soft humid air felt good, and although it had been hard to get out the door, once I was on the bike everything started to come together. My legs definitely like being warm, and today it was almost like summer. Up on the levee there was at least a dozen for the long Thursday ride, and I soon found myself up at the front as the pace crept upward. So somewhere before the Country Club there I was taking a nice smooth pull at a moderate but respectable pace when all of a sudden Woody and Tim go flying by with Chad firmly attached to their wheels. Now, just to be clear, they didn't just pass me, the blew past me with a good 5 mph advantage. I hesitated for a moment and thought, "what the hell" and stomped on the pedals. I was up around 27-28 for a while and not making up much ground when Donald bridged up and started taking long pulls. It took a few miles before they eased up a bit and we were finally able to catch. Chad eventually dropped off. I noticed an unfamiliar feeling on my face. Sweat!

After a while Donald backed off a bit and it was down to just Woody, Tim and me in the rotation. At some point I think Dave was with us as well. Dave seems to have the unusual ability to bridge large gaps at high speeds and this wasn't the first time I'd looked around and thought, "how did he catch us?" Anyway, by then I was in race mode and the only thing holding me back was the knowledge that we'd have a headwind most of the way back. Even so, it felt great to be pushing a big gear with a nice warm tailwind!

We regrouped a bit after the turnaround, and although the pace didn't get too crazy, it was by no means an easy spin today. After I got back home I made the crucial mistake of checking my email. I swear, every time I do that I end up spending half an hour on the computer at home and going to work late. Granted, half the emails are work-related, but this morning the one that tied me up came from Matt Cutrer. The subject line was ominous: "Collarbone Club." He's been training for the upcoming Ironman New Orleans and while out riding yesterday on the levee bike path he fell and broke his collarbone. Some kid had suddenly jumped out at him and yelled, pretending he was going to hit him, and while braking and swerving to avoid him, Matt somehow lost it and landed on the asphalt. He was asking about when he might be able to get back on the bike, so I gave him a summary of my own experiences for what it was worth.

So work was rather busy for me today, which would have been fine except that I was struggling to stay awake all morning. Apparently the combination of a hard training ride and the lack of caffeine was having a noticeable effect. Finally, in the early afternoon I went out and got a coke, which seemed to help ease the withdrawal symptoms a bit.

Mardi Gras to Wednesday

The weather was great for Mardi Gras this year. So Monday I went over to the LBS and picked up about ten pounds of bike locks, came home, and got six bikes ready for a night ride through town to see a couple of parades. The ride to the parade was, well, interesting. With four rather inexperienced cyclists in tow, it was slow going, but at least nobody crashed. We were again at our friend's parents' place on St. Charles Avenue for this one. The parades themselves were really good. I think these are really some of the best floats of all. Later that night, as we rode back along St. Charles Avenue, plastic beads crunching under our wheels, I was already calculating how much time I'd have to ride the next morning. It wouldn't be much.


There had been a flurry of emails about the Mardi Gras day ride, and the consensus was for a 7 am start. Since we were planning on leaving for the parades at 9:30, that meant I'd have to turn around a little early. There was a pretty big group up on the levee for this ride, and I made it all the way out to the parish line before I had to turn back. On the plus side, the weather was warmer and the forecast couldn't have been better. So after getting home and taking a quick shower, we rolled out the bikes again for the ride down St. Charles Avenue. This is always a fun ride because there are lots of bike riders out on Mardi Gras. Since traffic is clogged up all over town, the bicycle is the best, and least stressful, way to get around.


We arrived at St. Charles and 2nd Street right on schedule, and within half an hour the lead vehicles for the Rex parade. I knew Rex would stop half a block away for a traditional toast, so I grabbed the three nieces so they could get this rather special glimpse of the king and some of the people who make Rex happen. Sure enough, the float and horses stopped and someone climbed up onto the float to hand the King a big silver goblet. There was a nice little proclamation, and then the parade resumed. We watched the whole parade right at the front of the crowd, pressed up against the floats and bands, and when the last float passed we headed upstairs for a drink.


The plan was to ride down to the French Quarter after Rex. The parade itself is followed by a zillion "truck floats" that we would miss. Shortly after the trucks started coming by, we went back downstairs to unlock the bikes and head downtown. As we were standing there we heard a loud "pop, pop, pop" that sounded like gunfire, but of course it was hard to be sure it wasn't fireworks or something. Well, it was in fact gunfire that had erupted right about where we had been standing during Rex. Seven people were hit, mostly by stray bullets. People came running toward us on 2nd Street, some in a panic. The ambulance arrived within minutes and I went over to check on one of the victims who was in front of our building. She had a relatively minor bullet wound to her arm. A couple of others had more serious injuries, but they were on the other side of the street (and parade) so I didn't see them. Two suspects were caught almost immediately (there are police everywhere on Mardi Gras). One of the worthless crackheads was wearing an electronic tracking bracelet for violating probation for a narcotics conviction.

So anyway, the party must go on, and once the excitement died down we rode down to the French Quarter where I wandered around Bourbon and Royal Streets alone while the rest of the crew hung around the far more boring area around Decatur St. The crowds were really good and although I can't really explain how or why, I just love being in the middle of it all. A couple more beers and I would have been dancing in the street at St. Ann and Bourbon myself. Alas, I had to lead the trip back home, so we left the fun around 4 pm, stopping for an early dinner on Magazine Street, and finally arriving back home right at dusk. I don't guess I can count the 12 miles we rode as training miles since our average speed was probably around 10 mph, but it was still way more enjoyable than the automotive alternative would have been. I took a bunch of photos.

Wednesday it was back to normal with a nice steady group ride on the levee. Since Lent started today, I think I will take a shot at giving up caffeinated coffee for a while. We'll see how it goes. Meanwhile, the LAMBRA racing season officially started last Sunday with a couple of small races up in Monroe. Next up is the infamous Rouge-Roubaix road race (I use the term "road" loosely), unless by some miracle I decide to try out the track bike at our ridiculously early track championships next weekend (the velodrome is closing in March for renovations and will be out of commission for some undetermined length of time over the summer).

Alone in the Wind

Saturday night was the big Endymion parade (photos), for which we organized a three-car caravan to the Tidewater Building downtown. This was pretty nice, since we had tons of food and drink up in the Psychiatry office, not to mention a parking garage and bathrooms. The weather was great, so we spent most of our time out on the street. As usual, the parade was long and slow by the time it finally got downtown. Everyone had a great time, though, and shortly before the last float rolled past, the Florida gang took off for a visit to the French Quarter and Bourbon Street. Just as we walked into the building to go home a light rain started falling. Perfect timing! The plan was for them to call me whenever they were ready and I'd go pick them up. It was a plan. So I got the call around midnight and told them to meet me at Decatur and Canal St. I was, of course, assuming that all of the parade stuff would be long gone by then. Well, not so much. I turned onto Canal and ran into complete gridlock. Most of Canal St. was still barricaded off completely and there were hundreds of cars trying to get down to the Quarter. I called the Florida gang and told them to start walking. It took a while, but thanks to my knowledge of local roads we managed to extricate ourselves from the masses and make it back home.

Sunday morning was much colder and just ridiculously windy. I actually got dressed and stepped out the door in time to make the Giro ride. Then it hit me. The wind. The cold. The lack of sleep. I thought about it for a little while and decided it would be a good day for along solo ride. Later. When the sun was out. So I put my ride on 'hold' until noon. By then it was at least a little warmer and I spent well over two hours up on the levee bike path, alone, doing battle with the fierce north wind. It was work. As I was returning I saw the three tractor-trailers with the Budweiser Clydesdales on their way to the parades.

Last night the sister-in-law and three of her kids were in town for Bacchus (photos). We parked a long way down St. Charles and had a nice walk to the parade route on Napoleon where they set up camp way too far from the street. We were at Prytania and Napoleon, near Anne Rice's old house, aka St. Elizabeth's. It didn't take long before a couple of the kids were unhappy with their ability to catch anything, so I took them through the crowd all the way to the street where we had a great view and caught a ton of beads and stuff. Half the time I had one of them on my shoulders. I'll be paying for that, I'm sure.

So this morning it was still pretty cold and windy, but I headed out on time for the 6:40 levee ride anyway. Apparently I was the only one. I saw a freshly decorated Truck Float parked at someone's house, and then met up with Taylor along the way and we got in a pretty good ride despite the wind. The levee was very quiet today and the only other rider I saw was John.

I just got back from the bike shop where I completed a long-overdue restocking of my bicycle security inventory, which is to say that I bought a big U-lock and a bunch of cable locks. We're planning on riding bikes down to 2nd Street this evening for the Proteus parade, and we'll probably do the same for Mardi Gras, so some solid locks are in order, and with five bikes to secure, my usual old locks were just not going to cut it!

Parading Around

New Orleans is in Mardi Gras mode, and as always that requires a certain amount of accommodation from the regular training program. This year the weather seems to be cooperating, for the most part.
So Thursday morning I woke up feeling tired. I got dressed, grabbed the bike, stepped out the door, and just stood there for a while. Despite my best effort, I just didn't feel like riding. There was a strong chilly wind blowing the trees around and I knew I was a little underdressed. I turned around and went back inside. Sometimes you just have to listen to that little voice inside that says, "go back to bed."


Thursday night we headed down to St. Charles Avenue to watch some parades. There were three in a row, the best of which was Muses. Naturally, Muses started last. I was with some of the neighbors, and we had the luxury of access to a condo right on St. Charles Avenue. Everybody else went back up to the condo after the first few floats of Muses, but I stayed down on the street. Eventually they dragged me back home around 10:30 pm. The worst part was that I missed seeing the Rolling Elvi, a particularly fun-loving group of which Ed N. is a member. Anyway, I took a bunch of photos of those parades. One of those is Chris Harvey, who did a lot of racing around here at one time. We also saw the Big Easy RollerGirls, who were part of the Muses parade.


At least I made it out to ride on Friday. We had a small group but did a nice steady ride on the levee. That night it was back to St. Charles Avenue for some more champagne, beer and Popeye's Fried Chicken, and of course a couple more parades. At one point a rider fell off of a float practically right in front of us. He ended up kind of dangling by his safety ropes and the crowd had to lift him up so he could unclip and climb back up the back of the float (that's where they all have a hidden set of stairs). A couple of hours later I discovered that one of my photos showed him on the way down. So anyway - another bunch of photos from Friday night.


By Saturday morning I was feeling better but had to drive the car out to the Giro Ride because I needed to get some LAMBRA cameras and stuff to Dave who was going to take them up to the Monroe race on Sunday. Somehow, that basically resulted in me getting a late start, so I was kind of lucky I didn't miss the Giro altogether. The ride was fairly fast on the way out, and I think part of that was that some of the riders wanted to catch all of the triathletes before the turnaround. Even so, lots of the Giro riders were planning on doing the longer ride out to Fort Pike, so that certainly served to moderate the speeds a little bit.


After the Giro, Steve M., Jay, Robert and I stopped for coffee for a while before heading home. There were already lots of people camped out on Carrollton Avenue (many since the day before) protecting their spots for tonight's Endymion parade. Soon after I arrived back home, I was heading out on the commuter to meet my nephew, niece, and friends on the parade route to watch the Tucks parade. As usual, that was a fun parade to watch. I got home about an hour ago to refuel because in another hour I'll be heading downtown to Tulane's Tidewater building on Canal Street to wait for Endymion. We'll have the nephew and his entourage, along with The Wife's sister and friend. Should be interesting. I'm pretty sure the Florida group is planning on walking down to the French Quarter after the parade, so I'll probably be on call to pick them up in the middle of the night.

Three Flats and You're Out

I had to check the outdoor thermometer twice this morning just to be sure. The pre-dawn temperature was above 60° and there was a strong wind blowing out of the south. It's still February, right? Maybe it was the warm air, or perhaps the earlier sunrise, but the group up on the levee was just itching to roll this morning. In fact, they rolled a few minutes early, leaving Big Richard with a rather long chase before he finally caught up somewhere past the playground. Today's pace wasn't particularly fast, but neither was it slow. The real problem, though, was the gusty crosswind that made it hard to relax in the paceline. My legs felt merely "OK" today, and it was hard to resist the temptation to sit in the draft the whole time.

On the way back, David H. suddenly flatted, so a few of us waited around for him to fix it. We weren't a quarter mile down the road after that when his tire went flat again. David pulled the tire completely off the rim and checked it over carefully before installing the new tube. We got rolling again and things were going along just fine. I took a few long pulls along with a couple of other guys and then when finally went to drop to the back I discovered that most of the group, including David, was missing. I sat up, twisted around, and peered down the road behind us. They were nowhere in sight! I can only assume that David's tire had gone flat again. Had I known I would have stopped, but my the time I realized they were missing we were almost all the way back and running a bit late as well, so I figured he'd just have to deal with flat #3 without the questionable assistance of me standing around and watching.

Back at work, I had a noon meeting downtown, so I got a nice little tailwind ride from the office down to the Murphy building for a Louisiana Cancer Research Consortium board meeting. I was uncomfortably warm by the time I arrived, despite my the leisurely pace of my commute, so I was glad they had some cold drinks and sandwiches on hand.

So Mardi Gras celebrations are about to kick into gear around here. There will be lots of parades from now until Fat Tuesday, and I'm planning on checking out Muses tomorrow evening. On my way down Audubon today, in the course of six or seven blocks, I passed one house that was expertly decorated, two real Rex flags and one real Comus flag. These are the official flags that the prior Kings fly. You can tell them from the decorative imitations by two things. For one, the "real" flags have the year that the owner reigned sewn or embroidered into the corner. For another, they tend to be flying from really expensive houses. Although Rex gets all the press, I've always been partial to the Mistik Krewe of Comus, myself because, well, they're so Mistikal! I wish they still had their parade.

Getting a Little Faster

Oversleeping on Monday morning is always a good sign, in a way, because it usually means I got in a lot of miles over the weekend. So when I finally awoke for the second time (the first time I managed only to turn off the alarm) and saw it was already too late to meet the group on the levee, I pulled the covers over my head and thought, "Oh well, I guess I'll do the Spinning class tonight." Later that evening, with the temperature starting to fall, I rode over to the Reily Center for the 6:30 Monday class, which is by far my favorite. Naturally, I pushed a bit too hard, and so when I rolled out of bed this morning I knew my legs would not be very happy.

The Tuesday group was big today. With the racing season rapidly approaching and the sunrise getting earlier and earlier, the chill in the air wasn't enough to keep many of the usual riders away. There was a good bit of tailwind on the way out today, and so I knew it would be a fast one. Indeed, the rides have been getting a little faster week by week lately. That's one of the things that makes February so hard. On the one hand, the rides are bigger and faster and the races are looming just over the horizon. On the other hand, the weather, and in my case work too, isn't always so inviting, and everybody is never quite on the same page fitness-wise. This morning it was in the 50s, but I went out dressed for the 40s because I knew it was the only way I was going to get myself out the door.

So anyway, I took one or two pulls as the pace ramped up and then dropped way back down the paceline, well past wherever the rotation was ending. I don't think they missed me up there because the pace certainly didn't slow down. I was kind of glad when Donald flatted at the Dip and I could take a little break. Of course, one reason I hadn't been up at the front pulling was that I knew we'd have more headwind and fewer riders for the return trip. I was right. The ride back to town was a bit harder and a couple of notches slower, even though I probably did more work coming back than I had going out.

Tonight I finally got the event permit for our 2-Person Time Trial submitted. This will be the race's fifth year. It's a fun race to do even though I often don't know who I'll be riding with, or even if I'll be riding at all, until the last minute. This is one of those races where I try to do three things at once. I've never been very good at that, but for a relatively uncomplicated event like a time trial it's at least possible.

Follow the Impulse

Promptly at 6 am a text message arrived. "7 am or 1 pm for northshore?" Good question. It was dark and a light rain was falling, and the tm was coming from the only person remotely likely to meet me for the drive across the lake. I stumbled down the hall to have a look at the radar. It looked substantially better north of the lake than south, but neither looked particularly good. On the other hand, the cool front was supposed to pass through by noon or so and after that everything looked great. As much as I wanted to do a long ride in the hills, the possibility of having to deal with a long wet slog with a handful of riders didn't feel so appealing this morning. A little while later another TM came that said, "Staying on southshore. Good luck with the weather." So I went back to bed figuring on getting out later in the day when things were looking better. By 11:00 a few other riders were talking about meeting at noon, so I threw my hat into the ring as well. By then the rain was over and the streets were mostly dry.

Up on the levee at noon I rode slowly upriver and met up with Lawrence, Mignon, Brooks. A little while later we came upon Charlie and Tim, who was towing a bike trailer containing his kid. There was a pretty good crosswind and a paceline formed right away. Tim hung on for a while, but it's pretty hard to get a draft in a crosswind when you're pulling a trailer. I dropped back to get a picture just about when he was about to come off, and by the time I shot a couple of photos I had a pretty good gap to close. I got a few photos, but none came out very well because of the bright background, otherwise known as the sky.

The ride out toward Destrehan was nice and smooth, although the combination of crosswind and Brooks' long pulls eventually split Mignon and Lawrence off. Then, as we approached the Luling bridge I impulsively said, "Let's ride over the bridge today." Well, one thing led to the other and soon the plan was to cross the river at Luling and then ride back downriver on the west bank to the Canal St. ferry. This, of course, would mean an extra 20+ miles. There was some quick discussion about who had what to eat, but ultimately everybody was "in" for this impulsive excursion.

The ride over the Luling suspension bridge is really a nice one except for all of the debris on the shoulder. Since it's technically part of the interstate, riding on the shoulder is the only feasible option, though. I pulled out the camera as we started the climb, but stashed it back in my pocket for the fast downhill. Damn, I like going downhill! Once we were on the west bank we had four or five miles on River Road with passing cars and no shoulder that was a little tense, but after that we were able to get up on the levee bike path for much of the trip back downriver to Algiers Point where we met the Canal St. ferry. The bike path is interrupted by the big Avondale shipbulding facility and then later by the old lock. After the nice ferry ride back across the river, we got tangled up a bit in parade traffic. The Carrollton parade had just ended, and the end of the next parade was still on St. Charles, but we managed to get across the parade route and rode down St. Charles all the way back uptown, finally getting back onto the levee bike path at the parish line.

So I had gone out at noon thinking that maybe I'd get in 44 miles, but ended up with around 70. I was glad I'd slipped a Powerbar into my pocket before I left. It was a really fun ride and a great break from the regular training ride routine, even though it took a bit longer. We should definitely do this loop more often.

Staying Flexible

This week really isn't going according to plan at all. Between work and weather, I've had to stay pretty flexible. Yesterday a scheduled morning conference call threw another curve-ball at my routine, so I went out earlier than usual to get in a little solo ride. At least I rode.

Saturday morning's weather forecast was sounding rather pessimistic. In the back of my mind had been an idea to drive up to Baton Rouge for some track time, now that I actually have tires on the bike. I even found a couple of sticky ten year old rolls of Tressostar cloth handlebar tape that I put on the track bike just for full effect. There's almost as much glue on the outside as the inside, but what the hell. I wonder if I have any rolls of that hot pink slippery plastic Benotto tape lying around somewhere... Anyway, by late last night I had already written off the velodrome. I really need to feel like there's a very good chance of having a dry track over there in order to justify skipping a regular training ride plus making the drive. Maybe next week. It'll have to be real soon, because the track is supposed to be shut down next month while they renovate the whole park.

So anyway, it's almost 9 am now and it looks like the rain is gone for a while, so I think once the streets dry up a little bit I'll hit the levee bike path and get in a few miles.

Spring Comes in Fits and Spurts

Finally I was back on the bike this morning, which was the first time since Sunday! Naturally, the spring-like weather I missed was gone, replaced by another little cold front. It seems that Spring is coming, albeit grudgingly, to the South. The Azaleas and Camellias, popular in the uptown area because they will grow in the shade of the big Live Oaks, are blooming everywhere. Lawns and neutral grounds (aka "medians") are full of rapidly growing clover that always makes me want to stop and look for those elusive four-leaf ones. I'm quite sure that Winter isn't quite done yet, but the earlier sunrise and occasionally warmer weather are certainly welcome.

So Wednesday evening I rode back home down Pine Street as usual, but as I approached Neron Place I could see that something was going on. There were lots of flashing lights, and the traffic on South Claiborne Avenue was barely moving. As I got to the house I saw the reason. A Tulane minibus from our Center for Public Service had somehow crashed into a pickup truck parked in a driveway. I stopped and stared at the situation for a moment, trying to figure out how on earth the bus had ended up in such an odd position, perpendicular to traffic, but with only front-end damage. It didn't make sense. I walked over to the crowd of students who had been on the bus to find out what had happened and learned that the driver had passed out as they were approaching S. Claiborne on Broadway. The bus, with its unconscious driver, had crossed six lanes of rush-hour traffic, miraculously without being hit, and finally stopped when it hit a pickup truck parked in a driveway on the other side of the street. The students all seemed to be fine, since the bus had not been going very fast, although the neighbor's garage that the truck had been pushed into suffered some damage. The bad news was that the driver, who had been attended to quite quickly by the fire department and paramedics, died of an apparent heart attack. I hung around while the students waited for another bus to arrive, running back to the house to get an umbrella for them when it started raining and making a phone call to give Tulane's Public Relations folks a little heads-up when the local news crew arrived about five minutes before the 6:00 news hour.

So I had planned to ride Wednesday morning, but by mid-day Tuesday I knew I'd have to attend a morning meeting in Baton Rouge, which meant I'd have to drop The Wife off at work for her 7:15 am meeting, which meant there was no way I was going to get in a ride. If I had ridden, I probably would have gotten wet, since it was another rainy morning, but after having missed Monday and Tuesday, I probably would have gone out anyway. At least I managed to make it to Spinning class Wednesday evening where I probably went a little too hard trying to make up for lost time while completely ignoring the drill sergent instructor and all that jumping up and down stuff. My back hurts just thinking about that.

This morning the temperature was back down to 50 or so and there was a big group up on the levee. As we approached the playground, still in warm-up mode, we spotted a rider up ahead. Could it be?? We squinted in the pre-sunrise light. Donald looked over at me and said, "It's Ronnie!" Indeed, if anyone needed confirmation that Spring was coming, there it was right in front of us. Like a big bear emerging from hibernation, Ronnie was back in the group.

So the ride seemed pretty hard today, and I guess I have only myself to blame for that since my speedometer never even approached the red zone. The prior evening's Spin class had left my quads with little tolerance for sustained efforts. Although they felt fine when I was sitting in the paceline, every time I'd come to the front and need to push on the pedals a little harder, my legs would start to load up right away. Oh well.

Meanwhile, down in the dark recesses of the basement, an age-old ritual is underway. The track bike's old wheels are getting new rubber. After scraping off a layer of glue that must have been ten years old, they were finally ready for the ritual of the gluing today. I have a few well-aged but unused Vittoria CX tubulars inherited from Billy Richards (and with "Billy Richards" written prominently on the sidewalls). So this morning I stuck a finger inside a baggie and spread a thin layer of Vittoria Mastik One on the tire and rim, leaving them to dry until I do the final application and actually mount the tire to the rim. I'm not sure, but it must have been at least five years since I've glued on a tubular. Now before you start..... Yes, I know that's a road tire and not an official track tire, and yes, I know I could have removed the old rim cement with acetone. However, since the wheels are of the standard old heavy spoked variety, and since I inhaled plenty enough acetone in organic chemistry lab, and since the tires were hanging there just begging to be used before they dry-rotted, the decisions were not entirely irrational. As it turns out, I actually have a couple of unused paper-thin 19mm German track tubulars, and I even have an old front wheel that would accommodate one of them, but considering my limited capabilities on the velodrome I think I'm going to go with reliability over speed.

Oh, I almost forgot. Happy birthday Charles!

A Disappointing Start

It's been a disappointing start to the week. I skipped my Monday morning ride because of work, so I promptly signed up for the evening Spin class. I must have sensed that Tuesday's ride was in jeopardy, because I pushed myself pretty hard on the Spin bike. So at least I got in fifty minutes of moderate exercise and lots of sweating. That night, the weather forecast for the morning ride didn't look particularly bad and I went to sleep fully expecting to be able to do the usual long levee ride. By 5:00 a.m. I already knew there was a problem. I could hear it raining outside, but for the next hour I held out a little hope that I might somehow manage to get in a few miles. By 6:30 I'd officially thrown in the towel and resigned myself to a second day off the bike. Sure, I could have gone out and ridden in the rain. It was plenty warm enough for that, but I guess I just wasn't willing to deal with the wet shoes, dirty clothes and ever-present threat of flat tires. Unfortunately, tomorrow morning isn't looking too great either.

I tried to wait out the rain before riding to work, but it just wasn't happening. There was a long string of showers trailing directly over the city from the south, so finally I changed into jeans and a pair of old shoes, threw on the rain jacket, and made the brief commute to the office. I started out in a light drizzle, rode through a moderate rain, and arrived just as there was a lull. Now I'm just wet and unhappy. I guess I'll have another cup of coffee and hope it's the extra jolt gets my engine started today.

Good Weekend

Work, cycling, and life in general have been keeping me pretty busy the last few days, and I'm by no means all caught up yet. Saturday started out with the Giro Ride. I had a feeling it would be nice and fast because the weather was excellent. I rode in arm and knee-warmers, but by the time the ride was over it was much, much warmer and I was very overdressed. I had been planning on laying low during this Giro Ride, since I wanted to do the northshore ride on Sunday. Nonetheless, I did end up doing some significant work here and there, which resulted in some sore legs and a very slow ride home into the wind.

As soon as I got home I had to run over to my father's place to help him install some lawn sprinkler plumbing, after which I needed to pick up some supplies for the club "banquet" that evening. I headed over to the local grocery store and picked up eight bottles of wine and a lot of beer, along with a few soft drinks, water, ice, etc. The banquet went off pretty well (there are a few photos). I always wish more people would show up for these, but I guess bike club parties don't always stack up too well against a lot of domestic responsibilities. Anyway, the food was great and we knocked off those bottles of wine pretty quickly.

Sunday morning I headed across the lake for the usual winter training ride at 8:00. Along the way I stopped in at Puccino's coffee since the usual Starbucks closed down last week. A tragedy, I know. At the ride we started with a group of about fifteen, although a few riders turned back early. The temperature started out in the 50s, but quickly rose well into the 70s. It felt great to be riding with bare knees for a change! Not only that, but we had a nice tailwind for the first twenty-five miles or so, which is pretty much the opposite of a typical winter training ride. Considering the results of the prior night's ad libitum wine consumption I was feeling pretty decent today. The group ended up with only eleven or so, and the result was a nice steady ride with relatively few stops for regrouping. By the time I got home, a bit after noon, my email inbox was crammed with stuff for work that needed to be done today. I think it's all ready to go now, and so I'll be delivering it to the President's house early tomorrow morning rather than doing my usual Monday morning ride. Anyway, I'm dead tired right now and so I'm going to sleep......

As Expected the Unexpected

After such a nice weekend of cycling immersion, expecting to maintain that momentum through the week was probably too much to ask. As expected, the unexpected once again put a little crimp in my plans.

When I read the email Sunday night "asking" me to be at the Monday morning President's Council meeting, I wasn't too disappointed. A day off the bike to ensure full recovery sounded like a wise option. Even the weather was sending the same message, leaving the morning streets wet and scattering little rain showers around the area. I had planned to do a Spinning class Monday evening, but by the time I remembered to sign up after my meeting the class was full. OK. I can take a hint. On Monday I rested.

So by Tuesday morning I was ready for a nice long ride with the group up on the levee. A paceline formed up quickly and after picking up Donald at the playground we settled into a fast rotation. I took a few short pulls and the next time I dropped back I ended up behind Donald who I soon discovered was acting as gatekeeper for the sitting-in group. I have to admit, I was pretty comfortable sitting behind him for a long time, but eventually the pace at the front eased up a bit, and by then I was starting to feel guilty, so I went around and got back into the rotation. I was feeling pretty good Tuesday, and may have been guilty of pushing the pace just a bit on the way back, thanks no doubt to my earlier session in the easy chair behind Donald.

On my calendar for Tuesday afternoon was a visit to the dentist, so I had taken the car, which I usually just drive on weekends, to work. At one point I applied the brakes and thought, "Holy crap, that sounds really bad!" I rolled down the window and turned off the radio. Yep. This sounded like the automotive version of when you have rocks and grit imbedded in your brake shoes on a rainy bike ride. Clearly, one of the front brake pads was no longer with us in any easily recognizable fashion, and I was hearing that nasty and expensive metal-on-metal sound. Great. So I made it to the dentist were there were needles and drills and the other bad things associated with getting a new crown, wrote a big check, and drove back treating the brake pedal like it was made of china. I should have expected this unexpected development, of course, but anyway the bottom line was that my Wednesday morning ride time was going to be spent at the Volvo dealer rather than the levee. By 10 a.m. estimate for the new pads and rotors, replacement of the blown front speakers, a transmission software upgrade, brake fluid purge, and various other deferred maintenance items came to around $1k.

Just as I'd expected.

Naturally, it's supposed to be freezing cold, literally, tomorrow morning. At least I did manage to sign up for Spinning tonight. I expect I will also be up on the levee tomorrow regardless of the temperature. A guy's gotta ride.....

Camped Out

So last weekend was an NOBC training camp up at Percy Quinn state park in Mississippi. I had been looking forward to a little quality time with the bike, and the only thing I was worried about was the threat of cold weather. Then again, that's pretty much what I always worry about between November and March. I think that some of the things that I like the most about cycling are the road trips like this where you can put other concerns aside for a couple of days and focus on the fun stuff, and with no internet access at the cabins, that was going to be easier than usual. Keith A. and I drove up Friday night to meet a few of the other "campers," although more riders would be driving up early Saturday morning for the first of three scheduled rides. After settling into a nice cabin with six beds, two baths, and a struggling heating system, we sat around the laptop and watched "The Hard Road," ate whatever we could get our hands on, and finally turned in for the night.

I awoke early on Saturday and wandered out into the cold morning air for a little walk. By the time I got back, Pat had the coffee going. It was still quite chilly - somewhere in the mid-30s - by the time everyone started to assemble for the morning ride. We had intentionally planned to leave around 9:00 so we could avoid the coldest part of the day, but it was still difficult to decide what to wear. The sky was clear, so it was definitely going to warm up a lot, but there in the park with the trees still blocking the sun, it was still pretty cold. The plan was to ride around 40 miles, have some lunch, and then do a longer ride of 60+ miles in the afternoon. That was the plan. Unfortunately, none of us really knew much about the roads in the area, so Pat mapped something out and we rolled the dice on the traffic and road quality. We had about a dozen riders, and as you'd expect from a club like ours, a wide range of fitness levels was represented. That resulted in lots of stops to regroup, which was handy since we often weren't all that sure about where we were anyway. We ended up doing a big loop through Liberty, MS. After regrouping there, we headed back on a state highway that featured lots of logging trucks. It was busy enough to be uncomfortable, but at least the road surface was smooth and there were eighteen inches or so of shoulder. Just as we were leaving Liberty we passed a sign that read, "McComb 20 miles." I looked down at my computer and knew that our 40 mile ride was going to be more like 50. It was.

So after some down time around the grill, we were ready to head out for the afternoon ride around 2:30 or so. It was much, much warmer for this one, but we knew we wouldn't be able to get in the 60+ miles we'd originally planned without getting caught in the dark. Again, our route was somewhat on the "experimental" side, but this time we were lucky to avoid any high-traffic roads. These narrow little country roads are definitely my favorites, regardless of their road surfaces, and with the challenging terrain and lingering effects of the morning's ride, this one really felt like a workout. A number of riders did shorter rides, but there were maybe six or seven of us who ended up with 45 miles or so. I was particularly impressed with a few of the riders in this group, and concluded that Kenny's coaching efforts over the last few months were definitely paying off.

We got back to the cabin right at dusk. I doubt we could have gotten in five more miles before dark, so that had worked out perfectly. Saturday night there were two king cakes, two or three pies (and whipped cream!), six or seven bottles of wine, stuffed pasta, spinach salad, etc., etc. I did my best, but we never quite got around to that last bottle of wine. Of course, amid all of that there was some more serious talk about training and racing, team tactics, and all of the usual training camp stuff. I could elaborate, but of course my teammates would then have to kill me....

So Sunday morning was our final training ride, and we headed out in generally the same direction as the prior morning, but this time with an alternate return route that we hoped would be both less busy and adequately paved. Naturally we took a wrong turn at the farthest point from the start, but it added only a few bonus miles to the day's ride. This time there was a little leadout practice and some faster sections. The alternate road turned out to be excellent and I doubt anyone's legs were begging for more. The group split up a few times, and some riders did shorter rides, but most of the group stuck together for the first couple of hours. With around twelve miles to go things picked up pretty good as we headed for the last major intersection and there was another split. We stopped at the next intersection, with maybe seven miles left to go, to regroup, but after a few minutes I looked at Kenny and said, "something's wrong, they should have been here by now." As the words were coming out of my mouth, my nearly dead cellphone rang. I could see that it was Migon who was calling, but my battery was so weak I couldn't really understand what she was saying. Since they should have been only a minute or so behind us, I was a little worried, although I could at least tell from the tone of her voice that it wasn't an emergency. As Kenny was trying to call her back on his phone, a truck came by and told us they were just a quarter mile behind. It turned out that some redneck had come by in the opposite direction and thrown a Big Gulp (lime flavor, by the way) at them, solidly nailing Judith's upper arm. Luckily nobody went down, but Judith was pretty badly bruised and Ed had already called the police by the time we arrived. Why do people do stuff like that?

Anyway, the weekend was a lot of fun, the weather was fantastic, and since my legs were still feeling a little sore this morning I didn't feel too bad about sleeping late because of the nasty rainy weather we had. Oh, yeah. There are a few photos on the NOBC website.