A Bad Feeling

Hot, tired and dehydrated, I had just dropped back to try and recover in the skimpy draft of the little Wednesday evening training race when yet another attack launched from the front. This time I just couldn't lift myself up out of the saddle again to respond. It had been a long day already and it had been all I could do to summon up the motivation to make the rush-hour ride down Carrollton Avenue out to the lakefront in the first place. So with one lap to go, I uncharacteristically threw in the towel and let my speed drift down to the low 20s.


The day had started earlier than normal with a pre-dawn solo training ride necessitated by my 8:30 am report time for Jury Duty down at Tulane and Broad. I'd planned on arriving around 8:15 in order to get stake out a good seat in the "Jury Lounge" since I'd probably be stuck there for at least four hours. So at a quarter to six or so I clipped on the blinky light, which I hadn't used since early Spring, and headed for the levee bike path. By 7:15 I was back home, drenched in hot August sweat, hunting around the kitchen for something to eat. By 8 am I was right on schedule, ready to head out the door for the short ride down Fontainebleau and Jeff. Davis Parkway to Mid-City. "This is working out just fine," I thought. I shouldn't have thought that. It's like being on a training ride and telling someone that you never get flat tires.


When I pulled up in front of the court building, I got a bad feeling. There were a number of people standing on the steps around the door, but nobody was going inside. Just then, an ambulance pulled up right next to me and a couple of guys jumped out with a backboard. Apparently there had been some sort of medical emergency and a person was on the ground right at the front door. Eventually they transported him to the ambulance, after which we all waited in the blazing sun to get through security and the metal detector. Needless to say, by the time I got down to the "Lounge" I had to settle for a less-than-ideal spot near the rest rooms where there was a steady stream (no pun intended) of foot traffic. An hour or so later they hit the mute button on the television and announced that Judge Davis needed 75 jurors. I had a bad feeling about this, and just knew I was on that list. I was. So we all herd ourselves upstairs, stand in line, and are told to file into the courtroom. As we enter we're handed a clipboard containing a long questionnaire and a disturbing cover page showing a five-day "schedule for jury selection." My bad feeling got worse. This could mean only one thing. Yep. You guessed it. It was a first-degree murder trial. So now I'm scheduled to appear next Monday afternoon so that the lawyers can decide if I'll be easy enough to manipulate and/or whether I'll balk at the prospect of sentencing a murderer to death or life, assuming of course that the murderer's friends and family have been unsuccessful at intimidating or eliminating the witnesses. If I get selected for this jury it means I'll be sequestered in a hotel for the duration, which will be at least a week.


So that little bit of cheery news put a damper on my mood for the rest of the day. I rode back to the house to find something to eat, and then on to the office. Unfortunately I'd left my heavy U-lock at the house and forgotten to replace it with the light-duty one I normally use, so I had to bring the bike into my office for the day.


It was a bit after 5 pm when I left for home feeling rather noncommittal about doing the training race. What I really wanted was a big glass of wine and a long nap. Somehow I convinced myself that I needed to ride, though, and headed out to the lakefront, albeit a bit late and rather slowly. Naturally I got there a couple of minutes too late, so I jumped into the race two-thirds of the way through the first lap when Diego was going 32 mph off the front, a small chase group was trying to bridge, and everybody else was basically going flat-out. I latched onto the back of the small pack and knew immediately I was going to have trouble. It was probably mostly in my head, but I was feeling particularly sluggish and achy. The next few laps seemed kind of disorganized and I spent some time on the front helping close gaps and listening to Matt complain about the riders who were blocking and/or just not doing their share. A group had been off the front for a few laps, gaining maybe 30 or 40 seconds on the confused group, but everything came back together for the last couple of laps. By then I was toast, however, so then another attack launched, I just didn't have anything else to offer and dropped off. Rolan and I rode most of the last lap together, and as it turned out we probably could have caught the pack because they really slowed down a lot on the last lap. When I got home I decided it was time to try out that Recovery Drink mix. I wonder if I can make a Smoothie with this stuff?? Maybe one with a scoop of vanilla ice cream in it.....


I still felt kind of worn down this morning, and with a Team Time Trial coming up on Saturday, I guess I'll have to take it real easy tomorrow and hope the old legs return to normal.