It was 6 am when my Blackberry alerted me to an incoming text message. I was already sitting in front of the laptop with one window showing the radar and another showing the Causeway Cam photo of the northshore toll gate. The message read simply, "What do you think?" The question wasn't about the meaning of life or the state of the economy, it was about the northshore ride, and frankly, I wasn't quite sure how to reply. It looked like the rain was gone, but the streets were good and wet and a sudden warm front had brought with it a thick fog. I 
replied with a noncommittal assessment of the weather. "So it that a yes?" was the reply. I thought about it for a minute. The 7 am Giro Ride on the southshore would surely be wet and foggy. The northshore ride didn't start until 8 am, but the causeway would almost certainly be socked in with fog. I reasoned that either ride would be damp, but the odds looked better on the northshore assuming we could get across the causeway in time. When the weather is like this, I've found that nine times out of ten the decision to go ahead to do the northshore ride turns out to have been the right one. So I met John and Mignon at Puccino's and we headed across the lake on the causeway, where there was a 45-mph, one lane only, fog-induced restriction. I phoned ahead to tell Jason we were going to be late, and he said they'd wait for us. It was probably about 8:30 by the time we all rolled out onto the wet asphalt.
replied with a noncommittal assessment of the weather. "So it that a yes?" was the reply. I thought about it for a minute. The 7 am Giro Ride on the southshore would surely be wet and foggy. The northshore ride didn't start until 8 am, but the causeway would almost certainly be socked in with fog. I reasoned that either ride would be damp, but the odds looked better on the northshore assuming we could get across the causeway in time. When the weather is like this, I've found that nine times out of ten the decision to go ahead to do the northshore ride turns out to have been the right one. So I met John and Mignon at Puccino's and we headed across the lake on the causeway, where there was a 45-mph, one lane only, fog-induced restriction. I phoned ahead to tell Jason we were going to be late, and he said they'd wait for us. It was probably about 8:30 by the time we all rolled out onto the wet asphalt.I
t was warm. Warmer than most of us were willing to believe, actually. Soon, pockets were filling up with unneeded arm-warmers and vests, and by the time we got to the Watchtower hill the fog was nearly gone. I'd been hoping to see a bit of sun, but we were never quite that lucky. The prior day's clouds still blanketed the area and the news was still about the prior day's flooding. Later in the day I would learn that one of Tulane's faculty members had died after his car went into a flooded canal. He'd rescued his wife, but hadn't made it out himself. When we get these kinds of torrential rains and the drainage canals overflow, it becomes nearly impossible to tell where the road ends and the canal begins.
t was warm. Warmer than most of us were willing to believe, actually. Soon, pockets were filling up with unneeded arm-warmers and vests, and by the time we got to the Watchtower hill the fog was nearly gone. I'd been hoping to see a bit of sun, but we were never quite that lucky. The prior day's clouds still blanketed the area and the news was still about the prior day's flooding. Later in the day I would learn that one of Tulane's faculty members had died after his car went into a flooded canal. He'd rescued his wife, but hadn't made it out himself. When we get these kinds of torrential rains and the drainage canals overflow, it becomes nearly impossible to tell where the road ends and the canal begins.
The ride turned out to be a lot of fun. With a small group of about seven, all of whom were willing and able to maintain a good winter ride pace, things went quite smoothly. John flatted early in the ride, but otherwise we got in a solid 65 miles on the regular northshore route despite being rather warm and damp. I'd gone out wearing two jerseys with arm and knee warmers, but after the first twenty miles most of that was just dead weight. We were about five miles from the end of the ride when I started to feel that familiar squishiness telling me I was getting a flat. The wheels and bike were pretty grimy by now and I really didn't want to have to fix a flat so close to the finish, so I continued on until I started to feel the rim bottoming out on the bumps. We were only a mile or so from the end by that time, so I dropped out of the paceline, pushed my ass way back on the saddle to keep my weight off of the front wheel, and rode the last bit on the flat. By the time I got to the cars the inner tube had bunched itself up near the valve stem and the wheel was going "thump, thump, thump," but at least my hands were still relatively clean.Sunday evening we went with the neighbors to City Park's Celebration in the Oaks, which was really just an excuse to watch the neighbor's kid having a blast on all of the rides. It was warm, foggy and misty the whole time, but fortunately for us, they were selling wine, which made it much more enjoyable. As usual, I couldn't resist the challenge of trying to get a few good photos with my pocket camera under such challenging conditions.
This morning the streets were still soaking wet, and there was a light mist and thick fog, so I went out on the rain bike and logged an hour's recovery ride, arriving back home good and wet, and just in time to take The Cat to the Vet for a follow-up.
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