Unseasonably Fast

The incongruity was impossible to ignore.  It was the third week of February, my air-conditioner was running, and the pre-dawn temperature was 70° F with a predicted high of 80°.  Short-sleeve jersey weather.  I peeked through the Levelors expecting to see fog, but instead noted only a strong south wind.  It's hard to believe how long this stretch of spring-like weather has lasted.  The lowest temperature that the ten-day forecast currently has on offer is a unimpressive 47°.  The only problem with this fortuitous situation is that about half of the local ridership is acting like it's late March already. I have to admit I'm probably one of them, even though my head is still writing a few checks that my legs can't cash.

So thanks to the unseasonably warm stretch of weather, along with a racing season that is beginning to poke its head over the horizon, this morning's turnout was probably the largest we've had thus far in 2011. As we headed off up the river I looked at the long line of twenty or so riders, felt the steady crosswind, and thought, "This is going to get ugly."  Fortunately the wind direction was offering a scant but noticeable tailwind vector.  Unfortunately, that just meant that the guys in front went even faster.  It wasn't long before I was seeing steady speeds in the 27-30 mph range, and when I dropped way back near the tail end of the paceline I knew I'd probably made a mistake.  The string of riders was already showing some stress and I figured it would just take one or two little surges and stretch of crosswind to undo the whole thing.  We weren't too far past the parish line when it happened.  A couple of riders who had been left too long out in the crosswind started to blow and a gap opened.  I sucked it up and went around, latching onto the wheel of another rider who had found himself in a similar situation.  The front part of the group was starting to pull away.  Suddenly the rider in front of me eased up, momentarily trapping  my front wheel between the edge of the road and his rear wheel.  "Go, go!" I yelled.  No response.  I slowed even more in order to extricate my rear wheel and was finally able to go around on the left.  The gap to the tail end of the front group was still growing - maybe five seconds or so - as I stood on the pedals and made that all-too-familiar last-ditch effort.  Somehow I made it into the draft; the last rider to get across.  For the next few miles all I could do was hang on to whatever thin sliver of draft I could find as the road wound its way along the Mississippi.

After such an unseasonably fast ride out to the turnaround, I wondered if there might be some mercy on the return trip, which I knew would involve considerably more headwind. Although the speeds were more in the 22-25 mph range, the headwind was making things difficult.  By the time we were halfway back the group had already fractured in a few places.  A surge took a handful of riders off the front of the front group and I put my head down to try and limit the losses.  As I pulled off I was surprised to see Howard sprinting past me with another rider on his wheel.  Thanks.  Somehow I managed to claw my way back up to the group when its speed slacked.  I think we were down to six or so chasing Tim, Woody and Mark.  We got a rotation going and were holding our own, but luckily Tim and Mark turned off to go home, so at that point Woody eased up so we could catch.  Things were a little less severe for the rest of the ride, and after we got back to the playground I hung around for a while to wait for Zack who needed to follow me home in order to borrow a Tulane jersey for the Austin race this weekend.  I think tomorrow is going to have to be an easy day for me, especially with the NOBC training camp coming up this weekend.