Full Month

I was halfway into this morning's training ride when it finally hit me.  "I'm tired," I thought to myself.  Indeed, it has been a rather full month of riding, with precious few rain days.  I long ago gave up trying to schedule rest days because the weather always seems to provide them at regular, if inconvenient, intervals anyway.  As it turned out, though, May never did put much in-between me and the road, resulting in a 1,295 mile month, which, for me, is a bit on the high side even for May.  Considering the fairly significant general increase in training intensity, along with a couple of races and double-dipping Wednesdays, I shouldn't be surprised that I'm really dragging today.  Not to worry, though.  The next few weeks will probably bring things back into balance.

So yesterday I rode out to the lakefront with a nice 90+ degree tailwind, and all I could think about was how that very same wind was going to make the training race even harder.  The west end of the out-and-back circuit that we use for the Wednesday night worlds training race was already becoming cluttered with movie trucks when I arrived.  They were apparently starting to set up for a nighttime shoot.  Street lamps had been removed, huge lighting trucks were on hand, and by the time the training race ended the place was packed with movie crew people and related vehicles.  Ever fifteen minutes the training race group would come blasting through, weaving around pickup trucks and hoping to avoid distracted pedestrians.  The race itself was good, as they always are.  We were often touching 30 mph on the tailwind section, and in general I thought it was a pretty fast.  I had decided to stay in the bunch for the first half of the 4-lap race, and then move toward the front to push the envelope -- mine, not theirs, apparently. 

So naturally I attacked on the little rise over the levee at the east end of the course, taking Rolan with me.  Apparently he was the only one foolish enough to go off on a breakaway into a headwind with someone who provides notoriously little in the way of draft.  I had hoped to at least elicit a little bit of a chase, but when I looked back after the Seabrook loop I could see the group way back there all spread out across the road.  Rolan took a long, long pull as we waited to be reabsorbed by the pack.  The last lap got really fast when we hit the tailwind section, but then things started to bog down as we got closer to the finish.  I had been thinking about contesting the sprint, which in this case was going to be a very long drag race into a headwind, but when the group slowed down to 20 mph I decided to instead take a long pull and try to keep the pace respectable.  Of course, once I backed off a group attacked on the left, flying past a good 5 mph faster than I'd been going. It was a good workout anyway.  By the time I got home I was hot, hungry and exhausted, and didn't even fire up the computer before hitting the sack at the uncharacteristically early hour of 10:30 pm.

This morning's long levee ride seemed pretty fast, but more than that I was feeling pretty fatigued from the outset.  There were actually a few times when I seriously considered sitting up and soft-pedaling back home, but somehow I stuck it out to the end, stopping at Zotz for an iced coffee that I hoped would provide at least a temporary jolt of energy.  By then my head was feeling like it was stuffed with cotton and all I wanted to do was take a nap.  I kind of still feel that way.  I think tomorrow is going to have to be an easy day.

The Draft

NOBC Cat. 4 team awaits the start of the Feliciana Road Race

Sunday's Feliciana Road Race, up near St. Francisville, LA, was by all accounts a success.  It had been a pretty long time since we'd seen a regular old one-day road race around here.  Over the past seven or eight years promoters have been a little afraid to offer a single race rather than a slate of two or three races on a given weekend.  The prevailing belief was that riders wouldn't travel to a race unless they could justify the trip by having more than one race.  I think this philosophy still holds true for races that are depending on pulling riders in from neighboring states.  In this case, however, the race location was a reasonably short drive of 2-3 hours from four of five of the larger bike racing centers in Louisiana and Mississippi.  When the Cat. 5 race hit its 50-rider field limit on the Friday before the Sunday race, I knew the turnout would be good.

I drove up that morning with Mignon, arriving with a hot cup of coffee and lots of time before the 9:20 am start of the Master 40+ race.  I'd logged a lot of miles the week before with little in the way of recovery time, and when I got on the bike for a little warmup I immediately noticed that my legs felt a little sore on the climbs.  As much as I would have liked to race this race from the front, I decided instead to shift gears and resort to full-on sprinter mode, which is to say I was going to have to roll the dice that someone else would chase down any breakaways and instead spend as much time in The Draft as possible.  The last couple of miles of the 21-mile loop (we would be doing three of them) had a couple of good climbs that finally levelled out maybe 250 meters before the finish. I liked that.  Basically, there were two significant climbs on the loop, and then a lot of rolling stuff that probably wouldn't be much of an issue with the 34-rider master's field.  In other words, there would be lots of wheels to draft and also lots of riders to chase down breaks. 

Teammates Mark and Keith filled out the NOBC's 3-rider team for this one. Like me, Mark was in sprinter mode, while Keith was busy keeping track of things closer to the front.  After a fairly slow start, things got pretty fast for the second half of the first lap, and as I'd expected there were some attacks on the hills toward the end of that lap and well into the second lap.  It shelled a few riders, but I was actually surprised how many were still around when the pace finally slowed down a bit.  There was really only one breakaway that got significant time on the group, but it was a solo rider and he was eventually reeled back in without a particularly severe chase.  I was fully expecting fireworks on the big hills on the second lap, but for some reason there was never a really hard attack there, so we went into the last lap all together with the pace fluctuating between embarrassingly slow to rather fast.

As we came into the final five or six miles, all three of us started maintaining positions closer to the front, and since the pace would occasionally slacken significantly, things got kind of crowded every now and then.  The last kilometer got pretty tight up near the front where I found myself sitting on Mark's wheel over on the right side of the road.  We were probably a good 300 meters from the finish, and still on a slight uphill, when Mark sensed opportunity and jumped hard.  I hesitated and let Glenn Richard, I think, fill the gap as the sprint started rather early.  Following wheels, I ended up over toward the left at about 150 meters when the riders in front of me seemed to stop accelerating.  I shifted up another cog and jumped hard, coming around a number of riders on the left and crossing the line in a photo-finish with Glenn Richard, who narrowly got 2nd place.  Meanwhile, Mark had somehow held out all the way to the finish to take 1st place.  Keith was just a few spots behind, finishing 9th.  The promoters had free jambalaya and beer after the race, so we hung around quite a while so I could get a copy of the final results from the Chief Ref. to post on the website.  By late afternoon I was back home.

So today was Memorial Day.  Earlier in the week Mignon had sent out an email suggesting a group ride, and that quickly evolved into kind of a Memorial Day theme ride through the city with plans to visit Metairie cemetery, the World War II museum, Lee Circle, and Chalmette Battlefield.  It was all qute patriotic for this escapee from the 1974 draft.  I was basically among the first group of potential draftees who were not called, which was probably a good thing since my "lottery" number had been 25.  

Anyway, the weather was good and by the time we rolled out from Lakeview we had a group of over 25 riders, many sporting little US flags.  The ride was a lot of fun and just what I needed, even though some of us ended up having to chase back up to the group at one point.  I was kind of riding herd on this ride, keeping track of the back of the group and trying to keep everything together.  Unfortunately, when things were kind of strung out at one point, a bus cut the last few riders off and that opened up a huge gap that didn't get closed for a long time.  We were happy to have Pensacola's Donald Davis, who had raced the day before but had stayed in Baton Rouge that night, along for the ride.  I headed straight home down Marconi after the ride since we had a few people coming over to the house for a late lunch that of course included hamburgers, hot dogs, beer and margaritas -- not necessarily in that order.

Warm Weekdays

Finally we have arrived at that time of year when I don't even think about looking at the thermometer in the morning.  Down in the basement, next to my race travel bag, is a little pile of arm-warmers, shoe-covers, long-finger gloves and other items of winter wardrobe that I haven't needed in a month.  I guess it's safe to throw them all into the washer for a final cleaning before stashing them in some obscure location around the house that will make me late for the first chilly ride of the Fall season.  The only rain that's been in the area were some scattered thunderstorms yesterday afternoon that somehow missed most of uptown but dumped a lot of rain elsewhere, most notably Lakeshore Drive where the Wednesday evening training race is held.  I stood at the office window around 4 pm, looking at the heavy black clouds to the north, and wondered if I'd have to miss another training race. The radar looked promising, though, and by 5:30 I was doing battle on Carrollton Avenue, heading for the lake.  The streets were mostly dry, but there were a few places on Lakeshore Drive that were full of standing water.  The street storm drain system out there is pretty much completely broken, so water collects in the low spots and sits there until it eventually dissipates through the combination of gravity and vapor pressure. 

I arrived at the Elysian Fields traffic circle just in time to loop around and catch the end of the group.  The start and finish of the WNW changes kind of randomly from week to week, and this week it was the westbound levee crossing nearest Bayou St. John.  On the plus side, I had actually arrived before the race started.  On the down side, there was some street flooding in the Elysian Fields traffic circle and in a few spots between Franklin Avenue and the Seabrook loop.  Each lap we'd try to avoid the water, but invariably a few at the back would get forced right through it, myself included.  The race itself was reasonably fast, but never got entirely out of hand.  I think some credit to that has to go to the fact that there was very little wind, making it a lot easier to sit on and recover, or to close the little gaps that would open up every time there was an attack.  And there were a lot of attacks.  The three Herring riders who were there seemed to be taking turns attacking.  Each time one of them would get a gap, I would start looking for the others because I knew one of them was eventually going to try to bridge up. Even when I was fully expecting it, each of those attacks required huge efforts just to stay in contact.  On one of them I had been expecting Woody to attack, so had caught his wheel immediately when he did.  He yanked me up to 30 mph or so and then glanced back.  When he saw me on his wheel I immediately backed off, so rather than let Tim and whoever else was with him ride away from us, I had to put my head down and close it the rest of the way. So despite lots of attacks and surges, everything was still together for the last 6-mile lap (we do four of them).  I was thinking it would be a good day to contest the sprint, so I was right up there near the front when Kenny attacked about a mile and a half before the end. I responded immediately and caught his wheel as a little gap opened.  I knew there was no way he would be able to hold it all the way to the finish, and I also knew there was no way I would be able to hold off the group once he was done, but since it was a training race I figured I'd go with it and see how far I could get.  So we come into the traffic circle at Elysian Fields going about 28 mph just as a car is coming into the circle from the left.  The car gets there first, but we're going a lot faster than it is and I'm wondering what we're going to do when Kenny goes left of the car.  There was maybe two feet of clearance between the car and curb on the inside of the traffic circle, and there was no way of knowing if the car was going to continue around the circle and cut us off or turn onto Lakeshore Drive. My survival instinct kicked in and I backed off, turning sharply to the right to pass the car on the other side.  A moment later the pack came streaming by and by the time I got back up to speed I was practically at the back.  Oh well.  The sprint started early, as it always does for this finish line location, and then two riders in front of me both sat up at the same time.  I hate it when people sit up in the middle of a sprint!  So that was that. 

Having done the levee training ride that morning, I was pretty tired by the time I limped back uptown, and was falling asleep by 9:30.  The NOBC work still on my plate for the Tour de La would have to wait at least another day.  At least I had already wrapped up the post-event results work for the Racing Rapides race - website updated, results uploaded to USAC, LCCS rankings updated.  The new LCCS scoring will make for an interesting year.  Some people will hate it, some will like it, some won't even notice.  At any rate, this was the first event for which I had to go through and drop points for riders who, in this case, had scored points in more than one stage race.  Only one stage race, the one in which he scores the most points, counts toward a rider's LCCS total.  The same will kick in after five road races, five time trials, etc.  It's kind of a pain to do.

I made it out for the long levee ride this morning already feeling pretty dragged out.  Fortunately it wasn't a particularly fast one except for a few sections.  I'm thinking I need to take it easy tomorrow morning.  There's a road race up in St. Francisville on Sunday that I plan to do, but I'll probably ride the Giro on Saturday anyway so I'm not really expecting to be at my best for this particular race.

Racing Rapides Report

Finish climb - the white flag is the 200-Meter mark.

I've always liked the Racing Rapides race.  It's usually well organized, has good challenging courses, and doesn't require a cross-country road trip.  This year I rode up with Keith A., leaving on Friday evening after work. This year's race featured new road and time trial courses, and although getting there required a 40 minute drive from Alexandria, it was well worth it.  Our masters road race was a single 63-mile loop with around 2,000 feet of climbing.

The road race started out at a pretty easy pace and within ten miles I knew we'd eventually get caught by the much larger Cat. 4 race that was starting a mere 5 minutes behind us.  I'd already decided to use this race to get in some good training and in the first half of the race found myself off the front in a small break of four or five riders.  It seemed that a lot of riders were being cautious, perhaps in anticipation of the somewhat more hilly final fifteen miles.  Anyway, that break didn't last too long, but a few miles later Mitch rolled off the front.  Since we were both registered in the 55+ race, which was combined with the 40+ race, I thought they might let us go, so I bridged up to him and we started working together pretty well.  I guess we were out there for fifteen miles or so.  I don't think we ever got more than 1:30 on the group, but for a while I was thinking we might actually get away with it.  I told Mitch that if we could just keep our average in the 23-24 mph range, we would probably be able to build up enough of a cushion to make it to the finish line.  Since neither of us were likely to be posting any spectacular time trial times that afternoon, it would be great if we could pick up 30 seconds or so on the rest of the field.  Unfortunately, Mitch started to struggle on the climbs.  At one point I went up a long climb at what I thought was a nice steady speed, only to look back and see Mitch way, way behind me.  I sat up and soft-pedaled, but soon the lead moto for the Cat. 4s came up to warn me that they were about to overtake us. The masters field was right behind them, so that was that.  There was one particularly long climb about eight miles from the finish, and although I was fully expecting an attack there, all those miles in the wind had taken a bit of a toll on my legs and I couldn't quite stick with the lead group of five when the attack came.  Halfway up the hill, as the gap was starting to open, I looked over at Mark and yelled, "Go!"  I knew this break was not going to come back.  Mark made it up to the break, but a mile later I saw him coming back.  He'd gotten gapped off on the next climb.  We ended up in the relatively small second group, coming up to the base of the final climb to the finish a good two minutes behind the break.  For some reason someone jumped at the bottom of the climb, which was probably 800 meters before the finish, so we all had to go.  Halfway up I saw Mark suddenly stop pedaling and though he'd dropped his chain.  As it turned out he'd actually broken it and ended up walking across the finish line four minutes later.  I ended up finishing the road race first in the 55+ age group, but was still a little disappointed about missing that break.

We hung around the cars for a few hours, waiting for the 3 pm start of the 3-mile time trial which started at the finish line and went 3 miles in the opposite direction. That meant that it started out with a long fast downhill, followed by a long uphill and then another pretty good climb before the finish.  That kind of time trial is actually relatively good for me since it tends to require a little more than simple raw speed, which in my case is usually in short supply.  I ended up doing a 7:30 which, despite being a full minute slower than some of the day's fastest times, still landed me only two seconds out of first place on GC in the geriatric category.  That evening a few of us got together for dinner at a Japanese steak house, which was pretty good.

The Sunday morning criterium is on one of my favorite courses.  It's one of those nice inner-city courses with lots of turns, a few potholes and manhole covers, and a little bit of faux-pavé.  As expected, the race was a bit defensive, but once again Mitch took an early flyer off the front.  Since he was in the 55+ race with me, most of the 40+ riders weren't too interested in chasing him down, so after a lap I went to the front and started closing the gap.  My teammate Keith then came through to close the deal.  There was a hot spot time bonus for the 55+ riders at the half-way point and I needed to go for it in order to have any chance of moving up on GC.  Mark had told me earlier that he'd give me a leadout.  Halfway through the bell lap for the hot spot Mitch came up and took a long fast pull with me on his wheel, then Mark picked me up and pulled me nearly all the way to the finish line, so I got the bonus pretty easily thanks to good teamwork. 

With maybe five laps to go one of the 40+ riders attacked and got away solo.  I guess he was fairly far down on GC so the lead riders didn't really go after him.  Even so, I was surprised that the others would just let him ride away like that. He ended up staying away all the way to the finish.  On the last lap Keith went to the front to keep things fast and the sprint for second was fairly uneventful as I followed wheels most of the way to the finish.  I guess I was around 6th or so overall, but since I was the first 55+ rider that moved me into 1st on GC.  I was really nice to have a couple of teammates looking out for me in the criterium!  Overall, the club had some decent results with ten riders scattered across the various classes and categories.

Middle Louisiana

So I'm getting ready to head up to Alexandria for the annual Racing Rapides stage race.  It's looking like it will be a pretty hot weekend, but at least rain seems unlikely.  I wish I could say I feel ready, but then again, I rarely feel truly "ready" for a race -- a result, of couse, of my entirely unfocused training pattern.  It seems like it was a really long week.  I skipped out on the Tuesday afternoon time trial and instead set my sights on the Wednesday Night training race at the Lakefront.  Ben was looking for someone with whom to ride out with, so I ended up leaving relatively early and would have arrived with time to spare except for the nail I picked up in my rear tire on Carrollton Avenue as we were jockeying for position among the motorized public. I changed the flat as quickly as I could, pumped in maybe 50 psi and we took off for the lakefront again.  When I got there I decided to stop and put a little more air in the tire, which unfortunately resulted in me missing the "start," such as it is.  They were shooting a big movie near the western end of our course, and all of the trucks, trailers and electrical cables running across the road caused the group to create an ad hoc course on Lakeshore Drive and Elysian Fields, which of course I didn't know.  Anyway I eventually got myself into the race which turned out to be only moderate by training race standards.  So I worked the return leg of the Thursday morning levee ride a little harder than usual to compensate .... as if.  Preparation for this weekend consisted of throwing a bunch of clothes into my bag last night and checking to make sure my race wheel tires were still holding air.  Situation normal.  I'll be driving up with Keith A. some time around 5 pm, which means arriving probably around 8:30 or so.

Unpredictability

It was an unpredictable week.  The forecasters tried, of course, and even got some of it right, but it was a twitchy week for weather, not to mention pretty much everything else.  Wednesday was a good example.  I'd been looking forward to the Wednesday evening training race.  The Wife was scheduled to arrive back from a conference around 4:30, which would give me just enough time to pick her up from the airport, get back home, and ride out to the lakefront for the 6 pm Wednesday Night Worlds.  Well, wouldn't you know it? Two delayed flights later, I was coming back from the airport around 5:30 with no realistic hope of making the ride. To make matters worse, she'd twisted her knee trying to climb into the middle seat of the plane and probably tore her ACL (MRI should be scheduled soon).  By Friday morning the weather forecast for Saturday was absolutely dismal.  They rescheduled the Tour de Lis ride early Friday because the chance of severe thunderstorms was so high.  I was going to have to play it by ear as far as the Saturday Giro Ride was concerned.  Since we were scheduled for a club meeting afterward, I was planning to take the car out to the starting location anyway.

So Saturday morning I got up early and checked the radar.  All of the bad weather was at least three hours away.  We ended up getting in the whole Giro Ride without a drop of rain, arriving back at the Starbucks about fifteen minutes before the raindrops started falling.  Even so, it was brief and not nearly the deluge that had been predicted.  Of course, it eventually started raining more steadily, but not until the afternoon.  Anyway, I'd been feeling pretty good during the ride and about a mile before the Goodyear Sign sprint found myself about halfway down the pack when Mark M. tapped me on the back and motioned for me to follow.  He towed me all the way up to the front and dropped me off about 200 meters before the sign.  I felt so easy I was probably grinning the entire time even though we maxed out at something in the 36 mph vicinity.

Sunday morning it was cooler and drier (and Mother's Day) and I headed out early for yet another Giro.  I'd been riding around with my camera in my pocket all week without taking a single picture, so I pulled it out and tried to see what I could get as I rode through City Park on Harrison Avenue.  The group that finally came together as we rolled out down Lakeshore Drive didn't seem any smaller than usual and in a repeat of the day before, someone flatted even before we got to the bridges.  There was a bit of wind, but the direction was fairly cooperative and I found myself content to settle in around mid-pack with plans to save my energy for the second half of the ride.  As usual, the sprint for the Venetian Isles turnaround started way, way too early, but I put in a good effort anyway, turning around with a few others at the usual spot.  Most of the rest of the ride had turned around a good half mile earlier, so we were trying to catch up to the group when I saw John Dias stopped on the side of the road.  I asked him if he was OK and he said he was, so I continued on.  It looked like he was just checking something on his bike, but after we caught up with the group I looked back and he was still not back on the bike.  The group ended up stopping to wait as I rode back to see what the problem was.  He'd had a slow leak and decided to go ahead and put in a new tube.  Mark and I tried the same thing for the Goodyear sprint that we'd done the day before, but got separated pretty quickly, so I ended up on Mike W's wheel as we ramped it up to about 38 mph.  It felt pretty easy.  There's nothing like sitting in the group for most of the ride and then sprinting to make you feel stronger than you actually are!  I ended up sprinting hard up both of the bridges to finish off a pretty good Giro.

Pack Fodder

It was a busy week and a busier weekend, and I guess that accounts for the fact that I carried my camera around in my jersey for each ride but never really managed to take any photos.  The Daughter flew in late Friday night with plans to hit the Jazz Fest on Saturday.  Fortunately, they don't start things at the Fairgrounds until 11 am, which works out perfectly for those of us riding the Giro. So I rode out to meet the group early Saturday with a nice little tailwind of thick warm muggy air.  It was going to be a hot one, despite the scattered clouds and slight chance of rain.  The Wife is out of town for a meeting, so by the time I'd walked the dogs I was running a little later than I like.  That little bit of extra urgency pushed my pace up a bit as I rode up Carrollton and Wisner and then across the park on Harrison. By the time I got to Starbucks, hot coffee was already out of the question and I went instead for the iced version.  Another sure sign of summer. 

The Saturday Giro was fast.  For most of the ride the average speed worked out to 24.2 mph, including the usual recovery/regrouping stretches.  From the time the pace picked up on Hayne Blvd. to the sprint at the turnaround, our average speed was 27.3 mph.  Fortunately things were a little more controlled on the way back.  I made some good efforts here and there, and arrived back at home with just enough time to get ready for the short ride to the Fairgrounds. As usual, people we were meeting were running late (they took a cab!), but once we locked our bikes up in the big bicycle corral they set up, we picked some snoballs and headed over to the Blues tent.  I'd probably spend most of my day there if it were up to me, but after listening to a great set there I picked up a shrimp po-boy and headed over to the big stage to wait for Better than Ezra.  It was blazing hot and fairly crowded, but we found a little spot to sit.  I'm not a big fan of their sound, myself, and took the opportunity to pull my hat over my eyes and take a little nap. The main event for the day was the 5 pm performance by The Eagles, which was not to be missed.  We headed over to that stage about 45 minutes early and it was already packed pretty tight.  Squeezing our way through the masses, all the while practically getting a contact high from all of the ganja wafting through the air, we found a couple of square feet to stand where we waited in the sun.  We were packed in like sardines, shoulder to smelly shoulder, with people as far as you could see in every direction.  Moving was really not an option.  It was like being in the middle of a 150-rider field.  We were just pack fodder.  I think Quint Davis estimated the crowd at 65,000.  Granted, I'd take that number with a grain of salt, but I don't think it was all that much of an exaggeration. The Eagles did not fail to deliver, but unfortunately we had to leave early.  That was, of course, practically impossible.  People did not want to let anyone by.  It was way tighter than any Mardi Gras crowd, and since I wasn't the one who had to pee, I have to admit I wasn't too motivated to push my way through.  I think it took three more songs before we reached the periphery of the crowd and could actually take a normal step.  Anyway, I was sad to have to leave before they were done, but at least they had started with most of their classics and we didn't have to deal with any traffic on the way home.

I expected the Sunday Giro to be a little thin since some riders were racing in Texas and others were doing a northshore ride.  Still, by the time we got going we'd accumulated a pretty good group and although it wasn't the fastest Giro, it was still a good workout with a few 6-7 mile stretches in the 27-29 mph range.  Throughout the ride we'd been seeing dark thunderclouds scattered about, but we'd managed to avoid all of them until we were halfway home.  I guess I was only four miles from home when it really started to rain, and although it lasted only ten or fifteen minutes, I was well-soaked when I got home.  I think my shoes are probably still wet.  Later that day The Daughter had to go to a wedding, so I took the opportunity to go out for an easy spin on the levee before dinner.  I decided to take the old steel Cervelo out for that ride since I could use my old, and dry, shoes on that bike.  Unfortunately, when I pumped up the rear tire the valve stem pulled loose from the tube and I ended up having to patch a tube and change it out so I could ride.  It's never simple.....  Anyway, I was pleased that I'd somehow managed to get in a decent week or riding despite some complications, logging almost 14 hours on the bike.  Too bad if was all on flat roads, though.