Fair Weather and Festivals

November is always an interesting month around here.  One weekend the weather can be spectacular; the next it can be absolutely miserable.  Last weekend was a prime example of the former.  While our more latitude-challenged brethren to the north are busy selecting new snow shovels and expensive high-tech outerwear, we're just adding arm-warmers and full-finger gloves to our wardrobes and, when mother nature cooperates, enjoying brisk group rides under blue skies and feasting at Po-boy festivals.  I suppose there must be some benefits that come with living in places where the average winter temperature is below that in my refrigerator, but for the most part they escape me.

I had been expecting, perhaps hoping, that the Sunday Giro Ride would be a relatively civilized affair with speeds just above the training-effect threshold and well below the hypoxia threshold.  Some of it actually was, but as usual there were complications.  It was still pretty windy.  I was getting pretty damned tired of that wind which had been with us relentlessly for nearly a week, and as the pace ramped up along Hayne Boulevard I could tell it was going to be a factor. Sheltered in mid-pack, my effort level was merely moderate as the riders up front busted a hole through the chilly headwind.  I knew, however, that as soon as we turned south the speed would go up dramatically.  We went from 23 mph to 28 mph right away, slowing briefly as we turned east underneath I-510, and then surging right back up to 28 as we again turned south on the service road. Near the end of that road I heard some loud voices behind me that had been precipitated by Kenny slamming over a big chunk of concrete in the road at about 30 mph and pinch-flatting both tires. I think I'd hit the same thing on Saturday. He knew it would take a while to fix, so he told people to go ahead without him, but a number of us had already circled back to assist.  As it turned out, he'd actually managed to pinch-flat a tubeless tire on one wheel and a regular tube on the other.  One of the spare tubes was leaking at the stem, so it took about ten minutes, three tubes and four people to get him going again.  On the plus side, that meant a few miles of smooth easy paceline as we made our way down Chef Highway looking for the group on its return trip.

The first two or three riders we first saw were way out in front of the group and hammering away with the tailwind.  Nobody even considered turning around to latch onto them.  Instead we turned ahead of the main group that, at least for the moment, was going around 24 mph.  Soon, that 24 mph became 26, 29, 31 mph, but it was for only a few miles and there was a strong tailwind.  There was another section like that when we got onto Hayne Blvd., again with a tailwind.  That tailwind, however, wasn't much help with getting me over the two overpasses, however.  It still hurts to pull hard on the handlebars, so riders were passing me like I was standing still on the uphill sections.  After riding back home I went right back out to meet a few of the Tulane riders to do a few easy laps around Audubon Park, which at least let me make up for the miles I missed while criticizing Kenny's tire-changing technique.  Later that afternoon I walked over to Oak Street for a brief visit to the Po-Boy Festival that included a Shrimp Remolade Po-boy and a frozen Nectar cream soda, neither of which you are likely to find elsewhere.