Winter Wind

Ten miles in and my shoulder muscles were already screaming. Granted, the muscles in my shoulder, especially the right one, are used primarily to deliver food and wine from table to mouth. I'd pushed myself out the door this morning into a cold, gusty north wind, with no plan other than to ride the bike. Along with the wind, the night's cold front had also brought a morning temperature in the upper 40s.  It was the coldest it's been so far this fall, and as a result it felt about ten degrees colder than it was.  I dressed extra-warmly, which I never regretted.

The turnout was predictably sparse up on the levee, but it worked out nicely since five is the maximum number of riders that constitutes a functional eschelon on one of these severe crosswind days on the narrow bike path.  Fortunately for me they all knew how to control their bikes. Even so, the ride felt like a massive struggle with my own front wheel, trying on the one hand to keep it in the draft, and on the other to keep it out of the wheel of the rider ahead.  I use the term "ahead" loosely of course, because there were lots of times when the best drafting location had my front wheel even with the bottom bracket of the rider ahead of me. There was no chance to relax, and we were only halfway out when I could feel all of the muscles around my right shoulder and neck starting to tighten up and hurt.  The extra work of keeping the bike pointed forward and staying in the paceline was taking a toll on a shoulder that had not been exercised in six weeks, and although the pace was only moderate at best, I was hurting.  After we crossed the parish line upriver of Jefferson, I came alongside Woody to tell him I was going to sit up and relax for a while.  It helped.  Soon enough, however, I turned around and merged back into the paceline, taking only an occasional pull and mostly just surfing the wheels at the back.

Yesterday evening I'd had a followup visit at TISM, the upshot of which was that the collarbone was healing normally, the callus formation looked good, and try as he might, Dr. Savoie couldn't detect any bone movement at the break.  So with a slightly more-sore collarbone thanks to the manipulation, and directions to "come back in about a month for a final x-ray," I had headed home as the temperature was dropping, knowing already that Tuesday's ride would be a tough one.