Final Straw

By all accounts it was a good weekend.  A solid Giro Ride on Saturday, followed by a Tulane Cycling party at the house, and then a nice club ride on the northshore on Sunday.  Earlier in the week when Mignon suggested a northshore ride, it sounded perfect.  I'd missed out on a little mileage and intensity that week because of the incident on the levee and crash on the lakefront, and with the Mississippi Gran Prix coming up the next week the timing was good.  We met up at Puccino's at 7 am and I drove across the lake with Tom, which of course meant half an hour of discussing university administration from the perspective of the liberal arts professor, which is frankly something I rarely get to do.  The sky was a bit overcast, but the air was warm, and as I'd been able to do for most of the week I rode in just shorts and a summer jersey.  I love the rides this time of year when there isn't that winter burden of making crucial wardrobe decisions and compromises.  We had over a dozen on hand as we headed off from the Lee Road school with a nice little tailwind at our backs.  My legs were a little tired from the prior day's Giro Ride, which had been surprisingly fast, and in consideration of the inevitable headwind on the return trip I was trying to keep my effort level under control for the first half of the ride.  Since it was a club ride with a mix of riders, we were stopping at all of the intersections to regroup, but there were a few who were already getting impatient by the time we were halfway 'round the traditional 65 mile route, and on that long stretch at the top of the course heading toward Sie Jenkins Road the group split pretty significantly.  Even so, I have to admit I was liking the effort level.  It was hard enough but not too hard and pretty much just what I felt I needed. I pushed it a bit on some of the climbs just to see where I was.  Eventually, of course, a few riders split off to take a shorter route and we turned more and more into the headwind.  As usual, those last four miles straight into the wind on a dead straight road was just a slog.  I got back to the car feeling pretty satisfied with a bit under 300 miles for the week and a plan for an easy recovery ride on Monday.

Well Monday arrived a little on the damp side.  It wasn't quite rain, but it wasn't quite dry.  I went out anyway with the plan to just spin the legs for an hour around Audubon Park where I wouldn't be tempted to go fast. I guess my lower back was feeling just a little stiff, but it wasn't anything I was really thinking about.  After a few circuits around the park the raindrops got a little heavier and so I bailed out a few minutes early for home.  No problem, since all I'd wanted to do was some no-effort spinning.  Back at the house I noticed the two big ice chests from Saturday's party.  They were of course still half-full of partially melted ice, so I decided it would be a good time to empty them out and let them dry. I don't remember them being particularly heavy, nor do I remember feeling any particular strain on my lower back, but a few minutes later when I bent over to wipe up some spilled water I could barely stand  up again.  I guess the combination of some big gear seated climbs on Sunday and the lugging around of tents and ice chests and such from Saturday had taken its toll and lifting those ice chests turned out to be the straw that broke the camel's back, or in this case mine.  I took a couple of Aleve, but the back was bothering me the rest of the day anyway.  I skipped riding on Tuesday, and by the end of the day it was feeling better, but then last night I didn't sleep well because of it, so skipped riding this morning as well.  In an hour of so I'm going to ride out to the lakefront.  Sometimes these kinds of things don't seem to hurt when I'm riding and sometimes they do, but I think it'll still be better than sitting on the couch eating Easter candy.  If it hurts, I'll just take it easy.  We'll see.

Meanwhile, there's a little controversy brewing about Lakeshore Drive. The Orleans Levee District decided to open up Lakeshore Drive again to traffic on weekends.  For the past ten or fifteen years, it's been closed to eastbound traffic on weekends, but a group in the eastern part of the city decided it was a racist policy and so they voted to open it back up. For most of us it won't make a bit of difference since the guys who race are there mostly early in the morning or late in the evening on weekdays, when it was never closed anyway, or early in the morning on weekends before the general public is likely to start cruising up and down the street.  A local bicycle advocacy group got the ear of the levee district and presented a plan to turn half of the 4-lane road into a multi-use bike/pedestrian path full-time.  That would probably be more of a problem than a help for riders who train there in the mornings and evenings, and would likely kill the informal training races entirely.  Some signage along the route would be great, and a reduced speed limit even better, but the idea of groups of riders in training ride mode weaving through joggers and dog-walkers is frightening.

So I'm planning on going up to the Mississippi Gran Prix this weekend, one way or the other.  Depending on how this evening goes, it'll either be as a bike racer or an official.  I'd much prefer the former.

The Crashes

Not pretty, but it worked well enough.

Crashes are like flat tires.  They always seem to come in batches.  We've had a big batch of them this week.  Things started out pretty nicely on Monday.  The weather has been getting steadily warmer, the wind has been dropping down to normal, and there hasn't been any rain in the forecast all week.  I did a nice solo ride on Monday out to the Lakefront and Lake Trail, trying my best to take it easy.  Then on Tuesday I headed out early to meet the morning levee group.  Since the Wednesday Night Worlds have started up again on Lakeshore Drive, the Tuesday and Thursday ride pace has relaxed just a bit. I know I have been a little more reluctant than usual to blow my legs up on Tuesday morning, especially since I've been trying to do both a morning ride and the WNW on Wednesdays.  So anyway, the Tuesday ride was nice and smooth with the speed mostly in the 22-24 mph range.

Part of the aftermath on the lakefront Wednesday

We were about half-way back when Brian got on the front and just started towing the whole line of 15-20 riders at 25-26 mph.  He had been up there for a couple of miles, I guess, when out of the corner of my eye I noticed a big dump truck veering off of River Road and flying up the road that crosses the levee. He was probably going 30 mph and there was no indication that he saw us approaching.  For a moment, before every started screaming "Truck!!!" I didn't think any of the riders saw him either.  Granted, it's difficult for someone driving up the levee to see what's coming at that particular spot, but anyway, there we were in a long paceline going around 27 mph when the screaming started.  This was a full-on panic stop.  Brian reacted a little late and skidded off to the left, landing in the grass.  Everyone else pretty much locked up brakes and hoped that friction would win out over momentum.  I was near the back and had a little more time to react, but as I was coming to a stop I heard Rick's tire explode.  He had locked up the wheel and worn right through both the tire and the Mr. Tuffy, and blown out the tube. The truck driver, and the supervisor, came over and talked with some of the riders as the rest of us gathered ourselves up out of the grass and Rich went to work on Rick's tire.  Judd had a big section of old tire to use as a boot, but even that wasn't big enough to keep the first tube from blowing right through the huge hole.  So I cut a piece of the blown tube and tied it around tire and rim to try and keep things together.  We still had about ten miles to go. We had to take the brake shoes off, of course, but luckily it held well enough to get back to the cars.

I thought for sure it was broken

So yesterday I went out to the training race after work, a bit late as usual, and caught the group somewhere on its first lap. I drifted to the back since I knew it would take me the rest of the lap to get warmed up.  The pace was around 26-27 mph mostly, and the group was pretty big, so I wasn't too uncomfortable as my old lungs tried to adjust to the increased effort.  We rounded the loop at Seabrook and were heading back east at a solid 27 mph when suddenly the whole front of the group exploded sending ten or twelve riders to the ground. For a moment it looked like I had nowhere to go and would end up plowing into a mountain of riders. Luckily, I slid to a stop up against the curb just in time to keep from plowing into the tangled pile of bikes and bodies, and even better, nobody rammed into me from behind.

Cracked downtube, ripped out bottle cage mount

VJ was on the ground, all scraped up, with his front tire blown completely off the rim, saying his back was hurt.  He was back on his feet pretty soon, however.  Riders were already calling for an ambulance and tending to their injured friends.  Noel was standing there holding his bike with the derailleur hanging by its cable and chain.  Someone had plowed into it from behind and snapped the hanger.  Looking around I saw the top of a saddle on the ground, its carbon rails completely missing.  A little while later I found John Thompson's Eddy Merckx missing its saddle and with a big crack in its down tube. He himself had likely suffered some broken ribs and possibly a punctured lung (haven't heard anything definite yet).  Brian Baum, who had crashed on the levee the day before, was feeling lucky because he had landed right on top of Brian Bourgeois, and although he might have whacked his head on the ground a bit was relatively uninjured.  His phone, on the other hand, had probably saved him some skin and serious bruising.  It was bent to the shape of his back, the screen was completely shattered, and the back side looked like it had been the victim of a belt-sander. The other Brian on the other hand had a cracked helmet and some road rash on his face and elsewhere.  Another rider was clearly going to need stitches between a couple of his fingers where there was a deep gash.

Noel's broken hanger

It was only a few minutes later that I noticed Woody lying on the concrete near the seawall holding his collarbone.  It looked like it was broken and he was looking more pissed off than in pain.  The road season is just about to really get going, and so this is precisely the worst possible time to be breaking bones.  As I learned a few minutes ago, it was just an AC joint separation, which will probably take at least as long to heal, but probably won't keep him off the bike as much.  Three riders had already raced off to get their cars, and a few minutes later we had all of the injured riders and their bikes en route to hospitals or homes.  By then it was about the time when the training race usually ends, so the rest of us rolled on down Lakeshore Drive and everyone split off to head home.  I think that was probably the biggest crash we've ever had out there, and that's going back about thirty years.  It sounds like there was just a little lull at the front, causing things to bunch up for a moment, and someone crossed wheels with someone else and it went downhill from there.

Brian's phone, bent to the shape of his back and shattered

Meanwhile, there's an appeal of a USAC disciplinary hearing later today involving a rider/race director/official and a La. club involving some questionable actions taken last year.  The rider in question has been sending stuff to all of the area email lists and including the USAC conference call number and code.  I have been trying to keep that traffic off of the LAMBRA email list since it is clearly inappropriate, especially since LAMBRA is affiliated with USAC.  It is a matter among USAC, the club, and the individual, and the last-minute effort to get other people in the region to interfere with the hearing does not seem like a wise move to me.  I haven't been directly involved, nor should I have been, so I guess I'll find out the final verdict tomorrow.  This is the most significant disciplinary thing we've had to deal with since the City Park thing back in the 80s.

Long Weekend

So on Friday I was feeling in need of an easy recovery ride, and since I was off from work I decided to tag along with a 9 am Tulane ride.  This turned out to be a nice ride except for the fact that it was at times faster than I would have liked.  The whole time I was hoping for a coffee shop stop. 

We rode down Elysian Fields to the French Quarter with the idea of getting coffee and beignets at Cafe' du Monde, but when we got there, there was a line halfway down the block, so we decided to try some place on Magazine Street which turned out to be pretty much of a bust with a long wait for lukewarm coffee.


I was expecting the Saturday Giro to have a good turnout and wasn't disappointed.  Once we hit Hayne Blvd. the guys at the front put the hammer down and didn't let up the rest of the ride.  That meant a couple of 5-mile stretches at 30 mph average speeds and a max speed of 39.  I wasn't feeling too sharp and never really saw the front, but it was a pretty good workout anyway. 

We all stopped at the ghost bike that is now on Chef Highway where the triathlete was killed and met up with the earlier 6:45 am riders, but once we started back things got really fast.  Fortunately we still had a fair number of riders despite losing half the group along the way.  Legs were pretty tired the rest of the day.

So Easter Sunday I did another Giro Ride with a slightly smaller group.  Things started out at a pretty easy pace, and although there were a few fast sections, it was a relatively civilized ride. The whole group actually stopped at a couple of red lights.  I think I'll try and take it easy on Monday.

Viento, Mucho Viento

Last weekend was the Tulane Cycling team's last collegiate road trip for the spring season. Early in the week prior to the aptly named "Velo del Viento" in Wichita Falls, Texas, we were looking at nine.  By Friday morning we were down to only six, of which only four were racing.  Having lost a couple of our best Cat. A and B riders to, of all things, schoolwork and research projects, we knew it would be impossible to maintain our slim lead in the Division 2 conference team championship.  We rolled out of New Orleans fairly late, as usual, thanks to some unanticipated errands that a couple of the riders decided to run after picking up the rental minivans.  Four of us ended up hanging around our house for well over an hour waiting for them.  Since it's a minimum ten-hour drive, that meant we wouldn't be arriving until way after midnight. The drive itself started out pretty smoothly, but then we got to Dallas. There were at least three possible routes through Dallas that would put us on the road up to Wichita Falls, but since it was already around 10:30 pm we decided to take the shortest, which went pretty much straight through the city.  After all, there shouldn't be much traffic by then, right?  Well, naturally there was some big accident and we ended up trapped on the interstate at a dead stop for at least half an hour.  Anyway, we finally arrived after midnight and after downloading and forwarding release forms for the NOBC's Sunday 2-Person Time Trial (registration closed Friday night) I got in maybe five hours of sleep before we were up and headed for the road race course about half an hour away.

This part of Texas is, at least to my mind, just one step from desert.  Everything is wind-swept dirt and rock with nothing but leafless four-foot high mesquite to break the relentless wind.  As windy as it normally is around there, on this day it was even worse and I knew it was going to be a sufferfest for the riders.  I had been volunteered to help with officiating and was assigned to follow the Cat. A race.  We arrived to find the MSU coach, Charlie, running registration pretty much single-handedly at a tiny card table on the side of the road.  It was too windy for an easy-up tent.  The first event was the team time trial.  In collegiate, that means anywhere from two to four riders per team. Naturally, everything was running half an hour late.  There was no start list and in fact no record yet of who was on which team.  Teams were to just show up at the start line.  So I grabbed the megaphone and took on the role of Whip, getting the teams lined  up according to category.  That went pretty well, except that, of course, none of the Cat. A teams wanted to be first so they were all in hiding until finally one stepped up.  Our only team was in the Women's Cat. C race, and they were pretty unprepared all-around so their time was nothing to write home about.

An hour or so later the road races started and so I jumped into the passenger seat of my assigned follow car, fortunately driven by someone who had done this before at Hotter n' Hell.  As expected, the minute the 16-rider Cat. A field hit the crosswind section things started to unravel. They had 8 laps to do on this unprotected 9.4 mi. course, most of it battling 30 mph crosswinds.  They were going fast, but a lot of damage was being done very early. By the end of the first lap 6 were already off the back. By then end of the second lap a break of 7 was off the front and the rest were just riding for the exercise.  We were constantly passing riders off the back from other races, and mid-way through the 4th lap we passed the 4-rider Women Cat. B/C break.  I was glad to see Danielle had made the break and figured she'd end up first or second in the C race.  She had been sick all week and hadn't even been on the bike for six days.  By then it was starting to get hot - hot and dry - and windy.  Very, very windy.  The A group was long out of sight of any of the other riders in their race and although they never slowed down a lot they were now riding smooth paceline with everyone sharing the work.  It was pretty boring in the follow car.  Then, at the start of Lap 6, the whole group stopped at someone's car, opened the trunk, and handed out drinks and food to everyone.  on the next lap a rider flatted and the rest of the group eased up until he caught.  Finally, halfway through the last lap there was some action when a rider attacked on the only significant hill, about four miles from the finish.  Despite the fact that there were three MSU riders in the break, they all hesitated and let him establish a good fifteen or twenty second gap. It looked like he might actually make it to the finish, and finally one of the MSU guys went to the front and took a long fast pull that put a couple of riders in serious trouble.  He pulled off and dropped off as his teammate took over the front and did the same thing.  That rider finally blew up, but by then it was just one MSU rider and one other rider left.  The finish line was only a mile away and the last MSU rider put his head down, dropped the other rider, and caught the solo break with about 500 meters to go - just enough time to sit in the draft and recover for a moment before winning the sprint.

When I check on how Danielle did I was shocked to learn that she hadn't finished.  She had gotten overheated and/or dehydrated and had to drop off the back when her heart rate wouldn't come down below about 210, and then she was so out of it that she rode off the road into some gravel and went down.  A follow car came by but she told them she was OK and would just ride in to the finish, but then she struggled with getting her chain back on and jammed it and ended up getting picked up by the next follow car.  In the Men's B and Men's D races, both Tulane riders abandoned, so Jamie in the Women's C race was the only one to finish.  It was a very disappointing day.

Back to regular riding...

Sunday's criterium was on a nice course on the MSU campus where they actually have a big statue of bike racers.  Danielle was pretty tired and beat up from Saturday but still finished 3rd, I think, in the C race (they were mixed with the B riders, so overall she finished 5th or 6th). I officiated along with three other officials for all of the races except the last, which was the A race. Anyway, although we packed up before the Cat. A race was over, by the time everyone was showered and fed it was around 2:30 pm.  Fortunately, the drive back, other than one big rainstorm, was smooth and fast, so we were back in New Orleans by around 1 am.  It was a long weekend during which I never got to ride a bike, although my bike did at least make the trip.  I had been hoping to squeeze in a couple of laps around the road course, but there really wasn't enough time to make it worthwhile.  It's Thursday and we still haven't seen actual final results of the race or, for that matter, of the conference points standings, which were a complete clusterF the last time I saw them, which was on Saturday.

So this week I have been trying to get back on track with training.  A cold front and high winds haven't been making that easy, but I have at least been putting in a few miles.  Yesterday I did a good solo morning ride and then rushed out to the lakefront after work for the training race, which was fun even though I was starting to feel rather tired.  This morning I went out to the long levee ride with slightly sore legs.  I felt OK, but not particularly good, especially on the way back into the wind.  Tonight I have to rush out to Baton Rouge to help officiate the track race there.

Wednesday Morning

We had lucked out on Tuesday and wrapped up the regular long levee ride a few hours ahead of the rain, the worst of which came through in the afternoon as part of a cool front. As a result, I was expecting it to be chilly and windy this morning.  It was, although the wind turned out to be the larger issue. It has become routine now for me to ride out to the lakefront and Lake Trail on Wednesday mornings.  Leaving around 6:30 am, there's now little need for lights if the sky is clear, and traffic on Carrollton Avenue is still relatively sluggish.  What wasn't sluggish today was the northwest wind.  I kept looking down at the computer, each time disappointed to see a speed of around 17 mph rather than 20.  Turning west and riding along the lakeshore bike path was no better but at least it was less stressful.  After finally turning around about 12 miles out I was glad to have a little tailwind, even if I still had to deal with the northerly crosswind vector.  It was generally one of those slow but difficult rides that barely nudge the fun meter. 

Coming back down Marconi I passed a little groups of teetering "Bike to Work Day" riders and watched the ever-suffering Tulane Crew team walking through the wet grass from their boat corral to the spot where they can climb over the canal floodwall.  It is such a shame that nobody ever gets to see them on the water, and even more of a shame that they don't have a better place to train. There are a lot of parallels between the rowing team and the cycling team - finding good training routes, getting equipment and people to far-away competitions, trying to keep up a challenging training program over the winter months and then squeezing long road trips in while still keeping up with classwork.

Riding from home to work an hour later it was a good ten degrees warmer.  Down on Lowerline Street I spotted a bluebird.  I almost never see those in the city.

Meanwhile, hotel and rental car reservations have been made for the Tulane Cycling road trip out to MSU in Wichita Springs, TX.  It is looking like we will be missing a couple of key riders, and that is likely to cost us the division 2 road championship this year, but these things happen with collegiate club sports.  On the plus side, the advance planning for this race seems to be a notch above some of the others. I was asked to help with officiating and of course foolishly agreed, so I probably won't get in much, or any, riding over the weekend.

Wet Without the Rain

I didn't think I'd be riding the Giro this morning.  The forecast offered little hope Saturday night, but of course I've lived here a long time and have learned to always take the forecast with more than a grain of salt.  When the alarm went off at 5:45, I first listened for the sound of car tires on wet pavement.  Hearing none, I checked the radar and, surprise, it looked fine. All the rain was far away from New Orleans.  The temperature was something like 68F, so I put on jersey and shorts and headed down to the basement.  Danielle was planning on coming out to take a shot at the Giro Ride.  Outside, it was damp and a little foggy but otherwise fine as we cruised up Carrollton and Wisner toward Starbucks.  As we passed the big clock on the Whitney bank on Harrison Avenue it read precisely 6:30 am.  We were right on time, but when we pulled into the Starbucks patio I was a little surprised to discover that we were the first ones there.  Maybe the forecast had scared everyone away?  Well, eventually a number of the regular riders filtered in, mostly a bit later than usual, and we rolled out at the usual 7:00. 

As we headed north on Marconi the fog got thicker, and the closer we got to the lake the worse it got. It never really got any better.  The group had to stop and walk over the steel grating atop the Seabrook bridge because it was so wet, and by the time we were halfway down Hayne Blvd. my clear glasses were fogged up so much that water was starting to drip from them.  Thanks to the smaller group, northeast headwind, and generally wet weather the pace never got out of hand and Danielle was doing fine hanging with the group.  Out on Hayne Blvd. the front half of the group set up a nice paceline and the rest, including us, tagged along in the crosswind, mostly up against the right edge of the road. At that point I rode up alongside and a bit ahead of Danielle to provide some shelter from the crosswind.  That turned out to be a nice little workout, actually, and fortunately the pace was pretty steady.  My plan was to have us turn around early because I knew it would get fast in the tailwind that was awaiting us on the return trip, so when the pace surged about a mile before Venetian Isles, we dropped off the back and turned around.  Motoring along at 23 or so with the tailwind was pretty smooth and I figured that if we could get most of the way to the Goodyear sprint before the pack caught us, the rest of the ride would be relatively smoothly.  The timing worked out quite well. A little break caught us just as they were ramping it up for the sprint, and so we went around the turn onto the service road with the group.  So for the first time in quite a while I logged something in the neighborhood of 300 miles for the week.  It's looking like next weekend's collegiate races at MSU will have me officiating a lot more than riding, but since that's the conference championship it'll probably be my last 10-hour road trip for a while.

Wind Again

Heading back from the Giro

Five forty-five in the morning and before I silence the alarm I reach for the phone to check the radar.  The forecast had not been reassuring, but it has also not been guaranteed.  The early morning radar looked good, with some rain far to the south and an hourly prediction that looked dry until at least 9 am.  The temperature was in the upper 60s, but it was cloudy, so I added a little base layer to my shorts and jersey, popped in my contacts, twisted on my Garmin, pulled on my shoes, and headed off for the Giro under a cloudy pre-dawn sky, the only thing keeping me going was that cup of hot coffee I was planning on getting at Starbucks.  A cool front had come though during the night and it was windy.  Really windy.  That cold front was supposed to be backing up right over us by mid-day, and with it would be a lot of rain.

The early arrivals for the Saturday Giro were already there when I rolled up at 6:35.  Although I was a few minutes later than usual, I'm rarely the first.  By 7 o'clock there was a good crowd on hand, and as we headed north toward the lakefront I knew the day's battle would be with the east northeast wind.  Out on Chef Highway we had a nice long rotating paceline into the wind most of the way out, but when Howard surged after I'd just come off the front and then a big hole opened up in the middle of the paceline I knew the cooperation was about over.  I went around and barely made it across but by then another gap was starting to open up ahead as we neared the Venetian Isles sprint.  I faded quickly and by the time I turned around half of the group had already turned back.

As I expected, it didn't take long for the pace to pick up as we made the turn that put the wind at our backs.  Over the next seven miles our average speed was a bit over 31 mph.  I don't think I saw the front once.  Once on the service road the call "Flat!" went out as Judd eased over to the curb and most of the group backed off and turned back to wait for him to put in a new tube.  The pace was a little easier most of the rest of the way, except of course for that stretch between the two bridges where it always seems to get really quick.  After regrouping on Lakeshore Drive, we turned down Marconi and Daniel said he needed to get to the veterinarian uptown in a hurry because of an emergency, so those of us headed that way didn't have the usual easy cool-down. 

As I rolled up to the door, it started to rain. 

Today was the Sunny King Criterium up in Anniston Alabama, and I knew a number of people who were racing.  Luckily it was being webcast live all day, so I got to watch the Cat. 3/4 women's race in which Mignon finished in the top ten, but missed the Junior 17-18 race where Robert made the podium.  I did, however, get to see Robert race again in the Cat. 3 race, and caught Adam in the Cat. 2 race.  After getting back from a visit to Tulane's CrawFest I was able to watch the recorded Master's race where I think Ed and Woody both must have been in the top dozen or so after Ed had been in a big breakaway that got caught on the bell lap.  Exciting stuff, even with the intermittent buffering problems.  Tomorrow is looking like non-stop rain, but who knows?  Maybe we'll luck out and squeeze in the Giro Ride.

Two Weeks' Worth

The last couple of weeks have been pretty busy all-around, and at the moment I feel like I'm just barely treading water.  Two weekends of collegiate races, officiating, and training have made me really look forward to the upcoming weekend at home.

First off was the conveniently nearby LSU collegiate race.  As usual, I would be officiating for this one which meant rushing off to Baton Rouge during rush hour to make the start of Friday night registration.  Despite my best efforts, there were still a couple of mystery riders in the field, thanks to the "permanent race number" thing that always seems to cause problems.  This time there were riders who had one number on the start list but a different one on their jerseys. Add to that the usual riders who show up for registration and don't actually have collegiate licenses but tell me they've already raced twice in Texas collegiate races.  I just hand them the iPad and tell them to renew or buy their licenses on the spot.  Anyway, the road races went off pretty smoothly.  These races are on a nice rolling circuit near St. Francisville with parking on the property of one of the local riders.  After the race there was genuine jambalaya for all, which was a good thing because it wasn't hardly worth driving back to Baton Rouge despite the fact that the evening time trial was scheduled a good four hours after the end of the last road race.  So we basically just hung out on the property waiting for the TT to start.  Danielle made the break in the C race and finished 2nd, and then missed 1st in the TT by a mere 4 seconds after cruising past the finish line without realizing it and thinking it was actually farther down the road.

The time trial was, as usual, nice and easy, and once Ricky came back from the finish line we sat down on the roadside swatting mosquitoes and entered the times so we could post results before everyone left.  It's interesting that a lot of the collegiate riders don't stick around to check the results, although that's probably because they are often not available.  The forecast for Sunday was not looking good.

Well, Sunday morning was damp, foggy, and rainy for most of the races.  Fortunately, we were at least spared any really heavy stuff, and the slick roads resulted in only a few minor crashes.  By the time we were done, I was pretty cooked and happy to hitch a ride to a little after-race lunch at the home Ben Bradley's parents down in Plaquemine.  It was a long weekend, however, and I really hated the fact that I'd not thrown a leg over my bike all weekend.  Next up was a long road trip to Abilene.

So last weekend we had six riders make the trip with Kenny and me to Abilene for the Abilene Christian University race weekend.  This one started with a Saturday criterium and ended with a Sunday road race, but lacked the usual time trial or team time trial.  Because of classes, one rental minivan with me, Kenny, Danielle and Greg left around 2:00 pm while the other didn't hit the road for a couple more hours.  It was about a 10-hour drive, so do the math. I think we got there before midnight, but the other car didn't arrive until 2 or 3 am.  Races started the next morning around 8:00, and a cool front was coming through so it was pretty cold for the first ones. Since I had no officiating duties for this one, I could actually watch the races and, because they had included Alumni in the Cat. B race, Kenny and I rode with that group.  It was difficult to ride a criterium without really affecting the outcome.  Apparently we were actually allowed to work in this race, but it just didn't seem fair to do so.  I pulled a bit when the pace would slack off, and moved closer to the front now and then when it would get sketchy at the back.  It was actually a lot of fun and I felt good that I got in a little exercise.  Danielle ended up taking 2nd in her race.  The promoting club had made arrangements for us to eat at the university all-you-can-eat cafeteria for $5 each, which was awesome because this was a very high-class setup with everything from paninis and pizza to salad and ice cream.  That night we went out to a local Mexican restaurant, Abuelo's, which was also excellent, but before that we drove out to the road race to pre-ride the course. This was a good thing because it was a lot of unprotected chip-seal and a couple of the key turns were not clearly marked the next morning for the road races.

Sunday morning Kenny and I again started with the B group for their race which was around 40 miles in a strong wind that had the speeds ranging from 18 mph in the headwind to 34 mph in the tailwind.  The race started out kind of slow after a flurry of attacks and early on I decided against just sitting at the back.  Still, toward the end of the first of two laps the pack let a break of six or so roll off the front without much of a response.  A while later I found myself, quite by accident, off the front where I was soon joined by one of the collegiate riders.  There was already a pretty big gap to the pack which still included our only rider, but I figured there was little chance that the two of us would survive the headwind section, so I started trading pulls with the guy thinking it would help tire him a bit.  Surprisingly, when I looked back after we had started the 7 or 8 mile headwind stretch, I couldn't see the pack.  Then the follow car passed us and I though that the pack must have disintegrated, so I continued working with this rider as we pickup up another rider who had come out of the break that was now disappearing from view.  Oh well, at least I was getting a nice workout!  We were near the turn at the end of the headwind section when I sat up and looked back and was surprised to see a pack of riders just about 20 seconds back.  To the dismay of the other rider, I stopped pulling and we were soon caught with maybe five miles to go before the finish.  David ended up winning the pack sprint, so that was about the best possible outcome after he missed the break.  Danielle ended up winning her road race and Ben made the podium for his criterium finish, so we stayed for the awards that were, thankfully, done promptly after the finish of the last race.

We had time to run back to the hotel for showers, and then hit up the university cafeteria again before hitting the road for the long drive back to New Orleans.