Weekend Riding

Charlie and Dan heading out for the Giro Ride

It was kind of a slow weekend in some ways; a little lull between last week's stage race and next weekend's races up in Jackson. Somehow, even the Tour de France's dénouement, most of which I never got to see, seemed appropos. Saturday's Giro Ride was nice enough, even though a few of the regulars were missing due to races or training rides elsewhere. I had heard earlier in the week that Dan Bennett would be in town from Tucson, so I was happy to see him ride up to the Starbucks well before we rolled out. He claimed to be badly out of shape and said he'd be turning back early. Still, it was good to see him. He didn't seem to be having much trouble as we raced down Hayne Blvd. at 28 mph, so while he may not be quite in race-shape, it doesn't appear he's been sitting on the couch too much either. A little later, as we were turning onto the service road along I-510, there was a lot of yelling at the back of the group that was relayed along as "flat."  In fact, what had happened was that Lenny's chain had broken. Most people eventually eased up and as we figured out what had happened I started asking around for anyone who might have a multi-tool with a chain-breaker. Jaden had one and Geoff volunteered to go back and see if they could fix the chain enough to get Lenny home, but as I later learned, he just called his wife for extraction instead. I was a little afraid to do too much work during the Giro since I was slated to join a few of the guys for a long ride up in St. Francisville on Sunday that had been described as "in the 80-100 mile range." I guess it's been a while since I did a ride that long, and considering the possibility of suffocating heat and spirited riding I didn't want to be the one for which a search and rescue mission would have to be launched.

Sunday I was up at 4:30 to pick up Quentin and Ben S. and make the 2-hour drive up to St. Francisville for the planned 7 am start. I think we rolled out around 7:15, which was pretty good. With just six riders and, thankfully, a consensus to keep it smooth and steady, we had a pretty nice ride. The first hour or so was a ride over the "new" bridge for a loop around New Roads, which was flat and still nice and cool. The rest of the ride was kind of a long random loop back on the east side of the river in the rolling hills. It was interrupted by a couple of flat tires, both of which were slow leaks caused by tiny pieces of steel wire. No idea where we picked that up, but it must have been somewhere on the early loop. Perhaps they were fragments from a street-cleaning machine's brushes, or pieces from dying steel-belted tires. 

We were probably about 65 miles into the ride when we made a store stop and I treated myself to about a quart of cold Powerade and a Payday bar. I must have been running a little low on fuel and/or fluid at that point because I felt substantially better after that. My biggest problem was really the pain in my upper back that seemed to be acting up for some reason. It's always been there since that cyclocross crash a few years ago, but I've learned to adapt pretty well, moving around on the bars and saddle frequently. It seems to be mainly focused on my rhomboids, traps, and maybe supra/infraspinatus, so it's probably compensating for some spinal instability and is further complicated by those broken collarbones. Not much to do about it really, so I just grin and bear it.  Anyway, after the store stop we rode though a pretty heavy but brief rainstorm - the kind where the raindrops sting - so we were all completely soaked. A few miles later the roads  were dry again, but the rain had dropped the temperature down quite a bit - my Garmin went from 91F to 79F in about five miles. We got back to the cars with 88.5 miles, but a few of the guys just had to go ride down the road a bit to bring that up to an even 90.

So Friday night I got a text message just as I was going to bed. It was Kenny announcing the birth of their daughter, Sofia, who apparently arrived a couple of weeks early. 

Draggin' and Drippin'

The past couple of days have been pretty impressive, judging by the heat index, but they've been pretty unimpressive, judging by my legs. Wednesday's WeMoRi wasn't particularly fast, but I still felt dragged-out by the time I got back home. I have to assume it's the heat, or to be more specific, the humidity. Both yesterday and today I was absolutely soaked in sweat. I think it's affecting everyone, though. Although the morning rides have had their moments, the really fast parts have been noticeably shorter and the slower parts noticeably slower. Only problem is the fast parts don't seem to feel any easier.

Mold growing on an office chair.

Speaking of humidity, we've been having problems with mold at the office for the past few weeks. They've come in and cleaned and disinfected the a/c coils, which were apparently pretty well blocked up with mold growth, cut down on the fresh air intake, disinfected many of the surfaces where mold was growing, etc.  It's still not right.  They're supposed to be coming in tonight to clean the carpet with some kind of disinfectant.  Basically we're trading chemicals for mold. Not sure which is worse. Anyway, the theory is that the clogged a/c coils were causing the unit to pull in more "fresh" air than usual.  In this case the fresh air was generally in the 85-95 degree range at 70-90% relative humidity. The level of mold growth was actually quite impressive. I'm surprised that it was even possible to achieve that in a space that was, however nominally, air-conditioned.

So back to riding.  When I stepped out the door this morning, half an hour before sunrise, it was like walking into a sauna. I guess it was around 83F with close to 100% relative humidity. Right now, at nearly 3 pm, with some cloud cover and thunder in the distance, it's 93 with 70% relative humidity.  So relatively nice, but still a heat index of around 106. Even though it was hot and humid this morning, everyone realized it would still be the best time to ride, so we had a pretty big group.  I counted thirty as we got going along Lakeshore Drive. I was dripping sweat well before we finished the 10-mile lap.  Out on the bike path to Kenner there was a bit of a crosswind coming across the lake, where the water temperature is currently around 92 -- Fahrenheit. I wasn't quite close enough to the front to get a full draft and since there were lots of walkers and other cyclists out there we were constantly having to move out of the left lane where we wanted to be escheloned.

We were around the last bridge, about a mile from the casino where we turn around, when a couple of oncoming cyclists tried to tell us something as they went by.  Of course we couldn't understand a word they said, but as we crossed the bridge we could see an ambulance and police cars in the distance. I assumed a cyclist had crashed until we got closer.  There was a man on the ground and the paramedics had an automated CPR machine pounding on his chest. We turned back before we got close enough to interfere, but it did kind of put a damper on the rest of the ride. We'll probably never find out what happened or who it was.

I got to see some of the Tour de France TT this morning but had to run off to work before the GC leaders went. Pretty impressive that Froome rode a full TT bike and won the thing. The climb looked pretty damned hard and the last bit of the course looked like it would require some serious bike-handling. Neither are things I'd want to do on a TT bike.

Rocky Mount

The Rocky Mount Stage Race up in Shreveport, LA, has always been a fun race despite the 5-hour drive from New Orleans. I went up last weekend with Ben Spain and Quentin Boose, trading the New Orleans rain for the Shreveport heat. We made pretty good time on the drive and even though we'd left after work, we arrived around 10:30 or so at the Bossier City Quality Inn that was apparently running rather short on quality. Our non-smoking room came equipped with an ash tray and matches, and there was so much smoke in the hallway you had to hold your breath. The room itself was OK, so we just hit the sack without raising a fuss.

Antique NOBC Skinsuit!

This year the first stage was a 3-mile TT that turned out to be 2.6 miles of tailwind. After hunting around for the actual parking/registration location, which was 2.6 miles away from the half-hour delayed start, I rode down to the starting line and milled around without getting much of a warm-up because there just didn't seem to be any place good to do that. I was already having motivational problems with the TT anyway. I'd left my contacts at the hotel, so was wearing my prescription Oakleys that I don't really like. I had to remove the visor on my TT helmet, and even then the glasses were being pushed into my nose and head by the tight-fitting helmet, so I wasn't really a very happy camper to begin with. Predictably, my TT sucked pretty badly. I can't say that I put much into it, but I was planning to just make a push for the final mile. Well, the course was so short that I was quite surprised when I looked up and saw the finish about 300 meters away. Oh well!

Criterium sprint for 2nd place

Interestingly, the second stage was the criterium, which was held in the older part of downtown Shreveport on a very short course. There was a nice little climb up to the finish, however, and riding around the course during warmup I knew I was going to like it. On the downside, the turnout for the 55+ race was kind of pitiful. Also, three of the six people in the race were essentially teammates and one of the others was Tim Perry who had won the TT. That resulted in (a) me doing a lot of work and (b) Tim Perry, who had already won the Arkansas, Florida, and Louisiana TT championships, along with a bronze at nationals, attacking and nearly lapping the field by himself. I tried to go with him when he attacked, and managed to catch his wheel for a while. Then he looked back, saw me, and accelerated. I was already on the rivet, so of course I blew  up.  On the plus side, the Criterium course suited me well and I won a $50 prime, the hot spot bonus, and the sprint for 2nd place. I was still in 4th place on GC, but at least that cut the 15 second gap to 3rd down by a few seconds.

Road Race finish

The Road Race was three laps on a fairly hilly course. For this one they merged us with the Women's field, which was actually kind of nice. I was feeling OK, but knew the handwriting was on the wall as to what Tim would do. The women were riding well and as soon as we started the second lap, on a big long downhill, Louise Smyth attacked the downhill. Of course the guys didn't respond, and I think the women had already been expecting that and weren't in the least bit interested in chasing for forty miles, so Louise kind of gradually rolled off into the distance as the rest of the field rode paceline like it was a training ride. The only remaining question was when and where Tim would attack us, and really the question wasn't where, so much as on which of the two remaining laps.  There was one pretty decent hill maybe halfway around the course and it was the obvious place for him to go, which he did on the second lap. He attacked when I was on the front and although I made a token effort to chase, I never caught the slightest bit of his draft. Grant Dona, who was in 2nd place on GC made a huge effort and was out there for a while, but I pretty much knew he wouldn't catch Tim.  He was back with the group after a mile of chasing. The last lap was pretty calm, so it just came down to the last long  hill about a mile from the finish and the drag race from there to the finish line. Mary Jimenez attacked first, and rather early, so I waited quite a bit before sprinting to the line for another 2nd place. That and the criterium bonuses got me to within just three seconds of 3rd place and eight seconds of 2nd place, so I was at least happy with that. If I'd gone just ten seconds faster in the time trial, I would have had 2nd place in the bag. Damned time trials!

A Wednesday Morning

It's 5:25 am.  The outside of the bedroom window is completely obscured with condensation. Summer humidity.  90-year-old windows.  I don't bother to look outside, nor do I check the thermometer. I already know it will be hot and humid. I sit on the edge of the bed and stretch for a moment before digging through the dresser drawer for shorts and jersey. Pockets are loaded with ID, keys, phone and camera. My right foot hurts as I pull on my socks. The dog begs to go out in the yard, so I stare out the window into the darkness for a couple of minutes. I walk down the old stairs to the basement and fill a water bottle. Helmet, shoes, gloves, photochromic sunglasses.  Something's wrong. Forgot to put my contacts in.  I go back upstairs, clomping along the creaking wood floors in my cleats wondering how I got so far along without realizing I couldn't see.

It's 5:40 as I open the basement door into the thick, calm air. There's a glow on the horizon as I turn on the tail light and front marker light and Garmin. I stand there for a moment as the computer searches for satellites, then clip in. Six or seven miles away the WeMoRi is rolling out from West End for a lap of Lakeshore Drive. I start out at an easy 15 mph through the neighborhood. My timing is bad and I'm hitting every single red light on Carrollton Avenue. Tempus fugit.  It's quiet on Marconi as I start calculating where the group will be when I hit Lakeshore Drive. I should easily make it from Marconi to Bayou St. John before they arrive.  I think. Maybe. Unless they're going really fast. As I come out from under the oak tree canopy on Marconi onto the lakefront it's like someone turned the lights on. It's suddenly much brighter as I head east just as the sun rises above the lake. I reach back and pull out the camera for a couple of shots. The group still hasn't appeared as I get to the bridge and turn around. I know they'll be on me any minute.  Perhaps it will be a break, perhaps not. Either way, they'll likely be going 25-28 mph.  I'm going 15.  I'm glancing back over my shoulder every few seconds looking for the telltale cluster of blinking headlights. As I make the curve at Shelter #2 I see the group coming over the levee back at the swim hole. My pace quickens.  I want to make the turn onto Marconi ahead of the cluster.

I'm back on Marconi. 20 mph now. I hear the group yelling about a car as it rounds the corner.  They come up on me relatively slowly today and I merge easily into the front part just in time to hit the brakes for traffic at Robert E. Lee.  We turn slowly, someone surges, it strings out. 26 mph. They go through the turn onto Wisner painfully slowly but we're back up to speed. I'm near the front through the turn onto Harrison but soon a few riders surge around on the left for the sprint, then it's groupo compacto again along Marconi. Somewhere a couple of riders have gotten off the front, which I don't even realize until we see them coming the other way on Lakeshore Drive.

The pace increases a mile before the Shelter #1 sprint. I'm content surfing wheels somewhere in the front ten or so. 26 mph. Riders start jumping around the left. I'm trapped for a moment, then find a wheel moving forward. 28 mph. I shift one click, then two. There are a few riders way ahead but I decide to put in a short sprint anyway.  34.7 mph.  Didn't feel very strong. I look down and see I'm in the 11.

We make a u-turn at West End and cool down along the lake. I'm going 15 mph and have to slow down so there's someone to talk with. At Wisner I turn off to make my way to Starbucks. The phone App still has $5.50 on it, so I'm good for a small iced coffee.  I dump four packets of turbinado sugar into the ice water and plop down outside to check email and stir as much of it into solution as I can. There's still a layer of sugar at the bottom of the cup. I like that.

7:25 am and I'm back on the bike. The jolt of caffeine makes the five miles back home feel effortless. 8:00 am and the day starts. I pull some leftover salad out of the 'fridge and watch some of the Tour de France stage using Danielle's Roku stick and NBC Sports Gold account. Crosswinds are splintering the field. Looks like they won't finish until after I'm at work. Power off. Shower, shave, dress, and roll the old commuter out the door into the bright sunlight. 10 mph down Lowerline Street to the office. Just in time to see the last 10 km. Nice to see the yellow jersey riding hard in the break.

One Too Many

Riders hiding from the sun under the only tree near the Giro Ride turnaround.

The past week or so has been pretty routine as far as riding goes. On the one hand it's been kind of boring, but on the other it's been kind of relaxed ... and hot ... very hot.  Over the July 4th long weekend I did three Giro Rides.  Same course, all pretty fast, all pretty insanely hot. That was the weekend that I started keeping one of those insulated water bottles in the freezer at all times. After those three rides I went out for the morning ride on Tuesday quickly realized I'd probably done one too many.  That Tuesday morning ride seemed, for reasons unknown, super fast along Lakeshore Drive. I was OK, but my head was reminding me the whole time that I really didn't want to be going that hard. When we got to the bike path along the lakefront I finally conceded and eased off the back so I could cruise the rest of the way out at a more amenable 16 mph.  It was the right thing to do. When you can't get mentally into a regular training pace you probably need to back off and listen because your body is trying to tell you something. For me it was something like, "Hey, dumbass, you've done three fast Giro Rides and driven yourself into moderate dehydration for three days in a row. How long do you think you can keep this up?"

4th of July Giro Ride

By Wednesday morning's WeMoRi I was feeling pretty much back to normal and jumping onto the back of the day's not-too-fast breakaway group felt easy, which is probably why we got caught at the end of the City Park section. I was even feeling recovered enough to launch a late but fast sprint at West End that topped out at 34 mph.

Last weekend was another hot and fast Giro Ride weekend. Nothing much to report there except that I have been forcing myself to sprint up the Seabrook Bridge lately, which has been on the one hand satisfying because it feels pretty good, and disturbing because I keep blowing up before getting to the top!

Next weekend is the Rocky Mount stage race up in Shreveport which should be interesting since I haven't raced since the Gulfport criterium in mid-June.  Interestingly, Rocky Mount always reminds me of Hurricane Katrina.  It was the last race that season before the hurricane, which effectively cancelled the remainder of the LAMBRA calendar that year.  Hard to believe it was 11 years ago. What I remember most was that I was in pretty good shape at the time and was looking forward to a few more races. Instead, I ended up riding alone in Texas and later up around Jackson, Louisiana for a month or so worrying about lots of things except cycling.

Tulane Friday Coffee Ride

So yesterday I finally brought the Volvo in for its scheduled maintenance. I'd been looking at that "maintenance overdue" notice on the dashboard for a couple of months.  I'd called the Thursday before and they said it would be fine to bring it in on Friday.  Then when I got there on Friday they guy just shook his head and said he wasn't even sure they'd be able to get it done that day and besides, they didn't have any loaner cars available. So I rescheduled for Monday.  That went fine. I got a nice S60 Turbo loaner and by 2:00 they called to say my car was ready to pick up. I went out there, paid the $120 (they also replaced one of the engine mounts on warranty) and by the time I was signing the credit card slip my car was waiting for me outside the door with the engine running and the a/c on high.  I jumped in and headed back to the office. I was all the way uptown when my phone rang.  "Do you happen to still have the key to the loaner car?"  Crap. It was still in my pocket. I had to turn around and go back out there to return it. Then, when I got in the car to go home I noticed they'd forgotten to reset the service reminder, so I went back out there this afternoon for that. Oh well.  At least they were nice about it all.