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.
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