Eleven Days

There were floats all over the place today - lots of parades from here until Fat Tuesday

After a rainy Friday that extended well into the night, Saturday morning was looking pretty nice. At home, staring out the window at the slowly drying streets and blue sky, I knew it would be a nice day for a long Giro Ride - one that I wouldn't be doing. It had been eleven days since I broke the collarbone, and I'd been thinking I might try going out for a very cautious ride on the Bianchi once the street was dry. The collarbone has been mostly a dull ache when I'm wearing the x-brace, with is essentially all the time. When I take it off to change shirts, though, it's immediately obvious that there's still a long way to go before it's back to whatever normal will be now.  The smashed ring finger that was purple and swollen is finally back down to where I can, with a little effort, get the ring off, so that's progress.

No big numbers on the Garmin for a while

It was a bit after 9:30 am when I rolled the bike out the door for the first time since the crash. With the x-brace cinched up tightly on top of the jersey, I picked my way carefully through the side streets, trying my best to avoid the wet leaves, cracks, and potholes. I was a little surprised that I could easily reach the brake levers and could put some weight on the left hand without much pain. The last time I broke a collarbone it was three weeks before that was feasible, and the time before, which was admittedly a more severe break, it was a good five weeks. Even so, I knew my ability to take evasive action was severely limited, so the two miles from home to the levee bike path were a little tense.  Once up on the path, though, I could relax a bit thanks to the smooth asphalt and lack of cars. It was a beautiful day for riding - blue sky and summer kit - so although I knew I wouldn't be doing anything that would qualify as training, at least I was outside and moving.

Rode with Pat, Steve, Kurt and Charlie for a little while

I nearly out at Williams Blvd. when Steve, Pat, Kurt and Charlie rode up from behind (I was probably going about 15 mph. They had started out around Ormond, so were on their way back. They eased up so I could join them for a while, but when we got out to the end of Jefferson Parish I figured I'd pushed my luck enough already and turned back, stopping for a minute to watch one of the Mardi Gras parade krewes getting their floats lined up to convoy over to the start of one of the afternoon parades. By the time I was halfway back my left hand was going numb. I guess the reason was that I wasn't moving it around on the handlebar, because that hurts a bit. Anyway, I made it home in one piece, so the ride was a success in my book. If I can tolerate an hour or hour and a half every day on the bike path for a while perhaps I won't get too fat and will be able to get back to more serious training without too much drama. Guess I'll just have to play it by ear for a while, but I'm hopeful I'll be back in action in two or three weeks if all goes well. I have a followup visit with the orthopedist next Tuesday.

Can't complain about the February weather in New Orleans lately.