Quickie to Mobile

Friday a week ago on Filmore, riding past the City Park golf course

The first thing I do upon awakening this time of year is check the weather radar. The second thing is to calculate the size of the wager I'm willing to make on getting soaked. This week we, or at least I, mostly lucked out. Tuesday's levee ride was pretty normal until the batter died on my Garmin just before the turnaround. Fortunately, and unlike a lot of other riders nowadays, I have a couple of decades worth of experience riding without the benefit of speed, distance, cadence, power, elevation, grade, weather, text-message, and Strava segment data. It's unusual for me to let my computer's battery get that low, and I think I must not have plugged it into the charger fully because it charged up normally the next time. Go figure. 

The Wednesday WeMoRi was likewise unremarkable, which in the case of the WeMoRi is always a relief. With the days getting shorter, and the morning light further compromised by often-cloudy skies, it seemed suddenly much darker as I made my way out to Lakeshore Drive. The city has torn up practically every street between Fontainbleau and S. Claiborne, so I've been taking S. Claiborne to Carrollton lately. At 5:45 am it's not too bad. They have the right lane blocked off for a few blocks because of yet another big hole they dug in the street, so I can slip past on the right side of the traffic cones there which provides at least the illusion of safety. By the end of Wednesday's ride I'd pretty much decided to do the first stage of the Mobile Cycling Classic on Saturday. Of the three races over the weekend, that was the only one that was an actual circuit. The other two races were back-and-forth affairs with U-turns at each end - something I would otherwise call "intervals" for those of us who would not likely be up at the front of the group. Relatively speaking I'm actually pretty good racing on courses with U-turns but I didn't really want to spend the whole weekend in Mobile since I will be heading off to Olympia for a few days at the end of this week. Anyway, by Thursday I was starting to think about easing up a little bit on the riding so I'd at least be fully recovered for Saturday.

The Thursday levee ride started out with pretty much the usual group. At the start there were rumblings about people needing to turn back early for one reason or another, which isn't all that unusual but seems to be particularly common during the first couple of weeks after schools start back up for the Fall semester. Even so, I was a little bit surprised when, after taking a pull around Williams Blvd., I pulled off and realized there was nobody behind me. I'd been abandoned! It was probably a good thing, though, because it allowed me to drift back down to a steady, easier pace. I turned back a bit early to accommodate the slower speed, which got me back home at the usual time. Friday's Friendly Friday ride was fairly routine, which is to say it had a few fast sections but was overall fairly moderate. By then I was avoiding putting my nose in the wind, so perhaps my perspective was a bit different.

Guess I should have brought the LAMBRA
finish line camera to this Alabama race
but they were using chip timing, so.....

So Saturday morning I rolled out of be at 5 am, threw the bike and the big NOBC P/A system (lending it to the race in Hattiesburg for next weekend) into the car, and headed East. My gut was not very happy from the start, likely thanks to the prior night's dinner of steamed artichoke, but things eventually settled down during the 2-hour drive to the race, just east of Mobile, Alabama. As usual, the weather forecast was all over the place, which is to say it would probably rain at some random time and at various random locations. Whether your particular race would be wet or dry was just a roll of the dice. Even though the road surface was practically perfect smooth concrete, I had lowered my tire pressures a bit just in case. I think the 25mm Michelin's were at around 80-85 psi, which is still about ten PSI higher than most would recommend. Personally I'd rather deal with a bit extra harshness in order to avoid pinch-flats and the barely perceptible increase in mushiness.

The sky was still looking OK when the 50-minute Masters race started, so that was good. I lined up in the middle of the 24-rider group along with Brett Reagan, Peter Stephens, and a few others I know. The rest were just wild cards, which was fine since I was there just as packfill anyway, and my goal was basically to stay with a group and not get lapped. I knew things would get messy because there were at least eight different races going on within the same race. The Alabama riders were racing for their state criterium championships - in three different age groups. Some riders were also racing for the overall 3-event Omnium prizes. Some were probably racing for the overall win. There were a couple of Alabama teams that would also be playing team strategy games as well. 

Cat 1/2/3 race lining up on Saturday

So the race starts and of course I miss clipping in. I look down and the left pedal is spinning at about 200 rpm. I step on it and then finally flip it around and get clipped in, but not without having most of the field pass me up. So much for the good starting position. Fortunately things started out pretty easy, so I was never in difficulty. We were only two or three laps in when I see Brett rolling off the front. He glances back, sees a little gap, and presses gently on the accelerator. As the gap starts to open at, what for me was an alarming rate, I look over at whoever was next to me at the time and remark, "I don't think they really want to let that one go!" 

I guess the gap was out to close to 30 seconds when the pace picked up and a small group spit off the front. It didn't seem to be going fast enough, or with sufficient determination, to catch Brett so I just stayed where I was in the cheap seats at the back with the old guys. It was a couple of laps later, just after turn #3 (the turns were more like wide 2-lane curves, so I use the term broadly) when I see Emile attacking down the right side. My instinct told me that was the only chance to get back up to the real chase group, but I wasn't in a very good position and was somewhat lacking in motivation. As it turned out that pulled a couple more across the gap and established a chase group of 8 or 9 riders, none of whom were in the 60+ age group. That group did eventually catch Brett, after which Eric Nelson must have attacked because he ended up finishing over 30 seconds up on the rest of that group. Brett finished 3rd or 4th, which was 2nd in the 50+ age group. Meanwhile, back the off-the-back pack, the pace was relatively steady. With two or three laps to go I started trying to move up a bit as the pace began creeping up. The last lap was at around 28 mph, which was faster than it felt thanks to the easy, fast "corners" and ample draft. Between the third and fourth turns Peter Stephens attacked hard and opened a nice gap that allowed him to hold off the sprinters all the way to the line. I'm not sure exactly where I was through the last turn, which was about 300 meters from the finish, but I eventually put in a decent enough sprint, finishing 3rd or 4th in that group. A light rain had just started to fall as I did a cool-down lap, and by the time I rode over to pick up my spare wheels from the pit we were in the midst of a serious thunderstorm, complete with enough lightning that they postponed the next race until it eased up. I ended up completely soaked, of course, but what better time to get rained on than immediately after a hot summer criterium?

I hung around until the rest of the races were finished and enjoyed seeing Peyton take the win in the Cat. 1/2/3 race. When he was up on the podium someone asked him how old he was (he's 15), which was followed up with, "Can you drive yet??" (he can't, of course). So I ended up getting back home around 3:30 I guess, after surviving one of those fifteen minute blinding summer rainstorms on I-10.

Sunday Giro heading out.

I got up Sunday feeling none the worse for wear and headed out for the Sunday Giro Ride, which had its moments but was a pretty normal Sunday Giro. I ended the week a bit below 250 miles for the first time in over then weeks so I can't complain about that. I probably needed a little less volume anyway. This morning, Monday, I dusted off the old Orbea and rode it for the Mellow Monday ride which was anything but Mellow. I guess there were a couple of guys trying to make up for missed intensity from the prior week or something because it got pretty fast for a while. I was doing my best to limit my efforts for the most part, though, because, well, it was a Monday for chrissakes. 

As it has been for the past few weeks, the weather forecast for this week has a lot of rain in it. Maybe I'll find myself underneath some of it. Maybe not. One thing that has my attention, though, is some new activity in the Atlantic coming off of Africa and heading my our general direction. It already has a name, "Invest 90," and 5-day cyclone formation chance under 40%, but that's normal for anything at that point and it can change practically overnight. Intensity models are putting it into tropical storm range within a couple of days, so we may well end up with a "named" storm, in this case Danielle. A week from today will be August 29. Hurricane Katrina hit us on August 29.  Hurricane Ida last year was August 29-30.  Hurricane Laura in 2020 was around August 27.  The end of August and most of September are definitely prime time for hurricanes. Hoping this one doesn't ruin our plans for next week.

 

Three Days Worth

Monday, Monday

It was another week of sketchy weather down here in New Orleans, although considering the fact that we are entering the busiest part of the hurricane season, nobody's complaining too much. Thus far the Gulf of Mexico and Atlantic have been relatively quiet. Nonetheless, I had to break out the old rain bike twice last week and had to get a car ride home from work once because of rain, or the threat of rain.

Movie Crew Monday

Monday's group ride was good, though, and I was glad we managed to avoid getting wet. I arrived at the Museum of Art in City Park, where the ride starts, to find the whole area looking like Hollywood. They had rented out the whole place to film scenes from some movie, the title of which I promptly forgot. As we were assembling at 6 am one of the park security guards checked with us to make sure we weren't going to be hanging around long. 

Last Friday was the last day for Tulane's COVID surveillance testing program that started almost exactly two years ago. During that time the university did well over half a million PCR tests, 524,665 to be precise, of which 6,215 were positive. This week students will be moving into their dorm rooms. I'm still tracking state and local cases and all, but the pressure is kind of off at this point since the usefulness of the reported data has been questionable for a while now, especially since the home test kits became so readily available and the severity of the cases seems to have declined with the currently circulating strain of the virus.

Tuesday on the levee

On Tuesday we had Dan temporarily back in town and were able to do the full ride out to Ormond and back, but Wednesday was an entirely different story. It had rained early in the morning and I figured the WeMoRi would be washed out, so I waited an extra half hour or so, aired up the tires on the old Pennine, and headed out for a short spin on the levee. There was still a light rain falling as I rode down to the river, but within three of four miles I found myself on perfectly dry asphalt. That's typical this time of year. It can be pouring down rain in one place and then two blocks away it can be dry as a bone. Anyway, Wednesday's ride had far more psychological benefit than training benefit, but I probably needed a little break anyway. So then there was Thursday, and again the weather was threatening. I again went out on the rain bike fully expecting to be riding alone but ended up riding with Charles. He had to turn back early since school had started for his kid, so it was another short and easy day.

That brings me to Friday, which for once didn't have imminent rain in the forecast. I guess there was a lot of pent-up energy in the group from the prior days of limited riding because it seemed like it was one of the fastest Friendly Friday rides in quite a while. Fortunately, those are short. Toward the end of the ride Woody rode up next to me and said they were planning a northshore ride on Saturday. I texted him later that evening and he said they would be meeting in Abita Springs at 7 am and had a 70-mile route planned. The route didn't have a whole lot of climbing, so I figured it would be fast. That turned out to be an understatement. At any rate, I figured it might be a good idea to put the race wheels on the bike and make sure I had a big bottle with Skratch Superfuel in it. 

Part of the Saturday group. Phone already coated with sweat.

Rolling into a parking spot along the school fence where I've been parking for these rides for at least three decades I noticed Peyton, who is just back from a few weeks racing in Belgium. We headed out onto the bike path and immediately had to close a gap to Peyton. Handwriting on the wall, indeed. We rode from there to St. Benedict's on Smith Road where we picked up more riders. This ride started out fast and for the most part stayed that way. We rode up Stafford Road to Million Dollar and then up Lee Road toward Enon. It was almost all single paceline and I was being careful to take short pulls because I knew it was not likely to get easier. Right around where Hwy 40 splits off toward Folsom I rode straight into a big jagged lengthwise crack that I never saw and rather dramatically pinch-flatted my front tire. We were back on the road pretty quickly and I was glad that the tire hadn't been sliced open which had initially fully expected. I was not feeling particularly bad, but I knew the distance and hills and speed would take a toll, so I was riding pretty cautiously, which is to say I was sucking wheels a lot. Toward the end we turned onto Old Military Road and as I was having flashbacks of long-past road race finishes at Pat O'Brien Road and looking at Peyton about thirty seconds ahead, Eddie, who was right in front of me, suddenly accelerated. It didn't take me long to decide that I was close enough to Abita Springs to ride the last five or so miles as a cool-down rather than literally race from there to Smith Road, so I eased over and happily backed off. I ended up with precisely the 70 advertised miles. Back at the car I ended the ride on the Garmin and discovered that I'd never turned my heart rate monitor on. I'm sure those numbers would have been interesting, but perhaps it was for the best that I couldn't contemplate how closely I might have come to having my heart explode. Anyway, I was really glad I'd made the ride and left thinking I really should try to do more rides like that. I felt like I'd gotten three days worth of training all in one morning.

By the time I got home it was raining and I was a couple of pounds lighter than I'd been when I left.

Today's Giro Ride was far less intense, at least by comparison, although there were a couple of brief segments on Chef Highway where it surged up to 32 mph or so for reasons that I presume only the people at the front would know. On the way back I found myself near the front as we came over the Casino bridge and after flying down it at close to 34 mph I ended up on TJ's wheel. He just put his head down, went around a couple of people, and hammered as I tenaciously hung in his draft dreading the possibility that he might blow up and give me the elbow. Fortunately he held the pace at around 27 until just before the bridge. I could hear Jaden back there yelling for me to go earlier, but I knew better. TJ finally eased up and of course we were streamed by a number of riders, many of whom themselves blew up before reaching the top of the bridge. I stood up anyway and made an effort, passing a few of those riders near the top.

Impossible Forecasting

Thursday morning's sky. Practically every morning's sky lately.

It's mid-summer in New Orleans and means that just about every day it might, or might not rain, and that rain might be a brief shower or a sustained torrential downpour. If that constitutes a weather forecast, well then I guess your standards are lower than mine. The problem is that it is virtually impossible to predict where it will rain, or how much it will rain, or how long it will rain. It's just a matter of whether or not you happen to be under whichever cloud unleashes the rain at the time it does so, and in the location in which it does. Basically, it's a roll of the dice. So rather than pay any attention at all to the weather forecast, we just check the radar and make our decisions based on that. We don't generally bring along rain jackets even when we know we'll probably get wet because the rain will probably be brief and the temperature will still be warm which means that wearing a rain jacket will leave you just as wet from your own sweat as would the rain.

Tuesday morning on the levee ended up with just Charles and me. Maybe it looked like it might rain and people bailed? We pushed the pace all the way out to Ormond, which was actually a lot more effort than it would have been if there had been a group. By then we were both kind of cooked and took it pretty easy all the way back.

On Thursday it rained hard early in the morning and although it was easing up by 6 am I waited another half hour or so and went out for a short solo ride after things had dried off a little bit.

A big Friendly Friday ride that of course turned out to be more fast than friendly.

The Friendly Friday ride had an unusually large group, probably because people had been skipping rides all week because of the rain. Naturally, the big group meant that the ride was a little more fast than friendly. Likewise, the Saturday Giro was well-attended. In fact, Frank Moak had even driven down from Brookhaven where I presume he usually rides alone. Then, after the turnaround at Venetian Isles, I looked up and saw Kenny Bellau. I think he's putting in some saddle time ahead of a planned cycling trip somewhere on the other side of the Atlantic. Predictably it was a pretty fast Giro.

Saturday Giro

Sunday morning the radar looked fine when I headed out around 6 am. There was a smaller Giro group than Saturday, which was not unexpected. What was unexpected, however, was the rain that started when we were halfway down Hayne Boulevard. For some reason I was staying reasonably close to the front dealing with the water spraying in my eyes and thinking the unexpected rain would probably be brief. When we made the turn at the end of Hayne I was surprised to find that most of the group had turned back and we were left with maybe 7 riders. Oh well, we were already wet, so we continued on as the rain slacked off. Of course the roads were still wet most of the way out to Venetian Isles so it was hard to tell when the rain actually stopped because the wheel spray didn't. Somewhere behind us it turned out there was another small group of four or five that had been gapped off on Hayne when people started turning back but hadn't themselves turned back, so we had a bigger group for the ride back. I got home and for about the 4th time that week had to rinse off the bike and lube the chain. The forecast for the coming week wasn't looking better, either.

It was not my finest training week, mostly thanks to Mother Nature, but I did manage to get in 260 miles, which was pretty good under the circumstances, even if most of those miles were pretty easy.

Monday morning on the relatively dry lakefront.

On Monday I went out to meet the Mellow Monday ride but almost nobody was there, apparently because they had consulted the radar which I hadn't. As I came to a stop at the ugly sculpture fountain in front of the museum of art I could see the raindrops starting to fall. There was one other person who showed up but he turned off quickly to head home. I went ahead an rode the route anyway, running into Mark on Lakeshore Drive for a while. I was feeling like I needed an easy day, so the solo ride was fine even if I did end up soaking wet once again.

Tuesday's morning ride didn't happen, at least for me. I was standing next to the dresser at 5:30 am pulling on my jersey when I heard the rain coming down outside. The radar was just a big glob of greens and reds all over south Louisiana and I was thinking I might not be able to ride at all that day. I'd already been drenched riding home from work the day before, so I decided it would be a good day to work from  home. Since I was already up, I at least got a jump on the day by a couple of hours. By early afternoon, despite the pessimistic weather forecasts, the sky and the radar were looking a light brighter and decided to try and get in some miles on the levee while I had a chance. Given the impossibility of knowing where and when it would rain, and wanting to do something to improve my chances of not getting rained on, I put my rain jacket in my pocket. I knew that if I left it at home it would definitely rain but if I took it along it probably wouldn't. It's kind of the same thing as talking about how long it's been since you've had a flat tire, which will reliably and promptly result is a flat tire. So I had a nice solo ride on mostly dry roads, but as often  happens after riding after rainstorms I ended up with a flat tire out by Williams Blvd. It was still worth it.