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.