Grass, Asphalt, and Advil

Flat and twisty

There was little about last week that went as planned. OK, well there was actually little that was planned in the first place. One thing that was on my calendar for Tuesday afternoon, however, to get the new COVID-19 booster that was being conveniently offered at work. I had been kind of on the fence about getting this one, and I think if I was 35 years old it wouldn't even have been on my radar. But of course I'm not 35 years old, a fact of which I am painfully reminded daily. That morning it was chilly and dark and overcast, and when I pulled the bike down off the hook I found the rear tire to be flat. It was a sign that I shouldn't have ignored. I quickly grabbed the old Orbea, moved the lights from one bike to the other, and stepped out the door at 5:45 am only to be greeted by a heavy cold mist. I didn't get two blocks before I could feel the mist starting to soak through the two layers I had on my arms and quickly made the executive decision to turn right back around rather than spend a couple of hours trying to get pneumonia. Later that afternoon at work I walked over to the big empty room where they used to do the COVID tests and were now using temporarily for the vaccinations. I'd gotten the first booster about a year earlier, so it had been essentially a full year. Like last time, I awoke in the wee hours the following morning feeling achy and a little feverish. I knew better than to even think about going out to do the WeMoRi and instead took some Advil and tried unsuccessfully to go back to sleep. That Wednesday I stayed home. It was practically a complete write-off as I spent the day with achy joints, headache, and low-grade fever, wondering if the vaccination was really worth it.

By Thursday I was feeling slightly better. The headache was gone but based on the occasional chills I knew I was still running a bit of fever. I bundled up and went out to meet the crew for the Thursday levee ride, intending to drop off the back early and turn around early, which is exactly what I did. For most of that day at work I felt less than stellar, but by Friday morning things were starting to return to normal so I did the usual Friendly Friday ride which was sparsely attended thanks to the cold and wind. Earlier in the week I had been considering going up to Ridgeland MS for the weekend cyclocross races but under the circumstances was still very much on the fence about it when I got home from work on Friday. The forecast was calling for a Saturday morning low right around freezing up there but about twenty degrees warmer at home. The problem, however, was the rain forecast that was getting progressively worse locally but not looking bad at all up in Ridgeland. About an  hour before pre-registration closed I went ahead and registered for the Saturday race. It looked like Sunday would be even colder, and it just wasn't feasible to take the car all weekend anyway.

Not as impressive as it might look

So Saturday morning I got up around 4:30 am, threw the 'cross bike and a whole lot of cycling clothes into the Volvo, and was on the road by 5:00 for the 3-hour drive. It was already raining when I left. The Check Engine light was glowing softly on the dashboard as it has been for a couple of weeks now as I cruised up I-55 in the dark watching the thermometer fall. It eventually got down to 32°F for a bit but fortunately the races didn't start until 9 am and by then there was some sunshine. It was probably around 40° when the masters race started. I had multiple layers on, and I knew I'd be overdressed halfway into the 40-minute race, but as always I'd rather be warm at the finish than cold at the start. Also, aerodynamics and going fast were not considerations at all. The course was all grass, some of it still a little damp. It was extremely twisty and basically all flat, and as usual my focus was on not falling rather than going fast. I succeeded in not going fast but not quite on the not falling part, catching my foot on one of the barriers at one point and hitting the ground rather gently on my knees to the amusement of a couple of spectators. I'd been following another rider for much of the race and quickly caught back up to him during the next lap. As usual, my confidence improved from lap to lap, although it never approached that of the two leaders who quite conveniently lapped the two of us on their final lap, which meant that we finished just behind them. Jay and Elise showed up during the race, so I threw some civilian clothes on top of my riding clothes and we went off for some coffee and pastries, and then headed over to Jay's new house for a while, eventually returning around noon ahead of the Cat. 1/2/3 race that I had decided to do for the exercise. 

As I pulled my bike out of the car I found the front tire was dead flat. I thought I must have pinch-flatted it during the morning race (turned out that it was a leak along one of the tube seams), but anyway I had a spare tube that I quickly put in. By then the sky was more overcast and it actually felt colder to me than it had earlier. There were only four in the 1/2/3 race, including me, plus the women who would be doing one fewer laps. This race was for 60 minutes and I liked that the lines were a little bit worn in and the grass was dry by then, which gave me a little more confidence. Still, for me the race was against just the course and myself as I continue to learn how much I can get away with on cyclocross tires. I still find it rather amazing that I can fly into an asphalt criterium corner at 30 mph with reckless abandon, but am heavily on the brakes coming into a dirt path around a tree at 5 mph. Halfway through the course I went past the Junior rider who was also doing the 1/2/3 race. That was only because he was walking at the time, having flatted his mountain bike's rear tire. As I went through the finish area on that lap Ricky called out, "You're in third place!" which was true. "You're in last place" would have been equally true. Although I felt awkward every time I had to dismount and jump over the barriers, I felt pretty good the rest of the time. I like how snappy the cyclocross bike feels, even though I occasionally hit my foot with the front tire when going really slowly around sketchy sharp turns. After the race Rolando told me that I had won the series jersey, essentially by default since I think you had to ride at least three of the four races to qualify, so somewhere there is a photo of me on the podium with that jersey on. There's also the photo above with me on the podium for Saturday's 1/2/3 race, which looks a lot more impressive than it really was. On the plus side I did get in some nice intensity and skill work on a day that, back in New Orleans, was nothing but rain. If I hadn't gone up to Jackson I probably wouldn't have ridden at all. By the time I was half-way back to town it started raining, and stayed that way. 

Just a few survivors from the windblown Sunday Giro

By Sunday the rain was gone but had been replaced by a brutal northeast wind and colder temperatures. I went out to the Giro knowing turnout would be slim, which it was. When we hit Hayne Blvd. we were struggling to maintain 18 mph. There was a Saints game scheduled for noon and about half of the riders we had on hand had ridden over from the westbank and had already announced their plan to turn off early. Since that would have left us with just four or so riders to battle the wind on Chef Highway, we all turned with them at Bullard to head back early. Nobody was complaining about that. To add a few miles we rode with them out Metairie Road and Central Avenue, where they headed over to take the Huey P over the river while we continued to the levee. I ended up with almost 50 miles for the day which I guess was OK under the circumstances. My legs were a little sore from the cyclocross efforts anyway.