Superdome, Snakebites and Supper

Complete with light show and sound effects, Fall arrived here around 2 am Friday morning. I woke up, watching the pouring rain and listening to the thunder, and easily wrote off any chance of a morning ride. By noon the sky had cleared up and there was a brisk north wind, marking the start of one of those awesome Fall weekends we sometimes get this time of year. When I got up in the dark to ride out to the lake on Saturday the temperature was a good twenty degrees lower and I knew the sudden change would make for a difficult adjustment. Thinking I'd be fine with a chest protector under my jersey and a pair of arm-warmers, I opened the door. That was when I felt the north wind. I turned right around and set off in search of my knee-warmers. Those wonderful knee-warmers. I was glad I'd put them on as I battled my way out to the lake to meet the Giro Ride. My legs were feeling good, but I knew it would likely be a hard ride because of the wind. I was right. The group really got going on Hayne Blvd. People who don't normally get dropped were getting dropped in the crosswind. and it didn't really let up until we came to Chef Highway. That's where things came a little unravelled. With traffic coming in both directions, most riders stopped, but a number of them turned left onto the shoulder of the oncoming lane and kept going until they could cross over to the right side of the road. That opened a big gap (and also pissed off more than a few people). By the time the rest of the group got across the road and reassembled, the wrong-way riders were already a minute down the road and it wasn't likely they'd be caught. We finally got a paceline going, but with the wind like it was the participation at the front was low and inconsistent. Nonetheless, it was a good workout. The ride back was a little less traumatic.

Once back at the parking lot, a few of us went across the street to Kona Cafe (which was pretty busy) for some coffee. Between the caffeine and strong tailwind, I had a really fast ride back home after

Next on the schedule for me was a trip down to the Superdome to see the Tulane game. We knew we'd have to leave around halftime, but since our tickets were free we figured we'd go support the home team. They played a bit better than last week and when we left just before the 3rd quarter started they were trailing Houston by only six points. Apparently things went rapidly downhill from there, because the final score was something like 44 - 6. Ouch. Hope they score better on their GREs and LSATs and MEDCATs, because pro football isn't looking like an option. The reason we'd left early was because we were planning on driving across the lake for one of those murder mystery dinner things at Annadele Plantation in Covington. Now as far as I'm concerned, this sort of audience-participation thing is not really my cup of tea. Aside from interfering with conversation and dinner, they just make me feel kind of uncomfortable. I'm sure it's just me, though, because everyone else seemed to be having a great time. Note to self: Don't sit at the table in the middle of the room next time.

Sunday morning was even colder and more windy than Saturday, and so I added another jersey to my ensemble for the ride out to the lake. After battling the north wind all the way there, I finally hit Lakeshore drive and at 7:04 saw a small group of six or seven heading out. It was a couple of minutes earlier than I'd expect to see the main group, and as I was contemplating whether or not to turn around or continue on, I saw a rider in a full Bicycle World kit come out of Marconi Drive and turn toward West End. So I took off after him, figuring that even if there weren't any other Giro riders, at least I'd have company. By the time I caught him we were down around Canal Blvd. and it was clear that there was nobody else. By then the little group was a good five minutes down the road, so we turned around and I resigned myself to a long ride into the wind. Next time I looked back the other rider had turned off and gone home. Riding alone down Lakeshore Drive, Hayne, and Chef Highway into the wind was hard. It reminded me of those long climbs at Six Gap. For the next ten miles or so, 15 mph was about my top speed, and there were times when I was barely in the double-digits.

Finally, out on Chef Highway near Highway 11, I saw Howard coming toward me. I figured he was out ahead of the group, and a little later I saw the group. I turned around, put it in the big ring, and got in. Now, with a nice tailwind and the shelter of the group, we were rolling pretty fast back toward the service road. When we made the turn off of Chef a few little gaps opened up. I was maybe third wheel behind one of them and we had just picked up the pace to close it up when -- WHACK -- I hit something really big. Immediately, my front tire exploded and the water bottle launched out of my problematic seat post mounted cage. Now I'm going maybe 25 mph with a rapidly deflating front tire, holding a water bottle between one calf and the seat tube. The bottle slipped down to the chainstay where it bounced around on the spokes for a little while before finally falling off. Somehow I didn't go down. I hit the brakes and circled around, picking up the bottle as the last molecules of air hissed out of the tube. The group came back to assist as I took the wheel off and fought with the tube. Since that particular tire hadn't flatted in months, the tube was well stuck to the tire casing, making it a little difficult to remove. About that time someone looked down at my bike and said, "Did you know your rear tire was flat too?" Great! Two snakebite flats. I guess I'm lucky the rim wasn't too badly damaged, considering. Anyway, we finally got everything back together, and the rest of the ride was relatively uneventful. On the plus side, the weather today is spectacular, at least by New Orleans standards. I hope it sticks around for a few more days.

Flash in the Fog

Because of the unusually rainy weather we've been having, I've lately gotten in the habit of checking the radar before even getting out of bed. Since the weather has been warm, the problem hasn't really been so much the "riding on wet roads" part as it's been the task of cleaning up the mess it makes of the bike. Last night I was scraping dried-up worms off of the rear brake and seat tube in an effort to render the bike presentable. So I was relieved to see that the roads were reasonable well dried out this morning as I rode over to meet the group on the levee. The excitement of finally having a nice, clean morning ride began to evaporate, however, as I neared the river and noticed the increasing amount of fog. As often happens this time of year, the only place there was significant fog was along the river. Aside from the visibility problem it presents, especially in the 6:15 a.m. pre-dawn darkness, riding through this kind of fog turns the leading edges of the bike into a virtual dirt collector. I took a flash photo (above) as we started out just to see what it would look like. It's neat how the water droplets in the air create those interesting "orbs." Either that, or there were a lot of ghosts out this morning!

So I rolled up to the meeting spot right on time, but the only other person there was Mignon. As I approached, we both said in unison, "Where is everybody?" I guess the culprit is just the escalating lateness of the sunrise, because a couple of minutes later everyone started to arrive and we finally set out about five minutes later than usual. For the first ten miles or so the fog remained pretty thick and Max remained on the front. At least that eliminated the need for people to rotate off the front until visibility improved. Then, somewhere out past the airport, he picked up the pace a bit. I was sitting third wheel at the time and as both the pace and crosswind began to pick up, I heard someone say something behind. It took a moment for me to safely look back, but when I did, I saw a big gap. Thinking that perhaps someone had flatted, I eased up, and after a little while the two in front did as well. I really don't quite know what happened there, but although most of the group came back together, I think a couple of people got gapped off the back. With Mark G. kind of pushing the pace, we had a fairly good ride out to the turnaround.

The ride back had some tailwind sections, so the pace quickly jumped up to 25 mph or so with occasional surges up to 27 or 29 when Mark would hit the front. Those surges split the pack a couple of times along the way.

On the local front, the President is in town right now for a quick publicity visit. Some people are all excited as if he's a rock star, and others seem to be pissed off because he isn't staying very long. (He actually extended his time in the city in response to that.) Personally, I don't really think it matters whether he's physically here for one hour or four hours. If he wanted to have some serious discussions rather than just photo opportunities and speech time, a couple of days would be a good start and that ain't happening for sure.

NYNY - NOLA (updated photos)

Damn, it was hard getting out of bed this morning. These dark mornings make everything so much more difficult. Even so, I met the 6:15 group up on the levee with plans to cut my ride a bit short. The USS New York was scheduled to leave the Avondale shipyard where it was built at 7:30 and I wanted to join the "line the levee" crowd to see it off. As it turned out, nearly the whole group turned around at The Dip, which got us back to the Huey P. Long bridge right on time. Unfortunately, the ship was nearly an hour late in departing, apparently because they hit the dock and then had to pump in a lot of ballast in order to get the ship low enough to get under the bridge. I rode up and down the levee a couple of times before it finally showed up, and by then there was some moderate fog rolling in. It was after 8:30 am by the time I finally got home. Anyway, it was worth the wait just to see all of the people who came out to wave their flags and be a part of it all. This is the ship that is built with some of the steel salvaged from the World Trade Center Those of us who ride regularly on the levee have been watching this ship being built for two or three years.

Rocktoberfest and the Rain

It was not without some trepidation that, late Saturday evening, I gathered together the truckload of race officiating equipment I'd need to load into the car at 6 am the next morning. I'd spent most of the afternoon at the Superdome watching most of the rather depressing Tulane homecoming football game, and the generic beer, salt pretzels and hotdogs seemed to be still churning in my stomach. The weather forecast, however, might easily have been the more prominent culprit, because it was looking like rain for the 10th annual Rocktoberfest race, and I knew that might just turn the usual confusion into chaos. I downloaded and printed out the pre-registered riders' release forms, made sure I had some big plastic bags, raincoats, and umbrellas. I had already spent some quality time with the camera and had gotten familiar with the screen capture software and settings. The backup camera's batteries were fully charged. The race clock's battery was charged, race numbers were sorted and allocated. By 11 pm things were more or less ready to go, but I had this nagging feeling I'd forgotten something. I would find out what it was early the next morning. During the night I awoke numerous times to the sound of rain pounding on the ground outside. (I would be a lot quieter if I'd get that sagging gutter fixed!) Each time I'd roll over and hope the next time I awoke it would be over. It never was, though.

So I get up a bit after 5 am, brew a little coffee, dress with the expectation of getting wet, and meet Mark at the basement door for 6 am so he can pick up the podium and a few big coolers full of water. We arrive at Shelter #1 promptly at 6 am in complete darkness and a light rain and I immediately realize I've forgotten to bring blank release forms. Crap! Luckily, I had long ago anticipated that one of us would do this and had thirty or forty of them stashed in LAMBRA's Great White Box. So I figure I'll just print some more out before registration really gets going. Robin sets up the generator and I connect the laptop and printer, tell it to print out forty copies, and watch as a single copy comes out before the printer stops, it's little red light blinking in the darkness. When I lift the lid of the printer I can smell cooking electronics and then a little puff of smoke tells me that, once again, I won't have a functional printer for the day. I figure that between the pre-registered release forms that are already on hand and the low turnout I'm expecting because of the weather we'll probably be OK with the release forms on hand, so I leave the registration duties to Laura and go over to set up the finish line. I open the car door and when I put my foot down it sinks into four inches of mud that the weekend's storms have washed into the gutter. Nice! I think to myself, "Maybe we should make Rocktoberfest into a Cyclocross race next year."

Mark, Mignon, and a few others get the pop-up shelter set up, Robin steals a couple of Levee District sandbags to keep it from blowing away, and as the rest of the crew sets up the pylons for the course, I start getting together the usual officiating stuff. We get the big clock, covered in its homemade plastic rain cover, set up under the tent, put up the tripod for the camera, etc. Robin sets up the generator and I fire up the laptop, connect it to the camera, open the video software, and get the manual focus and shutter speed set. The image on the laptop screen looks good. Moments later, the laptop completely freezes. Now, you have to understand that I have spent hours at home connecting this camera and this laptop and testing the video capture setup. It was all working great and I could go back and see the frame-by-frame images from the video clips, and all was well. Now, it refuses to work. I swear, this has to have something to do with the generator power or something. Anyway, after much fiddling around, rebooting, restarting, etc., I finally give up on the video capture and pull out the backup camera, resigned to having to judge any close finishes on the little flip-out LCD screen, but glad that I had anticipated the possibility of electronic meltdown (in the case of the printer -- literally).

It's still raining when we start the first race at 7:30, but the Women and Juniors combined field is small, so I know the problem will be keeping track of lapped riders rather than judging high-speed pack sprints. Shortly after they start the rain turns into a deluge of biblical proportions. The rain is blowing horizontally into the little popup shelter and within minutes we're all pretty well soaked from the waist down. Even with the clipboards inside of clear plastic bags, the paper inside is soon soaked from wet hands and by mid-race I'm trying to score the race on the equivalent of crumpled tissue paper. As the riders come around the Shelter building into the headwind they are barely moving, the faster ones struggling to maintain maybe 12 mph, but they are all determined to finish. In fact, I think we had only one DNF the whole day, and that was due to a mechanical issue. We write up the results and post them, only to find that, since I'm doing everything by hand the old-fashioned way and shuffling multiple pieces of wet paper, I've got the Juniors' names mis-matched with their numbers and we've somehow scored one of them as being two laps down instead of one. The Kona Cafe' folks take pity on us and come out with a carafe of hot coffee.

The next races go progressively better. By the third of the day's five races the rain has stopped and the streets are beginning to dry out. Somehow, nobody has crashed, which was probably at least partly due to the fact that none of the races had more than a dozen riders. The old-style camera with its tape and battery is working fairly well, although it's very awkward and slow to rewind and play back frame by frame using the remote.

Finally, the last race, the Cat. 1/2/3 race, gets underway and it's clear that these guys aren't going to let the low turnout stop them from racing. Kenny goes from the gun and quickly gets a 30-second gap that he holds for a few laps on the windy Lakeshore Drive course. It's up to Diego and Brandon and Charlie and the others to chase. When he's finally caught, another attack goes and they have to chase it down again. When that one comes back, I can see that a few riders are on the ropes. So does Tim, who immediately counter-attacks into the headwind. The pack hesitates to take up the chase and a gap starts to open. I think to myself, "Frank is going to wait until a few of these guys take some hard pulls and then he'll try and bridge." Brandon and Diego get to work at the front. A lap later, Frank sees his opportunity and lauches, quickly making the bridge up to his teammate. Tim and Frank proceed to ride away from the pack which is starting to lose riders out the back door. They come across the finish together, followed by a pack sprint that Brandon (above) wins.

We tear down everything and stuff it all into cars and trucks, Laura handles the awards ceremony, handing out the coveted special-label beer bottles, and we head over to the nearby Kona Cafe' for some food. My feet are still wet at 2:30 when I get home to unload a lot of wet gear into the basement where it will have to dry out for a couple of days before getting packed away for the final time this year. David LaHoste posted some great photos, by the way.

And so the 2009 road season is officially over and my thoughts are turning to coffee rides and winter training and plans, rarely actually realized, of getting to the gym for much-needed and highly boring "core" work. The next few weeks, for me, will probably include most of my usual rides, but generally ridden a bit slower, and then a trip to Washington and another to Colorado and the usual variable November and December weather and holiday complications will start the inevitable fitness slide that annually culminates some time in January with.....

"How the hell did I let this happen again?"

Calm Before the Storm

The difference this morning was the breeze. It was, I suppose, as sign of change. The forecast was warning of rain later in the day and pretty much all day on Saturday. We're holding out hope that Sunday morning's races will go off without too much drama, of course. The way the weather has been around here lately, anything could happen. There were just a few of us for the Friday morning ride and we soon fell into a little paceline, taking long, long pulls at the front until we had to stop to fix a flat somewhere out toward the turnaround. Otherwise it was just a simple little ride from which I arrived home just slightly less sweat-drenched than usual.

So tomorrow I'm supposed to be going to the Superdome for a little Tulane Tailgating prior to the Homecoming football game. I probably attend a football game once every six or seven years, at best, and rarely find the motivation to actually watch one on television. I think the thing I dread the most about football games at the Superdome is the driving and parking. Since there will be others, the sensible approach, riding bikes, isn't really an option. Hopefully I will survive the whole experience and still be able to get my act together for the 5:30 am Sunday morning wake-up call. Of more immediate concern is tomorrow morning's weather and whether I'll be able to make the Giro Ride without getting too wet. I think that unless it's actually raining in the morning I will ride anyway.

Bad Call

Wednesday afternoon was just starting to wind down when the rain started. This wasn't just some little afternoon shower, this was RAIN - the kind that comes down so fast and so hard that the storm drains, even the ones that actually work, are immediately overwhelmed and the water starts getting deep out in the street. "No worries," I thought. These random summer rainstorms that tend to pop up almost without warning don't usually last very long. It was just after 5 pm and The Wife, who was taking the shuttle home from downtown, had wanted me to get home sooner rather than later in order to deliver some food to the husband of a co-worker who was in the hospital. It was still pouring down rain, so I figured I'd give it another fifteen minutes. Half an hour later it was still raining buckets. Finally, shortly before 6 pm, it slacked off to a light drizzle, so I put on my $20 plastic rain jacket and headed off down Broadway for the 2-mile ride home. I was less than half-way there when I realized I might have made a bad call on the rain thing. About three blocks up ahead I could see a curtain of rain. Four blocks later my Weejuns were already starting to fill with water. Soon water was blowing in through the vents in my rain jacket and my slacks were plastered to my legs. At least everything in my Timbik2 messenger bag stayed nice and dry, because nothing else did.

This morning the weather was a repeat of yesterday's. Hot and sticky with a side order of hungry mosquitoes. There were about a dozen for the early ride, including Woody on a freshly built-up track bike. The pace started moderately enough, but as usual it gradually ramped up as the ride went on. There were four or five guys on time trial bikes today. Maybe they are getting in some early training for the next time trial, which I guess will be in March or April?? When Howard surged at the front, taking a couple of riders with him, I just held the consensus speed, which wasn't all that slow anyway, and after a couple more people took their pulls at the "new" front, everyone was back together again. That kind of defined my role for the day - acting as a buffer for the seemingly random accelerations. Even so, it was a good fast ride today.

We're all still hoping for a little cool-down, since it's October, but it's looking like we'll have to wait a few more days at least. The weather for Rocktoberfest, this Sunday, is still a bit uncertain and will all depend on when the next little front decides to come through. A few hours one way or the other could make a big difference.

Another Muggy Morning

The level of humidity this morning was truly impressive, even for New Orleans. Everyone seems to be wandering around in a daze lately, mumbling things like, "when is it going to cool down around here?" The hazy supersaturated air hit me in the face like a stinky wet towel the moment I opened the basement door this morning, and the absence of any detectable breeze just served to intensify that feeling of having all the air suddenly sucked out of your lungs. Of course, once I got rolling everything felt much better and I arrived up on the levee to meet the rest of the usual crew at the usual time for the usual Wednesday ride. It was one of those days when everyone seemed to be on the same page. We took long turns at the front with the speed hovering consistently in the "moderate" zone of 22-24 mph. The only complication being that my glasses were pretty much always coated with a light coating of fog. Or maybe that was my brain. Or both. As we headed out on the ride today a line from an old song kept cycling through my mind:

It's too hot for words;
Why bother with conversation;
Don't let's talk or even walk;
But if you want to make love, okay

Back at home, I need to see if I can figure out how to get the LAMBRA camera working reliably with the laptop. For some reason I've had serious trouble with that the last two times I've tried it, so I think I will have to really spend some time testing it out before Sunday's races.

Elsewhere, with the European road season winding down the French media seem to be struggling to come up with a juicy doping scandal, but the pickings seem to be pretty slim. The interesting part is that they don't seem to be getting the same leaks they used to get from the testing labs. The latest news is about a failed test for CERA from the Giro d' Italia way back in May. Even the AFLD has jumped on board criticizing the UCI for not handling the doping controls the way they want.

Moon and Stars

The moon and stars were still bright in the dark morning sky when I rolled out to meet the early Tuesday levee ride. That meant a clear sky and no chance of rain, which was good. What was less good was the stifling humidity. It may be early October, but you wouldn't have known it from the morning temperature. As we rolled out from the start, someone said, "I hope we don't go too fast through the fog." Fog?? Sure enough, the next five or six miles featured some moderate ground fog that soon rendered my clear glasses nearly opaque. I stuck them into my helmet vents and rode the rest of the ride trying, with limited success, to miss all of the invisible little bugs that were aiming for my unprotected eyes.

There were about a dozen up there today, and with a light tailwind the pace was reasonably fast as we made our way upriver. I guess I finally turned off my front light somewhere around Williams Blvd. As sometimes happens, I dropped back a little too far at one point and got stuck back there behind the rotation as someone farther up kept letting people in ahead of him. It was a pretty long time before I put in the effort to move back up toward the front.

We were approaching the gravel hump out near the Luling bridge when the pace slowed and someone stopped. I was never clear on what the problem was because I just kept rolling slowly up and over the gravel, waiting for the group. Well, it seems the group turned around instead of riding over the gravel like we'd been doing for the last week or so, and when I finally turned around under the bridge the only other rider still coming my way was Chip.

So we had a nice 2-man time trial all the way back into the light headwind, which turned out to have been a pretty good workout. I got home soaking wet from sweat.

To Rocktoberfest is this weekend. Amy has made a new logo which will be pasted to the awards. Those are traditionally bottles of beer for this race. I'll have to play it by ear as to whether or not I'll be able to ride since I'm also the official.

Weekend's End on the Couch

It was a Giro Ride weekend for me and as I left Saturday morning for the ride out to the lakefront I noted how dark it was and how depressing the coincidence of shorter days and the end of the racing season is. The Saturday ride was missing a few of the regular riders because it's the MS Tour for Cure weekend. As often happens this time of year, I was feeling pretty passive on the ride, just happy to follow wheels and stay out of trouble. Things were going along pretty smoothly until just after we got onto that short section of Interstate where the pace always seems to ramp up. I saw Howard dropping back quickly with a flat tire. Someone yelled "Flat!" and I quickly told them to keep going. Having the whole group stop on the side of the interstate would have been a really bad idea. In fact, since Howard's tire still had a bit of air in it, those of us who stopped waited until we were on the off-ramp before stopping to fix it. Then we went through two tubes before getting him rolling again. On the plus side, we then had a nice little group and a smooth paceline to battle the headwind as we rode out on Chef Highway to meet the rest of the group on its way back. The weather was so nice that a few of us hung around the parking lot for a long time afterward. The rest of the day involved a drive to Baton Rouge and back and then a small wine-tasting at the Ecole Bilingue de la NouvelleOrleans sponsored by the little wine shop at University Square (Hopper's) and featuring a few wines from the Rhone valley. In-between, I spent a couple of hours trimming the long row of long-neglected Ligustrum hedges along the side of the house - one of the many things that get pushed aside in favor of road trips to bike races and those long rides in the country. By the time I finished my wimpy little arms and under-developed shoulders were practically dysfunctional.

Sunday morning I turned off the alarm, fell asleep again, and the jumped out of bed at 6:30. By the time I got out the door I had less than twenty minutes to make it to the lakefront without missing the group, so basically I started the day off with a little time trial down Carrollton Avenue. Just after I hit Lakeshore Drive I saw a group coming and knew it was too early since it was only 7:02 and they'd have to have been going about 50 mph to get to Bayou St. John by then. Someone said they didn't think there was anyone else behind, so I went along with them. Of course, an hour later the riders who'd been abandoned finally found us. I don't understand why these guys are in such a rush to leave and don't seem to be able to think about the riders who show up just in time for the 7 am start. Anyway, there was a pretty decent breeze and the ride seemed fairly fast to me today, even though we were still missing a few of the usual riders. There was some rainy weather moving in as we rode back down Lakeshore Drive and looking to the south I figured I was about to get wet. Just about that time we started getting a light drizzle (the stuff they call rain in California) that continued all the way home. It was just enough to get my socks wet by the time I got back.

It's after 5 pm now and for the most part I've been sitting on the couch watching old movies since noon and wondering why my hip still hurts. Outside, it's been raining pretty much nonstop since I got home, but it hasn't been particularly heavy. One of the neighbors and her kid just came over to exchange cookies and soon I'll have to fire up the grill for dinner with the other neighbors.

Change in the Air

It was actually rather chilly this morning when I rode out to the levee. I pulled up the zipper on my jersey and tried to remember where I'd left the arm-warmers last spring. Since they have re-paved Oak Street, I've been taking that route instead of Willow St. lately, even though they have those strategically placed sections of granite cobblestones at many of the intersections. Fortunately, you can ride around them on the edges. Today we weren't very far down the road before Howard flatted, so we kind of started out with a little break. The pace today remained mostly under control on the way out, but on the return trip we picked up an increasing headwind that occasionally dismantled the paceline. Just before the turnaround Jeff stood up to close a little gap and I heard a loud "ping." He'd broken a spoke, of course. Luckily, it was on the front wheel and it didn't go too far out of true, so he was able to ride it the twenty miles or so back to the playground once we tied the broken spoke up so it would stay out of the way.

Everyone who did Six Gap seems to be fully recovered now, although I don't think Pat's or Mignon's times ever showed up on the results page. My guess is that they had dead timing chips. I would have assumed that the chip numbers were inserted into the database by scanning them, thus verifying that they were functional, but I think they were just typing in the numbers at registration. Everyone did, however, get links to their photos. They had six fairly good photos of me, so I bought a couple, even though the "packages" were rather expensive.

I can't believe it's almost the weekend again. Wven worse, there's only one more race on the calendar - Rocktoberfest. We're doing that one back on the Lakefront again for the first time since Katrina, so we're just hoping that a cold front with a strong north wind doesn't blow through the day before.

Midweek Morning

Some cooler air slipped in overnight leaving in its wake a relatively cool and dry midweek morning. While it may be a little too early to get comfortable with the idea of Fall weather, it was a welcome reminder that, sooner or later, things will be cooling down both literally and figuratively. And so I rode out to the levee in the dark thinking of hot coffee and arm-warmers and knowing full well that it would be 80 degrees by 10 am.

The Wednesday morning ride was smooth and steady as usual with riders taking longish pulls at the front as the rest of the riders patiently awaited their turns in the crosswind. By the time we were heading back I was already debating whether to stop at Zotz or wait until I was on my way to work and stop at Starbucks. Decisions, decisions, decisions. I ultimately decided upon the latter, if for no other reason than that I'd stopped at Zotz the day before. There's something about cool weather that makes me want to hang out at coffee shops.

The work day was fairly busy and then shortly after I got home an email came from the Six Gap photography folks informing me that my photos were ready. I'm impressed. I figure they must have taken something like 10,000 photos that day and then had to sort through them all to read the helmet numbers and tag each one. I wonder if they have software that can find and read the numbers automatically and add them to the index. In a way, I wish they hadn't come out so good since the cheapest package for a single photo isn't cheap!

Looking for the Group

I didn't exactly leap out of bed when the alarm sounded this morning, but after taking a quick inventory of essential joints and appendages my feet did finally hit the floor. Naturally, I'd completely forgotten about getting my bike back into training ride mode, so with time running short I found myself hunting around for blinkey lights, changing wheels, and searching for the least malodorous gloves available. Then I remembered that flat tire I'd had up in Dahlonega and the fact that I'd put the punctured tube back into my seat bag. Hmmm, which one was it? I pulled both tubes out (I always carry two spares) and examined them side-by-side, finally deciding that the one with the unevenly applied rubber band must be the punctured one. I'm hoping I guessed right, but of course I replaced that one with a freshly patched one, so I know at least one of them will hold air. By then, I was pretty sure I wasn't going to make it out to the Tuesday levee ride in time. It was probably a good thing. Compared to yesterday, however, I was feeling a lot better all-around. The legs were still complaining with hard efforts, but otherwise seemed no worse for the wear, and the sinus headache was, at least temporarily, gone.

I hustled over to the levee, arriving maybe three minutes after the group had departed, and settled in for a nice cruise up the river to meet them on their way back. The air this morning was much cooler and that, together with some sections of tailwind, made for a very nice solo ride. I caught up to Richard H. and rode with him much of the way out to The Dip, where he turned back. I continued, looking up the road for the group on its way back from the turnaround. I was out around the first grain elevator when I spotted the group on its way back, so I made a quick u-turn and jumped into the paceline as it came past. There was a significant northeast wind, so the group was in paceline mode. As we started getting closer to town Howard, as usual, started surging when he'd hit the front, ratcheting the pace up by 3 mph or so and simultaneously providing ample reason for half the group to stop pulling altogether. I hate it when I take a pull and then come back to find the paceline, and my own amount of recovery time, to have been suddenly chopped in half. At one point, though, I found myself unintentionally off the front, so I hope I wasn't doing something similar. On the plus side, I still haven't developed any sort of nasty chest cold, although that little sore throat has now moved down to around my collarbone notch. Hopefully it will resolve before turning into a full-fledged cough. Anyway, much work to do this afternoon, so I'd better get to that.....

Gaps and Gravity

It was a weekend of rain and pain; of slow grinding climbs, roller-coaster descents, missed connections, big crashes and long midnight drives. It was Six Gap.

By 5 am I was ready to roll, just waiting for Rich to arrive at 5:10 so we could pick up Mitch and Mignon and be on the road by 5:30. At 5:20 Rich was MIA. I called his phone repeatedly to no avail. He'd recently moved to the West Bank and I had no idea where. Mignon and Mitch drove over to my place while I waited. Finally we decided he'd either gotten lucky or arrested, or both, and hit the road to Dahlonega about an hour behind schedule. Half an hour later he called. He'd left his phone in his car and forgotten to set his clock. A little while later he was on the road too, an hour or so behind us. By the time we hit Atlanta it was pouring rain. Pat sent us a message that the registration location had been moved to a local school gymnasium because of the weather. The forecast, fortunately, was still promising good weather for Sunday. That night our hosts in Dahlonega fixed us an awesome dinner and by 10:30 or so we were all out for the count. Most of us, anyway. I didn't sleep well at all, bothered by a stuffy nose and scratchy throat that I attributed to a little allergy flare-up.

So Sunday morning we arrived at the big parking lot just early enough to get some of the last parking spaces, and by the 7:30 start time we were ready to go, along with the other thousand or so people who were doing the 104 mile Six Gap Century. The announcer reminded us, repeatedly, that "it's not a race" as we anxiously crowded the start line in the cool morning air.

The first ten miles or so went smoothly, a bit less hectic than last year, I thought. The roads were still wet from the night's rain, but the sky was looking promising. I started out near the front, along with Donald Davis and Eric Murphy, and was trying to stay up in the front thirty or forty riders in order to keep out of trouble. Trouble nearly found me nonetheless when, as we started one of the first little climbs, an inattentive rider started a big domino effect in the middle of the pack ahead of me. I heard someone yell "go left," and luckily I was able to slip past the carnage. There must have been a pile of thirty riders on the ground.

The first few climbs went pretty well for me, but I could already tell that something was not quite right. Joints and muscles were just a bit more achy than they should have been, even under the circumstances, as we started up Unicoi Gap. As usual, the group soon started to break up. I knew better than to try and race up these climbs, so I went straight to the 39x25 and stuck to my own pace, spinning at a nice steady speed. I wasn't the only one, and unlike last year, I came over the top with a few others. Then came the fun part -- the long fast winding downhill on wet roads. I just absolutely love this part. Thanks to the combination of wet roads and common sense, I doubt I got over 50 mph, however. Still, there is just nothing like the feeling of sweeping through these turns at high speeds and hitting them just right. The downhills are definitely worth the price of admission all by themselves. As the road started to level out a few miles later a little group started to come together and I figured I wouldn't be seeing any more of the thirty or so riders who had ridden away on the climb. A little later, though, we spotted the group about a minute up the road and so a few of us started working together until we caught back on. I looked over at one of the other guys and said, "Wow, I didn't think we'd be seeing these guys again!" I knew it was only a temporary reprieve, though.

When we got to the infamous 7-mile Hogpen climb, I didn't even think about trying to stay with the leaders. There was a KOM competition for this climb and the Wolfpen climb, so I knew there would be a few riders who would attack them. With 50 miles still left to ride, I was not feeling good at all. This climb was, for me, 42 minutes in the lowest gear I had, struggling to maintain a speed of eight miles per hour. To put it in perspective, Eric Murphy did this same climb in 28 minutes and Debbie Milne did it in 32. That's well over a minute per mile difference. I think each ultimately won the KOM and Eric also finished the whole century ride first. So I came over the top of Hogpen with a few other riders in the general vicinity, which was good. I also came over the top of Hogpen with a runny nose and a lot of back, neck and shoulder pain. After the fast and relatively non-technical descent of Hogpen I ended up with a nice-sized group of a dozen or so riders. The lead forty riders or so were long gone by then.

Like last year, Hogpen was a hands-on training course in Newton's law of gravitation and it had pretty much sucked the last few watts of power right out of my legs. I knew that Wolfpen would see me off the back for sure, but I was glad to have a group to ride with until we got there at mile 74. As my little group came around the turn shortly before the start of the Wolfpen climb I noticed something didn't feel right. I bounced up and down on the pedals and quickly confirmed that my rear tire was going soft. Somehow my obviously compromised capacity for rational thought, or perhaps my reluctance to leave the relative comfort of the group I was with, made me think I might be able to make it to the top before I'd have to stop to change it. Hope springs eternal. Well, of course my spongy tire and I came off the back as soon as the real climb started, and a mile or so later the rim was hitting the ground and I had to stop. Man, there's nothing worse than going straight from hard overgeared climbing to standing still. I took my time changing the tire as a steady stream of 3-gappers and a few 6-gappers rode by, occasionally offering a comment about bad luck or checking to make sure I didn't need help. Ten or fifteen minutes later I was back on the road riding the rest of the way to the top of the last major climb of the day. My legs felt like blocks of wood and it took me a long time to loosen up and get going again. This was really the only part of this year's ride where I spent a lot of time alone. Since I was already hurting before the flat and was now riding alone with 80 psi in my tire and little hope of putting in a better time than last year, I was pretty much in "limp home" mode. Then, with maybe fifteen or twenty miles to go I caught up with three Spanish speaking riders who were going just the right speed. That gave me a chance to recover a little bit, and also kept my speed from really going through the floor. Just before we turned into the high school parking lot for the finish, two of them turned off. I guess they weren't actually registered! Anyway, I ended up with an official time of 6:01 for 54th place. My computer showed around 5:49 for actual riding time. Considering that I felt significantly worse than last year, I was rather surprised I wasn't a lot farther down the list. Mitch finished a few minutes behind me, having ridden the whole thing with a low gear of 39x23. Once everything was back, we loaded the car back up and headed over to Atlanta to meet Gina Voci and Jon Atkins for a quick dinner at Six Feet Under. It was great to catch up with her while Mitch took the opportunity to talk them into doing next year's Rouge-Roubaix. We also talked about maybe getting few of the local riders to go up to Athens for one of the infamous WBL rides this winter. So after an excellent Guiness Stout and oyster loaf up on the rooftop deck overlooking the old cemetery, we finally hit the interstate for the long drive back home. Unfortunately, once I got home I began to realize I was coming down with another cold, or perhaps the same one I had a week ago was coming back. This time, though, it's turning into a bit of a chest cold so I'm back on the cold medicine for a while.

We made good time, arriving a bit before 2 am, which was a lot better than Steve and Pat. I learned today that they had broken down somewhere around Mobile where they waited on the side of the road until 1:30 am for a tow truck. They didn't get back to town until this afternoon. The results listing that was posted this afternoon is missing Mignon and Pat, so we're hoping they can fix that. It's also missing Rich, but he apparently forgot to put his timing chip on. Brady apparently hammered up the two KOM climbs, posting the 20th fastest KOM time while Donald Davis from Pensacola finished 5th overall. I'm impressed, and very sore.

Home Alone, a Bottle of Wine, and Top Gun

It seems that every morning is noticeably darker this time of year and that just makes it ever harder to get out to meet the group for those early group rides. At least today's ride didn't feature any wet asphalt for a change! There was a lot of horsepower in the group today and on the way out to the turnaround it showed. I suppose we may have had just the slightest bit of tailwind, but that didn't really make the steady 27 mph speed all that much easier. By the time we were halfway out I was down on the drops six inches from the wheel in front of me and wondering if my next pull would be my last. Except for Howard, everyone was holding a pretty steady pace, though, and with the six or seven riders who were still in the rotation I was getting just enough recovery to survive. After The Dip our pace slowed down for a little while, so that helped a bit too. Anyway, it was another good 40-something mile training ride.

This evening I'm sitting at home alone working my way through a bottle of Francis Coppola Merlot and watching, for the hundredth time, Top Gun. I admit it, I love watching those dogfights.

So this Saturday I'll be heading north for eight or nine hours to ride the Six Gap Century again. The weather forecast for Dahlonega, Ga. is looking kind of sketchy for Saturday, but much better for Sunday. The question, of course, is exactly when on Sunday it will be better. Flying down those winding downhills in the rain with wet brakes would be interesting, to say the least. Anyway, I'm looking forward to the trip regardless.

Red Skies and Rainy Roads

There was some soreness in my legs on Monday morning and it reminded me why I usually start the work week with an easy recovery ride. Apparently most of the other "levee riders" were recovering in bed because it was deserted as I rolled up to the meeting place. Over to the east the high clouds were on fire just before sunrise and I couldn't resist taking yet another sunrise photo. They never quite seem to capture the feeling, though. I guess that's why people keep trying to take those ubiquitous sunrise and sunset shots. So anyway, I did a nice easy spin and hung up the Orbea for the day. I must have been really dragging, however, because before I knew it I was running pretty late for work. It's really dangerous to turn on the TV news and/or check my email before I leave home. Inevitably I end up losing track of time.

One of the things on my to-do list for the day was to get in touch with the guy at the Orleans Levee District who has to give us the OK to use Lakeshore Drive for Rocktoberfest. He never responds to voicemails or emails. I finally got hold of him and I think we're OK. He thought there was a conflicting Cancer Association Walk that day and said he'd have to call me back. Two minutes after I hung up the phone I found the event on the web and saw that it was scheduled for that Saturday, and since the race is scheduled for Sunday I'm assuming we'll be good to go once I get the levee district police lined up. Of course, the OLB guy has yet to call me back and I'm sure he won't either. I'll have to call him, probably more than once. Anyway, I went ahead and updated the event announcement and website since time is tight, on the assumption that there won't be a problem. It's the same course we used for the Tour de La criterium, so I'm pretty sure the police don't have a problem with it. This will be the last race of the local road season, and as usual we'll be coming in on a wing and a prayer!

Today was the first official day of Fall, although you wouldn't have known it by the hot, muggy, humid air that slammed me in the face as I walked out the door this morning. I find it so hard to get out there on these dark mornings, and although the sticky air doesn't help much, it's still a lot better than a 38 degree north wind. We'll have that soon enough. When I got to the start, up on the levee, there were only a couple of people there and we were wondering where everyone else was. Well, eventually the rest showed up. I guess I'm not the only one who has to drag himself out into the dark on these mornings. Right as we started Max told me that the road was soaking wet a few miles upriver. I hadn't expected that. The sky seemed to be pretty clear and the forecast had certainly held no promise of rain. Sure enough, though, we were soon dodging wheel-spray and little puddles of water while squinting through slop-splattered glasses.

The ride itself was pretty good with most riders taking pulls at a civilized 24-25 mph or so. Matt was kind of pushing the pace a bit, but that was fine. Today, for the first time in a long time, we rode all the way to the end of the bike path. Although there is still a big "hill" of loose gravel where they laid the new pipeline over the levee, it is no longer blocked off. The ride back took a little while to get organized, but eventually it turned into a long double-paceline because of the light headwind. That sort of thing always starts to fall apart as we get nearer to the city and start to encounter more and more pedestrians and oncoming cyclists. After a while I decided it would be safer and less stressful to drop farther to the back where there was a little more room to maneuver.

Back on the Asphalt

By Friday the head cold had subsided a bit and a nice morning spin on the levee convinced me it was safe to get back on the asphalt. So Saturday morning I headed out as usual for the Giro Ride. It was a surprisingly small group - maybe 35 or so - and a I noticed a few of the regulars were missing. Since I was still a little tentative about asking too much from my lungs, I was being careful to keep my nose out of the wind, and under the circumstances, the relatively subdued pace suited me perfectly. I guess perhaps this was the first hint of the impending end of the racing season. Or perhaps it was that a number of people were planning on long Sunday rides. In my case, I was looking forward to a planned 80 mile LSD ride on the northshore, mainly to get us more or less prepared for the next week's trip to the Six-Gap Century.

I was up early on Sunday morning mapping out an extra 15-mile loop to turn our usual 65-mile route into an 80-mile one. Of course, I should have done that the night before, but the neighbor came over for dinner, and after a few glasses of wine it started to seem perfectly feasible that I could do it at 6 a.m. Nonetheless, I made it over to Puccino's in time to meet Mario and Mignon for the drive across the lake. By 8 am we'd added Steve, Pat and Jordan to make a nicely balanced 6-rider group. The idea for the day was to keep the pace smooth and steady, so Steve and I sat at the front of the short double-paceline for the first ten miles before pulling over the next pair. Other than a nagging sinus headache, I was feeling pretty good today even though I somehow managed to ride right off the edge of the road twice. I was having a bit of a balance problem when I'd move my head too quickly, so I guess that might have had something to do with it.

I had mapped out a short loop up around Pine, LA in order to add the necessary miles to our ride, and although I'd ridden those roads a few times in the past, I wasn't really very familiar with all of the intersections. Since practically none of the roads up there have signs, I managed to miss one of the turns, so we got a couple of extra "bonus miles." By the time we were back on the regular part of the route, it was starting to get pretty warm and we were starting to fight a bit of a headwind. So despite our moderate speed, those last thirty miles got gradually harder and harder. I think we were all pretty well toasted by the time we got back to the car with 84 miles for the day. Even so, I was glad that the only after-effects of my cold from earlier in the week was a fairly mild sinus headache and a couple of days off the bike.

A Little Bit Sick

A rainy Monday morning made my decision to skip riding easy, especially since my legs were still pretty sore from the weekend. In fact, I probably would have been fine if it had rained on Tuesday too, because even then my legs were not quite recovered. On the other hand, I'd just installed a new chain the night before and was anxious to find out if, for once, I'd done it early enough to avoid having to buy a new cassette too.

Of course, on Tueaday I rode anyway and for the most part, both the chain and I felt just fine. The only unusual thing I noticed was a bit of a runny nose. Well, by the end of the day on Tuesday the little runny nose had turned into a sore throat and post-nasal drip and I was feeling pretty bad. It was soon clear that I wouldn't be riding on Wednesday, although I did manage to drag myself out to a meeting where I collected some new work that I still haven't managed to finish doing because, of course, I have been a little bit sick since then. Apparently this thing is going around, too, because lots of other folks around here seem to be coming down with the same kind of head cold.

So now it's Thursday night and I haven't been on the bike since Tuesday and I still feel pretty lousy. The throat soreness has moved closer to my lungs and my head has gotten more and more stuffy, and now I'm wondering if I'll be up to a planned long ride on Sunday. I'm determined to get on the bike tomorrow morning, even if it's just for a short spin. At least I'm pretty sure I won't have trouble getting up early because if tonight is anything like last night, I won't be getting much sleep anyway.

District Roads

Back in the day, we used to just refer to the state road championships as simply "district roads." Most "districts" were actually States, but a few were combined, like Northern California/Nevada, hence the term "district." Since La. and Ms. are now combined under one "local association," namely LAMBRA, I guess it would make sense to use the term "district." USAC, however, continues to refer only to "state championships" in the rulebook. Go figure. It used to be pretty simple. There were just one or two races, maybe fifteen riders in all, the required minimum distance was 110 miles, the race had to be held on one of two weekends in July, and the top two riders qualified for Nationals. Things have changed, and nowadays the district championships are more about medals and bragging rights, but there is still something special about winning anything with the word championship in it.

The forecast for the weekend LAMBRA Road Championships up in Natchez, MS was not looking good, and I was lucky to be able to load all of the LAMBRA equipment into the Volvo at 5:45 am without getting wet. By the time I was on the interstate, though, it was already raining. It didn't stop until I was well into Mississippi, but at least it was looking a bit more promising by then.

By the time the Masters races started at 2 pm the 5+ mile course was mostly dry. Our 35+/45+ group had about 30 riders and a lot of horsepower in it, so I was expecting a pretty fast one. Early in the race a couple of riders got off the front and it took quite a while to bring them back. Soon afterward there was a big surge just after we'd come over the two big climbs on the loop and I soon found myself off the front with Frank M. and another rider. I was a little worried about being in a break that early, but figured I'd go with it anyway. So we started working together pretty well and the gap started to grow. After a few laps, I looked back and couldn't see the pack. With maybe four laps left to go I thought we were probably safe. Then, all of a sudden, Russ Walker and one of the S3 guys (John or Frank) materialized as if they'd parachuted in. I was surprised because we were going at what I thought was a pretty fast pace. Well, once they joined us the pace went up another notch and I started to think I might be in trouble.

I think I made it around the course one more time, and then there was an attack when we hit the hills. There are three climbs on this course that come in quick succession. The first one isn't too steep, then it levels out, climbs steeply again, drops down, and then there's a really steep little hill. I had expected something to happen and had decided to keep it in the big ring. Big, big mistake. I was already anaerobic coming over the top of the second one and I knew I was in trouble. Sure enough, I bogged down on the steepest section and completely blew up. So now there were four riders ahead of me and the pack behind me. Hmmmm. I was not feeling too optimistic about this. On the next lap I was caught by what was left of the pack. I had a chance to recover a bit and managed a decent placing in the pack sprint and since everyone in the break except Frank M. was racing 35+, I ended up with the silver medal in the 45+ age group. Sheer luck, of course, but I was at least glad that I'd made the break and put in a good effort, even if my overall placing was a bit disappointing.

Sunday morning the weather looked worse, but at least my legs weren't feeling too bad. So I went ahead and registered for the Cat. 1/2 race. This was a small field of maybe a dozen riders, so I was pretty much expecting to get dropped at some point. Right off the bat, Russ W., who had won Saturday's Master 35+ race, just turned around and quit for some reason. With so few riders and 72 miles to go, nobody seemed in a big hurry to attack. This was good for me, because my only strategy for this race was to spend as much time wheel-surfing at the back as possible in order to conserve energy for the last few laps when I knew the real race would probably start. So near the end of the first or second lap Frank M. flatted just as one of his teammates, Jake, rolled off the front. Kenny dropped back to pace Frank back to the group and luckily the rest of the pack was in a good mood and took it easy until he got back. In the meantime, however, Jake had built up a lead of at least a minute. I think it eventually got up around four minutes. With five Herring riders in the group, the task of reeling him back in fell mainly to two riders from Precision and three from S3. Brian R. and company did a ton of work on the front and over the course of maybe five or six laps (our race was 14 laps) finally brought him back. Somewhere along the way the sky opened up. Just as we were catching Jake, Bain F. launched. There was a big surge for a while, but of course the other Herring riders weren't going to chase and the other guys were probably already feeling the effects of their earlier efforts, so pretty soon Bain was sailing off into the sunset leaving everyone else to race for second place. So once again, with a Herring rider off the front and relatively few others left to chase, the pace stayed fairly steady. This was good for me, and by the time we saw three laps to go I figured I'd at least be able to finish this one. Along the way, riders were dropping like flies due to flats tires and broken spokes. With a few laps to go, our group was down to just five riders and I was starting to have a little trouble on the climbs. I knew something was going to happen on the last laps. I also knew that I probably wasn't going to be able to do anything about it.

With two laps to go, Woody attacked the hilly section and I had to dig really deep to hang on. Then, the last time we hit the hilly section, Frank M. attacked really hard. This time I'd kept it in the small ring, but I still popped off the back halfway up that same steep hill that had gotten me the day before. This time, though, I didn't completely blow up and was able to get my legs moving again once I came over the top as the following car passed me. I looked up the road and sensed that they were backing off a bit, so I clicked up a few gears and put my head down. I slowly started to close the gap and within a mile or so I was back in the draft. We flew around the sharp right turn and Frank attacked again. This time the gap opened quickly. Woody, of course, wasn't going to chase, and everyone hesitated. Then Brian took off in pursuit. I looked up the road and thought maybe he'd waited too long, but despite all the work he'd already done he made contact surprisingly quickly. That left John, Woody and me. At that point all I really wanted to do was to avoid getting dropped again. John and I traded pulls as we rode out the final miles to the finish. As we came up the steep road onto the top of the dam, less than a kilometer from the finish, I was, of course, at the back. The sprint ramped up rather late, but it was complicated by the fact that we had to pass a little group from another race in the last 300 meters or so. I think that caused Woody to hesitate for just a moment before coming around John. I did what I could, but didn't have quite enough road left to get past John, so that put me in 6th place. I was pretty satisfied with that, though.

Afterward, I stayed around to help with the afternoon races. Although we'd had only one good rain shower during our race, the afternoon races were run pretty much entirely in the rain -- some of it hard. The Cat. 4 follow car said they changed at least 20 flats, and that's not counting all of the dropped riders who also flatted. I'm sure I saw at least three people ride across the finish on flat tires, and I think two others who were on foot. There were also a few crashes on the wet roads. I think Ed N. must have set the record, though, with two crashes and three flats for the weekend. Under the circumstances, I was quite happy to be driving home with all my skin and air in my tires.

The rest of the club had some good finishes. Robert Monahan looked really strong in the Junior race and was 2nd in the 13-14 age group. Carin, after getting lost on the drive to the race and starting late, was still 2nd in the 45+ women's race, and Steve J. was 6th in the 45+ men's race. Then on Sunday, Mignon had a great race, finishing a strong 3rd while Jordan got the bronze medal in the Cat. 5 race and Brooks and Brady survived the carnage and punctures in the Cat. 4 race to finish 9th and 11th. I took some photos that are now on the NOBC website.

In My Ear

Riding back home atop the levee this morning, I thought, "Damn, this is an odd sensation."

I had made the fateful decision to get in a few miles this morning despite the undeniable certainty of imminent rain. The radar clearly showed a thick band of rain approaching from the south, and there was little chance it would hold off for more than half an hour. On the other hand, there was also little doubt that once the rain started it wasn't going to stop. The big low pressure area moving in to Texas was just pumping an unending stream of moisture right over the city. So I put the phone in a Ziploc bag and jumped on the old Cervelo knowing full well I'd get wet. The only question was how soon and how much.

My rule of thumb about riding in the rain is that it's usually fine for the first half-hour. After that things tend to start getting messy and, usually, cold. Messy I can handle, cold not so much. I figured I'd probably be able to sneak in half an hour before the rain started, at which point I'd turn around and ride home in the rain as my shoes filled with water, which is pretty much what happened today.

There were just a couple of us willing to take the plunge this morning, and I was the only one who would have to turn around to ride back. I figured I'd probably make it at least out to the Country Club before turning back, and indeed that was about when the light mist started to harden into a light rain. So I turned around just as I we met up with Taylor who decided to ride with me for a while. The sky to the southeast was that bluish-gray color that is never a good sign, and we were heading straight for it. Soon the light rain got harder and we started to feel the sudden, cold downdrafts coming out of the storm. Taylor turned back and I continued on alone. We had passed John, heading the other way, a bit earlier, and soon I heard him come up behind me. The rain had now become largely horizontal, stinging my face and blowing my front wheel around on the wet asphalt. I felt the cold water soak into my socks and could taste the old salty sweat as it washed out of my helmet pads and dripped down my face. As the road turned more to the east I had the odd sensation of having raindrops blown directly into my right ear as the "26 Wind Tunnel vents" of my helmet offered little resistance to the pelting rain. I had made the right decisions, however, and as I dropped down from the levee to River Road the rain eased up just a bit. With both front and back blinky lights flashing, I worked my way back home through the neighborhood, dodging the school buses and SUV moms, arriving home in plenty of time to avoid too bad of a chill. It was probably only about 15 miles, but you know, you've gotta ride when you can. It's nearly 3 pm right now and the rain hasn't really let up much all day. Fortunately, neither have the city's drainage pumps!

Stiff Legs and Pantry Moths

By Tuesday evening I already knew I'd be skipping the Wednesday ride. After four days of solid training rides, my legs were clearly in open rebellion. This was a distressing, if not unexpected, development. Actually, it was just another reminder that I'm not 25 any more. I hate those kinds of reminders. There was something else, though. Something just wasn't right. By noon, I had a headache and I was quite sure I'd made the right decision about taking a day off the bike. The rest of the day was pretty much downhill from there, and not in the freewheeling down the side of a mountain sense either.

So after a restless night of little sleep I rolled out of bed on Thursday morning wondering if the rain would give me a chance to ride. Even at 6 am there was a fair amount of green on the radar, but it looked like the morning levee ride stood a fighting chance. I stepped out the door and looked up at a sky full of stars. This time of year, Orion dominates the eastern sky at my house, and today it was clear and bright. I wondered where all the clouds were. The weather around here has been quite unsettled and it looks like something is about to blow up in the western Gulf of Mexico. The chances of rain for the weekend keep going up and up and I'm thinking we might see some rain for the district road championships up in Natchez this weekend.

Anyway, I had mixed feelings about doing the Thursday training ride today. On the one hand, I really felt like I needed a ride. On the other, I didn't want to find myself with sore legs on Saturday. So basically I was trying to take it easy without getting dropped, which isn't quite as easy as it sounds. One little complication was that Brett was there, and his easy ride is probably five miles per hour faster than mine. So despite trying to take it easy, I ended up doing a little bit more work than I'd planned even though I spent quite a bit of time sitting on the back and closing gaps. Overall, though, I think I did OK and survived the ride without doing too much damage to my fragile old legs.

So this weekend we have the LAMBRA road championships. Geez, I wonder how many road championships I've done over the years. Although the courses may be similar from year to year, every one feels quite different. Some years I feel like I'm in really good shape; some years, not so much. This would be one of the latter, I guess. I'll be making the 3-hour drive up to Natchez State Park early Saturday so I can bring all of the LAMBRA equipment in time for the first races at 10 am. The masters races start in the early afternoon. Then I'll be staying overnight and will probably at least start the Cat. 1/2/3 race, if only for the exercise. I'm hoping we won't be racing in the rain all weekend, but the forecast is not looking too encouraging in that regard. We'll see. The way things are going weather-wise, anything could happen -- and it usually does!

Meanwhile, back at the house, I've been battling Pantry Moths. These little buggers have been showing up here and there, mostly in front of my face, lately. The other day I found them in an old box of wheat crackers and thought I'd found the mother lode, but there were still a few flying around today, so I went methodically thought he pantry (yep, that's where they were) and eventually found the source -- an unopened box of pecan rice. Hopefully, they've been eradicated now!

Hitting and Missing the Scattered Rain

I was looking forward to a nice Northshore ride in the country, but the Sunday morning forecasts were distinctly inconsistent and noncommittal. Even so, if I had to choose between riding in the rain in the country and riding in the rain down Highway 90, I'd go with the country every time. Thus, 6:45 am found me at Puccino's, dumping four sugars into my cup of dark roast. A minute later, Woody walked in, so once we confirmed that Diego wasn't going to make it, I threw stuff into his truck and we headed for the Lee Road school. Since it was a holiday weekend, I figured the turnout would be sketchy so I wasn't surprised when we rolled out with only a half-dozen. On the plus side, though, we got going pretty much on time and the smaller group meant fewer complications and unscheduled stops. We lost Jason to domestic obligations somewhere around Enon, leaving just Pat, Steve, Jay, Woody and me. This was going to me a nice training ride.

Despite forecasts to the contrary, there were only some scattered clouds to break up the clear blue sky above us and the temperature, at least for the first hour or so, was relatively cool. For early September, "relatively" means upper 70 to lower 80s around here. Around halfway around the 65 mile route we turn onto Hwy. 437, and as always the pace picks up here. It's funny how training rides always seem to evolve so that there are specific sections where you know it will be fast and other sections where you know it will be easy. Well, after pushing the pace up a couple of climbs three of us split off the front and just kept the hammer down for the next few miles. This stretch of road has a number of the longer, harder hills on it, and so if you're feeling good, this section is really fun. If you're not, well, not so much..... Fortunately I was feeling good.

After a quick stop at the Enon store on the way back we headed up the Watchtower hill with Woody and Jay riding a smooth tempo at the front that kept the group from coming apart. A couple of minutes later I looked down at Woody's rear tire and asked, "did you check your tire pressure before we started?" It was soon apparent that he had a slow leak. We pulled over to a shady spot to change it as Jay continued on since he was running late. Woody checked the tire and decided to go ahead and see if it would make it all the way back. We were probably only seven or eight miles from the cars, but a couple of miles later we were forced to stop and fix it anyway. On the last run-in to the finish we kicked it up a notch just for fun. I really enjoyed this ride - a good workout, not too many stops, and back home before 1 pm. We had somehow missed all of the rain, although it did arrive later in the afternoon.

The email lists were pretty quiet on Sunday and it wasn't clear that anyone had a plan for a Labor Day group ride. Late in the day, Dave sent an email mentioning that there had been some talk that day about meeting for a 7 am levee ride, so I figured I'd go for that. If nobody showed, I could still do a nice steady ride solo. Well, as it turned out there was a pretty big group up there when I arrived. After Sunday's ride I was in the mood for a smooth, steady ride that wouldn't be too demanding on my legs, so I soon found myself sitting near the back of the paceline with cruise-control firmly engaged. It was really just what I wanted. The only problem was the threatening sky. As we headed northwest on the levee a nice bright rainbow formed ahead of us and stayed there for most of the way out to the turnaround. David L'Hoste took that great photo with his iPhone. By the time we were heading back, though, things were looking a bit worse. We rode through a little rain shower, then we were back on dry roads, and then we came to a section of road, a few miles long, where it had just rained. This was pretty messy with wheel spray and all, so I just dropped back behind the rooster tail zone for a while. By the time I got back home I was back on dry roads again. Scattered rain showers, indeed.

Wet Streets and Flat Tires

"I think the humidity has returned," I said, even before putting a foot down at the start of the Friday morning ride. The group up on the levee was small, but typical for a Friday, as we headed out for the week's last workday ride. It was a typical Friday ride with everyone taking long steady pulls at moderate speeds. You could see that the sky was changing. After a week or so of atypically dry (relatively speaking) air, the wind was now shifting around to the east. I knew that by evening it would be from the south, pulling in Gulf moisture and putting us back into a more typical late summer pattern.

By late afternoon things at work were shutting down early ahead of the upcoming 3-day weekend, so by 4 pm I was already on my way home. My nephew James and company were coming to town that evening, James from Baton Rouge where he's in architecture grad school, and the others from Florida, so we were planning to meet up at my mother's house for dinner. I guess the timing was off a bit, though, because it was probably around 8:30 or 9:00 before everyone arrived. That wouldn't have been a problem, except that the delay resulted in my drinking at least one beer and two glasses of wine too many, which is why you're looking at Friday's photos on Saturday.

Speaking of Saturday, I rode out to the lakefront, by way of the Harrison Avenue Starbucks, under cloudy skies. It had rained during the night, and the streets were still wet in some places. The group was a bit smaller than usual, but included a new rider who just moved here and is on the History faculty at Loyola. Naturally I failed to get his name. The ride itself got pretty fast down Hayne Blvd. and Chef Highway, the only real problem being that there was still a lot of water on the roads, resulting in a whole lot of wheel spray. As we were flying down Chef I remember wondering who would have the first flat. Sure enough, just after we turned around, Howard flatted. Once he got that fixed we started up again, at which point my own rear tire went flat. So again we stopped. Don't you just love fixing flat tires when the tires are all wet and nasty? We made it all the way to the service road on the way back before Courtney's tire flatted. This time the front of the group kept going and just a few of us stopped. After that we just rode back in at an easy pace.

Assuming the weather cooperates, I'm planning on doing the Northshore ride tomorrow, once I patch a few tubes. BTW, I saw today that Willow won bronze at the Worlds mountain bike championships down under. Always nice to see some U.S. riders kicking butt at Worlds.

Roller-Coaster Training

I've always found it amazing that I can feel great one day and lousy the next, and yet have no rational explanation for the change. Sometimes, in fact, I can feel slow and sluggish while warming up for a race, and then go on to have a great ride fifteen minutes later. Wednesday and Thursday were like that. On the Wednesday morning training ride my legs were happy. Maybe the cooler air had something to do with it? I really can't explain it, since my routine lately has been, well, routine. Then on Thursday it seemed like all the snap had been drained right out of me.

A bit after 5 pm on Wednesday I closed the office door and walked down the courtyard to the bike rack. The fifteen minute ride from work to home would give me at least another fifteen minutes to change and get out the door on the Orbea for the 25-minute ride out to the lakefront. As I approached the bike rack, however, I found one of the "regular" bikes upside-down and its rather frustrated looking owner putting a wheel with an obviously flat tire back onto it. I asked if she needed a tube. It turned out that she'd had a flat and then found her spare tube was leaking as well. Since she had a fairly long commute out to the lower garden district (one of the streets named after the Greek Muses), she was going to have to call for help. So I put my presta valve tube onto her schraeder valve hole wheel, cutting a hole in a business card and sticking it over the stem to prevent the tube from coming through the gap. Of course, that put me a bit behind schedule. My legs, however, were still in happy mode, so the ride to the lakefront went by quickly and I hit Lakeshore Drive just a couple of minutes past 6 pm. I figured I'd catch the group coming the other way and only miss half a lap, but when I saw Kenny coming toward me I found out that there was no group - at least yet. As the two of us rode together the bikie gravitational effect began to take hold and by the time we were starting the second lap we had a reasonably sided group of seven or so. We were still riding pretty easy as Kenny looked over and said, "I guess the season must be ending...."

Soon, though, the pace started to climb up into training race territory. Brandon had joined the group before the speed increase, and since he was riding his 29'er mountain bike, with knobbies, I figured we'd lose him pretty quickly. Two laps later I was hanging onto his (enormous) rear wheel going 30 mph and wondering where my happy legs had gone. Mike W. was in the group playing games, opening gaps now and then, one of which finally did Brandon in with a couple of laps to go. Rolan was in the group doing a ton of work and taking some really hard pulls, and I was just kind of pulling through and trying to keep the speed up. With a couple of laps left to go, Mike started sitting in, but I wasn't really in the mood to play that game. Thus, I wasn't surprised when I heard him attack after the last trip around the fountain. Although I didn't sprint, my legs were still feeling good by the time I got home around sundown with 60 miles for the day.

This morning I really had to drag myself out of bed. It was dark and I felt tired as I made my way to the levee. I guess it wasn't so much that I was tired as it was that I was sleepy. Anyway, I was hoping for a nice smooth paceline day as we rolled out from the meeting spot. That hope went right out the window when I saw Tim and Woody coming toward me. At the time, I was a bit ahead of the group, but just moments later they all came screaming past me so fast that I had to dig just to get into the draft. After that, it just got faster. When a little gap opened up in front of VJ, I thought, "he'll close it." A few seconds later it was starting to dawn on me that he wouldn't. Just then, Brady jumped around us on the left to bridge up to the front group. I started to go too, but there was some oncoming traffic so I hesitated, and as every bike racer knows, "He who hesitates, is dropped." I went around and tied to pull it back gradually, but it wasn't happening. They were going around 30 mph, I guess, so I wiggled my elbow so the next guy could take over, but the next guy wasn't there. I dropped my head and looked back under my arm to see a vast expanse of air between me and the next guy. Crap. I eased up and we all regrouped, thanks largely to Max setting a good even tempo, and eventually we got a nice rotation going. The front group by then was at least a minute up the road, even though we were going 25-26 mph ourselves. Tim, Woody and Brady turned around at the Dip, so I thought maybe we'd catch the remainder of the front group before the turnaround, but I guess they kept the pace up because we didn't.

I found the ride back kind of frustrating. I really hate having a big group trying to do a circular paceline on that narrow bike path, especially when a certain person keeps surging three or four miles per hour every time he hits the front. Every time there's an oncoming bike, which becomes more and more frequent as we near the city, things get disrupted, gaps open, the pace surges, and general chaos ensues. After a while, it was just Rob, Rolan and me. When we got to the bridge Rob and Rolan surged and I didn't. All I wanted at that point was a nice easy ride home.

Riding to Lunch

It was dark -- really dark -- when I stumbled out the basement door this morning. I mean, it's bad enough that sunrise is getting noticeably later each day, but on top of that, there were some clouds in the east blocking what little scattered sunlight there is at 6 am. This is always a tough transition time for me. The morning darkness makes it hard to get out of bed, and every little drop in predawn temperature just reminds me that, before I know it, I'll be searching for the arm-warmers. And so I rode out to meet the group somewhat unenthusiastically today, swerving around the tracks in front of the crowded streetcar barn. To make matters worse, it was one of those days when the riders weren't all on the same page. I took a few pulls but soon got frustrated with the jumpy pace and frequent gaps. Finally I just sat up and dropped all the way to the back, eventually settling in behind Lawrence who was on his TT bike shadowing the tail of the group a couple of bike lengths back. The smoother pace was just what I needed today.

On the way back I guess I was a bit more involved until the crash. It happened just past Williams Blvd. Those of us near the front didn't even realize there had been a crash. We heard some yelling behind us and looked at each other. "Someone punctured??" After slowing down and making a U-turn, I could see someone lying on the concrete slope of the levee and knew there must have been a crash. It turned out that Big Randy, who often rides with the group on his TT bike, had gotten tangled up in Steve's rear wheel and gone down pretty hard. His helmet was cracked in numerous places and he was favoring his right shoulder and elbow. We later learned that he's sprained his AC joint, somehow avoiding anything more serious.

Around lunchtime I decided not to let the slightly cooler and drier air go to waste and rode over to Whole Foods for lunch. There's nothing better than a absurdly expensive sandwich to make you feel better. On the way back, I pulled out the Blackberry camera and took a few shots along the way - a look down the oak-shaded road in Audubon Park, the front yard of a house on Audubon, and a classic Victorian cottage with the classic New Orleans landscaping - a big Sago Palm (yes, I know it's really a cycad), some Louisiana Iris, and Boston Fern in a hanging basket on the front porch. They aren't very good photos, so you'll just have to use your imagination a little bit. These are some of the little things that make living in the city so nice. Today, I think the ride to lunch was better than the training ride.

So Rich S. is presently leading the way toward forming a Tulane cycling club. I guess it will all depend on the level of interest we can get from the undergrads. We'll see how it goes. If LSU gets one going too, things could get interesting.