Predictably Unpredictable

Guess it's winter now.

The weather around here has been pretty unpredictable lately, a fact that is entirely predictable this time of year. Together with various early holiday activities, it has been playing havoc with my stuttering attempts to get my training routine back on track. After Wednesday's rain-out of the WeMoRi, along with the dismal weather forecast, I wasn't feeling too hopeful in Thursday morning when I awoke, even though it sounded like the streets outside were dry. Checking the radar moments later it looked like there might be a two-hour window before the rain started, so I piled on enough clothes to make sure I wouldn't be exacerbating my lingering cold and headed for the river levee. I knew I wouldn't seen anyone up there at the usual 6 am meeting time. I was right. Still, I was thinking there was a good chance I'd be able to do the full ride without getting wet. I wasn't even to Williams Blvd. when I felt the first raindrops, and although it didn't look like there would be a lot of rain, I turned back anyway since getting chilled and wet while trying to recover from a cold is never a good idea. Naturally, the rain stopped five minutes after I'd turned around, so I added a few miles around Audubon Park before going home. Oh well. Better than nothing, I guess.

Across the lake in Abita Springs they has some real snow on Friday (this is Alison, who I knew would be out riding in it).

The rest of the day it rained. I dropped Candy off at the Marriott in the afternoon where she would be at a Psych conference until Saturday afternoon. Friday was more of the same - cold rain, but it was at least interesting because a lot of places were getting some actual genuine snow, which really only happens once ever 7-10 years. Metro New Orleans was on the edge, protected a bit by the relatively warm lake, so all we saw were a few very brief flurries - and lots of rain that finally started to let up in the afternoon. Friday night I went downtown to the Marriott for the Psych party. I'd been drafted earlier in the week to make a surprise photo video for Jim, who would be leaving the department soon to take another job. When I arrived I was handed a camera and asked to take a bunch of photos. It took me a while to get comfortable with the big DLSR and took a few photos of the floor along the way. So dinner was party food and wine. The wine was pretty good, though, since Candy had gotten them to get some Phantom wine like we've been drinking at home lately.

Setting up the flyover for cyclocross championships

Saturday morning it was 34 degrees outside and as I rode out to Starbucks I wondered who, if anyone, would show up for the Giro. I found VJ, Taco, Phil, and Adam. We weren't too wild about riding Chef Highway with such a small group on such a cold and windy morning, so decided to do a lap of Lakeshore Drive and then maybe ride the lakefront bike path even though the sections that cross over the levee have still not been re-paved. On Lakeshore Drive it seemed nobody was really all that interested in riding much. I was at the front most of the time, not going very hard, but even so VJ and Taco turned off before we got to West End. Then, just after we got past Causeway, Phil flatted. This began a 20-minute tire-repair saga. As I was to discover only toward the end, Phil hadn't ever fixed a flat before. I should have realized something was amiss when he removed the tire completely from the rim and then, after I pried the offending piece of rock out of the tread, he started by putting the tube on the rim. I guess I should have stepped in at that point, but my brain was already beginning to freeze. He had all sorts of trouble inflating the tube, which needed an extender to get through his 404s, and emptied the first CO2 cartridge in to the air. I thought it was because the valve extender wasn't quite long enough, so got out my own inhalator, only to learn that he didn't actually know how to use the one he had. Ahh. So we get another CO2 cartridge and get the tire mostly filled, but it's still low, so we use one more to get it up to a reasonable pressure (Phil's a big guy). That's when we notice that the bead isn't quite seated one place. I figure there's a 50/50 chance it's going to blow off the rim at any moment, so I rode back to Starbucks with Phil just in case. Luckily, he made it. By then I was freezing, but determined to get in some badly needed mileage, so I headed through town to the river levee.

Up there I ran into Darren, so we rode together all the way out to the Dip. Halfway out I saw Taco on his way back, so I guess he'd gone straight from Lakeshore Drive to the levee earlier. I ended up with 60 miles, which was good, even though my legs were feeling kind of sore by the end. That afternoon I went over to the park to help set up the big wooden Flyover they were using for Sunday's cyclocross race. About halfway through I got a call from Candy to come pick her up from downtown, which was probably a good thing because my arms are still sore from all the heavy lifting. That evening I went over to Pat's boathouse to watch the Christmas boat parade, which was nice, and then stopped over at Brian's house for a little cocktail party where the wine was quite nice. So dinner again was party food and wine. Since I knew Sunday would be a long day I didn't stay very late and slipped out around 10:00. I think I was asleep about ten minutes after I arrived home.

Masters and Single-speeds were combined

Sunday was the cyclocross championship in Audubon Park that I was officiating with Mike and Michelle, so my morning ride was basically just a coffee run to Starbucks and a couple of miles with the Giro before turning back.

Michelle, Mike, and Me in-between races

The cyclocross races were well-attended and the weather was pretty nice, although we did have some odd problems with placings for a couple of riders. I was using CrossMgr, which was working fairly well, although as usual I missed a few riders on a few laps and typed in the wrong numbers a few times which kind of screwed up those results. With two other officials also scoring the races it really shouldn't have been a problem, but somehow they were having trouble with missing some numbers and ended up placing a couple of people incorrectly. Getting those problems fixed of course delayed everything even more. I think we got it all right in the end, but we really need to work on a few things with the promoter. First off, the course was too short. The minimum for CX is really supposed to be 2.5 km, or about 1.5 mi.  This one was only 0.8 mi. which meant a lot of lapped riders in some of the races that had multiple fields on the course concurrently. Then, as usual, there were the badly placed bib numbers and, even worse, a lot of riders with numbers that were out of sequence for their groups. That meant I had to add specific numbers to CrossMgr's category setups to accommodate. To make matters even worse, there were riders who were deciding to race a second race at the last minute, usually with a number from a different race.

So basically, as difficult as it is normally to score a cyclocross race, it was even more confusing and prone to error on Sunday. At one point I scored one of the smaller races entirely by myself because things were running late and the other two officials had to spend almost the entire 45 minutes trying figure out the results of the prior race. Anyway, I finally got home around 4:30 or so, got the results posted, did the post-event report, generated the officials' invoices, and ordered a pizza. I think I was in bed by 8:30.

As Predicted

Not what you want to see in the morning.

It was just past 5 am when looked out the window. It looked windy, but the street was dry and for a moment, I thought I'd be able to make the WeMoRi. Then I checked weather.com. "Rain in view."  Crap. Right on cue, exactly as predicted, it started to rain.

I have few hard and fast rules about cycling. One of them is that I don't go out on training rides when the temperature is in the 40s, and it's raining, and I'm recovering from a cold, and it's dark.  Well, unless it's a race, of course. My luck had already run out yesterday evening anyway. I'd been happily tapping away at a big spreadsheet at work around 4:45 when I figured I'd better check the weather radar.  Yikes!  The big cold front was already knocking on the door and it was raining in Kenner.  I jumped up, grabbed my new highly waterproof Timbuktu messenger bag, and ran for the elevator.  "I think I can make it. I think I can. I think I can." As I jumped on the bike and headed down appropriately named "Perdido Street" I could already feel a light mist falling. The sky to the west - the direction I was heading - was black.  "I think I can.  I think I can."  I got across S. Claiborne, rounded the LSUHMC Medical Education Building, and the raindrops became dramatically larger. I thought, "I think I can't make it home without getting very wet."  I ducked underneath the overhead walkway and pulled out my rain jacket, wishing I'd brought my waterproof cap instead of the old cotton flat cap I was wearing. By the time I had the jacket on and was back on the road it was pouring rain and the gutters were already filling with standing water. I thought, "If I'd left just fifteen minutes earlier I'd have gotten home dry."

As it was, I got home soaking wet except for my torso that was nicely protected by my rain jacket. At least the temperature hadn't dropped yet. As I write, it's 7 am, raining, and the temperature is a couple of degrees colder than it was when I awoke. My shoes are still soaking wet from yesterday's ride home.

Guess there won't be any riding for me today. Again.

Sidelined

River fog for Thursday's levee ride.

"Well, at least I wasn't expecting to be able to ride this weekend anyway." The thought first went through my mind on Thursday afternoon. I could already feel the beginnings of the sore throat that, a few hours later, would be a full-fledged head cold. Thursday night I got basically no sleep at all. The only position that was tolerable was sitting. I sucked on whatever zinc lozenges I could find in the house, took pseudoephedrine and naproxen, and hoped for the best. By sunrise I knew I wouldn't be making it in to work on Friday. You'd think I would have gotten a lot of rest on Friday, but I guess I was so hopped up on caffeine and pseudoephedrine that I wasn't sleepy. Although I tried to rest, I ended up steam-cleaning carpet, sweeping floors, cleaning the kitchen, and generally doing random housework in-between sessions at the computer. By Friday evening the sore throat had abated and I could feel the lung congestion starting, but overall was feeling considerably better. This was a good thing because I was scheduled to get up at 5 am on Saturday and drive up to Ridgeland, Mississippi for two days of cyclocross officiating. Fortunately, the weather forecast wasn't up to the usual cyclocross standards of freezing cold rain. In fact, by the time the races started at 10 am the forecast called for sunny skies and temperatures in the 60s.

I hit the road Saturday a bit after 5:30 am and had a reasonably nice 200 mile drive up through Jackson to the Tri-County Mountain Bike Association's Ridgeland Trails. The only problem was all of the construction along I-55. Arriving at the race site I was surprised that Wes had decided to put the start/finish right at the entrance rather than alongside the nice big shelter where it had been last year. That meant we'd be relying on his truck for power. He also hadn't put up the pop-up shelters, which didn't really matter except that it made it hard to read the computer screen. With three officials on hand for this race, I felt a lot more comfortable about using CrossMgr for scoring. The only problem with CrossMgr is that if I screw up too much and key in bad bib numbers or click on them at the wrong time, the results can get pretty distorted, so you really need to have those backup officials doing manual scoring. As it turned out, everything worked pretty well and we were consistently getting the results out within ten minutes of the race finishes. Sunday's races were basically repeats of Saturday's, so all of that went quite smoothly as well. The whole time I was there I had a little voice in one ear telling me I should be riding and another little voice in the other ear telling me I was sick and definitely shouldn't be riding. Fortunately, I had not brought any riding clothes with me in order to eliminate the temptation. I did have my old mountain bike since I thought it would be useful for running back and forth from the pavillion to the parking area, but since the finish wasn't at the pavillion, it wasn't really needed.

I slept in this morning. I'm feeling a lot better but there's still some lung congestion and there's just no point in pushing it right now. The only problem is that the weather around here is about to take a turn for the worse, so it's looking increasingly unlikely that I'll be logging much mileage at all this week. A cold front will be coming through tomorrow afternoon, which means we'll be going from a high on Tuesday of 77 degrees to 51 by Wednesday morning. Oh, and of course there's rain the forecast through Friday. Once that front comes through we'll be looking at lows in the 40 for the forseeable future, including the cyclocross championships on Sunday.

Another Age Group

An easy group ride out to the Spillway on Friday after Thanksgiving

When I rode my very first bike race I was a 17 year-old Junior. My brother and I had ridden from home to City Park for one of the NOBC's Novice Races. These were 20-mile races around the Roosevelt Mall / Palm Drive loop that would still be an excellent place for a bike race if they would ever re-pave it. I didn't finish that race because of a piece of Oak branch that got lodged in my derailleur. After that there were many years of racing as a "Senior," which is what we used to call everyone from 18 to 34, at least until McDonald's started offering "Senior Discounts" to people over 50. The old guys were called "Veterans," or just "Vets" for short, and there weren't many of them back then. In 1980 a bunch of us drove non-stop to Bisbee, Arizona for "Senior" Nationals where we mostly got our butts kicked on the 6-mile road course that just went straight up and down a mountain.

Road trip to '84 M-Nats

The next thing I knew it was the summer 1984 and I was squeezed into a van with Candy and our new baby Danielle, and a box of diapers, and Jim Bergin and Stan Truxillo and I think a couple of others and we were on our way to North Carolina for one of the very first "Masters Nationals" where I'd be racing in the 30-34 (or maybe it was 30-39 then?) age group. They called us "pre-mature" Vets.  Pun intended. Candy raced the road race first while I watched the baby, then when she finished I handed Danielle to her, jumped on the bike already overheated, and did my race. Candy made the podium in her TT age group and I was 7th in the road race and Stan made the podium. There wasn't a criterium back then.

USCF Nats Awards '84

Pretty soon the Masters concept kind of solidified at the USCF. They changed how our racing ages were determined, they changed our license numbers, and fairly quickly moved to 5-year age groups and the requirement that one have a Cat. 1, 2 or 3 license for the larger mass-start age groups. By '88 I was back at M-Nats in Pensacola in the 35-39 age group. I think that was the year that Billy Richards won a couple of medals in the incredibly old age group of 60-64.  Next was Augusta, GA in '94 when I finally made the podium in the Criterium in, I think, the 40-44 age group. I might have made the podium in the road race as well but as I came over the big hill 300 meters before the sprint my chain jammed between the freewheel and frame and all I could do was coast across the line as half the field passed me up. Most frustrating finish ever.

In '97 and '98 I went to Tallahassee for M-Nats, by then racing in the 45-49 age group. That was my last trip to Nationals. 3rd in the Crit. Every year since then I just sigh when I renew my license and see my new racing age. With a birthday at the end of November, my racing age is always kind of a year ahead of me. That pill seems to get more bitter every year. Well, despite my best efforts, I had another birthday last week, which means my next racing age will be 65 even though I don't feel more than two days older than 64 at the moment. Racing in an older masters age group race makes me feel very conflicted. On the one hand, the field is usually smaller and somewhat safer, the distances shorter, the speeds slower, and the chance of placing higher, if only due to the basic statistics of random chance. On the other hand, there isn't really a whole lot of fame and glory to be had by beating out five or six other old beat-up guys who get fat in the winter. In a way, I prefer racing in the larger open-ended age groups like 40+ where, even though I might get hammered by the fitter younger masters who are sometimes young enough to be my children, and even though it is entirely possible I'll be dropped like a rock at some point and be left to limp back to the finish line in quiet reflective solitude, at least I might have a chance to really feel like I'm in the mix for a while, however brief it might be.

Nice rotating paceline down Chef Highway for the Giro

Anyway, aside from getting a year older, the long Thanksgiving weekend was pretty nice. A cold front had come through, so mornings were chilly, but I got in a fair amount of riding, even if most of it was in easy mode. On Thanksgiving morning we had a holiday Giro Ride that was pretty nice. Then on Friday I did an NOBC ride out to the Spillway. That one was an intentionally controlled pace but by the next morning I could feel my legs a bit anyway. Saturday and Sunday were back-to-back Giro Rides. After four days of longish rides a lot of the local riders were feeling a little tired by Sunday and I guess that's what kept things so civilized for that ride. I ended the week with 330 miles thanks to the extra two days of longer rides. Next week I guess I'll miss riding both Saturday and Sunday in order to officiate cyclocross up in Jackson MS, so it all kind of balances out in the end, I guess.

Cold Nose and Long Tights

Riding home from the WeMoRi on the new Marconi bike path

Last week was great riding weather until it wasn't any more, which was basically Sunday, which was also a day on which I didn't actually ride. I'd been scheduled to officiate the Cyclocross race up in Hattiesburg on Sunday, having successfully managed to avoid having to also officiate the one in Jackson the day before. I should mention that I don't actually like officiating. In fact, I would be a little concerned about most people who do, and even more concerned about people who would chose to do that instead of ride or race or otherwise be on a bike instead of the side of the road. Why I continue to do this is no doubt tangled up in some sort of complicated and deep-rooted existential need with a topping self-destructiveness. I'm sure that if I'd spent as much time over the past forty-five years working on ways to move other people's money into my own bank account (aka "being a businessman") I'd have accumulated enough to fund my own pro team, which of course I never would since that would basically be the opposite of "being a businessman."

But I digress.....

So for most of October and November I've been taking it kind of easy on the bike, putting in miles and miles at the back, looking at the scenery, and dreading the inevitable day when I would have to pull on those long tights and accept the reality that winter is imminent. Despite having spent much of yesterday under a tent wearing four layers of clothes while shivering and totally failing to do anything useful with CrossMgr, I was at least not wearing tights.

Liked the reference to Dune

This morning's temperature in the high 40s made it almost impossible to pretend it wasn't winter. I say "almost," because I did refuse to put the skullcap under my helmet or pull out the winter riding jacket that most people would reserve for temperatures in the 20s and to which I run when temperatures dip below the mid-40s. Still, I broke down and put on the new Specialized slightly thermal tights on top of my shorts, added a base layer under my long-sleeve jersey, and headed out into the northeast wind for an easy Monday morning ride (as if I needed to recover from something). The wind didn't seem quite as bad as I'd expected and I was nice and warm, in a slightly over-dressed way, except for the steady stream of body fluids coming from both my eyes and nose -- mostly the latter.

I stopped at Zotz for coffee on the way home, which I have been doing a lot recently since Danielle is in Olympia and making coffee at home for just myself often doesn't seem worth the effort. It's now almost 1:30 pm and my hands have been cold all day at the office. Perhaps it's just because I took the car to work because of some family dinner logistical complications this evening. It's gotten a lot more busy on our floor here at 1555 Poydras lately as a while batch of folks have moved into the formerly vacant offices. Should make things a little more lively around here.

V2V - Rollin' on da River

At the New Orleans end of the ride. 

The annual 110 mi. Varsity to Varsity ride was yesterday. This ride, now in its 8th year, started as an LSU Cycling ride and in recent years has included a number of Tulane Cycling riders. The route mostly follows the Mississippi River from Varsity Sports in Baton Rouge to Varsity Sports in New Orleans, which is flat and marginally scenic. For some it's the first century ride, so while the moderate pace and planned stops make it relatively easy for the more experienced riders, it can be a challenge for the uninitiated. Fortunately, it ends with pizza.

Following Steve up the river

Saturday evening, after riding the Giro and attending Judd's 50th birthday party at the Ama airport, and then dropping Danielle off at MSY for her flight back to Washington, I finally broke down and put the new tires on the Bianchi that have been sitting on my workbench for months. I stuck a second large water bottle on the bike, moved my daytime-visible tail light from my commuter to the Bianchi, filled a little flask with HammerGel, and hit the sack a little early. I was scheduled to drive three of the Tulane riders and their bikes up to Baton Rouge at 5:15 am for their 7:30 am start. As I did last year, I planned on driving back to New Orleans, hopping on the bike, and riding upriver until I met the group. I had recruited Steve Johnson to meet me along the way to keep me company and keep me from going too slowly. The weather was pretty nice with temperatures in the upper 60s and lower 70s, but I knew the strong ENE wind was going to make it tough, and slow, for the return trip down the river.

I left Baton Rouge about half an hour before they started their ride, so I got home in plenty of time to grab a quick bite, change, and hit the road. I was probably a good twenty minutes ahead of schedule and once I got onto the levee bike path and picked up a pretty significant tail wind, I started wondering just how far I'd get this year before running into the group. I'd be cruising downwind while they'd be struggling upwind. Last year I ended up with a bit over 90 miles, so this year there was the distinct possibility that I'd end up with about the same number of miles as if I'd started with the group. I was most of the way to Ormond when I met Steve, who of course was surprised to run into me so early. He turned around and we rode side by side out to the Spillway. On the upriver side of the Spillway you have to ride about three miles on River Road before you can pick up a 7-mile section of bike path. Once off the bike path you're back on River Road with the traffic, which wasn't too bad. The whole time we'd been riding at 22-25 mph pretty easily, thanks to the tailwind. Once back on River Road we were basically in 2-man Time Trial mode, so the pace would ramp up into the upper 20s depending on the extent of the tailwind component as we followed the winding river. At one point we were going pretty fast with me at the front when I saw a small but deep pothole at the last minute. I called it out and pointed and Steve had a moment to try and hop it but whacked it pretty hard anyway. It was hard enough to break his clip-on saddle bag mount, but luckily he didn't go down or pinch-flat. Anyway, we were all the way to the little town of Hester, well upriver of Luling, when we came across the group stopped at one of their planned rest stops (the one with all of the beagles), so that worked out pretty well. I had 52 miles on the computer at that point, which was only a couple of miles less than those in the group, so we'd met them almost half-way.

Made it pretty far upriver this year

Now we were riding into the wind and the pace was at times literally half of what it had been when Steve and I had been on our way out. Pretty soon I stationed myself at the back where I could keep track of anyone who might be starting to struggle and also where I could take some photos. It always seems harder, or perhaps just less comfortable, to be going 15-20 mph than it does to be pushing a bit harder.

Pizza!

There was one more long rest stop at the "Norco Area" fire station, a mile or two upriver of the Spillway, before the final 30 miles or so into New Orleans. I think Jaden spent the entire time on the front towing the group along at a nice steady pace. Back at the tail end I could see that a couple of the riders were starting to struggle, but by then we were only ten or fifteen miles from the end and they were able to gut it out to finish with the group. I ended up with 112 miles, which was essentially the same as the riders who had left from Baton Rouge. This morning I could definitely feel the miles, so I went out for an easy 20 mile recovery ride on the levee and a stop at Zotz for coffee.

No Ride, My Choice

Yeah, I know. It's all relative.

I woke up early this morning, a bit after 5:00, and listened for a moment for the sound of car tires on the streets outside the window. I knew without looking that the streets were wet, but I looked anyway. Picking up the cellphone on the nightstand I pulled up the weather radar which just confirmed what I already knew. The line of very light rain ahead of the next cold front was almost past us on its way east. Outside, it looked cold and windy. In reality it was little of the former and more of the latter, but I could have easily gone out on the rain bike to slog out twenty or thirty miles on the levee. I chose instead to take a day off the bike. It had been fifteen days since my last day off and this particular chilly, damp morning seemed like a good time to cash in whatever virtual chips I'd accumulated. Tomorrow I'll be back on the bike as usual, a bit over-dressed to ease myself into what will likely be a couple of slightly chilly mornings.

Over the years I've learned a few things about myself and the month of November. As much of a psychological struggle it may be for me to get out the door when it's cold and windy, it's always worth it. In another month, providing I get out there and ride every day, I'll be acclimated and it will all be better. For the morning rides I'll add an extra layer, or two, so I'm warm and comfortable at the start. That's not how everyone does it, of course. Lots of riders dress for how they will feel ten miles into the ride rather than how they will feel as they step out the door. Totally understandable. For me, I know that if I did that all I'd remember the next morning would be how freaking cold I was at the start, not how hot I was at the end. Anyway, it's not even winter yet, at least not around here. I doubt I'll see a temperature below 50 on the bike until December. But it's all relative, isn't it?

At lunch time today I walked the three blocks over the the Med School cafeteria with the wind whipping through the buildings so I could have a slightly warm vegetable plate. There's a cafeteria right here in my building, but when I went down there around 1 pm there was absolutely nothing there that looked even remotely appetizing, which is saying a lot because my standards for lunch are extremely low to begin with.

At the moment I'm kind of dreading the ride from work back home. In just half an hour or so the sun, which has spent most of today behind the clouds anyway, will be down and although the temperature will be just barely below 60F, I know it will feel colder than that and I'll wish I'd brought more than a light wind vest with me this morning.

Sun and Fog

Saturday Giro heading over the Seabrook bridge in the fog.

Finally on Sunday we switched back to standard time, which meant it was only a little dark as I rode out to meet the Giro group at Starbucks. The prior day's Giro had been fairly foggy, but still quite fast, and by Sunday I was starting to feel the effects. I guess we'll be dealing with morning fog off-and-on for the next month or so depending on the wind direction and speed. This time of year, if the temperature is warm like it's been, and the wind is fairly calm, fog forms over the river and lake and basically anywhere there's water, which is to say most of New Orleans. So despite the time change that put the Giro start just about ten minutes before actual sunrise, I left the lights on the bike since riding in a fog is probably more risky than riding in the dark when it comes to distracted speeding car drivers. The Saturday Giro seemed pretty fast. A bunch of the Tulane riders were there, so I think there was a fair amount of competition going on up near the front. I was content to sit in the group and just make some brief but intense efforts for a few of the sprints.

At the game.

For a change, I hadn't had any major complications that impacted my morning riding routine, so going into the weekend it was looking like I'd easily hit my normal 250-275 miles for the week. Following Saturday's Giro we walked over to Tulane to watch the homecoming football game. I'd spend much of Friday at the LBC on the uptown campus handing out name-tags to alumni and families. Homecoming seems to be more of a big deal than it used to be, and although the football stadium was a long way from being sold out, I was glad to see a solid turnout in the student section at the South end. The game itself was pretty good I guess, as football games go, and the home team put on a decent show even though they lost by one point after blowing a field goal in the final couple of minutes and having had a touchdown called back earlier because of a holding penalty. Going to football games doesn't do anything good for my nutritional plan, of course. Dinner was basically a warm beer, french fries, and peanuts.

TUCA Sunday Social - such nice weather!

So Sunday night I set my wristwatch back one hour and remembered not to set anything else back since most of the other clocks do that automatically nowadays. By the time I got out to Starbucks, around 6:30 am, it was already fairly light, which was nice. There wasn't too much in the way of fog like there had been on Saturday, although it was still around here and there. The ride itself was a bit more civilized than Saturday's, although it did have its moments. About half-way through I decided I'd try and also make the Tulane Cycling Sunday Social starting at 10:30. Arriving back home around 9:45 or so, I had lots of time to refuel before heading over to campus. There I found a nice group of six or seven. By then the weather was getting a bit warm but it was otherwise nearly perfect for riding. The ride kind of meandered its way out to the lakefront by which time one of the new guys was starting to lag behind. The plan, such as it was, had us heading over to Rouler on the way back, but when we got to Esplanade a couple of riders split off to head back early. Of course they were already off the back before we turned onto Esplanade, so we ended up waiting for a while before figuring out that they weren't coming. I was kind of dreading having to ride through downtown, myself, but figured I'd tag along anyway. After stopping at about a zillion stop lights we finally made our way to Rouler, but by then a few more needed to get back, so I didn't even go inside and instead rode back uptown with two of the riders.

Things are starting to drop off. Situation normal.....

So I ended the week with over 300 miles, most of which wasn't anything to write home about. I've been kind of tracking my imaginary fitness this year with the Stravistix Google plug-in for Strava, and it makes it really obvious how the general level of ride intensity has been dropping off now that we are into "No Pain NoVember." As it should be, I guess.

Tuesday morning on the levee. There's a group up there.

Next weekend is the annual Varsity to Varsity ride from Baton Rouge to New Orleans, and I guess I'll probably end up driving riders up to Baton Rouge, driving back, jumping on the bike, and riding upriver until I meet the group. I think I ended up getting around 90 miles doing that last year, so it still makes for a long day. Then the following weekend there are a couple of cyclocross races in Mississippi for which I will probably help officiate.

Tuesday morning's ride on the river was really foggy the entire way. We weren't going very hard, but by the time I got home I was soaking wet from the fog. I'd had to take my glasses off as soon as I got to the levee. That Mississippi River water is still ice cold!

Chilled Out

Wednesday morning cool-down - windy and cooler but not yet "cold."

Last week was my lowest mileage week since I broke my collarbone on a car way back in the Spring. The reasons were numerous - work responsibilities, officiating responsibilities, domestic responsibilities. Somehow these things always seem to come together this time of year, so I guess it was "situation normal."

Most of the weekday rides were largely in the dark, not particularly hard, and not particularly cold. Speaking of cold, the air-conditioner stopped cooling again last weekend and so on Tuesday I was at home with the technicians who installed a new coil for the bargain price of about two grand. The weather around here had already been cooling down a bit, and I knew that the mere act of repairing the A/C would practically guarantee the prompt arrival of a cold front. Indeed, by the time the thing was fixed Tuesday evening it was already cool enough that it has only rarely kicked on at all (although I think it will be running a bit next week). For the past three or four days we've been quite comfortable with just open windows and ceiling fans.

I went out on Wednesday for the WeMoRi, arriving a little later than I've been recently, merging into the group on Marconi. It's so freaking dark for the morning rides right now that I'm really having a hard time putting in much effort. We've got just one more week until the switch back to standard time on Sunday, and for those of us who ride in the mornings, it can't come soon enough. It was cool enough on Wednesday for arm-warmers or long-sleeve jerseys. Another cold front moved through shortly afterward, so by Thursday and Friday I was searching through my stuff for knickers and long-sleeve jerseys. Unfortunately, Friday was my last day to ride because I had to go up to Baton Rouge on Saturday morning to officiate the LAMBRA Track Championships.

Linescan finish camera image from the Velodrome

Up at the Velodrome I was wearing a fleece pullover and winter jacket, and every time I'd step out of the sun, which fortunately wasn't very often, I'd get cold. Everybody has complications this time of year, and officials are no exceptions. I could officiate on Saturday morning, but absolutely had to be out of there at 1 pm because we were having our annual neighborhood Halloween party that night. Ricky had come down from Monroe to officiate on Saturday, but had to go back for Sunday.

Closest finish of the day

Mike was out of town, but the LAMBRA camera and stuff were at his house, so Ricky had to pick that up in the morning.  We ran the flying 200 qualifiers, the Points races, and the first round of Matched Sprints, finishing up right at 1 pm, which worked out great for me. The Points Races are always hard to judge. You have to pick four-deep for each sprint, keep track of the leaders, keep track of the "pack" (if any), keep track of lapped riders, keep track of riders to gain a lap, and remember to score double points for the finish sprint. Luckily there were only one or two sprints where we had to confirm the finish order with the camera. In the afternoon after I'd left, Chris came in to help officiate the evening session, which from all reports was freezing cold, which means it may have touched the upper end of the 30s.

The Halloween party was fun and we went through a lot of food and I think eight or nine bottles of wine in addition to beer. I'd been up since about 5:30 am, driven to Baton Rouge, officiated, driven back, set up Halloween decorations, etc., so by the time everyone left I was more than ready for bed, especially since I'd have to hit the road for Baton Rouge again at 6:30 the next morning. I think everyone had a good time at the party, which was nice. The Halloween party really started on Halloween night in 2005, two months after Katrina, and the first week when most of the people on our block were back in their houses. We sat out on the front porch at the neighbor's house that night and got re-acquainted with each other, told our Katrina stories, and handed out candy to the one lonely trick-or-treater who came by.  Most of the city was still not back at that point.

On Sunday I headed out before sunrise again, stopping at the Maple Street Starbucks for a cup of Thanksgiving Blend first. The drive was actually quite nice. Traffic was sparse, so I was just cruising on cruise-control, listening to the satellite radio, and watching the thermometer drop. Fortunately the racing didn't start until 9 am, the sky was clear and sunny, and the previous day's wind had died down considerably, so I was pretty comfortable without the winter jacket. The racing went smoothly. We finished up the Sprint competitions, held the Scratch Races, and finished  up with the Pursuit/TTs. I got back home to New Orleans in the early afternoon, posted the results to the LAMBRA website, finished up the USAC Post-event Report, and spent the rest of the day eating things I shouldn't be eating like leftover party food, Halloween candy, cookies, etc. Not riding and eating a lot of junk food makes for a bad combination, but for some reason the arrival of cold weather always makes me hungry. I could have gone out for a ride in the late afternoon, but frankly I just didn't have it in me. I was tired, it was chilly outside, and I felt like I needed a little break. From what, I don't really know.

So Monday morning was pretty chilly. I had a 9 am conference call that I wanted to take at the office, so I was out the door a few minutes after 6 am, which is over an hour before sunrise right now. I knew I'd be chilled, so I was wearing the thermal knickers, base layer, and long-sleeve jersey, which turned out to be just right, considering the fact that I wouldn't be going particularly hard. It looks like it will be warmer for the next couple of weeks, so that may be the last time I'll need the thermal stuff until the next cold front comes through, probably around the second week of November.

October Transitions

Last week's rides felt mostly robotic. I guess I'm in a mid-October slump where it's gotten hard to generate much enthusiasm as things begin to transition into Fall. I didn't even take may photos, partially because it's usually too dark to get anything good, and partially because there just wasn't anything interesting. I always find it hard to push myself very much when I'm riding in the dark. We don't switch back to regular Central Time until November 5, which I think it ridiculous, so there will be a lot more dark morning rides before then. As we got closer to the end of the week it became apparent that an approaching cold front was threatening to mess up the weekend's outdoor activities, of which there were many. The first thing to go was the Oak Street Po-boy Festival that re-scheduled for November 12 rather than risk getting rained out at the last minute. Since that festival involves a huge number of restaurants that set up tents and food preparation equipment, it was wise to make the call earlier rather than later.

On Saturday I rode the Giro as usual. There was a pretty big group on hand despite the weather forecast. Fortunately they had been pushing back the arrival time for the rain since Friday and so Saturday morning's rain chances were still pretty low. Heading out on Hayne Blvd. it was nice to see that all of the holes in the concrete roadway had been patched. That was not the work of our fine city, of course. That was the work of Premier Event Management, promoters of Sunday's Ochsner Ironman 70.3 race that had still not been cancelled. That race uses the traditional Giro route for most of the bike portion. Saturday's Giro seemed kind of fast, although I think that was largely due to just a handful of riders at the front who were perhaps trying to get in a hard workout on the assumption that everything would be rained out on Sunday. At the time, Sunday's rain forecast was still pegged at 100%. We were on the way back, on the service road alongside I-10, when I saw Daniel dropping back. His rear tire was almost flat. The pace at the front, however, had just started to ramp up, so although somebody yelled "flat!" the only person to stop with him was me. I was actually fine with that since I was not feeling very good anyway and had been doing little except sucking wheels at the back anyway.

So the air-conditioner stopped working again last week. I spent most of the day on Friday at home waiting for the service guy who told me that the evaporator coil was leaking, which we had earlier suspected was happening. He put some more Freon (or whatever they actually use now) in and got it running again, but the plan is to replace it on Tuesday at the bargain price of about $2k. Having to fix the air-conditioner, of course, virtually guarantees that summer is over. Anyway, it cooled down the house nicely and ran just fine until around 9 pm when it shut itself off again, which made Friday night rather uncomfortable, especially since Danielle was away at a conference in Orlando and as a result her two dogs were in our bed. When I got home from the Giro on Saturday, still wearing my kit, we dragged the big old backup window unit up the stairs from the basement and stuck it into the bedroom window.

Inched over the 10,000 mile mark this morning

Sunday morning the bedroom was freezing cold and when I got up all I could hear was the window unit which was about a foot from my head. In my usual early morning daze I got up, pulled on shorts and jersey, and headed for the basement stairs to get the bike and go out to meet the Giro. The forecast from the night before was showing the rain moving in around 10 am. It was wrong. When I walked into the kitchen I could see S. Claiborne Avenue through the window and it was obviously wet. On closer inspection, I could see that it was actually raining. Crap. 6:00 am, all dressed out, and no place to go. I fired up the computer and the radar looked bad. There was a whole line of rain well ahead of the real cold front and it was right on top of us. The real front wouldn't be arriving until around noon. I also noticed that they had announced a last-minute cancellation of the Ironman. I had been planning on doing only part of the Sunday Giro because my brother was going to be passing through town on his way from Baton Rouge to Orlando and we were meeting for coffee at CC's on Magazine at 10:30 with him and the sisters and everyone. I ended up down in the basement putting a new chain on the Bianchi and cleaning up the whole drivetrain before it was time to go. Afterward, I ran over to SuperCuts and got a somewhat overdue haircut, getting back home just as the sky turned black. The cold front came through right on schedule, and by 3 pm the sun was out, there was a strong breeze blowing, and it was already feeling a bit cooler. I had to pick Danielle up from the airport around 6:30, so I jumped on the bike and got in a couple of hours of riding on the levee. After I got home and checked Strava I realized I was just five miles short of 10,000 for the year. That milestone would have to wait until Monday.

This morning it was cool enough for a little wind protection underneath the jersey, but not quite what you'd want to call "cold." I guess it was around 60F. I went out and did a fairly casual 20-odd miles on the levee where it was pretty windy. At least that pushed my annual mileage over the 10,000 mark. I guess I'm on track for the usual 11k - 12k miles again this year. Having to spend a few weekends officiating instead of riding in the fall and winter usually takes a bit of a toll on my mileage. The first cyclocross race was yesterday up in Baton Rouge, but the other officials had that one covered so I was quite happy to stay home where my feet were dry. The Track championships are next weekend, so I guess I'll be helping with the officiating for that. Then there are eight cyclocross races in November and December.

A Front

Tuesday morning on the levee, heading back downriver

Last week's weekday morning rides seemed mostly hot and dark and humid. Just the other day I mentioned how surprised I was that, halfway through October, I hadn't yet pulled out even the arm-warmers.

It was hard to get out of bed Tuesday morning. It always is this time of year when 5:30 am may as well be midnight for all the sunlight there is, or isn't. Although I can't deny that there's a certain rush that one feels when riding down quiet streets in the dark, I've never been much of a fan of nighttime riding. It's at best a necessary evil for working stiffs like myself who aren't up to fighting it out with post-rush-hour distracted-driver evening traffic on city streets. So once again I was up atop the levee at the designated time, which happens to be 6 am on Tuesdays and Thursdays, along with a handful of other riders. Riding the levee bike path in the dark requires a lot of attention. If you're not on the front, your headlight is likely shining mostly on the rider ahead of you, which kind of blinds you. If that rider also has a bright tail light blinking two feet from your face the situation is even worse. So it really amounts to trust. You have to just trust that the rider on the front is paying attention and will give ample notice as the group comes up on pedestrians, dog-walkers, bike riders, coyotes, chickens, alligators, and potholes. I'm not really all that good at the trust thing, myself. Right now, if the sky is cloudy, it's pretty dark for most of the first hour of riding. Anyway, Tuesday's ride was about par for the course with mostly just a smooth paceline where each rider takes long steady pulls.

WeMoRi cool-down

On Wednesday I rode out as usual to meet up with the WeMoRi group at the lakefront. Since the Wisner overpass was finally re-opened, my route to the lakefront is a bit shorter now, and since I somehow managed to get on the road a little early I met up with the group only a mile or two after the start. That was nice since it allowed me to get warmed gradually as the pace ramped up. Unfortunately there were a couple of traffic issues that brought most of the group to practically a stop, which kind of spoiled the fun, but not as much as having the group hit by a car would have spoiled it, so I guess it was OK. At the end, around a mile from the sprint, Daniel came by on the left and I took his wheel as he rode past the group. I was hoping he'd take me to within attack distance, but as luck would have it, he moved over to the right and dropped me off with about half a K to go, which is pretty much my worst-case scenario, so I took a brief pull up to 33 mph that basically constituted a lead-out. Afterward I stopped in at Starbucks for a recovery coffee since I knew we were out of coffee beans at home.

Thursday's long ride on the levee seemed darker than usual but was otherwise normal. Nobody seemed too interested in going very hard. I moved the pace up a notch or so when I came to the front but it was never sustained very long.

Saturday's Giro group heading out on Lakeshore Dr.

Saturday's Giro had a small group. The weather actually wasn't all that bad, except that it was pretty windy. There were a lot of things going on in town and elsewhere and so a number of the usual riders were missing. There was a headwind going out and so it was by no means an easy ride. We were just part-way down Chef highway on the way out when we came upon most of the 6:45 group on the side of the road watching Geoff fix what was apparently his second or third flat. After slowing down the group kind of decided to merge in with that group, some of which had continued on to the turnaround, so when we saw then coming back we turned around. That gave us a larger group plus a tailwind, so it was like 30 mph all the way back down Chef. Then Brian flatted on the service road and the group split with just a few of us going back to help. We still had the tailwind most of the way but the effort level was a bit dampened after that. Coming down the Seabrook bridge we found a police car blocking the curve onto Lakeshore Drive because of the Bike the Big Easy ride, so Stephanie and I went straight on to Leon C. Simon, only to look back and discover that the police officer had let the rest of the group through. We got back onto Lakeshore Drive a little later at Franklin but had to chase a bit to catch up with everyone. I spend the afternoon putting up Halloween decorations. I hate putting up decorations. Then we went and voted. All I can say about the Mayor's race is that whoever ends up winning the runoff -- well, we're pretty much screwed either way. The City Council actually doesn't look to be quite as bad, so maybe there's hope, but I wouldn't bet on it. After voting we went town to Magazine Street for the Art for Art's Sake night where most of the shops stay open late and offer things like wine and cheeze and stuff. It was actually pretty nice and we ran into a few people we knew, including Andrew, Kenny, Brian, and their assorted significant others and/or progeny.

Sunday's Giro had a big group so the pace was brisk, at least until someone flatted on Chef near that first stop light. Again, some of the group kept going while the rest of us circled back. That kind of took the wind out of our sails, making the rest of the ride back relatively serene. The rest of Sunday went kind of downhill weather-wise because there was finally a cold front on the way. That made Monday morning windy but much cooler, which is to say it was 70 instead of 80. It'll be a bit cooler tomorrow morning but I don't know if I'll be able to justify even arm-warmers. I mean, is 59F cold enough for arm-warmers? Temperatures in the 50s always confuse me.

Hurricane Hype

The Giro coming back across the still-open Hwy 90 floodgate.

It was an emergency, an imminent disaster, the end of life as we know it. At least, that's what it sounded like on Friday. The mayor put on his disaster costume (as if he was out there filling sandbags himself) and got onto television with his entire entourage behind him - Disaster Response, Sewerage and Water Board, Police Chief, etc., etc. He imposed a city-wide curfew to which I knew nobody would pay the least bit of attention. I had been following the storm for days via spaghettimodels.com and was pretty sure this wasn't going to be much of a disaster. Of course, there's always the possibility of a tornado, or just having some old termite-damaged part of the house collapse, but at the worst I was expecting maybe one day without electricity and a few tree branches on the ground.

The price of riding Chef Highway through Gentilly.

Hurricane Nate was supposed to make landfall late Saturday night. I immediately began making plans - for how we would get in our weekend training rides. On Friday they started closing floodgates, of which there were many. The Giro Ride crosses two floodgates on the way out and three on the way back, so it was by no means certain that we'd be able to do the usual route. Putting some faith in the city's sluggishness to do anything, however, a big group rolled out from Starbucks at 7 am anyway. We figured that the floodgates at the lakefront would be closed already (they were), so we headed out down Robert E. Lee to Leon C. Simon, and from there it was the usual Giro out to Chef Highway. The Highway 90 floodgate was open, so we rode hard out to the turnaround at Venetian Isles (which was under an evacuation order with the streets already under water because the lake was so high from two days of strong southeast winds). On the way back we again made it through the open Highway 90 floodgate, but by the time we got to the Casino bridge near Lakefront Airport there was a police car blocking the overpass. The floodgate at Dowman Road was already closed, so we had to detour to the Highway 90 bridge, which meant riding back in to town on Chef Highway, which is not a whole lot of fun because of stop lights and traffic and sketchy roads. Matt flatted. Twice. Even so, I was only a few miles short compared to a normal Giro, so that was good.

By the time I got home it was already looking like the hurricane, which was moving at the unheard-of speed of 25 mph, was going to come ashore somewhere in Mississippi. Of course, nobody was making any promises, so much of the day was spent watching local newscasters and Weather Channel people kill time with painfully repetitive talk. They were doing their best to make something big out of the story, but the reality was that this was going to be a fairly minor hurricane, as hurricanes go, and since it was moving so quickly, the effects would be minimized even more. By early evening it was obvious we were going to miss out on all of the excitement. I went downstairs and cleaned the bike and started thinking about Sunday morning. Around midnight, when I was sound asleep, the hurricane finally came ashore around Biloxi as a Category 1. Basically they had about 30 minutes of significant wind and some flooding. It was a bit worse to the east around Mobile where there were more power outages, but in general this storm was more of a nuisance than anything else.

Nice weather for Sunday's ride out to the Spillway.

As it turned out, we never got much rain, or wind even. Nothing even approaching a normal summer afternoon thunderstorm, really. The power never went out, the streets never flooded, the party on Bourbon Street never stopped. I felt strangely disappointed even though I had made only the most minimal of preparations. I took the fern plant and chair cushions inside from the front porch and put the barbecue pit in the garage. Candy had taken the opportunity to stockpile food and water and after work on Friday we'd made a special trip to Whole Foods on Broad to buy more water. I have no idea why. We could survive for weeks just on the wine, beer and soft drinks already in the house. Anyway, I sent out a FB post Saturday evening to the Tulane group, and later to the NOBC group, saying I'd be riding the levee at 7 am on Sunday since I was pretty sure that various lakefront floodgates would still be closed and that Lakeshore Drive would probably be pretty wet.

Sunday morning Elliot, Jerry and Grayson showed up and we did a really nice ride up the river to the Spillway and back, which got me around 55 miles, so I felt satisfied with that even though it would turn out to be one of the lowest mileage weeks I'd had in a while. It wasn't even particularly windy. I spent the afternoon trimming hedges and trees at home, from which my back will probably not recover until Wednesday.

Ride it Out

Nice weather for the Friday morning Coffee Ride.

The weather this morning for the Friday Coffee Ride was so very nice. It was likely the last nice weather we'll see for a few days, though, because Tropical Storm Nate is making a bee-line for New Orleans right now, and doing so at 21 mph. This morning there was a pretty brisk ENE wind blowing, but the sky was clear and air was reasonably cool and dry. I would have liked to have ridden for another couple of hours since I'm going to be really mileage-deprived this week.

On Wednesday I rushed out of work a few minutes early, rode home, jumped in the car, and drove up to Baton Rouge to officiate the first race of the Track series at the velodrome. There was a healthy turnout of 23 riders and some really close finishes in the match sprints. Even with just 200 meter TTs for qualifying and then the double-elimination match sprints, I wasn't back home until around midnight. Then on Thursday I had to go right back to Baton Rouge for a morning meeting at the Board of Regents and didn't ride at all. These things always seem to happen this time of year.

I am hoping to get in a ride tomorrow morning, possibly some version of the Giro Ride, depending on which floodgates have been closed by then, but by midnight on Saturday it should be pretty much on top of us, possibly as a Category 1 hurricane by then. As hurricanes go, Category 1 isn't generally all that bad, but it's nothing to ignore either. Right now we're planning on being back at work as usual on Monday. At any rate, I expect that most of Saturday will be spent battening down whatever hatches we can at home, depending on how the situation looks at that point, and then "hunkering down" for the duration. I don't know who invented the term "hunkering," but I've never been able to come up with a more elegant way of saying what we do when we decide to ride out a hurricane at home. It's really more like waiting for the power to go out and then just hoping the roof doesn't get blown off.

Not Over Yet

October is always a transition month - on multiple levels. The last LAMBRA road race was last weekend, but really that just opens up the calendar for a whole string of "it's not a race" races, the Track Series, and of course the impending cyclocross season. I remember back when late October and early November constituted the "off" season. For a number of years I'd cut back a bit on riding and start doing a little running, entering various little local 5k type races and collecting T-shirts.

Yesterday I spent the whole day at home because the A/C had gone out (again) and I had to wait for the service guys. It turned out that some components on the condenser circuit board had gotten fried, shorted out, and therefore the system thought the refrigerant pressure was too high and shut down the compressor. That little glitch, along with topping up the refrigerant that is apparently leaking very slowly, cost just a hair under $1,000. If the leak gets worse I'll probably be looking at something more like $4,000. This is why I can't have nice things, like race wheels less than ten years old.

So there's another Tropical Depression about to enter the Gulf now. Hurricane season doesn't officially end until the end of November, but generally if we can get through September things start to settle down considerably. This one, which is still going by "TD-16," is expected to become a Tropical Storm shortly and could make it up to Hurricane status by Sunday when it should be coming ashore around Alabama and the Florida panhandle. If it actually sticks to that track we will be on the "good" side, which means north and northeast winds.

This morning the WeMoRi was finally back to its original route, or at least mostly its original route, now that the Wisner Overpass, closed since December of 2015, has been re-built and re-opened. I rode out there a little early, and since I could now go straight up Wisner to the lake I hit Lakeshore Drive considerably earlier than usual. It was super-windy as it's been for the past couple of days, and the lake was really high - up to the top two steps on the seawall - because of the consistent east winds. I was actually just a couple of minutes behind the group, which was apparently taking its time riding into the headwind. I rode all the way down to Elysian Fields, turned around, rode all the way down to Marconi, and still couldn't see the group. I rode back a minute or two and then finally saw the group coming over the levee a the Swim Hole, so turned around again and made it to the turn onto Marconi just as the breakaway came flying by. I jumped onto the last rider, gasping and wheezing and drooling as one does when going from 14 mph and 85 bpm to 27 mph and 150 bpm in half a mile.  Suffice it to say I was already gassed as we turned onto Robt. E. Lee. The small breakaway group of maybe eight started coming apart at the turn onto Wisner and two of us were spit out the back. I was still trying to catch my breath and couldn't do much except hang on for dear life. A couple more guys came out of that break, and we saw Eddie C. at the base of the overpass putting his chain back on, but we never caught the lead group. I'd been hoping that after sprinting to the top of the overpass, and then again on City Park Avenue, they would ease up after the turn onto Marconi, but no such luck. Back on Marconi we were thankfully absorbed by the main group around Harrison Avenue. There was coffee and cake for the group at Robert's grocery since it was a "birthday ride."

This evening I'm going to have to hustle to get over to Baton Rouge to officiate the first race of the Wednesday night track series. Given the rush-hour traffic, I'll be lucky to get there by 6:30 (it starts at 7:00) even if I can get out of the office a little early. My regular track bike is out on loan to Jerry, so I'm thinking about bringing the old Viner with me so I can ride a few laps, although the tires on that bike are about twenty years old, so I won't be doing anything dramatic on them. I'm more concerned with the base tape separating from the casing than from the rim. I pumped them up yesterday and they seem OK, but you never know. If I'm really pressed for time this afternoon I may end up leaving the bike at home anyway.

On Sunday I'll probably go up to St. Francisville for the annual collegiate ride. It's also the annual MS Tour weekend, so I'm sure some people will be doing that.

Up to S'port

The Sunday Giro coming down the Casino bridge onto Hayne Blvd.

After eighteen hours of driving the prior weekend, I was kind of dreading the 5-hour drive up to Shreveport for the Rocky Mount Road Race. On the other hand, I've always liked the course up there, even when it's kicked my butt. The race had originally been scheduled as a Stage Race back in May, but was cancelled at the last minute because of severe weather. I was glad that they had quickly decided to re-schedule it, even though it was ultimately shortened to just the Road Race. Given the late date on the calendar, that made a lot of sense because a low turnout was to be expected. A couple of days earlier I had installed a new set of Campi Record shifters to replace the old Super-Record ones that, by then, had at least 55,000 miles on them and were pretty worn out with broken return springs and generally sloppy action. It was quite a change to have shifters that actually shifted immediately and with a reassuring click!

Fortunately, I was able to leave work early and was on the road by 4 pm or so, not that it saved me from being stuck in traffic heading out of New Orleans and then again coming into Baton Rouge. I was travelling alone, so between the satellite radio and Spotify, and the fact that I wasn't in any particular hurry, it was a relatively easy drive if you ignore how much my back was hurting by the time I arrived. Naturally, when I got to the hotel they were checking in an entire high-school basketball team. Then my room key didn't work so I had to go back down to the desk to get them re-coded. I put the bike and the bag in the room and then went down the street and was that lonely looking guy eating dinner alone at Burger King.

I was up early Saturday morning and enjoyed a relaxed cup of coffee at the Starbucks near the hotel (frankly, that was a major factor in my choice of hotels) before making the half-hour drive up to the road course at - you guessed it - Rocky Mount, Louisiana, which consists of an intersection with a small school, two houses, and an abundance of insect life. Thanks to the 9:30 am start time, the officials were all there early as well, so I got the radio base station set up, handed out a few of the handhelds to the EMS and lead vehicles, dropped off my spare wheels, and rode a couple of easy miles before my 10:10 am start. Despite the expected small turnout, the LaS'port team had everything well under control with lead and follow cars, a couple of moto-refs, police at the intersections, etc.

The Master 55 race would be three laps of the rolling 21-mile course, and with ten riders at the start, ours was actually one of the largest of the day. I have no idea why people don't seem willing to make the effort to go to organized races lately, especially the well-established ones with nice prizes and good organization. The LaS'port folks even had food for everyone after the race. Anyway, looking at the riders around me I realized that I was once again rather badly outnumbered. Six of the ten riders were from the LaS'port team, unless you count Tim Perry who rides for Ft. Wayne Outfitters who lives right down the road and is practically a LaS'port teammate as well. For the past few years Tim has been focused on time trials, and just this year has won his age group at the state championships in Louisiana/Mississippi, Texas, Georgia, Arkansas, and Missouri, and also won the National TT Championship. So you can probably guess what his race strategy was. I was coming into this race feeling still a little tired from 6 Gap, but was determined to make it a workout regardless.

The first lap was pretty steady, although I was pushing the pace a bit on the climbs. Master's races sometimes get really slow, and I just wasn't in the mood for it I guess. Around the end of the first lap Tim attacked and opened a gap that we closed fairly quickly. He attacked again a while later and that resulted in only two of us making it across. Although I knew Tim would eventually take off on a 30 mph time trial, I liked the group of Tim, Grant and me and when we came together said, "let's keep this together!" The next lap and a half was a nice 3-man rotation. Tim was obviously soft-pedaling when he'd come to the front and was going up the hills particularly slowly. I knew there was a group chasing us, so I didn't want the pace to lag too much. I also knew that Tim probably didn't care if we were caught or not since he was probably going to launch a decisive attack on one of the bigger hills on the second half of the loop and drop everyone anyway. Of course, that's exactly what happened about seven miles from the finish. Grant and I were starting to hurt, and when Tim went flying past me about five mph faster all I could do was shake my head and make a feeble and largely unsuccessful attempt to match his pace. Grant and I traded pulls the rest of the way in. I jumped at about 200 meters to go and immediately felt my calf muscle start to cramp. I'd caught him a bit by surprise and had a nice gap, but when I glanced back I could see him gaining on me so I had to accelerate again, just barely making it across the line in time.

I was pleasantly surprised how good I'd felt in this race. I'd been expecting the effects of 6-gap to still be lingering like they had been for most of the week, but I guess the easy ride on Friday gave them that final bit of recovery time they needed.

I rode out to the Giro Ride this morning in a pretty stiff ENE wind, knowing that the wind and moderate threat of rain, along with other things going on in town, would make for a small group. Jaden was there, though, so things were reasonably fast and although my quads were complaining a bit from Saturday's thrashing I was otherwise fine. Granted, I spent a lot of time sitting on the back of the group, especially on the way back when the speeds got fast because of the tailwind. By the time I got close to home I could feel a light rain starting to fall. I'd been planning on riding with the Tulane Sunday Social group at 10:30, but by then it was genuinely raining so I called it a wrap for the week at 284 miles.