Holiday at Home

This pretty much sums up the weekday morning rides last week.

As predicted, the weekday morning rides the week before Christmas were less than ideal. Tuesday's long ride turned into a shortened ride with Darren, the only other person who showed up, on a wet and foggy levee bike path. I got home wet and dirty, but was glad I'd taken the old Orbea that eliminated any feelings of guilt when I took it out back and sprayed it down with the garden hose before lubing the chain. I was hoping for a good WeMoRi on Wednesday but I got my timing wrong and when I met up with the unusually small group on Lakeshore Drive, it was right at the place where there's a median and so I couldn't make the necessary U-turn and missed the group. I ended up short-cutting across City Park to get back into the pack, but by then it was only five or six miles from the end, so basically I didn't get much intensity out of it. And then there was Thursday. That turned out to be another wet lonely shortened ride on the levee. At least I had taken Thursday and Friday off from work and so spent a while drinking coffee in front of Zotz before going home to hose down the bike again. Friday was basically more of the same, although at least I had time to add a few extra miles.

Heading back from Venetian Isles - not feeling too optimistic as Adrian rides off into the rain.

With some extended family coming to town for the weekend through Christmas, options for the weekend were limited to the Giro. Saturday morning it was still fairly warm, but there was a cold front making its way across Louisiana that included a narrow but dense band of rain heading straight for New Orleans. Once again, I went out on the old Orbea because I knew there was no way in hell I'd be making it back home dry. But after all of the shortened rides earlier in the week I was feeling a little desperate for mileage. Looking at the radar, I figured we had a chance we'd get in most of the Giro route before the rain, so I went out to Starbucks to find out who the other insane people were. As it turned out, we had maybe fifteen by the time we started. Most of the strong riders who normally populate the front of the Giro stayed home, however, so the pace wasn't anything to write home about. Adrian was spending a lot of time on the front, along with Jim and me, and nobody else seemed very interested in coming around to take a pull. On the service road heading toward Chef Highway, the three of us found ourselves strangely off the front. I looked back and though someone had flatted, but apparently not. We waited up to re-group and headed down Chef. Soon, just the three of us were rotating at the front again. We weren't going all that fast, so that was fine with me. We were maybe halfway out to Venetian Isles when we saw the 6:45 am group heading back. At that point everyone except the three of us turned around and joined them. Unfortunately, the three of us didn't know that!  Mike W. appeared somewhere and Jim sprinted with him to the line at Venetian. That's when I turned around and realized we had been abandoned. It's also when I realized that there was a huge, dark cloud between us and home! I was with Adrian, while Jim was well behind us since he and Mike had gone all the way to the turnaround. I sat up to wait, but Adrian didn't, so I ended up with Mike for a bit, but by then I could feel the first little raindrops falling and Mike wasn't waiting. I told him I was going to wait for Jim. Of course he just kept going. So Jim and I get together and soon the real rain starts falling. I was really glad I had my new super-bright Bontrager Flare tail light, a gift from Danielle, especially for the ten of fifteen minutes when we were on Chef in a heavy rain. As expected, though, the line of rain was thin and passed through quickly, so although the rest of the ride was wet, the rain eased up quickly and stopped before I got home.

Sunday's Giro was much better attended, although being Christmas eve, nobody was pushing the pace very hard. It was considerably cooler, though, and at least I put in a few brief but reasonably intense efforts. Somewhere out there on Sunday my total 2017 mileage inched past the 12,000 mile mark, which for me means a pretty decent year, especially considering that it was one of those broken collarbone years.

Christmas at Ginger's Place

Christmas day was much colder and I was more than happy to take the day off from riding, but in retrospect perhaps I should have gone out early and logged an hour or so anyway because Tuesday morning was another messed-up ride. Christmas day we went over to my sister's place for a big late lunch, and lots of wine with pecan pie and lemon meringue pie, and blackberry pie.

I got to the start this morning at 6 am to find only four, including myself. I'd looked at the forecast, and it looked like some light rain was in the area. It was. We weren't five miles into the ride when a light rain started falling and immediately two of the guys turned around. Having seen the radar, I didn't think it would be a downpour, so even though the temperature was in the 40s, I continued, along with Scott from D.C. who shows up around here occasionally. He was definitely looking for some exercise, so we traded pulls in the off-and-on misty drizzle. It wasn't quite rain to soak your feet right away, so I figured I'd stick it out until my feet started to get cold.

Breakfast on Panola Street

We got a bit past the little dip before the rain got a little heavier and more steady, at which point we turned around. A few miles later we'd out-ridden most of the rain, but the path was wet and by then my feet and legs were starting to feel cold despite the cotton shoe-covers and thermal tights. Every time I'd go to the front I'd get in 30 or 40 pedal strokes and then my quads would load up and start to ache, which is pretty normal for me in cold weather. Anyway, I was happy to have gotten in 32 miles under the circumstances, even if it did leave my bike a mess. Scott ended up riding another 25 miles or so by himself while I went to Riccobono's with Candy and her sister and friend for coffee, eggs, potato, and toast (I passed on the breakfast Bloody Mary and Andouille Omlette). The forecast for tomorrow has more rain, so I guess I'll be checking the radar at 5:30 am.

Crazy Weather

The front of the Giro Ride regrouping after the turnaround on Saturday.

The crazy weather continues to interfere with my normally comfortable routine. I know I shouldn't be complaining. It's not like I'm in Minneapolis or something where by now I'd probably be riding a pretend bike in a pretend race on a pretend course with other pretend riders while dripping sweat in a basement or garage or something. Looking back, I did at least get out on the road five days last week, which under the circumstances wasn't all that bad I guess.

After being rained out Friday morning I was glad to see a break in the rain Saturday morning that would easily accommodate the Giro. Things had warmed up a bit into the 40s, and a decent enough group was on hand, so I was a little surprised that the pace rarely got out of the "moderate" range. I suppose the rather brisk east wind had something to do with that. On the way home I took a little detour and rode a lap around Audubon Park to log a couple of extra miles since the forecast for Sunday was for more rain.

Wheel spray in the headlight on Sunday

Indeed, when I awoke and looked out the window Sunday morning the streets were wet. Checking the radar, though, it looked like, maybe, if I was lucky, and if I was back home before 8 am, I might possibly be able to get in a couple of hours on the levee. So I rushed out the door at 6 am, figuring that the Giro wouldn't be happening anyway, and headed for the levee. Despite the relatively balmy 65 degree temperature I was wearing a wind-resistant base layer and arm-warmers because I knew there was no chance in hell I'd actually get back home dry. The levee bike path was wet, of course, and I rolled along upriver for a while with a nice southeast tailwind while watching the spray from my front wheel as it caught the beam from the headlight. The sky was nothing but grey clouds and every now and then a light rain would fall. If the temperature hadn't been in the 60s, I would have turned back right away, but as it was, I decided to go at least to the parish line. That would get me around 25 miles, which was about as much as I could hope for. By the time I got out to the far end of the ride there was a steady light rain falling and my feet were starting to get cold, but it wasn't too bad. I'd taken the old Orbea for this ride since I knew it would end up full of grit and dirt and water, which it did. The rain stopped for most of the ride back, but returned a bit for the last couple of miles. The rest of the day it rained. Heavily. Although I ended up wet and chilled and dirty, I'd at least gotten in an hour and a half during what turned out to have been the best part of the day.

More of the same.....

This morning it was raining again. I went downstairs and found that both tires on the rain bike were flat. I went back upstairs, got under the covers, and decided it was a sign and I should stay out of the rain today. As it turned out, the rain stopped an hour or so later and I ended up riding the bike to work. The forecast for the rest of the week looks a little sketchy, especially for the end of December. On the one hand, it won't be very cold at all. On the other, there's a chance of morning rain on Tuesday and Wednesday and Friday looks like a potential wash-out. More of the same. As much as I hate riding in the cold, I'd take that easily over riding in the rain every day.

Abbreviations

"Well, Jane, it just goes to show you, it's always something — if it ain't one thing, it's another." -Roseanne Roseannadanna

 Things were going along quite nicely until a couple of weeks ago. Sure, the intensity was dropping and the mileage was getting inconsistent, but those are just normal things that happen every year in November and December. Then I came down with a head cold, and then the weather got nasty, and then I had to officiate cyclocross races. In the last couple of weeks I logged about as much mileage as I did when I was riding around with a broken collarbone last February. It's been pretty frustrating. Ideally, I'd have spent the week or two after the cold symptoms subsided sitting on the back of the group rides, gradually building back up to normal. Unfortunately, the weather, and I guess also the early pre-holiday entanglements, have been making that almost impossible. Of course I have a couple of rather unsavory options, namely riding a trainer indoors and/or riding alone in the dark.

I started the week with high hopes of getting back into the groove even though I still have some nagging head and lung congestion. That didn't last long. Candy had some sort of stomach virus Sunday night and when I woke up with a scratchy throat I decided not to go out into the cold for my usual Monday solo ride on the levee. In retrospect, that was a mistake, but at the time I figured that I'd be doing a good solid 42 mile ride on Tuesday morning, so it wouldn't be much of a loss. Well, Tuesday morning there were only I think three of us. As often happens when the turnout is low and the wind is high, we did a somewhat abbreviated ride, turning around at The Dip. It was a decent enough paceline and I definitely spent a good bit of time pulling into the wind, but I still came up ten miles short. Not to worry, I'd just ride harder the next morning at the WeMoRi.

So Wednesday it's 39 degrees and windy but I intentionally under-dress since I'm planning on a hard ride. I ride out to the lakefront in the dark and jump into the group somewhere along Lakeshore Drive. The group splits when it turns onto Marconi because some of the riders at the front turn in front of an oncoming car. The car slows, the rest of us slow, eventually we get through and chase back up to the front half of the group which is much smaller than usual because it's cold and windy. We make the turn onto Robert E. Lee and I feel my rear tire going flat. I haven't even recovered from the effort of jumping into the group without an adequate warm-up. It's still dark. My fingers are freezing. I pull a piece of glass from the tread and struggle to get the tire bead off the rim with my gloves on. I put the new tube in, re-seat the tire, and pump up the tire with my CO2 inflator. I remove it and then ever so carefully start to unscrew the cartridge. There's always residual pressure in the cartridge, of course, but it's so cold out that as it escapes, it's making CO2 snowflakes. Once it eases I unscrew it all the way, only to have more CO2 suddenly explode from what I assume was the frozen-up hole. I see something white and round go flying into the grass. Crap! It must be the o-ring. I look down and see a little white circle in the grass and pick it up. It's so cold it burns my fingers. Then it evaporates!  It was a ring of frozen CO2 and perhaps water. Anyway, I assume the O-ring is lost. I pack everything back into pockets and saddle bag and head for Lakeshore Drive hoping to catch the group, but I never see them. I must  have just missed them. I'm all the way back to Canal before I see a few of them coming toward me for the cool-down quarter-lap of Lakeshore Drive. By now I'm freezing cold since I've spent almost as much time standing in the dark as I have riding hard enough to generate any heat. I decide to skip my usual stop at Starbucks and head straight home. Total mileage for the morning: 24.5, about ten miles short. Total number of miles of moderate intensity: 2. Not a good morning.

This morning it's a little warmer but for some reason there are only four of us who show up. Once again we do an abbreviated ride that nets only 33 miles, mostly at a pretty moderate pace. So going into Friday I'm down by at least 50 miles already and the forecast for Sunday is 100% chance of rain.  Hopefully I'll find a long ride on Saturday and salvage whatever's left of the week.

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.