Sore

After a fairly normal, but quite windy, Giro Ride on Saturday I awoke early Sunday morning to find my legs feeling a bit sore.  It's hard to figure out sometimes why that happens.  After a particularly hard race or training ride I expect a little residual soreness the next day, at least ever since I started getting AARP solicitations in the mail.  Sometimes, though, there's just no obvious reason.  I thought that perhaps those sprints up the overpasses might have done a little damage, but at any rate it wasn't enough of a concern to keep me from the Sunday northshore ride.  I was planning on something a little different for this particular northshore ride since a few of the Tulane team riders were coming and we were going to tack on a lap of the road course they planned to use for the upcoming Green Wave Classic collegiate stage race.

The first clue that something might be amiss was that I was feeling a lot colder than I should have, considering the temperature.  It was in the low 50s with little prospect for much of an increase, but I left the full tights and extra arm covering on anyway.  From the start my legs were loading up on every hill, so I was riding very conservatively.  The plan was to stay with the regular training ride group for the first 40 miles or so, and then take a slightly shorter route back to Enon where the race would start.  Once there we could check out the parking situation at the school, talk with the shop owner where we may locate the finish line, and then head back north to do a lap of the course before riding the last twenty or so miles to the cars. I was expecting the total to be around 80 miles, which turned out to be pretty close to the 79.2 that Strava logged and the 80.something that my computer showed.

The group ride was pretty good, although I was sitting in a lot and just taking short pulls, still wondering why the hell my legs, and for that matter the rest of me, were feeling so lousy.  A little sunshine would have helped, but for the most part it was overcast all day.  By the time we got back to the cars everything was hurting.  My neck felt sore, my legs ached, and I had a dull headache.  I picked up an Americano before hitting the causeway for home, hoping that might put things back in order, but basically I was dragging arse the rest of the day and making animal noises every time I got up from the sofa.  Well, by evening I was starting to get a little sore throat and the pieces of the puzzle were coming together.  Yeah, I'm at home today with a little head cold that I'm just hoping won't turn into something worse.....

Mardi Gras Days

While the past week has been just another seven days in February for most of the country, down here in New Orleans it was the final countdown to Mardi Gras.  I'd been keeping a pretty low profile for most of it, but Saturday night was the big Endymion parade and since there's a little party at Tulane's Psychiatry Department office, which is in the Tidewater Building, which is right on the parade route down on Canal Street, that one was on my calendar.  The weather had been miserable, causing a lot of the parades to re-schedule until Monday. I'd even skipped Saturday's Giro Ride (which may or may not have actually happened) because it was raining.  A couple of hours later, however, the rain had stopped and the radar looked at least temporarily promising. I felt quite lucky to have been able to get in 34 miles on the rain bike because most of the rest of the day was very wet.  Endymion delayed its start to try and skirt the last of the rain, and so by the time it arrived downtown the rain was long gone, the crowds were thin, and the throws were plenty.  It's always a lot of fun to catch tons of beads.  The fact that they'll mostly end up in the landfill eventually does little to diminish their immediate perceived value.  So thanks to the late parade I didn't get home until pretty late, at which point I had to make a crucial decision.  Should I get up at 3 am and drive the 4.5 hours up to Monroe for the TT and Criterium where the morning temperature was going to be in the low 40s?  "Oh, what the hell......"

OFFICIATING MODE

The drive to Monroe was less than relaxing.  The whole way was in a light misty drizzle with gusty winds, but thanks to a cup of McDonalds coffee I made it there with the LAMBRA clock in time for the Time Trial.  I'd stopped for gas about mid-way and when the cold north wind and mist hit me in the face I'd decided to skip the time trial and help with officiating instead.  It was a decision I did not regret. I was assigned Starter duties, which entailed about 75 minutes of counting down riders at one-minute intervals.  Although I was absolutely freezing cold, I was still quite content not to be riding into that headwind wearing a skinsuit.  The TT went well and so I headed straight over to the criterium course.

HANGING ONTO THE BREAK

The Crit course was a pretty simple circuit -- basically a rectangle with two sweeping curves and two fairly easy corners.  I was still quite chilled from the morning TT when I lined up for the masters race.  As my first race of the year, I wasn't very motivated so I decided I'd hang out mid-pack for the first part until I got nicely warmed up.  Unfortunately a number of the other riders didn't share my approach and the attacks started immediately.  I doubt we'd finished two laps before a two-rider break was off the front.  Half of the loop was straight into a strong headwind and the pack was not chasing at all.  It didn't help that the riders in the break had teammates in the pack either.  Soon another rider attacked to bridge.  I was right there and normally would have gone with him, but I was still feeling lazy and didn't.  Big mistake.  That rider made contact pretty quickly and soon another rider went and bridged up too. 

REX CAPTAIN

I finally awoke and went to the front and worked for a number of laps on the off-chance that one or two of the breakaway riders would crack, but there were only a couple others in the pack willing to do any work, so it all became more of a training ride for me.  On the last couple of laps the teammate of one of the riders who'd been sitting in because he had another teammate in the break was sent to the front to attack a few times and string things out a bit.  Naturally his teammate then attacked with half a lap to go and naturally nobody cared, so I guess we were sprinting for 6th place or something like that.  Hard to get fired up about that.  After that race I stood around and chatted for a while, which was another mistake because I got really, really chilled.  Lining up for the Cat. 1/2/3 race about an hour later I was actually shivering. 

ROYAL RUN CROWD

The 1/2/3 race had a fairly small field, but nonetheless we started out like we'd been fired out of a cannon.  Well, actually *they* started out that way.  I'd completely flubbed clipping in and had to chase all the way to the first corner, finally getting in behind a big rider at the end of the field.  We went around the first two turns as riders at the front were attacking.  The guy in front of me was having a lot of trouble just staying in the draft but I was hoping he'd close up the little gap he'd created when we hit the headwind stretch.  No such luck.  By the time I finally went around him the gap was a good ten seconds, the headwind about 15 mph, and my chances slim to none unless the pack eased up, which it didn't. I saw 31 mph for a moment into the headwind but was still not closing the gap. I chased a couple more laps hoping for a lull that never came and then eased up a bit so the two riders behind me could catch and we could work together.  Soon it was just Ed Kendrick and me and there was no way we were going to catch, so it was looking like another training ride. 

Then, a number of laps later, I heard Jered's voice coming up from behind saying, "Come on, Randy."  He was in a three-rider break with Andrew Chocha (US Military) and Wylie Bagley (S3).  By then I'd recovered from my earlier efforts and it was easy to latch onto the break.  Now that I was lapped by a breakaway, I was not allowed to lead the break, but at least I was getting a little better workout at a much faster pace. A little while later I heard Wylie tell the other guys, "I won't sprint," which is criterium rider language for, "Please don't attack and drop me because I'm toast and just hoping to hang on to the finish."  So basically there were just Jered and Andrew doing any work with Wylie and me sitting on.  It was actually a blast and I was really wishing I could have taken a few pulls.  We caught a couple of other dropped riders who also tagged on, but never did lap the remnant of the main field, which would have been nice because that would have un-lapped me.  Anyway, it was a lot of fun even though my placing totally sucked.  The ride back home was pretty long but generally a lot easier because it was clear and dry.  I arrived back home around 10:30, and since the Chief Referee had emailed me the results en-route, and I'd had a cup of coffee, I sat down at the computer around 11:00 and was up till after midnight getting the results posted and uploaded to USA Cycling.

The next morning, Monday, I got in a quick ride on the levee and by early evening was en route to another parade on St. Charles Avenue.  By the time I got home from that one I was badly in need of sleep, especially since Tuesday was Mardi Gras.

Mardi Gras morning I got in a quick little ride on the levee and then went over to Audubon Park to see the start of the Royal Run, a little-known kick-off event for the King and Queen of Mardi Gras.  By 9 am or so I was off to St. Charles Avenue with friends to watch Rex near 2nd Street.  A little while after Rex ended we headed off on foot for our annual trek down to the French Quarter, stopping at Ralph & Kacoo's for something to eat before spending an hour or so wandering up and down Bourbon and Royal with the camera. 

It seemed fairly restrained this year, but of course it was still early afternoon. Although Kenny, Candy, Mignon and Mark were all in the vicinity, we never managed to meet up.  Even text messages are a little sketchy on Mardi Gras day since there are probably a few thousand extra people in the area, most of whom are trying to do things like send photos.  Around the time we were heading back uptown I finally noticed an email from Kenny saying that they were *still* outside of Pat O's.  I must have walked right past them at least once!  Anyway, it was a long walk back to Napoleon Avenue where we happily took the streetcar the rest of the way home.

Roller Coaster Weather

If you don't like the weather around here, just stick around a few hours.  It'll change.  This morning was cooler and featured a strong but remarkably steady northeast wind together with slightly drier air. 

There were just a few of us on hand for the 6:40 start of the Friday levee ride, which was actually a couple more than I'd expected. We started up a paceline, taking long pulls and enjoying the occasional tailwind stretches on the way out.  I had been thinking that the ride back would be nothing but work, however it turned out to be pretty nice.  Although we were riding mostly into a quartering headwind, it was one of the most consistent headwinds I've ever seen.  That kept things really smooth and made it easy to stay in the draft.  Being a Friday the pace was by no means fast, but considering the wind and the small group I'd have to say it was faster than I would have expected.  My legs were finally feeling almost normal again, so I guess the decongestants I've been taking are helping.  Then again, maybe I was just all doped up and performance-enhanced on pseudoephedrine and just lucky nobody from USADA was waiting at the end of the ride with a plastic cup.  Fortunately you have to be over a certain threshold to test positive for that, unlike clenbuterol for which they can apparently test down to the technological limits of detection ("The simple fact is that anyone who has a prohibited substance in their system is a cheat"*), or albuterol for which half of the peloton has TUEs because they all apparently suffer from asthma.  Go figure.  I stopped at Zotz for a quick cup of coffee (caffeine is also a WADA-legal performance enhancing drug up to a certain limit) and contemplated their coffee-drinking king cake baby sign that seemed to me to hint at some socially questionable pre-war ethnic stereotypes.  Considering the likely age and political tilt of the artist, I have to assume any such references were purely unintentional.
*except for those substances that we decided you could use just a little bit or for those people who we randomly decided didn't really mean to cheat.

Last night the parades braved intermittent rain and rolled as scheduled, which turned out to have been a good decision.  It's looking like tonight's parades will be fine unless things get delayed.  I guess that's why they have moved up their start times by half an hour.  Even so, with three parades running one after the other, it will be fairly late by the time the last one makes it all the way downtown.  The chance of rain goes up around 10 pm, then drops down to 10% until the early morning hours, but by 7 am tomorrow, when the Giro Ride starts, it's up to 80% with most of Saturday looking to be pretty wet.  Saturday night is the Endymion parade that we're supposed to go see downtown at Tulane's Tidewater Building. By the time they make it all the way downtown, and assuming their usual substantial delays en route, most of the rain should have moved through with the next cold front. It's a little too close to call right now.  Also too close to call is whether or not I will decide to make an early (like 4:30 am) drive up to Monroe for the TT and Criterium on Sunday.  The TT will definitely be on the cold side and likely windy too, but by criterium time in the afternoon things should be a little better.  I'll have to see how things go on Saturday night, I think.  I know a number of the Tulane riders are going.  It's one race that I rarely make because it's always so early in the season and often runs afoul of Mardi Gras parades.  Still, it would be nice.......

Dull Ache

After a really good ride Wednesday morning, I was guardedly looking forward to the long Thursday ride.  Unfortunately, the weather forecast was not being particularly cooperative.  By Wednesday night it was raining off and on, and although the temperatures remained in the mid to upper 60s, the street was quite wet when I reluctantly awoke this morning. I took some time to consider my options, one of which was definitely to pull the covers back over my head.  The night before I'd had one of my rare migraine variants, which in my case is probably not so much a migraine thing as a sinus infection thing.  Anyway, when I get that visual aura thing with the jagged lines in the periphery of my visual field I know that within an hour it will be replaced by a dull headache.  Indeed, I awoke this morning with a unilateral headache.  It wasn't really very bad, so after checking the weather radar I decided a ride on the levee probably wouldn't do much harm.  Considering the wet roads I went for the rain bike once again, mainly to reduce the chance of flatting, but also because I figured I might well be riding by myself anyway.  No point dealing with the road spray if you don't have to. 

As I started down the street and went over the first little bump in the road I felt my head throb.  That pretty much eliminated any ideas I might have been harboring about doing any sort of hard workout.  I considered turning back to seek out some Advil, but figured I could at least get in twenty miles or so before resorting to pharmaceutical support.  Up on the levee I found Jeff LeBauve who is in town for Mardi Gras, I guess, and along with a couple others we started off down the wet bike path. At 20 mph there was a fair amount of wheel spray coming from the bikes ahead and after tolerating that for a few miles I decided to just drop off the back, ratchet down my speed a notch, enjoy my fenders, and try to forget about that dull ache in my head.  Turning around at Williams Blvd. I found one of the group who had turned around early, so I had some company for the ride back.  Naturally, he flatted just before the bridge. I wonder how many other flats there were out there today.  Anyway, despite the drugs I'm not feeling too chipper today.....

Unrecovered

It was winter again last weekend, and to make matters worse, it was windy as hell too.  The Saturday Giro group was looking a little thin when I arrived for my pre-ride caffeine treatment.  Since the temperature was down in the 30s and a strong wind was blowing, I wasn't the least bit surprised.  I'd dressed warmly, expecting the worst.  After all, this was the weekend of the Herring Gas training camp, and even the National Weather Service knows that almost guarantees some sort of meterological misery will be doled out by mother nature.  Under the circumstances, I was just happy it wasn't snowing.  From the start, I knew it wasn't going to be a good weekend for me.  I don't know if it was just the cold, or if somehow I was unrecovered from the prior week's training, but for whatever reason my legs were feeling kind of dead and achy.  In fact, today is Tuesday and they still feel that way.  Anyway, it was a pretty typical Giro and once I finally got more or less warmed up I made a few brief visits to the front, despite the persistent reminders from my quads that they were not ready for prime time.  Fortunately many of the usual riders were absent, the Herrings at their training camp and some of the Tulane riders over in Tallahassee for a pre-season collegiate warmup with the Southeast Conference riders whose season started a couple of weeks ago. That kept the overall speeds down a notch, for which I was not complaining.

I'd decided to do the northshore ride on Sunday, even though the best the forecast was offering was 32F at 8 am with a strong north wind.  I figured it wouldn't be much warmer at 7 am on the southshore anyway, so why not ride in the hills with some scenery rather than another hammerfest down Chef Highway?  Driving across the causeway I looked down at the choppy waters of Lake Pontchartrain and knew there would be no hiding from the wind.  Of course the turnout over there was a little slack too.  I left the parking lot with knee-warmers underneath long tights and a wind vest over my awesome NOBC winter jacket.  Turning into the freezing cold north wind for the first four miles to Tung Road I wondered if maybe I'd made a bad decision.  It was definitely the coldest my face has been all year, in spite of the layer of Chap-stick I'd put over my cheekbones and nose.  I don't think I was the only one, either. In fact, I was probably dressed more warmly than most.  I noticed Mignon struggling to pull up her slipping knee-warmers and could tell she was uncomfortable.  Within one mile all conversation had ceased.  I guess there were only about nine of us at the start.  Mignon and Mark dropped back on Tung Road.  By the time we were 20 miles into the ride we were down to four or five, and half an hour later I think it was just four. Jorge had ridden over 100 miles alone the day before, so that was helping keep him in check, so our speeds stayed fairly low most of the day.  The strongest of the group that day was the lone triathlete whose name I inquired about and subsequently forgot due to my well-known name memory defect that must have something to do with that time hit my head on the concrete in grammar school.  But I digress. At least we managed to keep the average speed above 19 mph for the 65 miles, thanks in no small part to the triathlete who went to the front and time-trialed the final five miles of tailwind. I arrived back at the car with my base layer(s) completely soaked with sweat and generally feeling like I'd been hit by a bus.  I'd already decided that Monday would be a rest day!

So Tuesday morning I got up, still feeling kind of unrecovered, to meet the Tuesday levee ride group. I swear, taking a day off the bike just does not seem to matter for me.  I probably would have felt just the same if I'd done an easy hour and a half on Monday. It had rained in the early morning and I briefly considered taking the rain bike, mainly because of the Mr. Tuffys in the tires, but ultimately broke down and mounted up on the Orbea anyway. As I walked out the door in the dark I went to start up Strave on my phone to track the ride, only to discover that it had updated itself during the night and now wanted me to re-enter my ID and Password, neither of which were coming immediately to mind.  Not that it would have mattered anyway since there was no way I was going to be able to type them in while wearing gloves in the dark without my glasses on. It was considerably warmer but still rather windy, and I struggled all the way out to the turnaround. Soon after we started back I started feeling even worse and contemplating the possibility that I might be coming down with something I retreated to the end of the paceline for the last ten or fifteen miles.   

A Firm Grip

I rode up the levee with a firm ENE wind at my back, pleased to see that the light bulbs on the two big pumps (we call them pumps, but I presume they are more like siphons) had finally been replaced. I wondered if Big Richard had replaced them like we'd discussed or if the Sewerage & Water Board had done it. There in the shadows, hiding from the wind, was Rob with his TT bike. I suspect that Rob's TT bike might actually require some modifications were he to enter a UCI or national championship event.  If his handlebars aren't lower than the top of his front wheel, they must be pretty darned close.  Anyway, up on the unprotected levee the wind was blowing at probably 12-15 mph, and I knew it was going to be a hard one.  The only good thing about a northeast wind is that we get a few miles of semi-tailwind to start off, but once around the bend at the country club (which is about to go up for auction, BTW), the river turns abruptly to the north and most of the rest of the ride features crosswinds at best.  The group was a little on the small side today, maybe ten or so, and of those ten about half were clearly not interested in the front half of the paceline.  Woody issued early notification that he was taking an easy day today and stayed toward the back of the paceline, eventually turning around somewhere around the parish line.

My own legs were feeling just a bit better than yesterday, so I ended up in a three or four-person rotation for a long time, crouching low to get in on the tiny draft offered by Rob and his TT bike.  It felt like work the whole time, and recovery opportunities were in exceedingly short supply.  One thing about riding on a windy day is that you never feel like you can relax.  After pulling off you still have to deal with the wind and the resulting irregular lines it imposes on the riders around you.  Up on the levee, there are also pedestrians and other cyclists around whom to maneuver, which temporarily eliminates the draft on the crosswind sections. It all requires a rather firm grip on the handlebars and concentrated focus on staying close to the wheel in front of you, which explains why I have no photographs today.  To have taken my camera out of my jersey pocket and snapped a few photos would have resulted in either (a) getting dropped, or (b) causing a crash.  As it was, we had a few close calls anyway.

The ride back downriver was the hardest, as it included some long sections that seemed more or less straight into the wind, and a lot more that were just flat-out crosswind.  Although we had a pretty good paceline going, we were often struggling just to keep the speed in the 19-21 mph range.  By the time I got home my back, shoulders and neck were all hurting a bit. It was nothing a 1.5-egg cheeze omlette and cup of coffee couldn't fix, however.  Even so, I was still feeling the effort as I rode my commuter to the office, by way of Starbucks, an hour later.

Last night I engaged in a bit of NOBC archaeology, digging through an old file box of bike club stuff in search of the club's constitution and bylaws.  We're finally moving ahead with seeking official 501(c)3 status from our friends at the IRS, and that's one thing, among others, we need to submit.  Amazingly, I found it.  I had a few copies of the original from around 1972, which had been printed on mimeograph paper, and also a copy of a re-typed version that I had made some time in the 80s.  That file is probably on a 5.25 inch floppy disk in CPM format somewhere.  Anyway, while I was digging through all of that I pulled out a 1975 race calendar and an old 1972 NOBC Newsletter by Jim McFadden that included race reports from races in Lafayette, LA, Indianola, MS, Big Sandy, TX, and of course New Orleans.  Discussing the 25 mi. time trial series, Jim remarks, "Next year I predict three people will break the hour, and eight people will go below 1:05:00."  At that point I don't think anyone had gone under 1:01:00, and it would be a few more years before the hour was finally broken - I think it must have been around 1978 or 1979.  That year, however, a number of riders did it, which proved to me that much of time trialing was mental.  I myself finally posted a 0:59:59 at the state championships down on the Scarsdale, LA river road course, and promptly came down with a bad case of mononucleosis that practically put me off the bike for the better part of a year. Of course, that was in the pre-aero era when you did time trials on your regular road bike with little in the way of special equipment outside of one of those newly invented skinsuits and maybe some packing tape over your shoelaces. Nowadays an hour-flat 40km time trial is considered merely respectable for the Cat. 1-4 riders on a good day.  The glaring exception is the women's class where we still rarely see anything under a 1:01:00.  I know they can go faster.   

Riding and Tracking

The return of cooler weather, and its accompanying north wind, had me looking for the long tights Tuesday morning.  Granted, the temperature was only in the 50s, but after a week of spring-like temperatures I was looking for that cozy warm feeling to ease the transition back into February.  The levee ride seemed somewhat subdued yesterday morning, probably due to a combination of things that included lots of weekend miles and a fairly strong wind.  It didn't take long for my legs to start complaining.  Every time I'd ask them for a little power they would load up right away.  I hate when that happens.  Years ago that easy recovery ride I'd done on Monday would have been more than enough to put things right by Tuesday morning, but apparently my advanced age has been taking a toll on my ability to recover because I was feeling anything but fresh as the group headed upriver toward Destrehan.  The pace wasn't particularly out of line for a Tuesday ride, staying mostly in the mid-20s on the way out, but the paceline seemed to be getting more and more erratic the farther we went.  Each time you'd drop back after taking a pull you didn't know what you'd find.  Sometimes there would be a reasonable string of riders in the paceline, other times maybe two would go by and then there would be a big gap.  I'd think to myself, "I really don't want to have to take another pull into this wind so soon."  But of course if I didn't slide over and plug the gap it would grow a little more until someone from behind would jump past everyone.  It seemed like the whole ride went that way -- basically lots of riders not wanting to get dropped but only a few willing to work.  I guess I was somewhere in-between, myself.  As erratic as the paceline had been on the way out, it was even more so on the way back as the wind was picking up and its relative direction kept changing as we followed the curves of the river.  I was actually surprised to arrive home and find an average speed of 20 mph, considering.

So this morning I went out to meet the Wednesday morning group and, well, there wasn't one.  The north wind seemed stronger than it had been the day before, which I guess explains the paucity of riders.  On the other hand, the temperature was in the upper 50s and the sky was clear, and once the sun came up it was a beautiful day, at least as far as I could tell during those brief periods when I wasn't staring at the ground wondering why my legs were hurting so much at 18 mph. Anyway, I trudged along at a moderate effort level and sometimes shockingly slow speed, eventually picking up Taylor who latched onto the back for a little while but then quietly disappeared even though I probably never got much over 20 mph.  As I often do when I'm riding solo and slowly, I turned around a mile or so early, at Williams Blvd., picking up Taylor again. There was a little stretch of tailwind but mostly crosswind on the way back, but by then my spirit had been broken and I was kind of plodding along as the crosswind toyed with my front wheel. We passed Mike W. who was stretching at the pump as we went by, and then when I finally eased up near the bridge we noticed he had caught up with us.

Lately I've had to take a little detour on my way home because they've been replacing the streetcar tracks along Carrollton Avenue and closing down cross streets in the process.  It looks like the days of wooden cross ties are gone - these all look like they must be made from recycled milk bottles or something. The thing about the streetcar tracks is that they bury the ties so that all you see are the rails, probably just so that the neutral ground looks prettier. Naturally that's not a very good way to treat wooden ties, especially down here where the ground rarely dries out.  Anyway, I got home and saved the ride data to Strava as usual, only to discover later that the GPS or Strava, or something had gone flaky about halfway out and basically missed over half of the ride, only picking it up again when I had to stop for a truck crossing the levee near the end.  As a result, it shows a total distance of 13.9 miles instead of 23 or so, and an average speed of 10.4 mph.  I may have going slowly, but not that slowly!  Interestingly, when that happens it plots a straight line (right over the Mississippi River) from its last good position to the next and basically does the same with the speed. I guess it's losing track of the satellites or something, and then having trouble getting a fix again while I'm moving. Speaking of Strava, I see that Rouge-Roubaix this year is doing a Strava "Segment Challenge" for some of the longer gravel road climbs (a longer version of Blockhouse Hill and Woodstock Road). A Garmin rep. will apparently be there with some loaner Garmin computers and they'll have a prize for the fastest man and woman.  I won't be winning any of that!

Bottom Line

The legs were a little reluctant Sunday morning, but February temperatures in the 60s are not to be squandered, so I was out the door at dawn to meet Robert at Puccino's for the drive over to the northshore.  I wasn't sure who would be making this ride since there had also been talk about another long Giro to Slidell. I think I counted 18 riders at I rolled out of the Lee Road Junior High parking lot wearing a long-sleeve jersey and shorts.  The sky was filled with clouds and it felt chilly as we rode into a steady north wind in the general direction of Enon. Considering the number of miles I already had in my legs for the week, my plan was to take it easy for the first half of the ride just to be on the safe side.  Fortunately the pace was reasonably subdued for the first ten miles or so.  Things picked up a bit along the hills on Tullos Road, and the group was already beginning to sort itself out.  A few more miles and some of the group decided to cut the route a bit short as the rest continued north toward Highway 10 at the top of the loop. 

After a bit of a wait at the intersection, we continued on, finally starting to feel some tailwind as the route turned more to the south.  This stretch of the course is traditionally fast as it includes a couple of longish climbs that tend to split things up.  Coming over the second one, one of the guys on a TT bike surged and, since I was right there, I went with him.  For the next few miles to the intersection with Sie Jenkins Road he hammered at 27-28 mph, with me taking only a few brief pulls.  It was like being behind a motor, and despite the TT setup, he was still big enough for me to get a pretty sweet draft.  We waited for a while to regroup before heading back to the west on Hwy. 1072 where we were greated by a bit of a crosswind, softened somewhat by the roadside trees. This road always seems kind of hard because there's probably not a flat fifty yards on the whole thing, but the group stuck to a smooth rotation which made it feel a lot easier than it might have.

Finally heading back down toward Enon the road features a lot of nice rollers, smooth asphalt, and probably a net drop in elevation.  Combined with a tailwind, that made or a brisk but smooth pace down to Enon where we crossed the river and started the gradually steepening uphill to the firetower. I was thinking that someone would surely attack at some point along here, but instead it remained fairly steady at around 20 mph.  Once over the top, though, the pressure remained on and it quickly ramped up into the high 20s.  It was along here that we caught up with the rest of the group that had taken a shorter route.  It was perfect timing.  The last five miles or so of this ride are usually kind of a free-for-all where the riders who have something left blow it out while those who don't back off a bit.  Well, with a little tailwind, still-decent legs, and a couple of triathletes willing to sit on the front for extended periods, I naturally ended up near the front and ended up once again motorpacing behind one of the TT bikes.  It was a pretty good ride.  The bottom line for the week, at least for me, was about 300 miles and over 15 hours on the bike.  I'm quite sure I wasn't the only one, either, considering the great riding weather we've been having down here.  Still, that's a bit more than I would consider normal for me for the first week of February.

Slidin' to Slidell

At 6 am the weather radar looked pretty good, and since the forecast wasn't calling for rain until afternoon, I stuck an extra Powerbar into my pocket before heading out the door to the Giro Ride.  As is usually the case this time of year, there had been talk of doing a "Long Giro" out to Slidell today.  The group hanging around at Starbucks before the ride was pretty big as we started out, and I guess it eventually got up to 45 or so by the time things really got going. Right off the bat, however, before we event got off of Lakeshore Drive, VJ flatted.  Fortunately it was still early enough that everyone waited.  Once over the bridges the pace picked up to 25-28 mph as usual, but also as usual I was staying safely tucked into the draft, especially since I was planning on doing the long ride out to Slidell and back.

When we turned onto Chef Highway I was surprised to see how foggy it was.  I reached back and turned on my rear blinky light, although I doubt it was foggy enough for anyone to miss such a big group. As we continued on, the fog just got thicker and thicker, and for a while I was seriously wondering if going out to Slidell was such a good idea.

As it turned out, there were over a dozen who were up for the long ride, so I tagged along too.  After a rather long nature break, we finally got a really smooth fast paceline going.  The road was pretty wet from all the fog, and after pulling off the front at one point I did a little ice skating on the paint stripe.  I was careful to stay off of the white line after that.

The ride back was a lot like the ride out had been.  Lots of fast paceline riding all the way to the turn off of Chef Highway.  After that things were a little less organized with some fast sections and some slow sections, and then finally a couple of hard efforts to the tops of the two bridges.  My legs were pretty tired by the time I got home, but nothing too severe.

The rain didn't arrive until late afternoon, but once it passed through it somehow stayed dry for the Krewe du Vieux.  Tomorrow I'm planning on the northshore ride, and hoping my legs are up to it after today's 90+ miles.

Wet Asphalt and Flat Tires

It's that time of year when we tie our children to
the top steps of ladders where it says "do not stand."

Springtime in February continues!  I went out Thursday morning in summer wardrobe expecting a pretty fast group levee ride.  The road was wet, again, but this time it was due mainly to the night's fog rather than actual rain.  Fortunately, but ride time there was hardly any fog along the levee, although VJ said that it had been so thick at his house near the lake that he almost hadn't gotten out of bed. As we got underway we continued to pick up stray riders all along the stretch from the start to the playground.  As we passed the playground (it was still pretty dark) I looked over to see a bunch of film production trailers and tents set up next to the stable.  I guess maybe another segment for Treme?   Anyway, just as the pace finally started to pick up I heard some discussion behind me as riders started to freewheel again. We soft-pedaled for a while to wait for someone, I think maybe Donald, to come up the levee and join the group. Once everyone was finally back together, which seemed to take a particularly long time, we finally got up in to the mid-20s with an occasional visit to 27-30 mph territory.  The number of people pulling started to dwindle a bit but for the most part there was a decent steady rotation going for the next ten miles.  When we turned down the levee at The Dip, however, I could feel the unmistakable squishiness that accompanies a deflating tire, and as we climbed back up to the levee top I eased over to the right just as my front rim started to bottom out. I told everyone to go on, although Keith hung around to keep me company while I pulled a big chunk of glass out of the tire and swapped out the tube.  We continued on at an easy pace until we saw the group coming back around the bridge, then jumped back into the paceline for the return trip.  There was a bit of a southeast wind that kept the speed down, but otherwise it was good.

For some reason my phone's GPS or Strava app must have flaked out somewhere around the bridge because afterward it just showed a straight line from there to Carrollton Avenue where it picked up again.  Go figure. I think it therefore included my coffee stop in my average speed for the day too.

The Team LaS'port guys up in Shreveport seem to be getting targeted by cars this week, and I think one of them suffered some pretty serious injuries, including some broken bones, after a car pulled over into them.  There's a news report on the local station.  Be careful out there!

So this morning I looked out the window to see wet streets again.  This time it was apparent we'd had a little rain overnight. It was still warm (in the 60s), so I went ahead and took the Rain Bike out again for an easy ride, once again taking some comfort in the fact that it has both fenders and Tuffy's.  I really need to put a speedometer on that thing, though, along with a freewheel that might give me a gear big enough to get up to 25 mph without looking like a treadmill gerbil. There was a pretty brisk east southeast wind blowing, so although my speed may not have looked very recovery-zoneish, my effort level definitely was.  Out in Kenner near Williams Blvd. I caught up with Taylor who then flatted just in time for the turnaround.  The ride back was mostly into the wind, and since I was trying to at least approximate a recovery ride, I was probably spending a lot of time around 15 mph. This weekend will probably be a repeat of last weekend for me, weather permitting.  It's also the first weekend with a few of the early Mardi Gras parades, the most fun of which would have to be Krewe du Vieux on Saturday night for which the official theme this year is "Crimes Against Nature."  Should make for some interesting social commentary style costuming.

Better Late Than Wetter

"It's sprinkling outside," said The Wife as I twisted around to look out the window.  I hate that.  "Sprinkling."  What exactly does that mean?  If it was truly "raining" then my decision would be easy, but "sprinkling" is an entirely different matter. Sometimes riding in that kind of stuff can perfectly fine.  Other times it can be perfectly miserable.  It all depends on how the temperature, wind, amount of rain, and wet streets all come together. 

Indeed, I could see that the street was kind of wet, but .... rain?  Sort of, but not quite.  I thought about it for a while.  The temperature was around 60° F, so I checked the radar which didn't really look all that bad.  Still, who wants to go out for a ride on wet roads and come back with soggy feet, a dirty bike, gritty teeth, and probably a flat tire?  Fortunately, I have a Rain Bike!  Unfortunately, it was at the moment only halfway through its transition from cyclocross bike to rain bike. I knew I'd be late if I got that bike ready for a ride in the rain, but I also figured the regular group wouldn't be up on the levee anyway, so being a few minutes late wouldn't be an issue. 

Down in the basement I swapped out the mountain bike pedals for my antique Shimano/Look pedals, tracked down the shoes with the almost-correct cleat, pumped up the tires, stuck my rain jacket into my pocket, and headed out the door.  Naturally the rain, what there was of it, had stopped by then.  I figured I'd get in twenty miles or so at an easy pace.  Better than nothing, right?  Shortly after I got up onto the levee a couple of Tulane riders came flying past.  They were in the middle of a 2-minute interval.  I shifted to the highest gear on the bike, which still had its cyclocross freewheel on it, and latched on.  My top gear of 52 x 16 wasn't likely to hold up too well for intervals, but I figured I could handle a minute or so of high-rpm spinning as long as I had a draft.  After a couple more of those, they turned around, but by then I'd learned that there were a couple more Tulane riders coming up from behind who would probably be going a little farther and weren't doing the intervals.  I looked back and could already see them, so I continued on until they caught me.  On the way back Landon said they were going to do a little short sprint workout, sort of mini-intervals.  Naturally, I couldn't stay on their wheels once the speed got up past 25 or so, but I'd catch up a bit between sprints, so once they were finished I caught back up to them, just in time for one of them to flat.  We were there long enough that I guess the Strava app that was running on my phone decided I was finished and stopped logging the ride.  Naturally I didn't realize it until later in the day when I looked at the data and wondered why it didn't show the extended stop.  Anyway, on the plus side, I arrived back home nice and dry, having missed the rain.  Thanks to the Pennine's full fenders my feet were pretty dry, although of course I did get a fair amount of wheel spray from the others.  Just to make me feel a little better about my decision to ride, it started raining shortly after I got back home.  I liked that.

Almost February

I didn't really need the knee and arm-warmers this morning, but somehow it just seems wrong to be riding before dawn in January without them. Don't get me wrong.  I'm not complaining.  Anyway, it felt like I could finally see the end of the tunnel, or should I say the winter, this morning.  As I waited up on the levee at 6:15 am, I looked up at the eastern sky and could see a hint of sunlight.  It reminded me that it was the last day of January and therefore time to start at least thinking about moving farther away from "base miles" and closer to "build," whatever that means.  The bottom line was that I felt a bit less content sitting in, and a lot less content letting gaps open up ahead of me in the paceline.  That little tailwind didn't hurt either.  So after VJ finally pulled off after towing the whole group for about three miles, I put in a fair amount of work today as the group made its way out to Destrehan, where, by the way, there is now a big eagle nest in one of the trees on the batture.  It felt good. After the turnaround I started heading back at an easy pace while some of the other riders were doing whatever they do there.  Personally, I've rarely felt the need to stop in the middle of a 40 mile morning ride.  Anyway, for some reason the paceline didn't show up until I was basically all the way to The Dip.  There was an increasing wind coming out of the southeast that kept the speed down a bit all the way back home.

So I've been playing around with Strava on my smartphone lately, uploading ride data since Saturday, except for Monday when I must have somehow failed to touch the right button.  Anyway, it's kind of neat to see the speed graph for a ride, and kind of funny that the software defaults to show the elevation chart first.  One thing that's completely useless here in New Orleans is elevation tracking.  Since I don't have data from a powermeter or heart rate monitor, Strava guesstimates power based on speed, body/bike weight, and elevation change.  Of course the elevation change data that it gets from the GPS is pretty random, so I'd guess the power data is equally random.  Anyway, it's been interesting to see the data from other local riders' training rides.  Perhaps it will provide a bit of extra motivation now and then.  It's been a very long time since I've kept a training log.  I'm guessing I'll probably be a little inconsistent about actually starting the application every time I ride, but we'll see how it goes.

Back Up North

The almost-normal winter weather around here has been pretty rider-friendly lately.  Granted, the mornings have been chilly, but things have been warming up into the 60s later in the day. So Saturday morning I rode out to the Giro Ride knowing that half of what I was wearing would be coming home in jersey pockets. Hanging out at the coffee shop before the ride, Rob was busy recruiting riders for a long Giro out to Slidell.  A handful of the guys were up for it, but a number of others were already planning on doing that on Sunday instead. As we rolled out toward the lake I was glad I'd dressed so warmly.

Although there was a big group, the pace was a bit restrained, at least by Giro standards, and although there were a few fast stretches, for the most part the group stayed together pretty well, at least until the last kilometer before the turnaround. Those who were "going long" were trying to avoid doing too much work too early, and those who were planning to "go long" on Sunday were, I guess, keeping that fact in mind.

One thing about the Giro sprints that really bugs me is that there are always a few riders who are up near the front and look like they are going to go for the sprint, and then without warning just sit up in the middle of it, usually when I'm on their wheels.  So as usual I ended up behind a big gap and didn't sprint. It still feels a little too early in the year for me to be going for the sprints, but I was feeling pretty good on Saturday and had been thinking I might give it a shot.  Oh well.  It was a good ride anyway, and I finished it off with a good effort to the top of the Seabrook bridge.  My legs reminded me of that effort the next morning.

Even before starting Saturday's ride I had already decided that I was going to do the Sunday northshore ride.  It had been quite a while since I'd been able to make it "up north" for that ride, but I was getting pretty overstocked on Giro rides and really needed a ride in the country.  So Sunday morning I got up early, walked the dogs, loaded the bike into the car, stopped at Starbucks as they were opening the doors, and drove over to Puccino's to see who was going to show up. I picked up Mario and we headed across the lake right on schedule.  By the time we were ready to roll there were 23 riders, including Mike Lew and John Dias.  It felt pretty cold, probably because I had kind of compromised in the wardrobe department.  The sky was clear, and although it was quite windy I knew it was going to get a lot warmer.  Most of the group was obviously looking for a fairly easy winter ride, but as usual there were a few who were having a lot of trouble with that concept. One thing about a ride with so may people is that you know people will get dropped and there will be a lot of regrouping stops.  Just after Enon this ride has a traditional "nature stop" at Dummyline road.  A few of didn't need to stop so we just kept rolling easy.  I found myself chatting with John as we soft-pedaled along and soon realized that we were going a little too fast.  I sat up and looked back to see riders scattered all down the road.  Unfortunately, each little group was now chasing the other.  It was quite a while before everything came back together, and I think a few riders really had to chase hard. 

After a while John and a couple others rolled off the front and everyone else just let them go.  The next time we saw them was in the parking lot.  So anyway, there was a bit of stop-and-go for the next twenty miles or so, but a number of riders took shortcuts or headed back early, so eventually we ended up with around a dozen.  We'd been fighting nagging headwinds and crosswinds most of the day, and it wasn't until we were past Plainview before we finally got a little break.  Naturally the pace picked up a bit, but for the most part I'd have to classify the overall ride speed as "moderate" with a few brief forays into "fast" territory.  Anyway, that all worked out fine or me because I was dealing with achy legs for the whole ride.  Nothing very severe, just a subtle reminder that I had done a little hard riding the day before.

A Friday Morning

It was a nice morning for a ride. The temperature was comfortably in the 50s, the wind was light and the sky was clear.  If the dog hadn't awakened me at 4:30 am (I swear he's on EST) I probably would have been a little more energetic, but at least I got myself out the door more or less on time.  I pulled on some long tights and a long-sleeve jersey to cut the morning chill, although neither were stictly necessary, and made my way down Carrollton Avenue's bike lane and then Willow Street.  The streetcar barn there is still not quite empty at that time of the morning, although many of the streetcars are fired up and ready to go with their fancy new headlights and LED blinky lights.  Up on the levee there was only Scott, and as I approached he clipped in and rolled down the little hill at the pipes.  There aren't usually many riders on Fridays, and quite often it's only Scott and me for most of the ride. Today was no exception. There was a slight breeze coming out of the northwest and I tucked into Scott's draft as he started his first long easy pull at the front.  As we came to Ochsner Hospital I saw him point down the levee toward the river.  There were two coyotes trotting along the batture in the area that was cleared a couple of years ago.  I said, "I've got to get a better look" as I turned around, but Scott didn't hear me and continued on.  I considered trying to take a picture, but it was still fairly dark and they were pretty far away, so I decided it would probably just be another of those fuzzy UFO-style photos so I didn't.  I watched them for a little while, as they watched me, and then continued on, slowing down for a bit when I saw someone walking down toward the river.  I wanted to be sure he wasn't accompanied by a little off-leash dog since that would have made a nice breakfast for the coyotes.  Scott, of course, eventually figured out that I wasn't behind him any more and doubled back, so I met up with him again a little while later.

After a while we met up with Taylor, slowing down so he could make a U-turn and catch up to us.  We rolled along the rest of the way out to the turnaround at a comfortable 20 mph or so.  Heading back downriver we picked up more of a tailwind, which kept the speed closer to 22 or 23 mph which was pretty typical for a Friday morning levee ride.  So I'm hoping I might finally make it across the lake on Sunday if something doesn't come up. The temperatures are returning to seasonal normal, or just slightly above it, which means a ride-time temperature around 40 and a high of around 60.  Not too bad for the last weekend in January.  Anyway, the Tulane team just got approval to purchase a trailer.  That should be interesting.  Anyone have tips on outfitting an enclosed trailer for bike races?

Back to Normal

After a week of seasonably abnormal weather, a cold front finally limped through the area this morning, bringing with it a rain storm perfectly timed to wipe out any chance of a morning ride. Instead, I drove The Wife over to the Tulane shuttle stop, and in the process got good and wet and then spilled half a cup of coffee onto the seat of the car.  Even worse, I was sitting in said seat at the time.  It was not pretty.

Of course the clouds cleared and the sun came out when it was time to go to work.  Anyway, I guess I shouldn't be complaining about a few days of riding in summer kit in January.  For some reason, although my camera came along for practically every ride in the last week, I never managed to fish it out of my pocket to take a picture.  Uninspired, I suppose. 

One thing I did manage to accomplish was to install a new security system at the house. I still need to run the wire for the exterior siren, and I think I'll add a motion detector for the basement, but essentially it's up and running with door and window sensors, smoke detector, motion detector, remote keyfob, etc.. It even has that same British lady's voice that my Garmin does, and when it's tripped she calls me on my cellphone.  I'm still a little bit up in the air about whether or not to sign up for an alarm monitoring service.  I guess I'll eventually cave in on that, but I might wait a while so I can see how it all works first.

Change is in the air, however, and it looks like we'll be a little closer to seasonal normal by tomorrow morning. Perhaps I'll be inspired to pull that camera out of my pocket.  The Tulane team is making its new 2012 team kits available for purchase via WePay, so if you want to support the team, pick up a couple of items.

Mileage

The three-day weekend started out in the low 30s and ended in the low 70s.  Not bad for January.  I met the Giro Ride group at Starbucks and by the time we were rolling down Lakeshore Drive the group must have numbered around 50.  The pace picked up early and pretty much stayed there. I was planning on doing the northshore ride on Sunday, but couldn't seem to interest anyone else in it.  Instead, a lot of riders were talking about doing a long Giro Ride out to Slidell. I was officially on the fence about that.

The Saturday Giro was fairly fast, but the wind wasn't too much of a factor so it was easy to sit in and recover when necessary.  I had installed a new chain the night before, and as often happens, it was skipping under heavy loads on my three favorite cogs.  I made a mental note to order three replacement Miche cogs so I wouldn't have to buy a whole new cassette.  It's not something I'd do for a racing wheel, but for the cassette on my training wheel it's definitely worth it even though the Miche cogs are clearly not up to Campi specs.  Later that evening I started leaning more and more toward Sunday's long Giro.  The forecast for the northshore was calling for a morning low around 33-34F, but considerably warmer on the south shore.  When I woke up Sunday morning and checked the thermometer, it was an easy decision.  I figured I could use the extra miles anyway.  The regular Giro Ride usually nets me around 60 miles, of which maybe 30 are fairly hard.  The long Giro out to Slidell and back typically brings me in with around 95 miles, and pretty much all of the last thirty at least feel hard.

Sunday's ride started out a whole lot faster than I, or most of the other riders, would have expected.  With so many riders planning on doing the long ride, you would have thought it would temper the pace a bit.  There seemed to be a few riders at the front who were determined to keep the speed up no matter what, and they didn't exactly wait until we were halfway down Hayne Blvd. either.  I remember looking up along Lakeshore Drive and seeing just a long single-file line of riders and thinking, "what are they thinking?"  I guess the warmer temperature, clear sky, favorable wind, and upcoming racing season was responsible.  I made a decision right there to conserve my energy until at least Fort Pike because the one thing I know about the Slidell ride is that the same distance always seems to be twice as long on the way back.

There's a fairly long and high bridge over the Rigolets, just past Fort_Pike.  It's a very deceptive climb up to the top, which always seems to be quite a bit farther away than it looks. Of course a few of the guys had to race to the top, so I tried to stay smooth and keep them within reach, pushing a little bit to close it up on the long downhill.  Now typically the group will ease up and regroup after the bridge before making the left turn for the final few miles to Slidell.  That didn't exactly happen on Sunday. In fact, I had the distinct impression that I was in some kind of breakaway group as we flew through the turn in the oncoming traffic lane. I took one or two pulls in the rotation, but then decided to sit on the back and at least give the rest of the group, which was by then in full-on chase mode, a chance.  Unfortunately, taking me out of a breakaway rotation doesn't do much to slow it down.

The return trip was pretty fast as well, although I think a bit smoother and more consistent.  I think there were around fifteen that rode the full distance, and most were rotating through nicely.  I was actually quite impressed that so many riders were in such good shape this early in the year.  It seemed there were only one or two who were in trouble.  I rode back with some of the Tulane guys, stopping at the Blue Dot on Canal where I inhaled a couple of glazed donuts, eventually arriving back home with 95 on the odometer.  The long weekend wasn't over yet, though.

Since I was off on Monday I decided to join the Tulane team, at least those of them who were in town (classes don't start until Wednesday, I think), for an "easy" westbank ride.  We met up at the very civilized hour of 9 am and rode downtown to catch the Canal St. ferry over to Algiers. The original plan had been to ride the westbank bike path, but Kenny took over as tour leader, and we ended up, not surprisingly, heading directly for the General de Gaulle bridge over the intracoastal.  This bridge is a lot like the one over the Rigolets in that it's fairly long, quite new, and features a nice wide debris-strewn shoulder.  We made it over the bridge, regrouped, and headed over to the Belle Chasse ferry, crossing the river back to the eastbank side, and then heading down toward Pointe a la Hache for a few miles before turning around.  After a stop at the store in Scarsdale while waiting for the ferry (where I indulged in a Hubig's Lemon Pie) we returned more or less the way we'd come. Although I was starting to feel a little worn down, Monday's 55 miles were done mostly at a conversational pace, so I arrived home feeling a bit better than exhausted.

When I awoke this morning I debated for a moment whether to sleep in or head out for the long Tuesday levee ride.  It it had been cold, I probably would have pulled the covers back over my head for another couple of hours of sleep, but the temperature was around 60F, and although it was windy I figured I'd best do the ride because there was some possibility of rain in the forecast.  The levee ride turned out to be fairly hard, especially on the way out. There was a pretty strong wind coming from the southwest, which meant a number of long crosswind stretches.  Naturally one of those split the group. Once Woody turned back at The Dip, the pace eased up a little bit, but by then the group was down to about half it's original size.  The ride back started out pretty easy - I think there were more than a few tired legs in the group - but things got difficult again when we hit another long stretch of crosswind.  I was at the back for that, and basically had no draft at all for a few miles despite the fact that I was behind Big Richard and was doing my best to ride the outside two inches of asphalt without falling off the path.  So, a bit over 250 miles since Saturday morning. My condolences to all those riders up north who spent all weekend in basements riding trainers and watching old Tour de France videos.....

Missing Link

It was looking like this morning would be the last day of "springtime in January" for a little while.  It was already getting windy ahead of a second cold front that should be taking us down from 60F to 34F this evening, and with the morning temperature somewhere in the mid-50s I found my wardrobe decisions rather perplexing.  As I usually do in such situations, I intentionally over-dressed.  Hot I can handle; cold, not so much. 

As I rode up the levee in the dark I could see that the meeting place was deserted.  I checked my watch.  Four minutes early.  For the 6:15 am ride, four minutes is an eternity.  I rode around in little circles for a while as riders started arriving from both directions, and by 6:20 we were heading upriver and upwind in the moonlight. Brian (I think that's his name, right?) went to the front and pulled all the way to the bridge at a pretty good pace, I came through briefly, and it looked like a nice little paceline might get going.  He reached in his pocket and handed me an inner tube that Louise (I think that's her name, right?) had given him to give to me since I'd given her one the other morning when she'd double-flatted on the wet bike path. Of course, with Rob on his TT bike, and Woody and Howard near the front, I figured an all-inclusive paceline wasn't going to survive very long.  Naturally, Howard went to the front and pushed the pace up by three or four mph.  The rest, including me, were reluctant to follow.  A couple went around to bridge but with the headwind there wasn't much enthusiasm there.  Three of four rolled away and the rest of the group finally settled down into a paceline with a few sitting on a the back.

The return trip was going to feature some significant tailwind stretches. I always find tailwinds more difficult than headwinds on group rides like this.  For the first few miles the group was in conversation mode and I was starting to think we might have a fairly steady 20 miles back to civilization.  Well apparently that wasn't what everyone was thinking.  Next thing I know, I'm in a group off the front with Rob, Woody, Howard and Rolan and we're going around 28-30 mph.  OK, so I figure I'll try not to take any long pulls and see how it goes.  Howard surges at the front.  I come through behind him and take a really short pull.  Dropping back, I glance over my right shoulder as I prepare to get on the back of the paceline and there's a big gap where Howard should be.  I look under my arm and catch a glimpse of Howard coming back to the group so I back off a bit rather than fill the spot. Well, that was a mistake!  Rob's on the front so the pace up there is increasing.  Howard is accelerating up to the back of the paceline, and I'm basically coasting.  Not good.  Howard flies past me onto the last wheel and suddenly I'm gapped off the back by five bike lengths.  I accelerate up to 28 and close a little of it but they're still  hammering at the front and I'm still too far back to get the draft.  I see Woody dropping down the paceline after taking a pull and he glances back at me as he tacks onto the last wheel.  I struggle along for a couple of minutes more, but I've been out in the wind too long and I have to back off.  After that, I spent a few miles in no-mans-land, holding a sustainable pace but of course still gradually losing ground on the paceline up ahead.  Soon, I hear a wheel coming up from behind and Brian pulls alongside. Yea!  I get on his wheel for a little rest as he takes a long pull.

We worked together the rest of the way back, and for a while we were closing the gap, but in the end the best we could do was to limit our losses as we both started to fade after the Country Club bend.  We had been going 27-30 most of the way with the tailwind, but it was a little inconsistent, so the gap was probably a little over a minute by the time we finally backed off a mile or so before the bridge.  Good workout, though!

So I've been having some problems with my trusty commuting bike lately.  Some time back, after a few particularly rainy days, I'd forgotten to re-lube the chain and found it starting to rust.  This is a standard cheap single-speed chain, and that was enough to cause it to "stretch," which is what we call it when the links start to wear to the point where the chain doesn't mesh so well with the cogs.  Being a beat-up commuting bike, I didn't worry about it much, but as time went on I started having a problem with the chain coming off.  This was due to the fact that the little bit of "stretch" had made it impossible to get the chain tight enough on the old horizontal dropout bike.  Every now and then, when I'd be riding down a bumpy road, which pretty well describes all of the roads on which I normally commute, the chain would come off and I'd have to stop and get my fingers dirty.  This happened twice yesterday on my way home, and I made a mental note to pick up a new chain the next time I had a chance.  Well, as it turned out, I forgot to put my bike lock key in my pocket this morning when I went to work.  This isn't really a problem since I can easily roll the bike right into my office and lean it against the wall.  So there I am, sitting at my desk, and I glance up at the bike and notice something doesn't look right.  Upon closer inspection I realize that one of the link plates is completely broken.  It's rather amazing that the thing is still working.  I guess my next stop will be the LBS (local bike shop).  The only question is whether I'll be walking part of the way there.....

Off-Season 65 Mile Jam

It may be only January 8 elsewhere, but around here it's 76 F with a low tonight of 60.  I suppose I shouldn't have been too surprised, then, to have found somewhere in excess of 25 riders out at the Lee Road Junior High for the regular Sunday northshore ride this morning.  It has been a very long time since I'd been able to do this ride, and coming off of two weeks of minimal activity, four days of riding, and yesterday's Giro, I didn't really know what to expect -- of myself.  I did know quite well, however, what to expect of this group.  A warm-weather training ride in January with 25 riders?  Yeah, it was definitely going to get fast. Some of the guys like Woody have lately been racking up mileage like grad students at a free buffet. We weren't two miles into the ride before the speed started creeping up and the paceline started thinning out. There were a couple of people on this ride who were apparently getting famous for starting out on training rides at crazy speeds and then cracking later in dramatic fashion.  I decided right away on a simple strategy:  stay out of the wind until we were halfway through the ride.  I have to admit, it was a little bit of a challenge not to go with the flow and attack the first of the hills, but I knew this ride pretty well and there would be plenty of opportunities to inflict muscle damage farther down the road.

We lost just a few people before getting out to Highway 10, a little before the half-way point.  I was surprised by a couple of things. For one, this group was not particularly interested in taking prisoners.  For another, there was considerably less collateral damage than I would have expected, considering the pace.  For all practical purposes, the second half of this ride starts with a long climb up from a little stream.  Way up at the top, around a bend, is a sprint line painted on the road.  Fortunately, only a few went for it, so everything pretty much stayed together.  There are a couple more similar climbs along that road, and both were done pretty hard, but they weren't quite all-out efforts. Each time a few people would lose contact, and then a few of those would catch back on, so by the time we reached the next turn there were only maybe four riders off the back. We took it easy or a couple of miles after the turn so everyone could regroup.  As we rode south on Hwy. 60, I looked over at whoever was next to me and commented,  "this next stretch is going to get fast."  I could see that we were about to get a nice tailwind for the rolling five or six miles after turning west, and although a few riders were starting to fade, most still seemed to have a lot of gas in their tanks.  I was right, and the pressure stayed on all the way to the turn back onto Lee Road.  As we rounded the turn to head back south toward Enon I heard Mignon comment, "Oh...my....God!" 

The group, however, was still not ready to give in, so the pace stayed pretty fast, interrupted only by a little slowdown at Enon where a couple of riders refilled water bottles while the rest of us soft-pedaled.  The last significant little climb on this route is the Watchtower Hill, aka the Firetower Hill.  It's not really such a difficult climb, but since it always seems to come at the end of a long training ride, so it often causes a split in the group.  A few miles after that there's a turn onto Tung Road and then a long flat straight 4-mile run against the wind back to the cars. It was a really good ride - perhaps a little early for me to be jumping into the deep end under the circumstances, but most of us survived pretty well.  I guess these guys must be getting shape already. They're already talking about Rouge-Roubaix. It's time to put down the King Cake and ride.....