Mississippi Gran Prix 2013

If there's such a thing as a LAMBRA classic, the annual Mississippi Gran Prix stage race is one.  The event's main promoter, even if he generally refuses to acknowledge the role, was one of the key organizers of its predecessor, the Natchez Classic stage race that started back in the early 80s.  As the DS of the Herring Gas team, Frank always works hard to attract a competitive field for the Cat. 1/2/3 race.  With fairly generous prizes for both stage placings and GC, it is usually one of the best attended events in the area.  Around here, that means something in excess of 200 riders.  For reasons I cannot fathom, the turnout for the Master 40+ race was rather thin this year, attracting only 21 riders.  Granted, most of those 21 were quite capable, but the lack of depth certainly had some effect on the road and circuit races.

Saturday's weather was nearly perfect by most standards, which is to say that it started out a little chilly by mine.  The Masters road race seemed a bit on the slow side to me this year.  We were doing two laps of a long 27-mile loop that was unchallenging for the first ten miles before getting into another ten mile section that was hillier and presented a few opportunities.  I was not really quite in shape for this race, but figured I'd be able to at least stay with the main group.  Early in the first lap a 2-rider break that included one rider from Midsouth Masters and one from Acadiana.  Of the 21-rider field, that took 7 MSM and 3 Acadiana riders out of the picture, chasing-wise.  So despite the fact that the break wasn't going all that fast, the pack seemed uninterested and their gap went out to at least a minute or more.  Donald Davis was riding without teammates and wasn't quite willing to fall for the trap, and a number of other riders were probably keying off of him, so the gap went out disturbingly quickly.  After a while Mark (who had crashed last weekend and was riding with four stitches in his elbow, among other injuries) and I went to the front and started working to keep the gap within reason. Ordinarily I wouldn't have given that break much of a chance, but with such a large percentage of the pack not willing to chase, it might have gotten out of hand.  At one point I rolled off the front pretty much by accident and decided to just keep going in hopes that it would inject a little more urgency into the rest of the group.  I guess I hung out there 30 or 40 seconds off the front for a few miles before one of the riders finally got to the front and pulled them up to me, so I guess it was somewhat successful.  Eventually we caught that break, and a couple of miles later another 2-man break rolled off the front with the same configuration and of course the same result.  I guess their gap was well over a minute as we started the second lap.  All this time I was thinking that we were going so slow we were bound to get caught by the Cat. 3/4 field of 61 riders that had started a mere 5 minutes behind us.  Sure enough, a few miles in their small break went past us and a few minutes later the motorefs neutralized us so the field could pass.  This was a bit of chaos, of course, since the masters weren't too thrilled about putting on the brakes with a breakaway off the front.  Right after we were passed by the 3/4 field, our own pace picked up a lot as Donald and some others caught sight of that 2-man break up the road.  Now we came up on the back of the 3/4 field and had to stream past them on the left. Naturally they weren't willing to slow down too much because they were in the process of chasing down their own breakaway.  Somewhere around the long climb 10 miles into the loop we caught the 2-rider break and then, of course, the 3/4 pack caught back up to us.  This time the masters slowed down to let the 3/4s past, but in the confusion a number of 3/4 riders got stuck behind the masters as they bunched up and weren't able to get back to their own group which was now in full chase mode.  Yeah, they got screwed.

So I guess we were about halfway through the second lap where there are a number of steep little hills when the attacks started.  After one particularly painful one that I just barely survived, I knew the group had split without even having to look back.  This resulted in a 6-rider break that included Donald Davis, Jerry Simon, Bennie Flores, Tim Doiron, Kevin Landry, and myself.  Almost every team in the race was represented.  I was pretty happy to have made the split and hoping that this group would work together smoothly, at least until the last mile or two, to extend the time gap because I knew I'd be giving up 30-40 seconds in the afternoon time trial to pretty much all of them.  Unfortunately, it was anything but smooth paceline.  There were lots of surges where the group would come apart, then we would get a little rotation going again, then a couple of people would skip pulls -- you get the picture.  With a few miles left to go the attacks started, mostly courtesy of Jerry who seemed to be in good form.  Tim and I were struggling a bit with the attacks, and when the sprint started I was all the way at the back and came across in 5th place.  On the plus side, we had put nearly three minutes on the pack, a gap that even my notoriously poor time trialing ability would not be able to completely erase.

The TT that evening went as I'd expected.  From the start I wound it up to about 25 mph and decided to back off and hold it there because I knew there was a significant little climb coming up.  That strategy worked pretty well in that I was able to go over that hill without going completely anaerobic, which is more than I can say about the next hill.  Anyway, I managed to do an even worse time than last year but thanks to having been in the break dropped down to only 6th.

Around 1 am on Sunday I was awakened by the sound of rain and thunder.  The forecast had been looking pretty bad and unfortunately it would prove to have been right on the money.  The first of the Circuit Races that had been scheduled for 7 am were pushed back to 8 am, but even so it was still raining and cold.  I watched the first few shortened races go off in the rain rather dreading the moment when I'd have to pull off the warm clothes and step out into the rain wearing lycra.  Our race was shortened by one lap, from four to three, as the officials tried to make up for the lost hour earlier in the morning, and by the time we started around 10:30 or so the rain had eased up considerably.  Still, I rolled out wearing arm-warmers since I had gotten pretty chilled.  The Circuit Race turned out to be kind of like the Road Race had been.  I knew that Midsouth was planning on sending one of their riders who hadn't made Saturday's break off the front, knowing that the top six riders on GC would probably let him go as long as the gap didn't go over a couple of minutes. The first rider to try it got pulled back, but then around the start of the last lap Jay went without much of a challenge.  With only around six miles left, there wasn't much of a chance he could get enough of a gap to threaten the leaders (although it was entirely possible he could threaten my 6th place).  Things finally started to ramp up along the rough section a few miles from the finish and at one point I was seriously at risk of being dropped in the crosswind.  It all came back together, though, and I started looking forward to the nice uphill sprint to the finish line.  My legs were feeling pretty good and I was in a good spot with about a mile to go when I felt my rear tire go squishy and then almost immediately bottom out. I quietly cursed my bad luck and raised my hand as I dropped back along the right side of the road.  A wheel change at this point could easily erase my time gap on 7th place, but one can only ride on a flat clincher so long before it comes completely off the wheel and locks up, or you crash.  Wes, who was driving the follow car came up and said he didn't have any wheels for me (they had been in a wheel bag because of the rain and so he hadn't put them in the car).  I was still just a few bike lengths off the back of the pack at that point and we were only half a kilo from the finish, so I decided to go ahead and  ride the rim in to the finish and hope for the best.  Fortunately everything stayed in place, and although it was a difficult slog up the finish hill I lost only 40 second or so on the pack, and later the officials gave me pack time anyway since the mishap had happened within the final 3 km.  So I was happy to have salvaged 6th place and done some fun racing, but pretty disappointed to have missed out on that sprint after having been looking forward to it for the whole race!

The Reason

There's a reason why I don't have many photos this time of year -- actually a couple of them.  For one, it's still fairly dark for most of the morning ride and the little pocket camera's automatic exposure setting doesn't handle that very well unless nothing is moving.  The other reason, however, is related more to the racing cycle than the diurnal one.  The average intensity of the training rides increases, sometimes rather erratically, this time of year. This morning was a case in point.  It was cloudy and very windy for the early Tuesday morning levee ride.  If it had been February, I wouldn't have expected more than a handful of riders to show up in the dark.  However, it's not February and there's a whole calendar of races coming up, starting with the Mississippi Gran Prix this weekend.  So naturally there was a fairly big group up there today.  To make matters worse, the ride started out with a nice quartering tailwind for the first ten miles or so. 

Robert started pushing the pace early in the ride.  At one point he opened a big gap and Richard, who had been behind him, eased over to the side and just said, "Really?" as I went past him.  After a mile or two of that I think Woody and Daniel must have started feeling irritated about the pace and that's about when it turned into a little race at the front.  Next thing I know I'm hanging on for dear life going 32 mph behind Robert with Woody and Daniel already five seconds up the road and nothing but silence behind me. We finally settled down a bit and started making up a little ground, but then Robert blew up.  I made one last effort as Woody and Daniel started to ease their pace approaching The Dip where I figured they were planning on turning around.  The rest of the group was at least 30 seconds behind us as we coasted down the dip and looped back around. I was perfectly content to turn back early under the circumstances.  It would have been a very long and windy ride back from Ormond. Robert continued on alone, but the rest of the group, like me, didn't relish the idea of battling that wind all the way back from Ormond, so they turned around and joined us. 

The camaraderie didn't last long, however.  When we got to that long stretch heading east, the south crosswind hit the group full-force.  I happened to be near the back at that point, sitting on Tom's wheel three inches from the edge, thinking, "I am getting zero draft here!"  It was one of those situations where the front five guys were getting a nice draft in their eschelon, the sixth guy was riding the edge of the road getting just enough draft to stay where he was but not enough to recover and get into the rotation.  Everyone behind him was essentially unprotected and stuck in position and already too tired to get out in the crosswind and ride up to the front to join the rotating eschelon. 

So soon I started to see Tom struggling and a gap ahead of him beginning to stretch.  I was balancing precariously on the edge of the asphalt myself, so I hesitated to go around him on the windward side, hoping that the group might ease up for a moment so we could make contact again.  The group didn't ease up, though, and Tom finally pulled over to the right and said, "Sorry!" as I went past.  For the next thirty seconds or so I was full-gas trying to close what would ordinarily have been a minor gap, but today was better described as a gaping chasm. I was probably going only 23 mph, but the effort level made it feel more like 30.  I finally made contact as the levee curved to the south, slowing the front of the group a bit and making it easier to get a draft.  I spent the next few miles on Judd's wheel.  His legs were bad today and he was just sitting on the back trying to minimize the accelerations, which, considering the effect the wind was having, was none too easy.  So anyway, although it was a shorter than normal Tuesday ride, it felt plenty hard enough to dispell any feelings of disappointment. 

I never once considered trying to take my hands off the bars to take a photo.

Winter to Summer

It was a strange week for riding.  Every day was some combination of cold, wet and windy, and it basically resulted in some shorter than normal rides.  Fortunately the weekend's forecast was looking better.  It was still pretty chilly Saturday morning when I headed out to meet the Giro wearing knee-warmers, arm-warmers, and a vest.  I knew I'd be hot later, but I really didn't want to start the weekend off cold.  A number of riders were absent for the Giro because of the Sunny South criterium over in Mobile.  That kept the pace just a bit slower than usual.  As we headed out along Chef Highway I was pretty far back in the long paceline.  Suddenly I saw a cloud of dust and then a rider go shooting off to the right.  Dave had dropped his wheel in to a crack at the edge of the road and went down hard. He was not springing back up onto his feet, so I knew he must have hit pretty hard.  When I got back to him he was still lying on his back in some significant pain.  His helmet was cracked and he was having a lot of pain in his chest.  I figured he must have hit the stem and cracked a rib or two.  Brian listened to his chest and didn't hear anything to alarming while Jeff called his wife (I think) to come pick him up and get him to the ER.  As it turned out he'd punctured a lung and dislocated his shoulder.  How he didn't break a collarbone I don't know.  Anyway, it was a pretty good Giro Ride otherwise, even though I wasn't feeling all that sharp.

So on Sunday I decided to do the northshore ride.  It was supposed to be warmer and sunny, so really, why would I do another Giro Ride if I had a chance to take a ride in the country.  I headed over there solo this time, arriving a little early.  The temperature was probably around 60F with a clear sky that promised to bring us back to summer after practically a whole week of lousy weather.  By 9 amn we would be back to Summer.  A new rider who I didn't know said he had done one of these rides before and it was nice and easy.  I looked at him, looked around at who was there, and said, "This one won't be easy!"  Rolan and Steve were on hand or their first northshore ride this year, but we also had John D., Steve M., Chuck B., and a couple of the Midsouth guys.  Indeed, it turned out to be a good ride.  My legs were feeling a little sluggish, but I knew I wouldn't be able to ride on Monday so I figured I may as well not hold back very much.  Three of the group turned back around Choctaw Road, and then as usual the group split along the Hwy. 439 section.  By the time we were back to Dummyline Road, a couple more riders were ready to take the shortcut back.

There was an increasing south wind this whole time, which made the last half of the ride all that much more difficult.  As we approached Enon on the way back I started to go for the Enon sign sprint but hit the shifter with a little too much excitement, dumping it all the way down to the 11 and losing the draft entirely.  I think we were down to only three riders by the time we had come over the firetower hill and for some reason we decided to take a different route back, skipping Tung Rd. and instead going all the way to Kenzie Road before turning off of 437.  It was a nice change to the usual 4 mile death march to the cars.  Overall I was feeling OK, but not as good as I'd felt a couple of weeks ago.

Tomorrow I have to drive up to Baton Rouge for an all-day engineering workshop, so there's no way I'll be able to ride.

Damned Cold

After last weekend's nice weather and even nicer rides, I forced myself out the door Monday morning on a much colder and brutally windy day. I didn't want to lose the momentum from the prior week's training, and although an easy recovery day was clearly needed, it turned into a slow and painful little ride all alone up on the levee.

By the next morning I was already starting to feel a sore throat coming on and since the weather had gotten even colder I decided to skip Tuesday morning.  It was all downhill from there.  Later that afternoon I went out and bought a box of zinc throat lozenges in hopes of at least slowing down viral replication long enough for my immune system to get the upper hand. Perhaps it helped, but at any rate I spent Wednesday at home, mostly in bed, as the soreness progressed closer and closer to my lungs. By Thursday I was feeling a bit better and although I made it in to work I skipped riding once again.  The thing I was trying to avoid was having the damned cold get into my chest, and since we were in the middle of an unusual cold snap that had the morning temperatures down into the low 40s, I figured riding would just be a bad idea.

So on Friday there was a small group planning on riding to Slidell in the morning.  I had the day off from work and the weather looked like it would be excellent.  The sore throat was gone and although there was a little lingering head and chest congestion, there was no cough and no fever.  My plan was to ride out to meet the group at the lakefront and see how it went.  If it got fast, or I started feeling badly, I'd turn around and limp home.  Considering the makeup of the seven rider group that I found out there, I was not expecting to see Slidell. 

Fortunately, everyone was on the same page and the pace on the way out remained steady and smooth at around 22 mph.  I claimed a spot at the back of the paceline after telling everyone that I wouldn't be taking pace, and enjoyed the exceptionally smooth ride offered up by a small group of well-experienced riders.  After the turnaround at Slidell I decided to get in on the action for the stretch back down Chef Highway and was surprised to find the legs ready and able.  Still, despite all of the wheelsucking I'd done, there was not denying that 92 miles at an average speed of 20.5 mph is still 92 miles any way you cut it.  My legs were sore, but otherwise I was feeling quite optimistic that I'd somehow averted the worst of that damned cold without losing a whole week of training.

Saturday morning I rolled out in the dark to meet the Giro.  The turnout prospect of warming temperatures and sunshine resulted in a rather large turnout this morning.  I was feeling pretty good under the circumstances and would have even taken a few pulls along Chef Highway if there had been any way of getting up to the front without literally pushing people out of the way. The pace was fast, but the wind was with us and so even the 27-29 mph pace along Hayne was insufficient to string things out very much. I latched onto Mark's wheel for the Venetian Isles sprint, backing off after the first 100 meters or so at 34 mph.  A moment later a string of riders came flying past on the left as I eased over to the right edge of the road.  The ride back was pretty typical and my plan to contest the Goodyear sprint was foiled when we caught the Fortier Blvd. stoplight and everything came to a stop.  Later, along Hayne, Charlie flatted and a few of us stopped for him as the bulk of the group, most of which was still together, continued on.  Tomorrow I'll do another Giro Ride before domestic entanglements consume the rest of Easter day.  So despite missing three days of riding I guess I'll end up with 220+ miles for the week which won't be too bad under the circumstances.

Team Kits and Group Rides

I was already looking forward to the weekend when I got the email.  The 2013 team kits had arrived and Mignon was taking the first stab at distribution that evening at Starbucks.  Not wanting to be caught wearing the "old" kit over the weekend, I headed over there at 7 pm to pick up my two jerseys, shorts and pair of gloves.  I was a little surprised that they had actually arrived on time as promised.  Over the years I'm become accustomed to taking jersey manufacturers' promised delivery times with more than a grain of salt.  We switched over from Giordana to Voler this year, primarily because of the convenience factor.  Voler set up a team store, everyone went there and ordered and paid for their kits, and then the whole batch was shipped together.  That relieved the club from the whole ordering process, and also eliminated the large cash outlay that we would typically have to make to get the order started.  Progress.....

So Saturday morning I pulled on the new stuff and headed back to the same Starbucks to meet the Giro Ride group.  I had managed a pretty decent week of training, and had already decided to cap it off with a hard weekend.  In that regard, the Giro did not fail to deliver.  The serious part of the Giro, around 40 miles, was ticked off at an average rate of 24.6 mph with the Goodyear sprint topping out just shy of 35 mph.  I was feeling pretty good, which I found rather surprising considering how much riding I'd done during the week, and so I spent a fair amount of time up in the rotation at the front. With the plan for Sunday involving a northshore ride, I rode back home wondering if I'd be paying for Saturday's efforts.  Back at home I spent some time up in the attic breathing fiberglass and dust while I decided how to support the pot rack that I later installed above the stove.  Along the way I found an old box of NOBC paperwork and pulled out one of the original Tour de Louisiana flyers from 1972, and what passed in 1975 for the Tour's Race Bible.  I just had to scan those and upload them to the NOBC website for posterity.  I sure miss those $3.25 entry fees.

Sunday morning it was cooler and very windy and I drove over to Puccino's to meet Mark McMurry. We were about a mile from the school where the ride starts when we suddenly ran into fog.  Fog?  I hadn't been expecting that. The dampness made it feel much cooler than I'd expected.  I put a T-shirt underneath my new jersey and pulled on the arm-warmers, and a few minutes later eleven of us rolled north for the standard 65 mile northshore ride.  With Mark, Ed, Daniel, Stephen, Jorge, Diego and others in attendance, and the fact that it was near the end of March, I knew this would not be a sightseeing ride.  It wasn't.  A few people turned around just past Enon when we stopped for the traditional nature break, and for the rest of the ride the pace remained fairly high. I was again a little surprised at how good I felt.  As usual, the eight mile stretch along Hwy 439, aided by a quartering tailwind, developed into a bit of a race as we attacked the climbs and hammered the flats, averaging a bit under 26 mph and continuing down Sie Jenkins Road before finally stopping to regroup.  Later, after turning south on Lee Road, the pace gradually started ramping up again, ending with a 35 mph sprint for the Enon town sign.  After riding tempo up the watchtower climb, Daniel put the hammer down after the Factory Road sprint and somehow we lost Ed. I thought we'd regroup at Tung Road, but they weren't taking any more prisoners and the pace remained steady for those last four boring  straight miles back to the parking lot, again averaging over 25 mph.  I was glad to finally have gotten in a solid week of riding, finishing up just shy of 300 miles with a fair amount of quality time.  Next week we'll be trying for a Thursday evening training race at the NOLA Motorsports Park where a couple of the guys have arranged or some free track time for us.  That should be interesting, although the jury remains out as to whether or not I will actually be able to get there by 6 pm.

Wednesday Double

Not quite keeping my head above water lately, I threw a little more gasoline on the fire Wednesday by adding the 6 pm Wednesday Night Worlds on top of my usual morning ride.  The weather was beautiful as I rode home from work, but a stiff wind was telling me that my first lakefront training race of the year would not be as accommodating as I'd have liked.  A quick change of clothes at home and I was out the door a few minutes after 5:30, figuring I'd probably miss the start.  That was fine with me since I could jump in on the second of four laps and avoid the first lap attacks.  Fortunately, or unfortunately as the case may be, Jordan appeared beside me halfway to the lakefront, and as I latched onto his slightly faster wheel I thought, "this is messing up my plan to miss the first lap!"

As it turned out, the first lap was fine.  It was fairly fast, of course, but I was feeling OK and not at all concerned about he pace.  We weren't halfway into the second lap, however, when I found myself dropping back on the windward side after taking a pull to close a small gap and unable to find shelter until I was nearly at the end of a long string of riders in the gutter.  Up ahead, the gap had grown dangerously as the lead group chased Woody who I think had taken off solo after the fountain traffic circle.  Finally a few people took up the chase and we formed a little group trying to get back in contact with the lead group.  I was with Brian and Little Jorge and we were later joined by Judd and another rider who needed remedial sessions in paceline behavior.  For that matter, Brian wasn't really with the program either.  Every time we'd hit one of the little climbs over the levee Brian would basically attack, usually dropping whoever had just come off the front, and then he'd take a really long pull.  After a lap or two we had gotten ourselves within striking distance of the group, but then another surge blew our group apart once again and the gap opened up quickly after that.  Brian eventually dropped back after spending so much time in the wind, and halfway through the last lap the others disappeared too, so I just time trialed in the rest of the way.  It was a pretty good workout anyway, but a little frustrating because we could have easily gotten back into the group with a bit more cooperation.

This morning it was considerably cooler as I rode out to the levee in the dark for the Thursday morning ride.  The group was a little thin, but after a few miles Woody started pushing the pace up.  I was clearly feeling the double workout I'd had the day before, so I was taking only short pulls.  Even so, we were losing riders the whole time, and after Woody and some others turned back at the little dip we were left with only three, so we decided to turn around at the big dip a few miles ahead.  After the turnaround Brian went to the front and just motored at 20 mph into the headwind almost all the way back.

Hopefully I will be able to put in a more normal training week mileage-wise. Things are hopping at work lately, and this is the time of year when I get the most calls and emails from race promoters and riders, so time is short and I'm a little tired.....

Conference and Collegiate

It was still early in the week when I realized it was going to get complicated.  I was on call for Jury Duty all week, I was signed up for a conference downtown all day Thursday and most of Friday, and I had to get to Baton Rouge by Friday evening to start officiating for their weekend collegiate race.  The Daughter was scheduled to be in town Thursday through Monday.  One bit of luck came on Wednesday when I found out that I was released from Jury Duty for the remainder of the week.  The biggest complication then became transportation since I wasn't going to be able to take the car. 

The NCURA Pre-Award Conference started early on Thursday, so Wednesday was the last day I'd be able to throw a leg over a bike. I was scheduled to lead an ad hoc walking tour of the French Quarter Thrusday evening.  The conference itself was OK, starting with an excellent keynote address by Tulane's Maureen Lichtveld.  The rest of the day was a mix of sessions, some good, some not so good.  After the last session, around 5 pm, I saw that four or five people had signed up for the walking tour, so when everyone got together a little later we decided to do a quick one-hour walk through the French Quarter to Frenchman Street and back.  The idea was to be back in time for any of the 6:30 dinner groups.  Well, when I checked my watch as we were walking down Frenchman I realized it was already after 6:30, so that plan was out the window.  We ended up hunting around for a restaurant that didn't have too long of a wait, finally settling on the Palace Cafe' on Canal Street.  That actually turned out surprisingly well, although it wasn't until after 10:00 that I got back home.  Then on Friday I went straight from the conference to the Budget car rental place down on Canal St. around 4:30 to rent a car for the weekend, then rushed home, packed some clothes, loaded up the car with the PA system, traffic cones, signs, etc., and headed for LSU.  That trip, which normally would take maybe 75 minutes, took more like two hours by the time I crawled through ten miles of Baton Rouge gridlock.  On the plus side, I arrived at the Union early enough to relax a bit and get all of the pre-reg riders into the computer before heading back to the La Quinta hotel around 10:30.

Saturday morning I was up around 5 am to drive up to St. Francisville for the Road Race and Time Trial. Ricky, the other official, arrived from Monroe right on time, so while he got the finish line area set up, I handled race-day registration. It was chilly, but the races went quite smoothly and we got everything off pretty much on time.  Ricky was using the new RapidCam finish line camera, which came in quite handy for some of the close sprint finishes.  I was using my iPAD as backup, along with the other regular camera that we run at the finish.  After the road races, we had just enough time to run back into St. Francisville and grab a sandwich at Subway before heading back in time to get the evening time trials going.  Those went smoothly, and we got the results posted to the LAMBRA website around 8:00.  Sunday morning was another early wake-up for the criterium that was to be held around the state capitol building. The course was pretty nice from all reports, and even though we had to judge about a million 4-deep points primes in addition to the finishes of seven races, it all went pretty well and we had the final results posted about ten minutes after the last race ended.  I got back to New Orleans with plenty of time to walk over to Plum Street SnoBalls for some of the first snoballs of the season.  I was pretty tired by the time I got the final results posted to the website later that evening.  Tomorrow will be the first day I've been able to ride since Thursday, making it by far the worst riding week I've had since I broke my collarbone back at the end of September.

A Rough Rouge

This was an unusual Rouge-Robaix for me.  Rather than rushing up to St. Francisville in the wee hours of Sunday morning on the first day of Daylight Savings Time, I instead got to go up with the Tulane team, courtesy of one of their sponsors, on Saturday.  After first getting completely off track following the mapping software's directions to the Greenwood Plantation, we switched to plan B and headed back to St. Francisville to pick up our packets, eventually meeting the rest of the group at The Magnolia restaurant.  It was already pretty late by the time we got to our rooms at the bed and breakfast. Waiting in the office's mailbox were two envelopes, one with my name on it and the other with Kenny's name on it.  We asked Ben who was supposed to be in the second room, and it took us a while to figure out that he was telling us that we each had our own private rooms.  We looked at each other in disbelief, since that sort of thing does not normally happen with bike race travel.

We were up in the dark Sunday morning for a 5:30 am breakfast and a half-hour drive to the start of the race. It was still quite dark when we arrived around 6:30.  The Tulane riders were doing the Gran Fondo that started at 7 am, so once they were off I had a good hour to get my own act together for the 8:30 start of the Masters race.  I would be riding my old Orbea since it had a 27 tooth cog that I was pretty sure I'd want to have, and I wasn't up to buying a new Campi cassette for this race. Although it seemed to me that a lot of riders had been training quite seriously for this race, I was definitely not one of them.  The Masters race had 66 riders registered, although probably only about 60 that actually started.  The big nervous group squeezed onto the narrow country roads as I focused mainly on staying upright and out of trouble. The first of the four gravel sections this year would come at about 18 miles.  The speed was fairly slow, which kept the group all bunched up, and made it hard to move around.  Eventually I managed to get a little closer to the front and could see Woody and Frank doing the same.  Then came a sharp right turn onto the first gravel road where some riders ahead of me immediately lost it and I had to put a foot down just to get around the mess. The rocks on this section seemed huge and the front of the group was already way down the road.  I was really struggling on this section and it wasn't until we were nearly at the end of it about three miles later that I started feeling more comfortable.  By then I think a break was probably already off the front and long gone.  I came out of the gravel with a nice sized group and we could see another group maybe 40 seconds to a minute up the road.  It took a while to get organized but we eventually got going, but we were still about ten seconds behind them when we hit the second gravel road at 25 miles.  I don't know exactly what happened there, but I ended up alone for much of it.  By the time I got back to asphalt at 33 miles it was just Scott Gurganus and myself.  We could see a few riders ahead, but nothing much behind.  I knew our race was essentially over, so we settled in to a moderate pace.  I had seen Woody on the side of the gravel road with a flat, so this whole time I was hoping and expecting to see him come up behind us, but we never saw him again.  Apparently he had multiple flats.  Anyway, we were almost to Woodville when a sizable group of fifteen or twenty masters caught up to us.

So now I was in a group of about twenty that was rolling along toward the third gravel section at a fairly moderate pace.  I think they all knew that the real race was already fifteen minutes up the road so there was really no sense of urgency which I guess explains why our final time was 20-30 minutes slower than the leaders.  At one point along this stretch there was a dead armadillo in the middle of the road.  I was second or third wheel at the time and remember that two of us pointed to it and I think said something too.  Unfortunately, somewhere toward the back of the group two riders went down. I never heard the crash, just a loud "bang" that I figured was just someone's tire blowing out.  We were nearing the turn onto the last gravel section so it wasn't a good time to sit up and look back.  One of the riders who went down was Scott.  A bit before the turn Jayson took off alone (I think), without much reaction from the rest of the group.  After the turn there is a bit of broken up asphalt and a very sketchy little bridge with big gaps between the boards.  Somehow my rear tire slipped into one of the cracks and I almost went down.  Then we hit the long Blockhouse climb up to the Pond Store.  As usual, my front wheel washed out somewhere along the way and I had to walk for a while before I could get going again.  In all, I think was off and on the bike five times during this three mile stretch, including the sand pit at the bottom of the second downhill.  I can't imagine how anyone could have ridden through that.  Anyway, pretty much everything after that section is a blur as I was rapidly approaching zombie rider mode.  I came off the third gravel section more or less alone and motored along solo for a long time before other riders started to catch up or get caught.  Eventually we had a little group again but nobody was really pushing it.

The fourth and last gravel section was at 82 miles and by then my legs were pretty much toast.  I think everyone in my little group walked part of the way up the steepest section.  I was actually having good success getting back on the bike in uphill spots where there was some traction, but as usual everything blew apart over this stretch with individual riders scattered all along the road. I was starting to feel some minor leg cramps.  After coming off of the last gravel section there are another 25 miles that feature some of the worst excuses for asphalt you'll ever find, plus an increasingly brutal headwind.  We eventually accumulated about six riders along this stretch, most of whom were on their last legs, myself included.  This section of the course seems to go on forever, throwing in some steep little climbs and switching from acceptable to horrible road surfaces. Over the last ten miles or so one rider went to the front and held a steady pace, but we were starting to lose riders to cramps the closer we got.  By this point I was probably looking at my computer every thirty seconds hoping to see the mileage getting closer to 104.  I ended up sitting on the wheel of that one guy for the rest of the way in, finishing a good thirty minutes off what would be an acceptable pace for this race. I thought at first I could attribute the slow time to the additional gravel section and the wind, but looking at the times of the lead riders in most of the races, I really can't.  The Pro/1/2 winner's time was 4:23 this year, and the Master's race winner's time was 4:59.  Mine was 5:36!  That's a huge difference.

The Tulane rides, despite the fact that they were not doing the actual "race" managed to accumulate a number of crashes and injuries, including a trip to the hospital for Charlotte.  Overall, there seemed to be more crashes and flats than ever this year, but at least the temperature was comfortably warm.  Despite my relatively slow speed, my legs were absolutely trashed by the end and were sore enough to wake me up a couple of times last night.  When I got up this morning to find it raining, I was more than happy to take that as a valid excuse to skip even the easy recovery ride I'd been planning.  My NOBC teammates didn't fare too well eigher this year.  Chuck's derailleur broke in two before the start so he never even got to ride. Adrian finished around mid-pack in the Cat. 3/4 race with Fred quite a bit farther back.  Robert Monahan DNF'd.  New club member Sudan Robinson, however, finished quite well in the Cat. 4/5 race. Dennis D. finished the Masters race intact and Mignon rode well in the Women's race finishing with a group that included Allie, Louise and Stacey.

Friday Ride

I stood there for a while staring at the bikes, wondering if I should ride the Orbea or the Bianchi.  My plan for Rouge-Roubaix is to ride the Orbea, mainly because I have a 12-27 cassette for that bike and figure I'll want those two extra teeth about halfway up blockhouse hill, if I happen to still be on two wheels at that point.  Bike weight really isn't an issue for this race, especially since I always approach it more as a hard training ride than as a race.  Somehow at 6:15 am it seemed far too much work to swap the seat bag from one bike to the other, so I went out on the Bianchi as usual. The air felt colder than I'd expected, and I was glad I had pulled on my vest at the last minute, but at least the wind had eased a bit from the day before.  Up on the levee I met up with John who I don't think had ridden with us in quite a while, and Scott. It was just a regular smooth paceline ride today with each rider taking long pulls at 20-22 mph.  I guess I was lifting the pace 1 mph or so, feeling perhaps like I wasn't getting my heart rate up into training effect territory while at the same time wondering if I shouldn't be taking it easier in light of what was to come on Sunday.  For me, though, there has never seemed to be much of a difference whether or not I ride really easy a few days prior to a race.  As long as my legs aren't actually sore at the start, it doesn't seem to matter.  I'll probably meet the Giro tomorrow morning and ride halfway out with the group before turning back.  Anyway, I stopped at Zotz for a cup of coffee on the way home.  By then the temperature had risen considerably and it felt quite nice sitting there in the sun on Oak Street.

I have been feeling rather out of shape lately, having missed most of one weekend in Austin and the next in Orlando, along with a whole lot of shortened or missed weekday training rides.  Psychologically, I am not exactly in a good place going into this 104 mile ride, but it's not like I've never been here before.  Other than one or two years when I was kind of almost in shape, I have not taken this race too seriously.  The mileage is generally a bit over my head and the effort level, particularly the last 40 miles of it, is always a struggle, but you know, a bad day at Rouge-Roubaix is still better than a good day on the couch.  Tonight I'll swap wheels and cassettes around and generally make the Orbea more or less ready, scrounge around for gels or powerbars or whatever, and meet up with the Tulane riders around 1:30.  Then there will be a stop for packet pick-up, a group dinner, a bit of sleep, and a 5 am wake-up call.  Thus will begin what I think will be my forty-second road racing season.

Not Ready for Rouge

Ouch.....

It's been one thing after the other lately, each of which seems to have taken a bite out of my saddle time.  Such is life.  After the relatively easy, albeit long, drive back from Orlando on Monday we soon found ourselves at the veterinary ER with a dog with an eye problem.  Vets seem to kind of panic when dogs present with eye problems because if it is glaucoma things can progress very quickly to blindness.  The ER visit was inconclusive and we were sent  home with a tiny little bottle of antibiotic/corticosteroid eye drops and a planned visit to our regular vet on Wednesday.  The drops seemed to  help. On Tuesday morning I got out for a shortened ride in order to get back home in time to take The Wife to the airport for a trip back to Florida for a week-long conference.  That left me with full dog duties, a week of Jury Duty, and an empty refrigerator. Luckily I didn't have to go to Jury Duty that morning.  I was not so lucky on Wednesday, but at least I didn't have to report until 10:30, so I went out in the cold and wind to meet the morning ride group which turned out to be just Tom (yes, it was that windy).  It turned out to be a pretty decent workout. Later that afternoon I took the dog to the vet where we ruled out glaucoma, the dog got a checkup and shots, I got heartworm meds for both dogs, and the vet got a little under $400.  Guess I won't be getting that roof rack for the new car just yet.  This morning I had to cut the long ride short again since I had an early meeting and needed to build some dog-walking time into the schedule.  Then I had to negotiate the Broadway Street maze in the car since I was already running too late to make it by bike.  Broadway is normally not too bad, but right now there is a lot going on.  Traffic was backed up squeezing around the places where they are tearing up half of the road to replace plumbing in preparation for re-paving.  Once I got past that, it was again backed up where Tulane is driving piles for the new dorm next to The Boot.  I thought I was home free after that, but then they had St. Charles completely blocked off where they were doing work on the Loyola dorm, so I switched over to Lowerline, only to find that street blocked off for tree-trimming.  Yeah, I was a few minutes late getting to work.

So this Sunday is the infamous Rouge-Roubaix.  I will be staying with the Tulane team and some of the team sponsors this year at the Greenwood plantation B&B, most of whom will be riding the Gran Fondo rather than one of the races.  Normally I would just make the two-hour drive early on Sunday morning, so this introduces a new wrinkle, especially since I will need to find someone to walk the dogs while I'm gone. I'm planning on riding the old Orbea, mainly because I have a cassette for that bike with a 27t cog on it rather than the 25t I have on the Bianchi (and I am way too cheap right now to buy a new Campi cassette just for that race).  I guess I'll need to get that rear brake working first, though.  As usual, I am nowhere near being in shape for a 104 mile race that includes a bunch of steep gravel roads, especially since the last two weeks of training have been so weak, so I will be riding in survival mode from the outset.  To make matters worse, some last-minute road construction has caused some of the course to be re-routed, adding another gravel section  only 6 miles into the race, which will probably be utter chaos since everybody will still be fresh at that point. This one's gonna hurt. I just sent the registration and results spreadsheets to the promoter and chief official.  Looking at the pre-registration list (doesn't close until tonight), it looks like most of the fields will be pretty strong.  The Cat. 4/5 race hit its 75-rider field limit a week ago, which is rather frightening all by itself.  The Masters race is up to 57, so it will probably be at least 70 by race day.  The Pro/1/2 race is up to 43, and includes some pretty serious talent from 14 states plus Canada.

There was an interesting and very characteristic exchange (which is probably still going on) on the Tulane Cycling FB page this morning.  I just had to copy it down for posterity:

Graeme PrestonTulane Cycling: Anybody riding later today?

Charlotte Fournier I probably will be. Not sure what time yet though.
Graeme Preston keep me updated.
Mikołaj Altenberg I hope to, although my bars are untaped on one side at the moment.
David Feinswog Riding at 10. Need to be back for a 1pm lab.
David Feinswog Could be persuaded to ride at 230 instead though due to laziness
Graeme Preston charlotte, what do you think?
Mikołaj Altenberg I have class until 12:30, going at 230 would be good for me.
Graeme Preston David if you can wait lets shoot for 2:30. the more the merrier.
David Feinswog Ok. Im going to try and do 2-3 of kennys 10 min intervals so I may yo-yo on the return trip.
Charlotte Fournier 2:30 works for me
Graeme Preston omg, david that's what i'm gonna do!
Charlotte Fournier oh no i do not like the sound of this

Windy Windermere

It has been a very long week.  On Tuesday we broke down and bought a new car despite the fact that I still haven't received the money from my insurance company for the totalled one.  It was not inexpensive, but we really weren't in a good position to be spending a lot of time shopping around, plus we were planning to drive to Orlando on Friday.  The week's riding took a bit of a hit because of work and weather, which was rather frustrating since the prior week hadn't been very good either.  The Tulane team was heading to College Station for the A&M race on Friday, but without both Kenny and me.  As usual there were some last-minute issues with lodging and transportation.  I charged the hotel rooms on my credit card, although I still haven't seen the reimbursement from the Austin race two weeks ago.  At least one of the team made it over to Club Sports at the last possible time and got everyone registered online. In the midst of all of that, things got very busy at work on a couple of fronts, which always seems to happen when I plan to be out of the office.

So on Friday we took the new car out for a little ten-hour drive to Orlando.  Things were going smoothly until we turned south on I-75 where half of the drivers seemed intent on playing bumper cars with the other half of the cars.  I think we sat five separate crashes along the way, each of which slowed us down to a crawl for a few miles.  I had brought my bike with me, but whether I would ride on Saturday was definitely up in the air.  There was a late cold front that had come through, and Saturday morning was cold and windy.  We were scheduled to meet the family over at my brother's house around noon, so I ended up sleeping late and not riding at all.  The wedding itself was held outside at a local park near a lake in 25 mph winds and dropping evening temperatures.  We were glad to rush over to the reception after the short ceremony.  The reception, which wound down around 9 pm, was pretty informal with a DJ, dancing, food, and no alcohol, so naturally we stopped at a grocery store on our way back to the hotel and picked up a bottle of Kendall Jackson Merlot.

Sunday morning I was up early to drive out to the Windermere Ride about half an hour away.  I had a feeling turnout would be low thanks to the unseasonably low temperature and the brutal northwest wind.  I hadn't done this ride in a long time, but it was also unseasonably cold that time too.  Indeed, there were only a handful of riders this morning, and three of us were from out of town.  Perhaps it was the cold, or perhaps the prior night's dinner of olives, cheese, and wine, but I was not feeling very sharp as we headed out around 8:15 am.  After the first few miles, this ride gets fairly hilly and it wasn't long before I realized I'd better not get dropped because I had no idea where I was.  Fortunately, they were kind of keeping track of the riders off the back and regrouping now and then.  We were more than halfway through the 65 mile ride before I started to feel normal again.  By then the clouds had broken up and the temperature had risen into the 50s.  Over the last few miles riders (there had been only eight or nine) started peeling off to go home and by the time we got back to the cars there were only two of us.  Still, it was a good training ride. 

The Tulane team had a pretty hard race, I think, but still posted some good results for the weekend despite two minor crashes.  I was sorry I couldn't go to that one because they have an alumni race. Tomorrow morning I'll be back on the road early for the long drive back to New Orleans.

Weekend Up the River

(Yeah, I left my camera at home so the phone was pressed into service)

The annual NOBC Training Camp is as much a social event as it is a training event. With such a diverse membership, the weekend up at the Natchez State Park is largely spent getting to know new riders, talking informally about racing plans, equipment, etc.  Since I was, and still am, driving around in that big rental Chrysler minivan, and I was cleared to take it up to Natchez for the weekend, I sent an email out to see if anyone needed a ride.  So after work on Friday I folded down four of the seven seats, rolled three bikes, with wheels still attached, into it, and Isaac, Mignon and I headed for Mississippi with room to spare.  It turned out to be a good place to be last weekend because the weather there was much nicer than it was down in New Orleans.  After arriving around 9:30 pm or so, I moved my stuff into one of the cabins with Chuck and Robinson where, thanks to a couple of last-minute cancellations, I had an entire bed to myself.  We ended up sitting around, talking, and drinking wine until nearly 1 am.  Fortunately we were not planning on starting the Saturday morning ride until 9:00. 

Despite the late bedtime, I was up as usual at 5:45 am which allowed for lots of time to make coffee, boil a few eggs and generally lounge around.  It was in the low 40s, but the sky looked clear and the air was dry, so a number of riders went pretty light on the clothing, knowing that it would warm up into the 60s by the time we returned from our traditional ride up the Natchez Trace to Port Gibson.  All eighteen of us rolled out together for the first ten or twelve miles before stopping and splitting into two groups. The front group then picked up its pace, averaging around 22 mph for the next 20+ miles.  The Trace is very deceptive because of the way the road is graded.  Although it looks like it's mostly flat, it is in fact mostly not.  Instead, it is a series of long, long uphills and downhills that often left me wondering if I was really that out of shape or if we were actually going uphill.  Just before the turnaround we get off of the trace and ride half a mile or so to a gas station on Highway 61.  By then we'd dropped a number of people from the lead group and of course the second group was a few minutes behind, so I turned back and rode the other way for a few miles before turning back to ride in with some of the second group.  Somehow, in the interim, Adrian, who had been just behind the first group, missed the turn and as far as we knew was MIA for the rest of the ride. We thought he had turned around and headed back ahead of us while we were at the gas station purchasing nutritious gas station snack foods, but I think he somehow ended up alone anyway.  As usual, the return trip gradually got faster and faster until there was just a handful of us left.  When we got to the place where we turn off of the Trace to ride back to the park I turned around again and rode back on the course for a couple of miles to pick up the others.  A few of us ended up going out again in the afternoon for a few more miles around the State Park road, so I ended up the day with 87 miles.

Saturday evening we all packed into one of the cabins for a big community dinner while watching Chasing Legends and, of course, American Flyers.  By then my legs were feeling a bit sore.

Coach said to work on climbing!

Sunday morning was chilly again but since it was supposed to warm up quickly under a clear blue sky I dressed relatively lightly for our ride into Natchez.  This year we took the back roads, stopping at the Emerald Mound Indian mound before coming into town the same way we raced there back in the 80s for the infamous Race Across Louisiana.  Although it had been nearly twenty years, I recognized much of the road, including the spot where the surprise finish line had been (only the local guys had known for sure where the finish was, as there were no signs or markers prior to it).  We stopped again at the coffee shop and then rode down the bluff (came up just short of 40 mph on that little downhill) and slogged back up the steep climb (in both directions) before making our way back to the Natchez Trace.  There we split into two groups, although I admit I was a little surprised when all but four chose to be in the slower group.  The plan was to let the slower group start first and then have the faster group start five minutes later so that we might all arrive back at the park around the same time.  It actually worked out pretty well.  Adrian, Mignon, Robert and I rode smooth paceline (aside from Adrian's sporadic attacks up the hills) and started catching riders from the earlier group about twenty minutes later.  We passed the remaining riders from the first group just about a mile from the turn, so the timing couldn't have been better.  That ride was only 44 miles, but despite the stops and sightseeing it still provided a solid fifteen or twenty miles of legitimate training.  When we got back the temperature was in the low 60s, the sun was shining, and I was wondering why I was going back down to New Orleans where it had been cloudy and rainy all weekend.

This morning after a night of thunderstorms it was still raining when I went over to Champs Collision to retrieve personal effects from the old Volvo.  Meanwhile The Wife already has us lined up to check out a new car that will probably but the brakes on my equipment purchases for years to come.  The insurance company will be giving us around $8k for the totalled car, which is probably less than the down payment I'll be making for a new one.

Damned Clicking

It was a long weekend during which I racked up a total of 6 miles.  Yeah, 6.  I tagged along last weekend with the Tulane Cycling team for its first conference road race of the year.  It was a learning experience.  Normally, when I travel to area races it's all pretty simple.  I can procrastinate until about Wednesday evening, then make a hotel reservation at the cheapest place in the correct Zip code, throw stuff in my bag Friday night, and hit the road before sunrise on Saturday.  Travelling to a collegiate race with 16 other people proved to be a little more complicated, especially with Mardi Gras smack in the middle of the pre-race planning period. The team was able to secure one 7-person minivan from the university, so we would need to rent another 7-person van and load up Kenny's truck as well.  How we were going to squeeze in the seventeen bicycles was just one piece of the puzzle.  So first off, nobody wants to put five 2-night hotel stays on his personal credit card, which is apparently what Club Sports expects. 

On Wednesday the week prior to the race I found someone who could put it on a Tulane corporate card, but of course the hotel needed a signed credit card authorization form.  That was supposed to get faxed to them the Thursday evening before Mardi Gras. When I checked back with the hotel on Monday, it hadn't so I ended holding the rooms on my own credit card since nothing was going to happen until Wednesday because of Mardi Gras.  Then there was the rental van.  Although I was able to go through Tulane's corporate account with Enterprise, I had to put that on my personal credit card too.  Somehwere within the week we had to get three students certified by the university to drive, which entailed an online test and a driving test.  The policy is that nobody can drive for more than 250 miles.  We were going to Austin, which is an 8-hour drive on a good day.  Somehow they got certified (I already had been).  The plan was to put a 4-bike hitch rack on Kenny's truck and stash at least eight bikes in his truck and the rest in one of the two vans.

By Friday morning three riders had dropped out of the trip due to school, so we were down to 14.  I had picked up the rental van that morning and headed over to the Reily center at noon to meet the other van and Kenny and figure out how to load everything up.  Kenny and I were both bringing our bikes in hopes of doing a ride between the road races and the team time trial. We departed about half an hour late, gas card in hand, with eight of the bikes, ten or eleven of the riders, and most of the luggage.  The rest of the bikes would leave in the rental van a couple of hours later.  We arrived in Austin around eight or nine hours later, with the second van only an hour or so behind (they apparently had fewer culinary entanglements).

Driving to the course Saturday morning the thermometer was reading 31 degrees, but luckily the wind was still light and the sky was clear, so things warmed up nicely. We didn't have any Category A riders on this trip, but the B teams, both men and women, were looking good.  As it turned out, we won both the Men's and Women's B road races and took third in the Men's B as well. Things were running late, of course, so Kenny and I were able to get in one whole 6-mile loop before the Team Time Trial where our Men's B team won. The whole time, Kenny's bike was making this loud clicking sound with every pedal revolution. There had been a couple of crashes in the road race, plus a couple of flats, so some time was spent on repairs.  The Men's B team then proceeded to win their team time trial.  Afterward there was a lot of negotiation involved in the evening's restaurant choice. The only thing on which there was consensus was that we should try for some authentic Bar-B-Que.  Option A turned out to be pretty far away, had a 1-hour wait at 6:30 pm, and didn't take anything but cash, so we headed for Option B which had good reviews.  As we drove up what we saw was strange.  It looked like a gas station.  Indeed, there was a gas station in front, but there was also a traffic jam caused by people looking for places to park.  The place turned out to be great.

Sunday morning's criterium, the location of which had been changed on Friday evening, was at a middle school and looked like a pretty nice, but short, course with a little hill on it.  Lap times were barely over one minute, which caused havoc in the D race with lapped riders.  I had walked over to the finish line before the first race to ask about the points primes that are listed in the collegiate rule book (up to six of them in a Cat. A race).  The officials had been hoping to ignore them, so I ended up in charge of judging them.  Luckily I had my iPad with SloPro on it, so that came in very handy since I had to judge something like eighteen sprints, four-deep. We won the Cat. B women's criterium, got 4th in the women's C criterium, and I think 3rd in the Men's B criterium.  Of course, we haven't seen the official results yet, other than what was written on lined paper at the race.  It was actually a fun and successful weekend.  A number of our riders were doing their first races and I think everyone had a good time.  After more negotiation we finally settled on a Mexican restaurant around mid-afternoon, and then continued the long drive in heavy traffic back East, arriving just before midnight.

But wait.  There's more.  We were only an hour of so out of Austin when The Wife called.  Someone had crashed into the car as she was driving down Carrollton Avenue and the damage was not trivial.  There were airbags involved.  So Monday morning was spent returning the rental van and then re-renting the same van myself, and of course not riding.  When I got up this morning and found the street wet from rain I thought to myself, "There is no way I'm missing another day."  I headed out for the levee, caught a train, met up with a smaller than usual group and we headed up the river.  Now I was hearing some damned clicking noise coming from my own bike with each pedal stroke.  Bottom bracket?  Seatpost?  Pedal?  As I was contemplating the various possibilities, I heard "Flat!" behind me.  I knew it would happen.  It always does when the levee bike path is wet.  Most went ahead while a couple of us stayed behind.  Zack had deep-dish carbon rims but only a short-stem tube.  A long-stem tube was not to be had.  Luckily, Tom had a little packet of glueless patches, so we finally got going again only to find the rest of the group fixing another flat.  We went ahead to get in a few more miles as Donald appeared, finally turning around at the little dip. Then, on the way back we ran into the Tulane group fixing a flat.  Again it was a deep-dish wheel and only short stem tubes, and again Tom saved the day with his glueless patches.  I need to get me some of those!  Anyway, I probably got in ten minutes of decent training time during a 90-minute ride.  Oh, and that damned clicking?  When I finally got close to home and out of the wind on the quiet neighborhood streets I discovered that it was just the plastic tab on the end of the stretchy cord that holds my rear light onto my seatpost.  My leg was hitting it and it was tapping against the post.  Sheesh.

The Illusion of Power

It has been a busy pre-Mardi Gras weekend around here.  The threat of rainy weather for Fat Tuesday seems to have ramped up the general level of parade-going urgency. That same threat was probably responsible for the large turnout for the Saturday Giro Ride.  Well, that and the fact that the temperature was in the 60s. My mileage last week was already sagging, and so I talked The Wife in to picking up The Daughter from the airport so that I could make the Giro. 

Saturday morning felt colder than the thermometer would indicated thanks to a strong wind. I woke up early and decided to go ahead and hit the road anyway.  The sky was cloudy and I was a little overdressed because I knew it was going to remain both cloudy and windy all day.  Riding through City Park I passed the City Park Stables where the huge Budweiser trucks were parked.  Those are the ones that bring in the Clydesdales and related equipment.  They seem to be part of almost every major parade.

The Giro started out fast and pretty much stayed that way.  All the way out Chef Highway I had a tight grasp on the bars as I balanced between the white line and the rumble strip, alternatively sprinting and coasting.  The crosswind accordion effect was in full force.  I looked way up ahead and knew I should be up there, but once we really got rolling it would have taken a major effort, and I figured I was getting a pretty good workout doing paceline intervals anyway.  On the way back one of the guys had a flat near the back of the group and only a few of us stopped, but it was just as well since the rest of the ride was basically tailwind by that point.  I think my maximum speed was up around 38 mph that day when we were flying back down Chef Highway with a 20 mph tailwind.  Don't you just love that illusion of power that a strong tailwind provides?  Enjoy it while you can, because you're really not that strong.

Saturday evening we went over to Tulane's Tidewater Building on Canal Street to watch Endymion, which was great.  Getting out of there afterward in the car was, however, pure torture.  I think it took is half an hour to go three blocks.

Donald Davis is in town from Pensacola and he had called me about meeting up Sunday morning to ride out to the Giro.  So at 6:10 I was riding around in little circles on Pine Street wondering why he was late.  He and his son in law finally showed up about ten minutes late. Donald had survived the entire Rouge-Roubaix course on Saturday, but had two flats riding through New Orleans in the dark.  Anyway, we still arrived at Starbucks in plenty of time or coffee.  It was even more windy than it had been on Saturday and I knew the group would get blown apart sooner or later.  It turned out to be sooner.  We hadn't gone three miles down Hayne Blvd. with a 15-20 mph crosswind before the pack split. The whole ride I kept wanting to take a photo, but taking my hands off the bars wasn't worth the risk.  There were more than a couple of "Oh shit!" moments when the wind caught my front wheel and tried to blow me across the road.  Naturally Mike Williams was out there on a fixed gear TT bike with a disk wheel weaving all over the place. 

I was glad when we dropped him on Hayne, but then Donald had another flat approaching Chef Highway and he caught back up.  I was sticking with Donald since I knew he was out of tubes and CO2.  The pace ramped up gradually as we battled the headwind and crosswind out to Venetian Isles.  A little while later Donald's tire started going flat again.  By then we were on the way back and only the Tulane riders and I stayed with Donald to help.  We finally found the tiny piece of glass that had been causing the problem embedded in the tire, put in my last tube, and had a pretty good ride back, eventually catching up with some of the other riders who had themselves had another flat.

After the ride it was off to catch some of the Thoth parade on Henry Clay Avenue and then a quick lunch since The Daughter had a flight out at 5:30.  When we got home and checked on that flight, however, we found it delayed by two hours because of the winter storm, so she would miss a connecting flight in Minnesota. After numerous phone calls with Delta the best they could do was get her on a flight Mardi Gras morning almost two days later! Oh well, I guess we'll hope the weather holds out around here so we can catch a couple more parades tomorrow night.

From Superbowl to Mardi Gras

As the horde of hungover Superbowl fans departed the city Monday morning, so too did the spectacular weather.  I was able to get in a nice recovery ride, meeting up with a couple of the Tulane riders along the way, and even innocently rode the bike in to work before the clouds really started to close in.  By mid-afternoon it looked like we were in for the long haul, rain-wise.  It wasn't  until around 10:30 pm that it finally stopped and I could take the dogs out for their regular little night walk. The trees were still dripping water and the streets were soaked, and I wondered if I'd even be able to ride in the morning.

When the alarm went off this morning I reached over and pulled up The Weather Channel on the phone to check the radar.  Amazingly, there wasn't a spot of green anywhere around, and glancing out the window I could see that although the streets were still wet, they were plenty dry enough to ride.  Up on the levee the turnout was very slim but included a rider who was in town from Denver visiting family.  Kenny and Howard joined in a little bit down the road, so we ended up with six or seven.  The word was that there was more rain approaching from the west, so we decided to turn around a The Dip in St. Rose.  That was fine with me since I was going to have to turn around early anyway in order to make my 9 am meeting without having to rush around too much. As it turned out, it was a good thing we had planned to turn back early.  About a mile from St. Rose we had the first flat.  A few of us waited while the rest decided to ride the last mile to the Dip and catch us on the way back.  That flat got fixed, we headed out, and found the rest of the group fixing another flat just before the turnaround.  The rest of the ride was a series of intervals --- 5 minutes riding, 5 minutes fixing flats.  It was almost comical. 

You run into all types on the streetcar around here, even Sir Paul.

By the time we fixed what we thought was the last one, which was the 7th flat of the day, I was watching the clock tick ever closer to 9 am and knew I'd be in a mad dash to get to the office on time.  I later heard from Tom that he'd had yet another flat on his way home, making our total for the morning eight.  There's something that they mixed into the asphalt on that bike path that continuously sheds tiny arrowhead-shaped shards and whenever it's wet they become extremely efficient at penetrating bicycle tires.  Somehow I escaped without a puncture today, but I'm sure that when I check my tires this evening I'll have to dig a few of those things out of the tread.

Last night I finally re-aligned my derailleur hanger (I finally sprung for the alignment tool).  It was a bit out of line in both vertical and horizontal planes, although I'm still having occasionally sluggish downshifting.  I changed the little piece of housing from the chainstay to the derailleur, but I guess the problem lies elsewhere, no doubt the portion from the shifter to the top tube. It's never simple, is it?

So this week we shift from Superbowl mode straight into Mardi Gras mode with parades resuming tonight and continuing pretty much straight through to Fat Tuesday on Feb. 12.  This city is on a roll.

Super Weekend

New Orleans has been working overtime for months in order to put on a great edition of the Superbowl squeezed right into the middle of Mardi Gras season (Mardi Gras is just over a week away), and other than the fact that the half of the Superdome lights just went out, I have been pretty impressed.  To make matters even better, the weather this weekend was practically perfect.

Saturday was a memorial ride for Justin Addison over in Covington. The actual ride was just a short seven miles out and back to the site of the accident, so a pre-memorial ride was quickly organized.  We started out at the Tammany Trace trailhead just off of I-12, and when it was pretty cold at 7:30 when I arrived up there with Dave.  I knew it would warm up quickly, but I also knew that ride north on the shady Tammany Trace would be really cold, so I piled on the clothes anyway.  The ride itself was probably around 45 miles at a moderate pace, considering the wide mix of riders that was on hand. We finished that ride up a little early, so we kind of wandered down south of Covington for a while, eventually returning to St. Paul's campus for the ride.  It was actually great to see a number of riders there who I hadn't seen in a while.

Today I headed back across the lake for the regular winter training ride.  Mignon had lined up a small group that would leave fifteen minutes early, making for a kind of "handicap" training ride.  It would be forty miles before we caught them after we started another ten minutes late.  There was a nice group from the S3 team on hand, and they had started their ride earlier at the Tammany Trace caboose, so they were all in for a ride of around 95 miles.  By the time we got started the temperature was already climbing under clear blue skies.  There was hardly a breath of wind, making for nearly ideal riding conditions.  We had a good group and hardly ever needed to regroup despite a fairly respectable pace that averaged 21 mph for the 66 miles that I rode, which included a number of very slow miles as I rode back to pick up dropped riders or rode ahead during the store stop.  I was feeling pretty good today and pushed pretty hard on some of the little climbs, but otherwise just stayed in the paceline.  I was harassed all day by balky shifting on the Bianchi.  I think the rear derailleur cable must be hanging up somewhere.  I had re-used the cables that I'd gotten from Matt with the Campi components, so I'll have to check over that whole cable and see where the problem is.  I also need to look into the rear wheel's freewheel which is occasionally not wanting to release.  I suspect a sticky pawl or something, but will need to check on how to disassemble the Mavic hub. Speaking of equipment, we had one potentially serious problem and one narrowly averted problem this week.  On Friday we met up with the Tulane riders who were doing an easy recovery ride like we were.  All was going well until Graeme and a couple others decided to do a little sprint.  I was watching from behind when I saw Graeme's right foot flailing around in the air and then his bike making a sharp turn down the levee (fortunately, the grassy side).  Of course I assumed he'd accidentally clipped out.  He had broken a worn out cleat on the velodrome last summer.  After we got him back on his feet (his leg and ankle were hurting him) I walked over to his bike as was surprised to find that his rear wheel wasn't attached to his bike.  It must have come out of the dropout during the sprint, which would explain how he clipped out of a perfectly good pedal with a perfectly good cleat.  I guess I was still thinking about that Saturday afternoon when I looked at my own cleats and was rather shocked to find one of them so worn down that a part of the tab at the front had actually broken off.  I figure I was just a sprint or two from disaster.  Luckily I had a new pair of cleats handy

Meanwhile, back at Tulane, the dormitory folks have suddenly decided to enforce the restriction on bringing bikes into dorm rooms, causing three of the team riders to have to lock their bikes up outside.  Not good.  I wrote a couple of emails to the appropriate people requesting an exception for them, so we'll see what happens there.  Telling me that bicycles in dorms constitute fire hazards just boggles my mind.  I guess they just assume that everyone would leave their bicycles lying in the stairwells or something.

Earlier this week I was thinking that my mileage would be significantly down for the week.  I had three days with early meetings, and had to cut both of my usual long rides on Tuesday and Thursday short.  Somehow I still ended up with a bit over 250 miles, so I was happy about that.