Midweek Morning

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

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

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

Looking for the Group

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

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

Gaps and Gravity

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Home Alone, a Bottle of Wine, and Top Gun

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

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

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

Red Skies and Rainy Roads

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

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

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

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

Back on the Asphalt

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

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

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

A Little Bit Sick

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

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

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

District Roads

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

In My Ear

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

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

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

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

Stiff Legs and Pantry Moths

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

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

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

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

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

Hitting and Missing the Scattered Rain

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

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

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

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

Wet Streets and Flat Tires

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

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

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

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

Roller-Coaster Training

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

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

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

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

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

Riding to Lunch

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

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

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

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

Recovery

After Saturday's ride I might have been well advised to make Sunday a recovery day, but to be honest, my legs didn't feel all that bad, so I took off for the Lakefront Giro Ride anyway. Out at the lake I met up with the group and noticed it was unusually small. This was both good and bad. On the good side, it meant that the available horsepower in the group would be somewhat limited. On the bad side, it also meant that the available draft would likewise be limited. At least we had a lot of NOBC riders there, along with Mike on his handlebar-less bike and Bret who was taking it easy on us.

I was still feeling OK as we narrowly missed getting run over by a car on Paris Road as it tried to pass the group on the right because the group was in the left lane -- until someone yelled "car back" and half the group moved over right in front of the understandably bewildered driver. Sheesh. Guys, you really need to stay in ONE lane, preferably the right one. The pace was reasonably fast, but also quite steady on Sunday, so it wasn't until we were halfway back that my lack of recovery really started to catch up with me. In fact, it not only caught up with me, it rolled right over me. I made one final effort up the Seabrook bridge and after that I was done, as in "well done." I limped home at about 12 mph, nibbling on what was left of a nasty PowerBar that I must have gotten at a race somewhere (hopefully this season rather than last) because I would never in a million years buy a "cookies and cream" Powerbar.

So by Sunday night I knew that Monday would have "recovery day" written all over it. Since I had my final Jury Duty day on Monday, I took the opportunity to skip my morning ride and sleep an extra hour before making the ride down to mid-city. I had a meeting that I really didn't want to miss scheduled for the afternoon, and so the person behind the desk told me "OK, I'll take care of you." Over the next three hours they called about 75 people, none of them me. At 12:30 there was only one court that might still need a jury, so they called out fifty names and the rest of us were finally free. So I was back in the office after a quick lunch and all was well.

Back to the Bluff

It was nearly 11 p.m. when I made the decision. Jason had sent out an email on Friday about a group that would be riding the infamous Red Bluff route on Saturday. There hadn't been any replies, perhaps because they were meeting at the Mandeville IHOP for 6 am. As I later learned, our group was only one of two. An earlier group of mostly triathletes was meeting at 4:30 am, which was well before my alarm went off, even though I had a good 40 minute drive across the causeway to make first. The Red Bluff loop is probably one of the hilliest training rides within easy driving distance, with a typical 32 mile circuit racking up nearly a thousand feet of accumulated climbing. Add to that some rough chip-seal roads, some long stretches of loosely attached gravel, and three or four long and steep climbs, and you have a recipe for a real leg-breaker, especially if you're planning on doing two or three laps.

The plan for the day was quite up in the air. When we arrived, we decided to head out on the course backwards to meet the early group, so we basically had a ten or fifteen mile warmup that brought us back to the cars. We hung around as the early group got water and stuff, finally heading back out to the course with our original group and a couple others. Riding the course in the normal direction, you get about a mile of flat road before starting the longish climb up to Red Bluff. By the time we got to the top, our group was already fragmented. Jerry was pushing the pace up the hills pretty effectively, but eventually we all came back together before turning left and starting the long return side of the loop. The pace stayed fairly fast and things kind of came apart again - more than once - before we got back to the cars with maybe 50 miles. Another stop of fluids and we headed out again for another 20 miles or so up Red Bluff and White Bluff and back. By then it was getting pretty warm and my legs were getting pretty tired, but I still couldn't resist pushing a bit over the hills.

So with all of the delays and route changes it turned out to be a longer day than I'd anticipated, but as I drove back across the Causeway I was feeling satisfied and happy that I'd made the decision to go back to the Bluff. When you do most of your training on the dead-flat roads around New Orleans, going for a nice challenging ride in the hills is always a treat, even when it hurts. I just wish I'd remembered to bring my camera along.

Tired Thursday Thighs

I was up and out the door by 6 am yesterday morning, trying to sneak in an hour or so before dreaded Jury Duty. Already it is that time of year when the blinky light stays clipped to the tire bag all week, a sure sign that we're tilting away from the sun again. At least the morning temperatures have been relatively mild lately, and I'm not even going to comment on the tropical weather for fear of jinxing this year's hurricane season. So I got in a nice little solo ride and then headed down to mid-city for Jury Duty at Tulane and Broad, locking the bike up to one of the many no-parking signs alongside a long row of parked police cars, and working my way through all of the shady dreadlocked characters holding their ridiculous pants up with one hand, I checked through the medal detector and walked down to the jury lounge. There I sat for the next three and a half hours with nothing to do except read email and try not to stare at the only attractive thing in the room who was sitting across from me. A bit after noon they called out fifty names, including mine, and sent the rest home. We were instructed to return at 1:30, so I pulled out a powerbar, bought a coke, and hung around upstairs, finally returning to the jury lounge just in time to find out that we could go home. Another bullet dodged. Meanwhile, the jury that I was almost on, the one that has been sequestered, and still is, since the 17th, rendered a guilty verdict in the first-degree murder case. Now they have to decide on the death vs. life in prison issue.

So after a few hours at work I was ready to head out to the lakefront for a little suffering. As usual, the training race didn't disappoint. I did a lot of work at the front and by the time we were down to the last couple of laps I was pretty well toasted. On the final lap I thought I'd launch an attack from about fifth wheel as we headed toward the fountain traffic circle, knowing full well I'd be caught quickly and probably blown right out the back, but that's what training races are all about, right? Anyway, just as I had formulated my plan I saw Woody, who was a few bikes ahead, glance behind him. I knew what that meant, but I wasn't quite fast enough. He launched a fierce attack and although I responded pretty quickly, I was a bit too far back and low on fuel to make it into his draft. By the time I was halfway around the circle, I was done for the day. The ride home was nice, though!

This morning my legs were feeling a little sore, so I was glad that the pace didn't go ballistic from the start. Instead, it just kind of gradually ramped up and up and up as the number of people pulling went down and down and down. A lot of the blame, or credit as the case may be, for that would have to go to Howard who was characteristically surging an extra couple of mph each time he'd come to the front. The ride back today turned out to be a lot harder than I'd expected. Often when the ride out is hard, the ride back will remain slow for a long time. This time, though, Howard and Brady were pushing the pace and eventually the rest of the group had had enough and let them, with me tagging along, go. It could have been a lot harder for me, but with both Howard and Brady to draft behind, I was getting some pretty nice recovery in-between pulls.

This morning's air served up a brief little reminder that August isn't always brutally hot and humid. The cool front that pushed through yesterday left us with a morning temperature in the low 70s and the kind of relative humidity that is considered normal in most other parts of the country. With my handlebars finally free of aerodynamic entanglements, I made my way in the semi-darkness out to the levee for the long Tuesday ride. Despite having skipped my usual Monday ride, thanks to Jury Duty, I could still feel a little bit of Sunday in my legs as they slowly got warmed up.

The ride out to the turnaround started picking up speed once we cleared the Huey P, and soon the numbers on the computer were staying up around 27 mph. I took a couple of pulls and then made the mistake of dropping almost all the way to the back of the paceline. I soon realized that the rotation was being short- circuited somewhere up ahead, but just didn't have the motivation to get myself back up there for a long time. It just felt so nice sitting in the draft this morning! Woody pulled off to turn back, and after that the pace eased up for a little while, but with Max, Rob, Matt and VJ up at the front, that didn't last too long. By the time we were halfway back home the pace was down to 25-26 mph and the number of guys in the rotation was dwindling. Situation normal. I had a little more left in the tank since I'd spent some time sitting in the draft on the way out, so I spent a bit more time in the front group on the return trip. Otherwise, it was a pretty typical morning ride. Whenever the weather is nice there are a lot of pedestrians, dog-walkers and slower riders up on the levee, and the closer we get to the Playground the more of them there are. That always seems to break up the group a little bit in the last few miles, since it's really not such a good idea to have a dozen riders zooming past the oblivious pedestrians at 27 mph.

I'm heading up to Baton Rouge in a little while for a meeting and kind of looking forward to some quiet time in the car. Hopefully I can keep my hands off of the BlackBerry while en route. I got an email from Dylan's father yesterday reporting on his condition after being in a head-on car accident. Dylan was in the back seat and the force of the impact, combined with his seat belt, pressed his spine into his intestines. After they took him to the Terrebone hospital they decided to MediFlight him to Ochsner for surgery since they knew he was bleeding internally. Fortunately they were able to patch up the ruptures in his intestine and he's back home after a long stay in the ICU and hospital with a feeding tube down his throat. He's expected to make a full recovery but will be off the bike for another month or so.

Solitude and Suffering

I rolled out of bed in the dark around 5:15 am and stumbled down to the basement to load up the station wagon with race equipment for the morning's LAMBRA Time Trial Championships. I stepped out the door and immediately noticed that the air was cooler and dryer than normal for this time of year. The night before I'd bolted on the clip-on aero-bars, thus effectively converting the Orbea into a Time Trial bike. I'd also removed the water bottle cages, just for the psychological benefit. I arrived at the race venue, aka the Swamp Tours parking lot, near LaPlace around 6:15 and immediately sprayed myself with mosquito repellent. I then unloaded the car, setting up the pop-up tent for registration, then running down to the start line to put up the race clock. A bit farther down the road I planted the big finish line flag at the big "40K" mark on the asphalt. By then a bunch of the NBO guys, who were in charge of the event, had arrived. Since pre-registration was required for this event, everything went smoothly, although there were a couple of people who had missed the registration deadline. The promoter wasn't about to open the door on exceptions, so there were two riders who just rode exhibition time trials and weren't scored.

So once things were under control and the Chief Referee, Adam, had arrived, I pulled the bike down from the roof and got in a little warmup. There was a moderate wind blowing out of the north, which on this course meant it would probably be a long way to the turnaround. After all of the stressing about the LAMBRA equipment, registration, results spreadsheets, etc., it was a relief to finally be thinking only about the impending 40 km of solitude and suffering. As usual, I was only about half-primed for this time trial. For one thing, I've rarely found them to be a lot of fun. For another, I think I'd need a few thousand dollars worth of new equipment in order to feel like I was on a level playing field. Even so, one can at least take some satisfaction in simply putting up a respectable time on a regular bike.

Eddie counted me down as I balanced at the starting line. At five to go I started the stopwatch on the computer. At one to go I grabbed the brake and stood up, and at "go" I powered away from the line, staying out of the saddle until I was up to 26 or 27 mph. A couple of downshifts later I settled into the aero bars as my breathing went into "gasping" territory. I could feel the headwind immediately and knew my current speed was unsustainable. Up the road I could see Tom H., my minute man. Over the next few miles my speed gradually dropped down until it finally stabilized at 24-25 mph when things were good. Every now and then I'd lose my focus and find myself down to 22 mph, requiring an effort to get back up to 24. Riding into an unsteady headwind, it was important to maintain an aero position and smooth pedal stroke, and although I felt I was being successful at that, I was still disappointed with my speed. I knew that I'd need to be seeing at least 27 mph all the way back just to go sub-hour.

The turnaround finally came and I rounded the pylon reasonably well. I'd already passed a couple of riders and could tell I'd made up some time on my minute man. As usual, the tailwind was a bit less of a relief than I'd hoped. It was also rather inconsistent. For the most part I was seeing 27 and 28 mph, with occasional stretches at 29 -30. Tom offered some encouragement when I passed him around halfway back, and by then I was really starting to hurt. The last five miles were a struggle and my speed was fluctuating a lot depending on the momentary status of my motivation. Finally I could see the finish about a kilometer away and started to gradually ramp it up, crossing the line at around 30 mph for a time of 58:33 and a mediocre but respectable average speed of around 25.5 mph. It was only the 18th fastest time of the day, but still good enough for first place in the 55-59 age group.

As soon as I got back to the results table I was told that my laptop had gone into hibernate mode and couldn't be revived. I took a look at it and for a minute was confused as to why it wouldn't power back up. That was until I looked down and saw that the power strip it was plugged into was in the 'off' position. Then, after entering the first batch of times and successfully printing out some of the results, the printer and laptop stopped communicating for some unknown reason. We were never able to get them to talk to each other again and had to resort to pen on paper for most of the results. Woody plugged his camera into my laptop after I finished the results and those photos, taken by his wife, I assume, are on the NOBC website. They're all kind of blurry for some reason. You really need to give some cameras a little while to finish auto-focusing. So the time trial event was a success with a good turnout of about 100 riders, and a really good turnout from the club.

Today was another Jury Duty day and sure enough I got called up to be on a jury again. Luckily I was once again rejected. I guess I'll never know if it was because I knew one of the defense attorneys. Anyway, it was about 3 pm before I made it back to the office. Tomorrow I have a big Board of Regents Support Fund meeting up in Baton Rouge, but luckily it isn't until early afternoon, so I'll be able to get in the usual long Tuesday ride. I have to admit that I was really happy to be removing the aero bars from the bike for the last time this season!

Aerobars and Bottle Launchers

The streets were still wet when I peeked out the door this morning and I wondered if more rain was on the way. So I moved the old ErgoBrain from the Orbea to the Cervelo and headed for the lakefront, firmly resolved to spend the ride following wheels as much as possible. With the LAMBRA championship time trial coming up on Sunday, the group was short a few riders, but I wouldn't say that the pace was easy. There was a big group of triathletes somewhere up the road. Even if I hadn't seen them getting started as I rode to meet the Giro, I might still have guessed they were out there just from the occasional water bottles we passed. Those seat-mounted bottle launchers they like to use seem to have trouble with the New Orleans streets. I was mostly sticking to my game plan today because the only thing worse than doing a 40 km time trial is doing a 40 km time trial with unhappy legs. There were still a lot of clouds in the sky as we headed back from the turnaround, but you could tell that things would be clearing up soon. In fact, we were expecting a cool front to come through, bringing a Sunday morning temperature in the low 70s. Somewhere along the way we caught up with a lot of the triathletes, some of whom mixed in with us, adding significantly to the amount of exposed thigh and shoulder skin.

Shortly after we exited Chef Highway onto the service road I heard Eddie C. yelling "flat" behind me. We were pretty close to the back at the time and most of the group kept going, but since I was in easy mode today, I turned around. One of the triathletes had flatted, so we all stood around and watched, offering wise advice to Eddie as he fixed the flat. After that, our much smaller group had a nice even ride most of the way back. Then, as we were heading up the Casino bridge I heard the nasty grinding sound of a very unhappy chain. Glancing to my right I could see that one of the triathletes had dropped her chain halfway up the overpass, so I turned back to make sure she was OK. We ended up with an even smaller group for the rest of the ride, but that was just fine with me today.

So now I'm sitting here at home with a ton of stuff lined up in the basement, wondering how I am going to fit it all into the station wagon. There's the Great White Box, the clock and clock stand, four big coolers, three boxes of goodie bags, the big finish line flag, and then of course my bike, bag, computer and printer. Since this race had required pre-registration, I have the results spreadsheet all ready to go already. All we need are start times and finish times. I just have to remember to make sure the registration folks note which LCCS category the older masters riders want to be scored in (35+, 45+ or 55+). I just set the alarm for 5:10, which should hopefully give me time to get out to the course by 6:15 or so. I'm sure it'll still feel like a rush to get the first rider started for the official 8 am start time. Since we've posted everyone's start time, I already know that I'll be going off at 8:56 for an hour or so of solo suffering. I bolted on the aerobars about an hour ago, so at least the bike is ready.