Changes in Latitude

Jingle Cross Rock - Saturday on the Mt. Krumpet

My last day in Iowa City, Saturday, included a fun few hours at the Jingle Cross Rock race (as a spectator), and another chilly but nice ride in the countryside north of town.  The weather was just a little warmer and there was a bit more sun, and by then I was finally starting to acclimate to the northern latitude anyway.  Sunday morning we were up early and ready for the drive back south by 6 am, but couldn't actually hit the road before scraping the frost from the windshield and stopping at Starbucks for a little travel caffeine.  The long drive was uneventful until some time around 7:30 pm when I suddenly felt the engine missfire a bit going up a little rise in Mississippi.  A couple of minutes later the dreaded Check Engine light came on with the cryptic message, "Slow Down or Use Higher Gear."  Huh? We were close to McComb, so I backed off the accelerator a bit and watched the warning light go on and off depending on how much load I was placing on the engine.  In McComb I filled the tank, checked under the hood for loose vacuum hoses, and finding none, fired the car up again.  All seemed fine, so I eased back onto I-55 and latched onto the draft from a big US Mail truck that was going a nice steady 65 mph.  This worked fine and I didn't see the Check Engine light again until the truck pulled into a weigh station and I lost the draft.  For the next couple of hours I stayed in the right lane feathering the accelerator and watching the warning light go on and off, but somehow I made it home before 10 pm.  Monday morning it was rainy so I took the car over to the Volvo dealer, got a ride back home in a messy cab that reeked of some kind of nasty air freshener (which I smelled for the rest of the day), and rode in to work.  About $600 and five hours later I picked up the car after having one of the ignition coils and all the spark plugs replaced and the intake system serviced.  Turned out to have been a very expensive little trip.

So this morning the streets were a little damp and the radar not looking too promising, but I headed out anyway expecting to be riding alone. The temperature was around 70F, the sky was grey, and the air was thick with moisture. To my surprise, I found Woody, Mignon, Zack and Howard up there, so we headed up the river hoping to get in a decent ride before the weather closed in.  We ended up turning around before reaching the parish line because the northwest sky was looking pretty threatening and we were beginning to feel a few little droplets of rain.  The pace started creeping up as we were all subconsciously trying to stay ahead of the rain, and at some point I saw Zack pull out of the paceline and sit up.  A little while later I came off the front to find only Woody left.  Then, all of a sudden, we felt this freezing cold downdraft hit us like ton of bricks.  Within thirty seconds the temperature dropped at least ten degrees and a 25-30 mph gusty wind started trying to blow us right off the road.  Woody looked back at me and said, "Better give me a little wiggle room!"  After he pulled off I eased up for a minute and Howard caught up, but after the playground I was on my own again and the drizzle was starting to catch up with me.  By then, though, I was starting to pick up a serious tailwind.  I blasted down from the levee onto River Road and flew down Oak Street at 30 mph, arriving home a bit damp and cold but not really too wet.  A little break in the weather allowed me to ride over to a meeting on campus, but on my way back it started raining, so I got pretty wet anyway.

All Layered Up

I was looking forward to today's high of 34°. After scraping the frost off of the windshield so I could drive down to the local coffee shop, and after suffering through a couple of hours at the shopping mall, I was finally ready to get all layered up in winter cycling gear that hadn't seen the light of day since last March.  I'd been hoping for a nice sunny day, but the best I could do was an overcast grey sky and blustery wind.  Fortunately, I was desperate.  After three days off the bike I was up for just about anything. 

As headed out around 2 pm, I was surprised that it didnt' feel nearly as cold as I'd been expecting.  I rode the same route I've ridden before, crossing I-80 and heading for Sugarbottom road.  My out and back 34 mile ride included some nice rolling hills through the countryside around Iowa City.  Considering the conditions, I wasn't planning on a hard workout or anything, so I kept the effort level under control and enjoyed the uniformly grey scenery.

We made it over to the Jingle Cross race site just in time for the start of the elite women's race at 6:30.  I was amazed at how long and difficult this course looked.  It must have been at least two miles around and included what looked like a really hard bit of climbing up the side of a big hill.  We stayed just long enough to see the first lap of the elite men's race before heading back home in search of warmth.  It looked like a fun race, and I think I'll try and get over there at some point tomorrow.

Sunny and Sixteem

It's 16° F right now in IC, but there's hope.  Rather than yesterday's 20-something high temperature and cloudy skies, today it's clear and sunny and may get all the way up to 38.  That means I might actually get out on the bike for a little while.  We'll see.  I spent most of yesterday sitting on the couch eating and watching movies, and haven't been on the bike since Monday.  I'm hoping I'll also be able to make it out to see a little bit of this evening's Jingle Cross races.  For now, though, I need coffee.....

Chamois Time

It was a weekend of nice weather and long group rides, in many ways not so much different than the one before.  On the agenda for Saturday was an NOBC club ride out to Fort Pike. Although we were scheduled to start fifteen minutes after the Giro from Kona Cafe' on Lakeshore Drive, I decided to stop at Starbucks and have a cup of dark roast with a few of the Giro riders before heading over to Lakeshore Drive to meet the NOBC group.  It was surprisingly chilly, and even though it was supposed to warm up considerably, I rode out there with knee and arm-warmers.  I didn't regret it, either. 

Over at Kona I found a good turnout for the club ride.  It can be a little tricky sometimes finding just the right group speed that will keep everyone together.  The ride turned out to be pretty good, despite a steady stream of speeding dump trucks along Chef Highway.  We have been dealing with the trucks for months already, and I suppose it will be quite a few more before the levee work out in the east is finally completed.  At any rate, it will be nice when the work ends and our weekend rides can return to normal. Unlike the Giro, the club ride stopped a few times to regroup and make adjustments for the rising temperature.  We even posed for a picture on top of the Rigolets bridge.  Kyle, who moved here recently after completing his degree at Purdue, was nice enough take the photo, although I'm afraid my little camera struggled a bit with the focus.  After the ride, a number of us stuck around at Kona to eat, so by the time I got home it was after noon and I had almost 90 miles on the odometer.  Thanks to the moderate pace, however, I felt I'd be good to go for the Sunday northshore ride.

Some time early Saturday morning the Sewerage and Water Board's big water treatment plant lost power for a few hours, and as a result almost the entire city was under a "boil order" until Sunday afternoon.  Really sucked for the restaurants.

So Sunday morning I drove across the causeway with Woody, who was trying to recover from a head cold, for the regular northshore ride.  It was much warmer than Saturday and although I started out wearing arm-warmers, I knew they'd end up in my pocket pretty soon.  The group was big - about twenty-five, I think, and we headed north from the school at a smooth but brisk pace.  Things stayed together nicely up through Enon and along Choctaw Road to the sprint just before La. 10, but then we had a long delay because Kurt (was it Kurt?) broke a spoke in his rear wheel and it went too out of line to clear the seat stays.  After loosening a bunch of spokes, though, we finally got it to where it would roll, so he and Elizabeth headed back.  I think a few others had also turned back early as well, so as we turned onto the hilly stretch heading toward Sie Jenkins Road we were down to a nice well-matched group. 

The rest of the ride was pretty good - fast enough to be a good workout but not hard enough to make me a worthless couch potato for the rest of the day.  We did cheat a bit and take the Dummyline Road shortcut, probably because some people had plans for the early afternoon Saints game.  The last ten miles or so got fairly fast, and by the time we were on the last stretch my legs were beginning to complain.  Anyway, although I was back home by about 1 pm, I sure put in a whole lot of chamois time this weekend.

That afternoon I picked up a copy of the new Peloton magazine which has a nice article on New Orleans and Kenny that Jered put together before leaving for Europe.  Tomorrow (oh, well actually today I guess) I will have a lot of things to wrap up at work because we'll be driving up to Iowa on Tuesday. 

Chaos and Droppage

It seemed darker than usual, and as I glanced up at the pre-dawn sky all I saw were fast-moving grey clouds.  Perhaps I should have taken it as an omen.  I was already running a few minutes late for the 6:15 am levee ride, and despite its 59 degree temperature the thick air cut right through my two jerseys as I rushed out to the river.  Up on the levee I could feel the full force of the wind and knew the crosswinds would make the ride a little more difficult than usual. "A little more difficult" turned out to be an understatement.  The ride started out smoothly enough, but for some reason Scott decided to stay on the front for a really long time.  Ordinarily that might not have presented a problem, but on a day full of crosswinds it meant that four people were getting a draft and ten more were strung out along the edge in futile attempts to hide from the gusts.  So after a few miles Luke rode up to the front and told Scott he had to pull off more quickly when there was a crosswind.  It didn't seem like he took it well, but he eased up and I came through, took a short pull, and started to drop back.  By then Rob had come up to the front and the pace started to ramp up.  Almost immediately, riders started letting gaps open since most of them hadn't had any real draft since the start, and the whole thing degenerated into chaos.  Then other rides would surge past.  It was like the whole group had gotten into a big bag of crazy pills.  I looked over at Woody and said, "I think we need to have a workshop on pacelines!"  There was another surge, but with five or six already at the front it was almost pointless to go with it since there wasn't hardly a sliver of draft left to be had anyway. A few riders had already come to their senses and dropped off the back. So we let a little gap open and started a nice second paceline which was rotating smoothly and holding the gap to a manageable distance quite nicely.  Just as we were hitting our stride, somewhere around the Country Club, Woody flatted.  I coasted for a little while, and then turned around, riding back to the little cluster of riders standing there.  As I came up to them Woody asked if I had a wrench.  A wrench?  I looked down at his bike and saw he was riding his track bike.  As it turned out he'd had a flat before the start of the ride, and when he'd fixed it he'd left his peanut-butter wrench in his truck. (There's a Wikipedia listing for peanut butter wrench??) Well, needless to say, none of us happened to be carrying a 15 mm wrench, so Woody ended up riding back on the flat.  Good thing it was his front tire.  

So the rest of us rode out to The Dip, where a couple went ahead, a few turned back, and soon it was just Mignon and I.  Rather than turning around at The Dip, we decided to ride easy and catch the group on the flipside, hoping that by then some of the craziness might have dissipated.  At first it seemed fine, but after The Dip, and another stop for another flat the ride back again started getting a little out of hand.  Mark and Howard stormed off the front, and then Max, who was on his TT bike, started ramping it up and up and up, which naturally resulted in some significant droppage in the rear half of the group due to the aforementioned crosswinds.  Suffice it to say, the last ten miles were pretty fast, at least for the handful of hard-headed survivors.

After a quick stop at Zotz for a cup of dark roast (the temperature hadn't risen a bit since I'd left home), I made my way home and then out to the westbank to renew my driver's license.  Every eight years we have to do this in person, I guess so that they can make sure that (a) we're still actually alive, and (b) we can still see.  Apparently I passed both tests, thanks to my glasses and, I suppose, a sufficiently broad interpretation of the term "alive."  On the plus side, I had taken some good advice and driven an extra couple of miles out to Gretna where the process was somewhat more pleasant and efficient than it had been the last time I did this at the office on Airline Highway.  Every time I go to some state or municipal office like this I always wonder where all the normal people are.  They must go to some special office, the location of which is a closely guarded secret.  The large bra-less woman with the saggy breasts and dirty t-shirt next to me was holding a letter documenting the expungement of some sort of first-offense felony (the word "felony" was printed in boldface).

Dirt, Gears and Ferries

"B" Race riders negotiate the barriers

It's November, and that usually means some significant deviation from the usual riding regime, so Friday evening found me down in the basement trying to cobble together something suitable for the HooperCross cyclocross race up in Baton Rouge.  Rather than take the easy way out and use my 1980's vintage mountain bike, I decided to go really retro and see what I  could do with the 1970's vintage Pennine (aka my rain bike).  I pulled out that big box of discarded bike parts (admit it, you have one too) and started travelling back in time.  Pushing aside the old road pedals with toe-clips still attached, and the odd-diameter seatposts, I eventually excavated my way down to the 5-speed Regina Oro freewheel that I'd bought for a cycle tour of Colorado 1983.  Even better, I also found the all-steel long-cage Japanese derailleur I'd picked up somewhere around Crested Butte after deciding that I really did need to be able to get into that last ultra-low cog in order to haul my fully loaded bike over the continental divide.  Together with the bike's 44-tooth small chainring, I figured I was more or less good to go.  There was, of course, the little matter of not having any cyclocross tires, but since the weather has been dry I thought I would try and get by with the $9.95 commuting tires that were already on the bike's 27" wheels.  So I removed the fenders, swapped out the freewheel, changed the derailleur, and installed a nice new $11 chain.  Then I wrapped the steel top tube cable clips with some leftover handlebar tape and electrical tape so they wouldn't dig into my shoulders or hands.

When I arrived at the Hooper Road park, somewhat early, there was only one other person there. Eventually riders started filtering in and the promoter headed out to set up the course. I think we ended up with about twenty entries. There were two races:  "A" and "B."  Since my license says I'm a Cat. 2 in Cyclocross (which I am definitely not), I entered the "A" race.  I knew it wouldn't matter anyway, since I was planning on starting at the back and staying there. After a few warmup laps I had a good feel for the course and knew I'd be fine with it.  There were a couple of long fast stretches in a field, a technical section with some tight turns, a section of 4 barriers, and a nice bit of single-track through the park's mountain bike trail.  Everything was flat and although there were some sandy turns and three kind of crazy moguls (basically piles of dirt), it looked like I'd be fine with my road tires as long as I didn't try anything foolish.  So according to plan I started more or less last and took my time negotiating the barriers on the first section (hey, I'm short enough to need a step-stool for those things).  I wasn't really trying to be competitive since this was the first cyclocross race I'd done in probably ten or fifteen years.  Still, I was having fun and starting to get comfortable riding in the dirt when I came up the the barriers for the second time and had a little trouble getting unclipped before lifting the bike over them. Then, I had more trouble getting my left foot clipped in again, at which point Will Cheramie sped past me.  I finally got clipped in and gradually caught up with Will who seemed to be taking the turns with a large dose of caution.  I was right behind him, or maybe next to him, when we came up to the barriers for the third time. This time my left cleat would not release, despite the fact that I had my foot turned at about a 90-degree angle.  Since I had nowhere to go and was already committed to dismounting on the left, I fell like a sack of cement in front of the barriers.  When I finally wrenched my shoe free I looked at the bottom of it and found that the cleat had lost one of its two screws and was completely loose, which explained why I wasn't able to unclip.  So I walked over the barriers and then straightened out the cleat before hopping back on.  I got clipped in again, but of course there was no way I was going to unclip, so for the rest of the race I would stop at the barriers, grab onto the fence, unclip my right foot, get off the bike, unclip my left foot, walk over the barriers, straighten the cleat out, and start up again.  Needless to say, I was lapped twice by the end, but still had a great time.  Maybe I'll break down and invest in a couple of cyclocross tires.

Sunday morning there was this charity ride, the Tour de Jefferson, that a lot of the local riders were doing.  I was afraid it would just be a slow 45 mile conversational ride, but when Mignon suggested riding to and from the ride to add another twenty-five miles or so, I decided to go for it.  After all, it's November.  We rolled out from my house a little before 6 am in order to take the 6:15 Canal St. ferry across the river.  From there we rode back upriver through Gretna to Westwego where we met up with Woody and Eddie and the northshore crew.  Since it was still a bit early, this whole group went for a little warmup ride before registering at the Bayou Segnette park.  Since the westbank is essentially a foreign country, I was pretty much lost for most of the day.  There were about 600 riders for this ride, so we all made sure to move up to the front before the start.  Well, my fears that this would be an easy Sunday ride were quickly dispelled, and within a couple of miles we were rolling along at 25-27 mph until we had to stop for a while at a train crossing.  When the route turned south and we picked up a little tailwind the group started to string out as the pace ramped up to around 30 mph.  This was starting to look and feel a lot like the Giro Ride!  I recognized almost all of the faces in the front group, which, by the time we to the the southern end of the ride, was down to maybe 15 or 20, followed a couple of minutes later by another slightly larger group.  At that point we all piled onto a little aluminum ferry boat to cross Bayou Barataria. Luckily most of the second group made it onto the first ferry, because there was no waiting around and re-grouping on the other side. 

I'd been expecting the ride back to be a little slower because of the headwind, but it really didn't feel any easier at all.  Crossing one of the big bridges a gap opened and the group split.  I looked up ahead to see Tim and Mark at the front and knew there would be no slowing down, so I hung around on the back of the group, just pulling through once in a while.  By then I was starting to feel the effects of Saturday's race and was getting a little sore in unfamiliar places.  At one point the whole front group was strung out in the left lane behind the lead motorcycle going about 30 mph.  A little gap opened leaving just Tim and Mark on the motor, at which point the rest of the group eased up for a moment.  By then we were almost back to the park, though, and were busy thinking up ways to harass Tim and Mark about drafting the motorcycle!  I stuck around long enough to have some etouffe and a beer before we headed back down the river to catch the ferry and make our way back uptown so Mignon could make it to the Oak Street Po-boy Festival where she was working a table for her son's school.  I was planning on going down there too a bit later with The Wife and The Neighbors, but by the time I got home they were already on their way back home.  I was sorry to miss my soft-shell crap po-boy, but by then I was definitely ready to put my feet up anyway.

Too Fast for Fall

The outdoor thermometer read just a couple of degrees below 60F.  I decided to skip the knee-warmers since it was bound to warm up.  Five minutes later I was regretting that decision.  Along with the slightly warmer temperature and come a surge of humidity. The chill felt significantly worse than yesterday, despite the extra couple of degrees.  Of course I knew it would warm up once the sun came over the horizon, but there's just something particularly uncomfortable about those first few miles in the morning when you feel a tad underdressed.

We had a typical group for the long Thursday ride today.  The pace on the way out was actually uncharacteristically sedate with a number of riders content to sit at the back and let people into the paceline in front of them.  By the time we were halfway to the turnaround the group rotating at the front had dwindled to five or so, but since the pace was hovering around the 23 mph mark, it wasn't really a big problem.  Donald was taking his usual long pulls, and for some reason that eventually must have gotten on Rob's nerves because somewhere way out around Destrehan the two of them got into a little shouting match at the front.  The rest of us just kind of ignored it and went around them.  I mean, after all, it's November.

Unfortunately, that kind of set the stage for the return trip.  Rob and Donald kind or rode away up the road right from the start.  Maybe they kissed and made up.  I dunno.  What I do know is that we soon had a pretty significant headwind.  I guess it must have really picked up because I definitely don't remember much of a tailwind on the way out.  Eventually we got close to Rob and Donald, and at that point things kind of got out of hand.  The pace surged, and then surged again, and soon the paceline came completely apart.  After a little while a new group of five or six formed just ahead of me.  I started to put my head down and chase, but then I thought, "Do I really want to race all the way back to New Orleans?"  So I eased up and waited for a few others. The group up the road was just going a little too fast for fall, and I just didn't feel like playing that game today.  So I rode in with a little group of four or so.  Somewhere way behind us were the remnants of the original group.

Back on Top

Well, I was back on top of the levee early Tuesday morning, feeling quite acutely the effects of seven days spent sitting in conference room chairs.  The morning temperature was on the chilly side, and for the first time this fall I felt the need to pull on the knee-warmers and full-finger gloves.  As often happens this time of year, the group was on the small side and nobody was looking for a hammerfest.  This was good.  Even better, the time change meant I could leave the headlight at home.  It's funny how much of a burden that little headlight seems to be.  It always feels like such a relief to take it off the bike, as if it weighed twenty pounds.  I suppose it's because of its location on the handlebars where you just can't ignore it, and the fact that it symbolizes rides that are cold, dark and/or windy.  Anyway, it's mainly a psychological gesture, like the way I remove my water bottle cages for 3 mile time trials.

So the ride was pretty steady and routine, and aside from the fact that I felt chunky and sluggish, like I'd been off the bike for a week, it was otherwise pretty featureless. Later that day, back in the office, things got quiet and slow and I started thinking about that long to-do list in my head with the "bike racing stuff" heading at the top.  Should I go up to Baton Rouge for the cyclocross race?  What would I ride? More importantly, what disguise would I wear? It was also time to start getting my act together for the annual LAMBRA business meeting, order the 2010 LCCS trophies, check on the new jersey order, update the calendars, update the LAMBRA website with the 2009 LCCS winners, etc.

Wednesday's ride was also quite small.  At the start there were only four of us, even though it was warmer than the day before.  I can never quite figure out when riders are going to show up for a ride. The first thing I noticed was that my legs felt a little stiff.  Apparently jumping into a 40 mile training ride after being completely inactive for a week does have its downside.  We had a nice steady ride, eventually picking up a few more riders along the way.  On the ride home I decided to stop at Zotz for a quick cup of coffee where I could ponder the upcoming Oak Street Po-boy Preservation Festival which would probably be my last chance to see the good ol' Radiators play.  They just announced that they will be disbanding after 33 years.  As one commenter commented, "First the Beatles, and now this?"  Even though I am compelled to admit that The Radiators arrived just a little bit after my time (I'm more of the Deacon John and Ivories vintage), they have certainly been a defining fixture on the local scene ever since.

So after getting home this morning I pulled out that big old cardboard box that we all have, the one full of discarded but potentially usable bike parts, and found a couple of 5-speed freewheels with really low gears.  Hmmmm.  Suppose I put one of those on the old Pennine and call it a 'Cross bike?  Cyclocross tires would be a nice addition, but there can't possibly be any in a 27" size within a hundred miles.  I wonder if I have a 700C 5-speed clincher hanging around somewhere.....

Up in Colorado Springs

Looking through the fence from the OTC at Pikes Peak

It has been a long week. In the last eight days I've ridden exactly 20 miles despite having been in places with great rides and awesome weather.  Friday morning the taxi pulled up at 5:30 am for another ride to the airport, this time for a trip to the USA Cycling Local Associations Summit at the Olympic Training Center in Colorado Springs.  Friday night we had a reception at the USAC headquarters where they have recently taken over a bar conveniently located in the middle of their building (it will soon be remodeled into a conference center).  By the time we got back to the dorm at the OTC I was already getting my 24-hour Colorado headache, but before going to bed I fired up the laptop.  Just as I was opening an Excel file listing the meeting attendees, everything stopped, and then it happened.  The dreaded Blue Screen of Death, followed by an automatic reboot resulting is a "media test failure" message.  Crap.  After a few more tries, along with visits to safe mode land, the machine booted normally again, windows loaded normally, everything worked for a while, and then -- BSoD.  I shut it down and went to sleep.  Thank goodness I had the BlackBerry.

After breakfast at the Athlete Center where there were a number of huge wrestlers and impressive women swimmers (some with ice packs on their shoulders), we assembled in the conference room on the other side of the USOC campus.  There was the usual recap by the CEO followed by a lively session with Shawn Farrell, the Technical Director, where we were able to give some input on the proposed 2011 rule changes just prior to the Board meeting where they would be formally considered.  The next day we would learn about the outcome of the meeting where, as it turned out, sleeveless jerseys were legalized for time trials, a whole host of proposed Junior equipment restrictions were defeated, and a long list of other rule changes covering everything from UCI riders in categorized USAC races to Cyclocross feed zones were made.  The rest of the morning consisted of frightening sessions about insurance and nonprofit organization legal issues.  Then, after lunch, we got to see the new USAC online registration and post-event reporting system.  I was impressed with the online registration system. I love BikeReg and would not be inclined to switch unless the USAC system had everything they do at a lower cost.  It looked like it does, and as an added bonus it checks rider entries against the current membership database and won't allow entries by riders with expired licenses.  Promoters who indicate that they will use the system will be able to get their event permits done online without sending a fee to USAC since the fee will simply be deducted from the online entry revenue.  The online post-event reporting met with some significant problems, however, regarding Chief Referee vs. Promoter responsibilities, so that component may take a little longer to get ironed out.  Anyway, the online registration system looks quite viable to me and you can't argue with the benefits of keeping the money (I'm sure USAC has worked it out so they come out a little ahead on this) within the cycling community. 


Colorado Springs visit in 1922


Saturday evening we got on the bus for a nice little dinner at the Phantom Canyon Brewery in the old part of town, across from the Hilton Antlers Hotel.  Although the current Antlers hotel was built in the 40s on the site of the original one (actually the original two since the first one burned down), it was still kind of interesting to see it because it was mentioned in my grandfather's honeymoon trip diary.  Back at the dorm I fired up the laptop and this time it booted normally, so before touching anything else I copied a couple of gigabytes of documents and photos over to a thumb drive while I had the chance. That took quite a long time, but everything went smoothly and it didn't crash again until an hour later.

Sunday's sessions included a presentation on the MyLaps chip-timing system (we had already had a presentation on the Times-7 system), along with an update on the results of the Board meeting on rule changes, a good session on the growing Collegiate program, and coverage of USAC's media and public relations activities and the National Events calendar.  All-in-all it was a great meeting except for the computer issue and the fact that the weather was nothing less than spectacular the whole time we were sitting in the conference room.  Every time we'd have a break I'd walk outside and stare longingly to the west wishing I had a bike.  The flights home were long.  After a two-hour layover at DFW I was more than ready for the relatively quick hop to New Orleans when they announced that the flight would be delayed because the flight crew, which was coming from Barbados, was held up in Customs.  It was well after 10:30 by the time we finally lifted off, and around midnight by the time I got home.  I guess I'll spend tonight trying to diagnose the laptop problem to see what my options are.  The big question with these sorts of random bluescreen errors is "hardware or software?"  I love a mystery, though.  It chilly this morning and I was way too tired to get out of bed to ride, so I guess it will be tomorrow before I'm finally back on the bike.

Five Years

I'm sitting here at Gate 24 up in National Airport with a couple of hours to kill before my return flight to New Orleans.  When I left home around 4:30 am on Monday I forgot to put my camera in my bag.  I've been kicking myself for that ever since.  The annual NCURA meeting went well, even though I had to miss the Sunday night festivities. The sessions themselves were good this year.  I think that I attended only one that was kind of a dud. The traditional Tuesday night party seemed better than usual.  Perhaps both the band and the participants put in a little extra effort this year because it was the last time the home-grown NCURA band "Sole Source and the No-Cost Extensions" would be playing.  They've done this every year for the last 20 years.  After the music ended at midnight I went up to the hospitality suite in order to be, you know, hospitable.  I guess some of the other regions' hospitality suites must have closed at midnight this year because ours was absolutely packed.  Around 1 am I figured I'd better go ahead and make my way back to my little hotel three blocks away before it got too late.  If I'd had another glass of wine I'd probably have decided, however unwisely, to stay longer.  When I left, the party was still going strong.  So after the final two sessions this morning, I walked out of the hotel at noon with a lot of time to kill, so I wandered over to Georgetown, mostly for the exercise, ate lunch, and ended up at a Starbucks so I could send off some emails before picking up my bag and hopping on the Metro for the airport.

When I checked Jill's "Jill Outside" blog and saw her retrospective "Five Years" post, I thought I'd look to see what I was up to on this day five years ago.  We were still living mostly up in Jackson, Louisiana but had come back to New Orleans for a few days.  The city was still reeling from Katrina, but some things were beginning to stabilize and most of our neighbors had been back in their houses for a week or two. It doesn't seem like it's been five years.  It would still be another week or so before we would finally move back home for good and set up the Psychiatry office in our living room. 

A Ride and a Beer

With yet another spectacular weather weekend on hand, I was looking forward to the northshore training ride. For many, the weekend was not without its complications, though.With Halloween falling on a weekend, plus a Saints game tonight, plus the huge Voodoo Experience in City Park, I'm sure a lot of people had some tough decisions to make.  For me, however, it was just another Sunday morning.  The complications would have to wait. When I unplugged my Blackberry from the charger at 6am, thereby awakening it from sleep mode, I noticed I had received a text message.  It had come the night before around 8:30 while I was eating dinner with one of the neighbors.  I'd already left the phone on my dresser for the night, and although I'd checked my email on the computer later in the evening, I hadn't checked the Blackberry.  The message was from Zack, asking if I was doing the northshore ride.  I sent him a text reply, but since it was so early I wasn't really expecting to hear back from him.  I didn't.  So I fired up the car and headed over to Puccino's to see if any other southshore riders would be there.  The parking lot was deserted, though.

The Lee Road Junior High parking lot, however, was anything but deserted.  In addition to our regular training ride, there was another small group that was meeting there at the same time.  So at 8 am we rounded up "our" riders and headed out for the regular 65 mile ride.  It was still a little chilly, and some riders were sporting their knee-warmers.  I'm still in denial about winter, though, so I left mine in the car.  Besides, I knew it would warm up considerably in an hour or so.  The air temperature in the middle of the lake had been 67F.  The temperature at the start of the ride was more like 54, but the sky was clear and there was virtually no wind. 

The group started out pretty easy and everyone stayed together as we made our way up to Enon.  I was feeling pretty good and probably wouldn't have minded much if the pace had gotten faster, but for the most part things remained subdued except for the sprints.  I'm usually kind of hesitant to go for the training ride sprints this time of year, but even so, one does need to stay in contact.

When we got up to Hwy. 10 at the top of the course we stopped for a little wardrobe readjustment so that people could strip off their knee-warmers and vests and such.  It wasn't hot, of course, but it had gotten up to that sweet spot where shorts and a jersey felt pretty comfortable.  I could have taken my arm-warmers off, but I usually find that it's easier to just leave them on.  It's not like my arms get overheated when I ride anyway.  This intersection is where Choctaw Road crosses La. 10, and there's this historical marker there - out in the middle of nowhere -- that notes the history of Choctaw Road.

The back stretch out to Sie Jenkins started out pretty smoothly and didn't really get fast until after the first or second of those steep little climbs (the second one is a designated sprint).  Things came apart just a little along there, but I don't think anyone was more than a minute off the back, so by the time we came around the corner at Plainview, it was gruppo compacto. 

As usual, the closer we got to the Enon sign sprint, the faster the pace got.  This stretch of Lee Road heading into Enon from the north is really sweet.  Silky smooth asphalt, practically no cars, Overhanging trees, and low rolling hills that seem to get lower and lower the closer you get to Enon.  We rolled through Enon and pacelined down toward the Firetower hill which we climbed at a pretty steady speed until we were near the top and I just had to keep the pressure on a little longer.  That kind of split things up a bit, but over the next mile or two I think everything came back together.

As we rode the last five or six miles down Tung Road we passed a few small groups of riders from the "other" ride, so everyone was back at the parking lot at pretty much the same time.  Jason cracked open his ice chest and I enjoyed a nice bottle of the local microbrew before finally hitting the road for home.  Once I get past the open house we are having tonight for Halloween, I'll have to get myself to the airport for a 6 am flight to D.C.

Cool-downs

It's that time of year again.  Hot and sticky one day, cold and windy the next.  Today was the next. We had a pretty good cool-down after that front pushed through yesterday, and I was having a little trouble dealing with the sudden change. I pulled on an extra jersey and a pair of arm-warmers and headed out the door. It was a Friday.  It was really windy.  It was dark.  It was twenty degrees colder than the day before.  I figured I'd be alone.  I was, but I really don't mind that on Friday when I usually just want to take it easy and enjoy the ride.  Somewhere out around the Country Club I ran into Taylor.  So at least I had a little conversation to make the ride go by a little faster, which wasn't actually very fast at all. This was good because it helped keep my mind off of the fact that my toes were still a long way from being winter-ready.  On the way home I decided to stop by Zotz for a cup of coffee and a bagel, which were nice.  By the time I got back on the bike, though, I had cooled down so much that I had to really hustle home before I got really cold.

So today I switched from grant proposals to Facebook.  After wading through the posts about the ongoing King of Style Collegiate Jersey wars  Contest, (stroke of genius on USAC's part, I might add), I finally set up the Facebook page for the Tulane Office of Government Affairs, and spend altogether too much time trying to figure out how to put their "like button" widget onto our regular web page before finally relenting and calling the experts, who of course had it up and running in about ten minutes.

I wonder how cold it will be in the morning......      

Good Timing

The view of damp streets through fogged-up windows made me check the weather radar this morning.  It looked a little sketchy, but most of the heavy stuff seemed to be long gone, so I hit the road around 6 am to see what the morning levee ride had to offer.  There was a pretty stiff wind blowing, but it was still warm and humid despite a rapidly approaching cold front. I wondered out loud where that cool air we'd been promised was.  Up on the levee there was only a skeleton crew.  Something about the strong shifting wind and threat of rain must have kept a lot of people at home, and we numbered only five as we headed upriver.  Most of the way out seemed to be headwind and crosswind, and we spend a lot of time struggling to maintain 22 mph.  I knew we wouldn't be riding all the way out to Destrehan.  When the group is this small and the speed this low we almost always turn around early.  We were our around the Country Club when I noticed a red blinky light about a minute up the road.  We were working pretty hard, but we were just not chipping into that gap much at all.  It didn't take me long to figure out that it must be Donald.  After we crossed the parish line we seemed to be closing the gap just a little, and after a few rotations I decided to push the pace up another notch. When I pulled off, though, I was surprised to find that our little group had kind of shattered, so I eased up and we all regrouped around The Dip where we turned around.

As I turned left off of Oak Street, and Zack turned right, I glanced to my left and saw it.  The sky was absolutely black out to the southwest.  I thought to myself, "good timing" and didn't waste any time on my way back to the house. By the time I left for work about an hour later, the temperature had dropped nearly ten degrees and there was a Tulane Tech tweet on my phone about the power having been knocked out somewhere on campus. On the plus side, it never did rain.

After a long meeting on campus I headed to the office down Audubon Street where I noticed the nicely posed skeletons above and just had to stop and take a picture.  It seems that people are really getting into Halloween this year.  I guess it helps that it falls on a weekend this year. 

Snake Bit

A late night in front of the computer made it hard to crawl out of bed this morning.  I glanced over at the outdoor thermometer and heard myself mumble, "damn!"  The temperature was around 80F and there was already a strong and humid south wind blowing.  I figured it would be a hard ride.

I arrived at the levee meeting spot to find the usual group engaged in the recently popular discussion about the impending bike path closure.  No new news there, so we headed out into the darkness. I knew that the strong south wind would eventually take its toll, particularly once we got to a crosswind area, but for the first few miles all was going smoothly until we came to the access road that leads to the place that sells rocks.  This is a big operation that ships in all sorts of big and small rocks and piles them up according to size to be loaded onto trucks for, I don't know, whatever people do with rocks.  Anyway, I had just pulled off of the front and was second from the back of the paceline as we crossed the road when I heard that lovely rhythmic hissing sound.  I'd nailed an unseen rock dead on in the darkness and pinch-flatted, resulting in the classic "snake bite" hole pattern in the inner tube.  Considering the time of year, perhaps we should call these "vampire bites" this week.  It was way too early to ask the whole group to stop and wait while I fumbled around in the darkness trying to change tubes by feel, so I just slid quietly out the back and coasted to a stop.  I took my time changing the flat. I mean, it was windy and dark and I was tired, so I figured the flat was A SIGN.  Once I got rolling again I just cruised along at an easy pace and soon I started seeing riders who had been in the group coming back in ones and twos.  A number of them had turned around early.  Eventually I saw the bulk of the group coming my way.  They had turned around early too.  So I made a quick U-turn and got into the paceline for the return trip.

On my way home I passed a film crew (they don't really use film any more, do they?) setting up on Oak Street at the Rue de la Course coffee shop.  There was already a long buffet line set up.  Those guys sure do eat well.  You'd think they would just have gotten breakfast at the coffee shop.  I mean after all, they were right there.  Anyway, I have no idea what they were setting up for.  It could have been a movie, or perhaps some sort of reality show thing.  I heard that there was a film crew on Tulane's campus recently, so perhaps it had something to do with that.  The university often works out deals with movie companies so that they can film scenes on campus.

Scent of Rain

Flat Number Two

The minute I walked out the door at 6:30 a.m. I smelled it.  The unmistakable scent of rain.  There was a smattering of raindrops on the car, but that was about it, so I chalked it up to a little passing shower and headed off to pick up Zack and then rush over to Puccino's to meet whoever else was going over the big pond for the weekly northshore training ride.

I'd been expecting more of the Herring guys for this weekend, but as it turned out we had only Woody and Jacob on hand.  When we pulled into the parking lot at the Junior High forty-five minutes later, however, I was surprised by the number of cars.  Like last week, we started out with about twenty riders for the traditional 65 mile route.  The difference, though, was that this time the sky was cloudy and the temperature a good ten degrees warmer.  The forecast was calling for increasing winds out of the south and a 30% chance of rain. Such a prediction would normally be fine, but I had definitely been spoiled a bit by previous three weekends of perfect weather.  I think we had four or five Tulane Cycling riders, most of whom were also regular NOBC riders as well, and before we started, Jordan walked over to give me one of our new T-shirts.


Robert and Woody

As the group headed out toward Enon, I was glad to see that nobody was looking to make the ride into a long hammerfest, but nonetheless I was anticipating one or two fast stretches up on the far end of the loop.  A few miles past Enon, after the traditional "nature break" at Dummyline Road, a car with bikes on the back went flying past the group.  Then, as we came up the little hill toward the fire station at Tullos Road we saw Robert jump out of the car, pull his bike off the rack, and hop on, merging smoothly into the group just as we made the turn.  Good timing! 

Despite its size, this was a pretty good and evenly matched group, which made for a smooth and brisk paceline all the way out to the top of the course at Highway 10.  As usual, things started getting faster as we headed back toward Bogalusa and Plainview, and the surges over a couple of the steeper climbs eventually split the pack.  Down at the end of Sie Jenkins Road we stopped to regroup just in time to hear Robert's tire explode.  A few stragglers arrived, but Carlo was inexplicably missing and there was some discussion about whether he might have turned around or taken a shortcut.  That was kind of doubtful because we didn't think he knew the course, and if he'd missed the turn onto Sie Jenkins, we'd probably be getting a call from Bogalusa.  Anyway, just as the "Dropped Rider Statute of Limitations" was about to expire, we finally tracked him down thanks to cellphones, and found out he'd dropped his chain twice but was only about a mile away.  So by the time the flat tire was fixed, everyone was back together.

We were only a couple of miles west of Plainview when I heard people behind me yelling "Flat!"  Robert's tire had flatted again, so we stopped to fix it, putting a little boot over the sharp edge of the valve stem hole that we suspected to have caused the flat.  Just after that the sky started getting darker and by the time we were approaching Lee road it was already starting to drizzle.  I wasn't really surprised, and sat up to put my camera into the ziplock bag that was already holding my Blackberry.  With the Saints football game scheduled to start at noon, the decision was made to take the Dummyline Road shortcut to make up for a little lost time.

As we made our way back south on Lee Road the rain continued, and by the time we rolled into Enon I could feel the water swishing around between my toes.  You never really feel "wet" until the water soaks through your socks and your feet get wet.  This was no longer simply "drizzle," it was "Rain," and it continued as we climbed up from the Bogue Chitto bridge to the firetower and sprinted for the parish road sign. It's actually now a "virtual" sign, since it's been missing for a couple of years now, but a few weeks ago Jason went around the course and painted finish lines for the sprints, along with 1km and 200M marks.  By then the group had split, as usual, so there was a final regrouping along Tung road, followed by that long final stretch back to the cars.  It was another good training ride, despite the soggy clothes, and I think everyone arrived back in time to catch the second half of the Saints game, which may or may not have been a good thing.

City Rides

It was Saturday morning and I still didn't have the Orbea back together.  I had gotten a "new" old Campi ErgoBrain and so it was finally time to break down and replace all the cables, install the computer, put on some new rubber, and finish it off with some nice fresh handlebar tape.  The brake and derailleur cable replacement went smoothly enough. The ErgoBrain installation, however, was a bit more tedious. As anyone who has done it before can tell you, installing the aptly named ErgoBrain can sometimes feel like doing brain surgery .... especially late at night after a couple of glasses of wine. So it wasn't until very, very late Thursday night that I finally had the little buttons on the brake lever bodies working properly.  I figured I'd finish up the rest Firday night, but an impromptu dinner with the neighbors changed my plans.


Leaving the Quarter with the Cathedral in the background

Saturday morning I rolled the Cervelo out the door and into the 6 am darkness.  Flipping on front and rear blinky lights, I headed out on the quiet streets toward the lake.  The sky was clear and the moon was about full, and there was just a bit of morning fog that made it feel a little colder than it really was. 

When everyone converged on the corner of Marconi and Robt. E. Lee at 7 am, I looked around and realized that we had a really big turnout for this one.  A few of the Herring riders were in town and I wondered if things might get out of hand speed-wize.  I didn't really want to end up with sore legs since I was planning on doing the northshore ride on Sunday.  Once the speed started to ramp up on Hayne Blvd., I settled into the middle of the group as it started to string out.  Then Jacob just rode off the front, taking one or two with him. A sort of semi-serious chase ensued, but lots of people, myself included, were just sitting in.  I remember looking down and seeing 30 mph and thinking how easy it was while sitting in the middle of a big group.  On the way back things bunched up a bit about a mile before the Goodyear Sign sprint, and for some reason I decided it would be fun to give Jacob a leadout, so I tapped him on the shoulder and accelerated down one side of the paceline while he accelerated down the other.  I crossed over as soon as I could and he was right there on my wheel, so I took him straight to the front thinking I could get him maybe 300 meters from the line before blowing up.  Well, that turned out to have been wildly optimistic.  I *maybe* got to within 500 meters before dropping him off.  I glanced back and saw that we had gotten a pretty big gap, but a moment later I heard wheels coming up from behind really fast.  Mark G. was going flat out and caught Jacob well before the finish.  Even so, they didn't really slow down much after the sprint and we ended up chasing all the way down the service road. 



Just the back end of the group.

On the way home I made the crucial mistake of going down Wisner where I ran right into the huge Susan G. Komen breast cancer run/walk event.  I ended up winding my way through a sea of pink down back streets and sidewalks until I finally broke free at Canal Street.

Back at home I put on the new handlebar tape and new tires just in time to ride over to Tulane to meet the club's 2 pm city ride.  Four of us did a nice easy ride down through the French Quarter out to Bywater and back.  Other than the 500 stop signs we rolled through and the exhaust from the tour buses, it was nice.

Just Waiting

Did I mention how dark it is when I leave the house in the morning?  Yeah, I thought I did.  The regular group gathered up on the levee at 6:15 am today, as it has on practically every Saturday for many years now.  Just past the start, in the area where the Corps came and cleared out all of the batture trees, there's now a huge work barge and an enormous crane.  I'm still not at all sure what they're about to do there, although I don't think we'll have to wait too much longer to find out.  We rolled out at a moderate, almost sensible, pace this morning, considering the minimal visibility. Down by the Huey P. they are definitely moving toward the road and bike path closure we've been waiting for, but I'm guessing it will be a few more days, at least, before the complete shut-down.  There are now a few actual barricades standing at the ready up along the top of the levee, but still no indication I can see of the detour for the River Road traffic.  I guess we'll just have to wait and see.

The group was a good ten miles down the road before it was light enough to turn off the headlight today, and as the visibility started to increase, so did the pace.  The temperature was cool this morning, but certainly not cold, so we had a mixture of arm-warmers and bare skin in the group.  It looks like it will be that way all week, with lows in the 60s and highs in the 80s.  Can't really complain about that, except for the fact that we're bordering on drought conditions now, which means that the house will start shifting around its foundation (I use the term loosely) and I may even have to start watering the plants. 

We were already on the way back from the turnaround by the time the sun finally started to peek over the trees (and the grain elevators) out by Destrehan.  As we made our way back downriver I noticed that the pace was particularly erratic.  Some were taking long pulls at 24-25 mph, while others were taking short ones at 22.  Gaps would open every time someone at the front would surge.  It was just one of those mornings, I guess. The only real problem was that I wasn't sure what pace I should be going when I'd come to the front.  Should I try to maintain the 24 mph pace or the 22 mph pace?  Somewhere in the confusion, we lost a few riders off the back, I think, and toward the end we picked up a new rider from New Zealand who has been in town for about a year but hadn't ever found the group before.  Naturally, I asked him his name and then immediately forgot it.  Here at work I've been waiting for about a week for a bunch of stuff that I need in order to assemble and submit a $1.2M construction grant.  Thus far I've not received much, and since the deadline is this Friday, I'm starting to get a little anxious.  Harassment proceedings may need to start soon.  At any rate, it's looking like I'll be immersed in my own private fire drill at some point in the next couple of days.  Situation normal.  After I get that package out the door I'll be more or less looking forward to the end of the month with a conference in D.C., followed almost immediately by the USA Cycling Local Associations meeting in Colorado Springs.  This morning I happened to read Brian Toone's blog.  He just posted a really detailed review of his 2010 racing season.  If anyone wants to get a feel for the kind of training (and travelling) it takes to be a regionally competitive Cat. 1 cyclist, Brian's blog serves as a great resource -- average training week:  15 hours, 270 mi, 14,000 ft. of climbing.

Brakeless in BR

Up around dawn for the drive up to Baton Rouge, I knew Saturday was going to be a long day.  It was the grand re-opening of the Perkins Road Park, home of the Baton Rouge Velodrome.  Friday morning I had dusted off (literally) the old Viner track bike and tried to pump up the tires to make sure they were still OK.  Unfortunately the short valve stems on the old Vittoria Corsa tubulars didn't leave quite enough room in the more modern rims for the pump to grab, so after work I rode over to GNO Cyclery and picked up a valve extender. So by Friday night the track bike was ready to go.  The "event" was a track clinic conducted by a couple of the guys from the Dick Lane Velodrome over in East Point, GA (south Atlanta).  I didn't really know what to expect, but since I'd agreed to bring a lap counter and bell and stopwatches, I figured I may as well see what it was all about.



Track riding always seems to involve
a lot of this.

The clinic turned out to be fairly well-structured and fun.  Starting at 8 am, riders who needed them were fitted to loaner bikes and introduced to the track. After going over the basics of track safety, and a review of the significance of the blue band, black line, red line, finish line, pursuit lines, and the missing stayer's line, they started out with some introductory laps, followed by a series of drills designed to make new riders comfortable with riding in mass-start races, matched sprints, and flying 200 meter time trials.  After a late lunch, there was a series of A and B practice races that included scratch races, points races, a miss-and-out, and matched sprints.  All of this made for a pretty long day, and I guess it was nearly 5 pm before I got back into the car to head home.  The entire Perkins Park, by the way, looked pretty impressive.  Although not too much about the Velodrome had changed, there is now a huge skate park, with a rock wall in the middle,  immediately adjacent to the track and an improved BMX track adjacent to that.  It was interesting, and maybe a little frightening, that there was apparently no helmet requirement for the skate park.  The high fence that had always encircled the velodrome is now gone and, as far as I can tell, it is open to the public and unsupervised from dawn to dusk.  That is obviously going to present a safety problem.  While we were there, lots of people with BMX bikes or skateboards came through the tunnel and wanted to ride on the track. I talked with someone who works at the park, and she seemed to be very interested in making it work, so I'm optimistic.  Anyway, I think the riders who attended, especially those who were new to the track, got a lot out of the clinic.  I decided to take a pass on the sprints at the end of the day, both because I needed to get back to New Orleans, and because I didn't want to completely trash my legs.



Sunday morning found me once again in the car before sunrise.  I swung over to Starbucks first, waiting for a few minutes as they finished brewing the first batch of Anniversary Blend and chatting with Billy (of GNO Cyclery).  Then I headed over to Puccino's to see if anybody else was going over to do the northshore ride, but at 7 am the parking lot was still empty, so I cranked up the radio and hit the Causeway just as the sun started to peek over the horizon.  It was going to be another spectacular day, with a morning temperature in Covington around 60F and not a single cloud in the sky.




Coming over the watchtower climb
on the way out to Enon

The group at the Lee Road Junior High was a little smaller than usual.  I guess we had nine or ten riders at the start. I guess there's a lot of competition this time of year with festivals and school sports and those sorts of things.  I was kind of relieved to find that my legs didn't feel sore, although as usual my neck was kind of stiff.  Whenever I spend any significant amount of time on the track, my neck ends up rather sore.  Riding around the bankings you have to cock your neck up quite a bit just to see what's ahead of you, since, essentially, it's actually above you.  The training ride group was, the most part, remarkably restrained today.  Of course there were a few fast sections and sprints, but in general the pace remained pretty steady.  We came over the watchtower hill in a nice smooth paceline.  A few miles later, just north of Enon, the traditional "nature break" allowed time for some wardrobe adjustments as the temperature was already on its way up to the 80s.



The road from Plainview back to Lee Road



Beautiful double paceline!

After the turn at Highway 10 things started to pick up a bit. This stretch includes three significant climbs.  The first one is the longest, but it's not too steep.  I think everyone came over that one together since there was no real attack there.  The other two climbs are shorter but steeper climbs, each coming immediately after crossing small streams.  Sometimes I really like these climbs and other times I really hate them.  This day, with my legs feeling fairly fresh because of the moderate pace, the climbs were my friends.  My only problem was that I'd forgotten to bring along anything to eat, so in general I was being a little careful to conserve some energy since I knew that little vanilla bean scone I'd picked up with my coffee at 6:30 am might not get me all the way through the 65 mile ride.  As it turned out, though, I was never in danger of bonking, and after we finished Jason was there with a cold beer and a cold Coke.  Nice.