The Rest of the Week

The weather this week has been great for riding.  In fact, it's been rather hard to believe it's January.  Despite the week's tragedy that still ripples strongly through the local cycling community, the training rides continued more or less as usual.  It wouldn't have seemed right to do otherwise. 

So Thursday morning found me up on the levee in the dark and the fog wondering about my own sanity.  These dark foggy morning training rides, when they get fast, make me uncomfortable.  Early in the ride I was sitting there on Brian's wheel as he plowed through the thick fog at 25 mph thinking, "There's no way we'll be able to see things before it's too late."  After a little while I eased out of the paceline, dropped all the way to the back, and followed it a couple of bike lengths back.  I figured I'd at least have enough time to bail out onto the grass if something happened.  Fortunately, nothing did, and by the time we to out to the turnaround at Ormond the fog had lifted and the sun was coming up over the horizon.  It turned out to be a pretty fast ride with a pretty big group.  There was a Tulane cycling team meeting that evening, and amazingly all of their team kits arrived at my office that morning.  Ben was able to swing by and pick up the three big boxes since there was no way I could get them home on my bike. We were able to hand out most of the new kits to the riders at the meeting that night.  Good timing!

So since the Tulane team had a group recovery ride planned for Friday morning, I thought I'd do it since it had been a pretty solid week for me already.  We had ten or twelve riders there, all decked out in their new team kits, and the easy conversational pace was just what I needed.  I had a feeling that the Saturday Giro would be a hard one. Back at home, the countertop installers showed up and put the granite countertops in.  There's still a ways to go, but I think I'm starting to see the light at the end of the kitchen renovation tunnel.

Saturday morning the weather was great, the wind was calm, and the turnout at Starbucks was large.  I was planning on going across the lake to the visitation and ceremony for Justin, so I had already decided to skip the long ride to Slidell.  As we got onto our bikes to start the ride I suddenly felt Judd leaning on me.  He's lost his balance while clipping in and basically fell over on top of me. We both ended up on the ground as the rest of the Giro was heading down the street.  I straightened out my rear brake and we took off in pursuit, but a few miles later I started noticing something strange about the way the bike was shifting and how it felt when I was coasting. The whole group stopped on Lakeshore Drive for a moment of silence in memory of Justin Addison. The bike problem turned out to be two different problems, one of which I wouldn't figure out until Sunday. The Giro was pretty fast, so it wasn't until after the turnaround that I finally looked down and was surprised to see that my rear derailleur hanger was pretty dramatically bent!  Luckily I'd not shifted into any of the cogs close to the spokes!  I stopped and gave it a few tugs to get it closer to straight, and other that some bad chain alignment in a few gears I was OK for the rest of the ride. 

I had hoped to stop by the shop after I got home, but other priorities intervened and I never made it there, so I got it as straight as I could by eye, which was better, but not perfect.  At least I'd be OK for the Sunday northshore ride.  That afternoon I went over to Covington for the jam-packed memorial ceremony for Justin and got home with about an hour to spare before the annual NOBC party at 7:00.  Waiting for me at home, unfortunately, was a summons for Jury Duty.  Damn.  What a pain in the arse that is.

The party was great.  We had a good crowd that included both new and, ahem, "experienced" riders, and I finally headed home around 10:30.  Sunday morning I drove over to Covington again for the northshore ride.  I really couldn't handle another trip down Chef Highway, so I was happy to make the drive.  We started out in a moderate fog, but it lifted within the first hour and the rest of the ride was great.  I guess there was a dozen for the standard 65 mile ride, and although the pace lagged here and there, we had quite enough fast sections to make for a solid workout.  The only problem surfaced about midway through the ride when we were hammering pretty hard.  I coasted for a moment and the chain went slack and the cassette body emitted a loud squeal.  Something in there was definitely amiss, and so I spent much of the rest of the ride trying not to stop pedaling.  I think that one of the pawls must be sticking, especially after a stretch where I'm pushing pretty hard on the pedals.  I'll try spraying some lube in there first and see what happens.  After the ride I picked up a large white chocolate mocha frappuccino for the drive home, using my free "rewards" bonus from Starbucks but knowing I'd pay later in other ways thanks to my lactase deficient genotype.

Tragic Loss

It was around 10:30 last night when I saw the post by Kyle, "Pray for my little buddy Justin Addison. He was hit while riding today along the St. Tammany trace."   He was coming out of surgery and my initial impression was that he'd had a punctured lung and broken leg. Later that night another post sounded far worse, indicating that he had coded during surgery and they had needed to remove one of his lungs, and that he was now in the ICU.  I knew he and his family would have a rough night.  My phone's battery had gotten so low that it had shut itself down, so when I took it off the charger this morning I just stuck it into my pocket and headed out for the early levee ride.  When I arrived I told a few of the riders waiting there in the dark about the accident. We started the ride and picked up a few more people along the way.  One of those was Woody, and it was probably fifteen minutes later that he told me that Justin had died some time after midnight.

The news was difficult to take.  Justin was one of the area's up and coming Junior riders, competing mostly in Cat. 4 races last year.  He'd come to the club's winter training camp with his friend and classmate Robert Monahan, and on the Saturday ride the two of them had basically ridden most of us right off their wheels.  Justin shuttled between New Orleans and Covington, and often rode the weekend Giro rides with us.  He was always smiling, always upbeat, and fun to be around, and if you didn't know he was only 17, you'd have guessed from his height and demeanor that he was a college student.  He was out on a training ride yesterday evening, heading east on the Tammany Trace bike path when he was hit by an SUV at one of the intersections.  Traffic there is very light, but visibility at that particular spot, coming from that particular direction, was probably hindered by the underbrush growing alongside the converted railway, and although the cars have right-of-way at most of those intersections, most of us would probably have rolled through with little more than a glance each way.  I don't know exactly what happened there in the late evening, but I know we've all had our moments of inattention and we've all been surprised by those cars we didn't see, and every one of us is probably thinking, "That could have been me."  So I hope we will all be a little more careful out there, both when we're on our bikes and when we're in our cars.  This sport that Justin and we love so much can be dangerous, and although we may accept that and try not to dwell on it, we must not forget.

I remember mailing off for the first Bell Biker helmets, before they were available in stores, shortly after a riding friend and teammate who had moved to Atlanta hit his head and died as a result of a freak fall while riding around a corner on his way to the grocery store. A few months later I caught the edge of a leaf-covered road in the park and smashed that helmet's styrofoam against my skull.  Over the years I've broken at least five helmets, suffering one concussion serious enough to render me unconscious, and although you might notice me leaving a little extra room ahead of my front tire when things get sketchy on the training rides, I'm still out there racing.  Life is risky, riding is risky, I accept it, try to minimize it, and as always, hope for the best.  So did Justin.

Hey, what happened?

"Hey, where'd my brake shoes go?"  It was the first time I'd ever heard that on a group ride.  Graeme, Ryan, Brett and I were on our way back uptown after Saturday's long Giro Ride, somewhere over 90 miles from that cold dark trip out to Starbucks nearly five hours earlier.  I had dressed for the 40-degree weather at the start, rather than the 60-degree weather I knew we'd have at the end, but I wasn't really regretting it. Once the ride got going, I could tell that a lot of the guys were planning on doing the long ride because the pace felt more or less controlled for a change. There were also a few strong riders who were absent, mostly off doing other rides on the first weekend of nice weather we'd had in a while.  There was also a significant northeast wind that was keeping the speed down a bit, making it particularly easy to sit in middle of the group. 

The sky was clear and the temperature was starting to warm up as we turned onto Chef Highway, and although the pace wasn't slow, it wasn't terribly fast either.  A little sprint at Venitian Isles, and at least half of the group continued on over the bridge toward Slidell.  This whole stretch was nice smooth paceline into the wind at 22-23 mph.  As we came to the foot of the long bridge over the Rigolettes I found myself on Ed's wheel.  I had a feeling he was going to hammer up the bridge.  I was right.  I stuck on his wheel about a third of the way up, finally easing up out of necessity rather than choice.  It was still a long way back home and I didn't have cab fare.  After a long stop at the gas station in Slidell, the first few miles east felt cold because we were still wet from sweat but all cooled down. Another semi-sprint up the bridge, a brief regrouping, and then it was some fast paceline with the wind more or less at our backs, ending it a little surge that topped out at 33 mph.  Some more fast stuff along Chef Highway, and by then everyone had about had enough and things settled down a bit for the last fifteen miles or so.  All-in-all it was a pretty good ride and as we made our way down Lakeshore Drive and Marconi riders started peeling off to go their separate ways until it was down to just four.  We headed down Orleans to Moss and onto Jeff. Davis, and then, as we slowed down for a stoplight, I heard Ryan say, "Where'd my brake shoes go?"  He and Graeme turned around, riding against traffic looking for them.  Brett and I waited there for a bit, expecting that he'd find them right away, but as they started to disappear around the bend in the Bayou, we turned back too.  We were all the way back on Orleans when we finally saw them coming our way, but way on the other side of the wide neutral ground.  I yelled at them but they didn't hear and kept going, so we turned around at the next crossover, waited for five or six cars to go by, and by the time we got going again it was clear we wouldn't be catching them.  Oh well.

So when I walked out the door Sunday morning I was expecting it to be just like Saturday, only warmer.  I was surprised to find a thick fog, and knew immediately I'd be a little under-dressed, but it was already getting late so I headed off anyway.  It wasn't really too bad, and at least the wind had died down a little bit. 

Arriving at Starbucks I was surprised to see so many riders there. A few were planning on going long again.  I wasn't.  My legs were a little sore from Saturday's ride, so I didn't feel up to another 95 miler.  In fact, the Sunday ride turned out to be a fairly easy one.  After the turnaround where the Slidell group split off and the rest of us turned around, the pace was mostly pretty tame and conversational.  Brian eventually rode off the front and disappeared down the road.  There was a little surge at the Goodyear sign, and then very easy until Matt suddenly decided to keep us honest by upping the pace from 16 to 28 mph along Hayne Blvd., which of course set up a hard effort up the first bridge, and fast mile, and a final hard effort up the Seabrook bridge.  Coming back along Lakeshore Drive we rode past the squirrel.  I swear, we didn't stage that photo.  Someone, perhaps Ryan, must have been back out there later and posted it on Facebook.  The little fellow looked pretty wasted, so we figured we'd just let him sleep it off.  After all, we are in the middle of both Mardi Gras season and Super Bowl season!

Back in the Sunshine

The long wet stretch of weather we'd been having finally broke on Thursday. I'd almost forgotten how much nicer it was to ride in the sunshine on dry streets. Even so, it's still cold and quite windy, and if the morning ride turnout is any indication, a lot of people are making do with indoor trainers or wishful thinking.  I myself skipped two days, Monday when the streets were wet and I just wasn't up to another wet ride, and Wednesday when it was actually raining.  In-between was a ride on the rain bike during which I was surprised to meet up with a couple of other guys.  That was on the one hand a good thing, since I'd have otherwise been riding quite a bit slower, and on the other hand a bad thing because I ended up pretty wet and gritty from wheel spray, and struggled on the long headwind stretches.  I guess an extra six or seven pounds and full fenders makes a bike harder to pedal. I did make it to a 70 minute Spin class during the week, so I guess that counts for something.

We are finally about done with the mock-up for the 2013-14 NOBC team kits.  The color scheme was selected to compliment Apolline Restaurant's (our major sponsor) logo colors of teal and grey. It still needs to go to the graphic folks at Voler, but at least it should be very close to what we have thus far.  Naturally the whole process has taken far longer than the uninitiated would have ever imagined.  For those of us who have been down this road before, however, it's really not a big surprise that we won't have them until the end of March at best.

I started using Strava back on January 28 of last year, after many years of not tracking my riding at all other than the cumulative mileage numbers on my trusty Campi computer.  It seems like my annual mileage always works out to a bit over 11k, and this year is no exception.  Strava is showing 11,055 mi. right now with a week or so to go in January.  If nothing else, at least I'm consistent.  This year I'll be experimenting for the first time with a heart rate monitor that goes with my new Garmin.  I'm not sure how useful it will prove to be. We'll see.  It's looking like the weather will be decent for the Saturday Giro, which will be a nice change, and I guess that a fair group will be "going long" out to Slidell. I'll probably throw a Powerbar in my pocket and join them if nothing comes up in the meantime. This morning I got a late start and met up with some of the Tulane riders, although I had to turn back early and trudge back home fighting a crosswind and headwind most of the way.

That little derailleur clamp that  had gotten lost in the mail finally showed up the other day in an envelope stamped with "Not Tulane."  I had sent an inquiry to USPS about it and amazingly I got a phone call from the local post office explaining that it had gotten mixed in with Tulane's mail and they had just gotten it back. My guess is that it arrived there over the holidays and sat around for a couple of weeks until the mail room got going again and decided to give it back to the post office. Meanwhile, I think there's another one in transit, so I'll wait until it arrives and keep the one that looks best!  I also finally got the replacement 3T stem from Great Britain and will be selling that one to one of the guys in the club (at a big discount) since he was looking for one that size. So it's all kind of working out.  The only remaining question is whether to change the headset top cover to lower the stem and finally cut it to fit.  I have no sense of urgency on that, however.

The kitchen work is moving along more slowly now, mostly waiting for the ridiculously expensive countertops to arrive toward the end of next week. At the moment they're rebuilding the back door frame to accommodate the door I refinished a while back.  Considering how remarkably out of square that door opening is, it will be interesting to see how they manage that.  I also ordered a tandem brake cable and some cable stops to see if I can rig up the antique exhaust fan since the original pull chain won't work due to the new cabinet that is now underneath it.  I expect that the final contrivance that I devise for this would make Rube Goldberg proud.

No Break

It's been nearly a week since I've gotten back from a ride with a clean bike.  Odds are tomorrow will be no different.  Somehow I managed to log 250 miles, although I'd venture to say that most of that barely qualified as training.  On Saturday I rode out to the Giro Ride on very wet streets, and although we were never seriously rained on, the combination of soggy pavement and foggy air nonetheless made for a very wet ride. Suffice it to say that I took the garden hose to the bike before bringing it inside.  I rarely do that.  At least it wasn't cold. 

Sunday morning was marginally better. It was still warm, but a moderately strong wind was keeping the fog at bay, and although the streets were damp, it wasn't bad enough to create a lot of wheelspray. I tried out the Garmin heart rate monitor on Sunday.  It was the first time I'd ever used one.  It turns out that when I ride harder my heart rate goes up.  Who knew?  Anyway, the Sunday Giro was fairly fast on the way out and then fairly slow on the way back.  There was a line of rain storms inching its way toward us from Texas, and I was worried we might catch some rain, but as it turned out it was moving so slowly that it was early evening before it actually came through.  After the Giro we went straight over to the Reily Center to meet the rest of the Tulane team or an easy "welcome back" ride through the city.  Ordinarily it would have been a fairly long ride, but we were worried about the rain so we decided on a shorter 20-mile ride out to the lake and back that included a couple of stops for photos.  A number of riders couldn't make the ride (classes didn't resume until this week).

In other news, I received a very positive response from the City of Covington concerning our request to have the Tour de Louisiane criterium there, so that was certainly nice.  Still need to confirm the date and make all of the arrangements, but it's encouraging.  The new team kit design is almost finished.  It will be a couple of months before we see anything, I think, but at least it's all about ready to go to the folks at Voler.  The kitchen renovation is progressing, although a little more slowly than I'd like.  Cabinets are in place, counter tops are being made, light fixtures are ordered, bank account is hurting.

On the New Bike front, I've put a couple hundred miles on it thus far and all is good.  I am still debating whether or not to try and go the "slamthatstem.com" route to get my bars down to where they were on the Orbea or just live with them where they are.  The difference is maybe 1.5 cm, and I can't say I feel uncomfortable with them where they are.  Meanwhile, the shipping industry conspiracy continues unabated.  The little Campi derailleur clamp that I ordered way back on Dec. 21, and that mysteriously disappeared in U.S. Postal Service land, seems to be back in play.  I got a tracking notice this morning that it had been delivered at 8:53 am.  I was still at home then waiting for the contractor to arrive.  Nothing was delivered then and nothing was delivered the rest of the day either.

The weather tomorrow may be more of the same.  Once the front passed Sunday evening the temperature plummeted and so the best case scenario or tomorrow is cold and windy.  Worst case is cold, windy and raining.

Shakedown Ride

Some time around 10:30 pm last night, after two glasses of wine, I installed the Campi 11-speed chain and torqued down the last bolt on the Bianchi.  It was finally ready to ride.  Of course, I knew what that meant.  It meant that it would probably be wet and rainy in the morning for its inaugural shakedown cruise. Now ordinarily I would have taken the rain bike out on a morning like today's, but I really wanted to put a few miles in on the new bike to make sure that the position was reasonably correct and all the nuts and bolts were tight.  Before walking out the door, I made a point of double-checking the quick-releases since building up a bike with a glass of wine in one hand can sometimes lead to unintended omissions. 

Outside, the streets were soaked with water and the fog and mist was so heavy that it might as well have been raining.  The new bike was going to get a good dose of dirt and water for sure, but if it survived that, then I guess everything must be OK.  Although the temperature was the warmest it's been in weeks (at least 65F), I had pulled on the arm-warmers and toe-covers since I knew I'd be soaking wet by the time I got home.  There was a very serious-looking line of thunderstorms heading our way, compete with flood and tornado warnings, so I wasn't expecting to see anyone else on the levee, and I wasn't planning on doing a very long ride.  Last night I'd done a Spinning class at the Reily Center (those new bikes are much better than the old ones were), and I may do another one tonight to compensate for some of the missed rides of late.

Of course there wasn't anyone there when I got to the levee, so I continued on in the dark trying to guess which buttons to push on the new Garmin computer since I didn't have my glasses with the reading lenses and haven't quite memorized everything.  The thing would occasionally beep and display a message that I couldn't read.  I assume those were momentary losses of satellite contact. Before I got to the playground I saw a blinking headlight coming my way.  It was Woody.  He turned around and we rode together out to the pipes where I turned back and he continued on to The Dip.  The ride back was a lot slower.  The wind seemed to be picking up, and there were a couple of times when it caught my front wheel suddenly enough to get my attention.  Riding in the rain and fog in the dark on a new bike is not exactly ideal, but at least it wasn't cold.

So the new bike felt about right.  Something about the saddle, which I had transferred over from the Orbea, felt a tiny bit off, so I'll have to re-check all of the measurements there.  Differences of just one or two millimeters, or even the slightest change in angle, can have immediately noticeable effects.  One thing I did notice was that the bike felt more responsive when I was out of the saddle. Otherwise, it wasn't a big change from the Orbea except that the handlebars are about a centimeter higher thanks to the slightly taller head tube and headset top cap. I'll probably leave the bars where they are, however.  The difference there is trivial and besides, I've never been accused of having my bars too high.  Hopefully I'll get to ride it in the sunshine one day soon.

Back to What Passes for Normal

Monday morning's weather was almost normal, and I enjoyed a nice easy recovery ride on the levee with Bob Perrin on the way out and then Ben on the way back.  For the first time in at least a week, I got to ride in actual sunshine.  Granted, it was still cold, but I'm about acclimated to that now.

Tuesday morning was a little warmer, albeit with a pretty stiff northeast wind.  I headed out in the dark rather overdressed, but for the moment nice and toasty warm.  Down toward the end of Willow Street, near the parish line, I saw a big film crew base camp.  This happens fairly often there, and I wondered what and where they were shooting today.  When I got up to the levee there were only a few people there and Brian was already suggesting turning around at The Dip because of the small turnout and strong wind (yes, another front is moving this way).  Soon after we started, though, a number of other riders showed up, so the group ended up at about its normal size.  Brian sat on the front for about three miles, gradually lifting the pace, and finally pulled off at around 25 mph. The outbound speed stayed quite high, and by the time we were halfway to Ormond a few of the riders had already stopped coming through. Then, for reasons that would probably require psychoanalysis to decipher, Donald attacked at the front.  I was 3rd wheel at the time.  When he did, I heard someone behind me mumble something along the lines of "wtf?"  One rider got out of the saddle to go with him, but I just kept rolling at the steady 26 mph we had been going.  Soon it all came back together, but now even fewer riders were willing to pull through.  The pace stayed fast nonetheless the rest of the way to Ormond.

The ride back, mostly into the wind, was both slower and more erratic.  I don't know what was going on up at the front, and wasn't really too interested in finding out, so I just followed Big Richard's wheel as the pace fluctuated back and forth from 22 to 27 mph.  Somewhere out around Kenner we came up on Graeme and his upside-down bike.  A few riders stopped, and the rest of the group slowed to a crawl for a little while until it was obvious he wasn't going to be back on the road right away.  Coming back down Oak Street I ran into the film crew hard at work in the last block before Carrollton.  They had police at each end, stopping traffic only as needed, so I picked up a cup of coffee at Zotz and watched for a little while.  At one point I actually heard someone yell, "Action!"

So today I decided to work at home until the packages got delivered, especially since the kitchen cabinets are being installed and I need to bring the car back to the body shop because they got paint overspray all over it. Somewhere in there I also need to get some forms over to Campus Recreation to order the Tulane Cycling team kits.

Clouds and Conspiracy

It was by all measures a difficult week out on the road. It seemed that each day served up its own unique gumbo of cold, wind, and/or rain.  One day during the week I forced myself out of bed on another dark and cloudy morning, got dressed to ride, hit the streets, rode four blocks and turned around to go home and make coffee.  That was one of the better days.  Finally it looked like Saturday would be better, even though it was cloudy, fairly windy, and there was a bit of rain in the area. There was a decent sized group at Starbucks for the Saturday Giro Ride that included Kenny whose bike was still decorated for Christmas. That day only a handful of Giro riders went long.  The rest of us turned around at the regular spot after a rather erratic stretch down Chef highway. As the pace gradually picked up I found myself near the front.  That was more or less according to plan, as I'd intended to wait until the return trip to put in some efforts.  So I'm sitting on Brett's wheel and he decides to close the little ten second gap up to the handful of riders who were up ahead. It was the same kind of acceleration you'd expect from a motorcycle - steady and relentless.  Suddenly I'm struggling and thinking, "Why is this hurting so much?"  At 30 mph I ride over a little crack in the road and feel my rim bottom out.  A flat.  I pull out of the paceline and coast to a stop along with eight of the group.  The rest continue on. After changing the flat our little group got a really nice smooth paceline going and I thought to myself how much better it was than it had been with the whole group.  I arrived back home dry, if not warm, with plans to do the northshore ride on Sunday.  The forecast was calling for a temperature of around 40F and a 10% chance of rain.

So Sunday morning I step outside in the dark to load up the car and feel a light drizzle falling.  WTF???  How could a 10% chance of rain turn into this? Ever the optimist, I drove out to Puccino's anyway where I found John and Chuck debating the wisdom of riding.  We decided to wait around an extra fifteen minutes and then head across the lake in hopes that the line of rain would pass by the time we were ready to ride.  Up on the causeway we drove through some heavy rain, and even waited in the car for a while once we'd arrived.  The rain slacked off to a light drizzle, I piled on practically every piece of clothing I'd brought and we headed north on wet roads in a light rain.  We were only five miles out when John sat up and said he was going to turn back and wait for us in the car.  John and I continued on to Enon, making a short loop of Dummyline, Choctaw, 60 and 16, by which time the rain had stopped. Of course, by then it didn't matter because my feet were already wet, along with all four layers of clothes I was wearing.  It wasn't really up to epic standards by any means, but at least we got in some 40-odd miles without undue misery, although I did stand in a hot shower for a good fifteen minutes until my feet thawed out.

I'd hoped to have the new bike built up by now, but I have apparently been the victim of a broad international conspiracy involving numerous parties in the shipping industry.  Way back around Thanksgiving, in a weak moment, I'd ordered some key parts from probikekit.com. That package took over 30 days to arrive.  In the meantime, about a week before Christmas, I ran across a Campi front derailleur clamp on eBay that I thought would look nice so I ordered it. That never arrived, and when I emailed the seller (planet bike, I think) they said that a number of items they'd shipped out that day had also disappeared and that they'd ship me out a new one right away.  Anyway, when the parts from Great Britian arrived I discovered they'd shipped the wrong stem.  So I sent that back and they shipped out another, but I went ahead and ordered another one to ship second day air in hopes I could get the bike on the road for the weekend.  I checked the UPS tracking and it arrived in New Orleans in the wee hours of Friday morning as expected, but then they indicated a "late trailer" exception.  No tracking updates since then and of course also no delivery either.  It'll probably show up on Monday.  At least I was able to stop by Bicycle Connection on Saturday and get a second pair of Look Keo pedals and an insanely expensive carbon water bottle cage.  So basically I have this growing collection of bicycle parts staring me in the face every day.  Unfortunately, it's rather pointless to start building a bike without the stem since the only tricky part is setting up the handlebars and shifters and cables and derailleurs, all of which require that the stem be installed.  Frustrating.

Rabbit, Rabbit, Rabbit

I was well past River Ridge by the time it was light enough to turn off the blinky light.  I had gone out to ride at the usual Tuesday time, despite the knowledge that I'd probably be the only one.  I was.  It was warm and humid, for which I was rather overdressed, and the next cold front wasn't expected until late in the afternoon. The roads were quiet as I rode out to the levee, and the bike path was no different. The first ride of the first month of the new year would be an easy 45 miles out to Ormond and back.  I ran into David on my way back, and after he turned around around River Ridge I talked with Donald for a while as I stood there looking at the fourth bald eagle I'd seen that day. I always seem to see eagles when I'm out riding alone, but four in one day is a first. On my way out, I saw a pair of eagles perched on the same tree, but as I was pulling my camera out of my pocket, one of them flew off. 

The second one was way out near Destrehan where David pointed out what must be a new eagle nest, and the last was sitting on a tower between the playground and Ochsner.  Anyway, it was a relaxing ride.  Tomorrow it will be back to the old routine, I guess.

By the time I got home it was already starting to get cloudy, but it wasn't until around 5:30 pm when the front finally came through and we got a little rain shower.  Naturally it happened while I was cooking dinner on the grill outside (the stove is still sitting in our dining room).

I spent much of the day waiting for paint to dry.  Very exciting.  I was trying to cover the stains on the living room wall caused by the chimney leak.  I think I put six coats of "problem solver" primer over the stains and I guess that now if you weren't looking for them you wouldn't see them.

Out with a whimper

You would think that the week between Christmas and New Year's Day would be filled with long training rides and piles of miles.  Indeed, it should.  In fact, it wasn't.  Last weekend I did two Giro Rides, both in uncomfortably cold weather and with uncomfortably sore legs. The legs were sore because I spent a few hours on Friday removing part of a large Sweet Olive tree so that the chimney repair guys could get a 40-foot ladder in the right place to re-point my chimney.  It's been leaking whenever there has been a driving rain, and as it turns out, the brick were being held in place primarily by gravity rather than mortar.  So while the gutted kitchen awaits the post-holiday return of the contractor, the chimney guys spent about six hours working on the chimney which is now only the vent for the furnace.  It was not inexpensive, but at least it's no longer clogged up with the remnants of a squirrel or bird nest and should now be more or less watertight.  Meanwhile, I spent hours and hours scraping paint off of an old door that had been down in the basement for probably fifty years so that I could use it to replace the one that the burglar kicked in a few years back.  I put a third coat of polyurethane on one side of it tonight, and a third coat of stain-killer paint on the wall stains from the chimney leak.  Anyway, all of this extracurricular labor left me sore all over for the Saturday Giro.  It was bad day to have sore legs. A cold front had come through, leaving us with a morning temperature in the upper 30s and a cold wind that can be described only as "brutal."  I wasn't going to be able to do the long ride to Slidell anyway, but in this case I was not feeling particularly deprived in that respect. There were a few riders in town from Lake Charles for the Saturday Giro, and the predictable result was that the pace got really fast once we hit Hayne Blvd, despite the wind.  Halfway down Hayne, when the pace once again surged, I eased up behind another rider to look for a little more shelter nearer the back.  Bad move. As it turned out, the back of the pack was already off the back and the few riders left behind us immediately streamed past at way too high of a speed for us to be able to latch on.  So before I knew what had happened, three of us had been spit unceremoniously out the back.  The paceline ahead was still accelerating, so when I saw us coming up on the intersection with Bullard Avenue I said, "Take a right here!"  That little shortcut usually gets you a couple of minutes by the time you meet back up with the group a few miles downrange.  When we arrived at the service road, however, the group was nowhere in sight. As it turned out there had been a flat near the end of Hayne Blvd.  Eventually they showed up, at about 30 mph, of course, before easing up for a moment on Chef Highway to regroup.  Then a long rotating paceline formed up as the pace again increased.  As Matt dropped back past me I noticed his front quick release was completely released!  It took me a little while to get back to him to tell him.  I guess that's why they still put those lawyer tabs on the fork ends.  At the turnaround a number of crazy people continued on to Slidell, so relatively speaking the return trip was civilized.  Then, as we were coming back down Hayne Blvd., Chip mentioned that his handlebars had come loose and said he thought he could probably make it back. Really?  Loose handlebars on a bike are not to be taken lightly, and since I had a multitool with me we stopped to tighten it up (he had just gotten it back from the shop!). 

Sunday was practically more of the same, except that it was even colder at the start and there was even less horsepower in the group.  On the one hand, that kept the pace within normal bounds.  It was still kind of a miserable ride for me, though, since my legs felt like blocks of wood the whole time.  Even this morning it was still pretty cold when I met a couple of the guys up on the levee at the relatively luxurious hour of 7 am. The night before I'd had the idea that I might get in one last long ride for 2012, but it was not to be and I returned home after a modest 30 miles.  The Corps of Engineers has its "Mat Sinking" rig tied up near Oschner this week.  I guess they must be putting down some more concrete matts to prevent the river from scouring out a new path at the bend.

So we placed orders for an actual official finish line camera, which was around $5,000, plus another laptop, an iPAD, and an expensive tripod and camera mount for LAMBRA.  Should be interesting at the first few races when we're still trying to figure out how it all works!

So 2012 wasn't a very great year for me.  In addition to a less than stellar racing season, along with at least a couple of broken bones and a fair amount of time of the bike, I lost a few friends this year.  One who I saw often, and a few old friends who I hadn't seen in a while but who I liked a lot. I'll try and look on the bright side and expect 2013 to be better.  Maybe by then my parts will finally arrive and I can build up this new bike!

Twas the ride before Christmas

Twas the ride before Christmas,

and all through the pack,

not a rider was talking,

not even in back.

The leaders were surging;

"we'll drop them," they laughed;

but the pack just tucked lower;

and hung in their draft.

The bunch was all quiet,

and gasping for air,

their buddies were dropping

thou' they gave not a care.

And my teammate and I

now pushing the pace higher

were just getting ready

to launch a new flyer.

When somewhere in back,

there arose such a clatter,

I thought I should look

to see what was the matter.

Under my arm

I glanced with a frown,

almost expecting

to see riders go down.

The glare of the sunlight

on the asphalt below

gave to the paceline

a sickening glow.

When, what to my watering

eyes should appear,

but a dude on a track bike,

with one massive gear.

With a tiny old rider

tucked low on the bike,

I knew in a moment

it had to be Mike.

He pushed on the pedals,

and lept on ahead;

"it's no social ride,"

was all that he said.

Now Woody, now Ryan,

now Jordan, and Ben!

On Howard, on Kenny,

ride fast as you can.

Up the left came the paceline,

and out went the call,

Now dash away, dash away,

dash away all!

As dry leaves that 'fore

the wild hurricane fly,

When they meet with an obstacle,

mount to the sky,

So up to the break

'way the coursers they flew,

with a whole bunch of stragglers,

and Keith Andrews too.

And then, in a twinkling,

I heard a light thump,

The delicate shifting

of one soon to jump.

As I reached out to shift,

and was turning around,

Right down the middle

Howard came with a bound.

He was dressed in a skinsuit,

from his head to his toe,

And he leapt out ahead

to put on a good show;

A half-empty Camelback

he had flung on his back,

And he looked like a madman

as he glared at the pack.

His eyes -- how they dared us,

to take up the chase.

and the riders up-shifted,

to match his cruel pace!

He veered to the left,

to get a clean line,

and the pack got strung-out

for the twentieth time;

The riders were closing,

the gap he had done,

but many were dropping

off one after one;

The pack came together,

now elbow-to-belly,

it shook and it wiggled

like a bowl full of jelly.

The riders were having,

some jolly old fun,

And I laughed when I saw it,

now the race had begun;

With wink of his eye

and a twist of his head,

a Herring-Gas rider

was the next one to dread;

He spoke not a word,

but went straight to his deed,

And pulled us all up

to a dizzying speed;

then turned with a jerk,

his hand on his ass,

And giving a nod,

he dared us to pass;

He sprang to his feet,

to his team gave a sign,

And away they all flew

down white-painted line.

But I heard him exclaim,

ere he quickened his pace,

"HAPPY CHRISTMAS TO ALL,

AND TO ALL A GOOD RACE."

Weekend Before Christmas

I headed out Saturday morning knowing I would be overdressed by the end.  As I rode to Starbucks in the dark wearing my NOBC jacket over a long-sleeve thermal jersey, however, I was quite comfortable.  I was planning on doing the long ride out to Slidell again, and with the clear sky I was pretty sure it was going to warm up substantially by the time I got back home five hours later. I'd missed two days of riding during the week already, so at least my legs were finally feeling normal again. There was a good sized group on hand for the Giro Ride, and I decided early on that I'd take it easy on the way out, see how I felt when we stopped in Slidell, and then hopefully get some exercise on the way back.  Things went smoothly on the first part of the ride, especially once we crossed the Chef bridge and fell into a steady paceline.  The wind was light and the sun was shining and basically it was a great day for riding.  When we climbed the long bridge over the Rigoletts at Fort Pike the group got pretty strung out, and when the front of the group didn't slow down to regroup at the bottom a few riders got stranded in no-mans-land.  John and a couple of others dropped back, but the front of the pack never even looked back.  After the stop at the gas station in Slidell, it felt pretty chilly as we started out again, but of course we eventually warmed up.  After we crossed the bridge again I started spending more time at the front, which wasn't all that hard since we had a light tailwind most of the way back.  Later that afternoon I ended up spending three hours or so scraping paint off of an old door and kicking myself for not wearing a dust mask while doing it. Maybe I'll find a little time to do the other side of that door tomorrow, especially if it turns out to be as rainy as predicted.

So Sunday morning was a bit warmer and a lot more cloudy and the Giro group was a little smaller than it had been on Saturday.  It was just as well, since I was going to have to turn back early in order to make a brunch at Brennan's.  On the way out down Hayne Blvd. we came to one intersection where the front riders blew through the red light.  I looked over and saw the car in the left lane slowing down but the car in the right lane was going probably 50 mph and showing no indication of slowing down.  The rest of us had to slam on the brakes to avoid disaster.  The handful of riders who had gone through kept going, which I consider to be rather bad form for this sort of ride.  Anyway, I turned back at Chef Highway and got a nice workout riding home, and an hour later I was sitting at Brennan's sipping a gin Bloody Mary as my recovery drink.

Blown Away

The Thursday morning storms washed away any chance I had for a ride yesterday, so I was out the door early this morning with some sort of vague idea of maybe putting in a few extra miles. Ha!  Well, that idea was quickly blown away once I got up onto the levee and felt the full force of the wind. It was dark and cold and extremely windy up there.  On the other hand, the place was deserted.  I rode the usual 26 miles out to the upriver end of Jefferson Parish at a low effort level.  That translated into speeds in the 16 mph range since most of it was headwind. I had already decided it wasn't worth killing myself today. As often happens when I ride alone on the levee, I spotted a bald eagle out around River Ridge and got yet another of my fuzzy out-of-focus Bigfoot style photos.  Anyway, tomorrow's weather should be nice and if one is looking for the opportunity to punish oneself, there's always the Saturday Giro.

Today is our last day at work until January, and other than a conference call at 10 am, it's been really, really quiet, probably because most people have already bailed out for the holidays. I rode over to Taqueria Corona for lunch with Kenny and then over to the Campus Recreation office at the Reily Center to drop off some paperwork, only to find the office closed.  I guess it won't matter one way or the other since that paperwork wasn't likely to move off of anyone's desk until January anyway. While I was there I walked over to the football field to watch them putting in the test piles for the new stadium.  In order to minimize the impact on the neighbors and judicial system they're pre-drilling the holes and then just dropping the pilings in. So I was just starting to feel like things were under control when I got a call from The Wife informing me they had just dropped the Volvo in to a deep enough pothole while parking off of Magazine Street to break the radiator.  Great timing.  So there's just enough time to get it towed to the Volvo dealer where it will sit until after Christmas while I pay for a rental car waiting to find out how many thousands of dollars it will cost me to get my car back.  This sort of thing always seems to happen around Christmas.

Holidays Coming

     Long morning shadows on the levee.    

After skipping my Monday ride (the damp streets from an early rain provided a more than adequate excuse) I figured these old legs would be nice and fresh for Tuesday's ride.  I figured wrong.  My quads complained with every effort right from the start and I quickly resigned myself to short pulls and lots of wheelsucking. Sometimes that happens after a good weekend of riding, although to be honest I don't remember it happening much back when I was in my 20s.  For that matter, though, I don't remember a whole heck of a lot of what happened back when I was in my 20s anyway.

I was up late last night to pick The Daughter up from the airport, which was extremely busy even at midnight, so it was something of a struggle to get out of bed this morning to ride.  The floor guy was scheduled to arrive at the house at 8 am, though, and now that we have four people in the house and are down to only one functional bathroom, I figured I'd better get moving.  There were just three of us, Mark, Richard and myself, this morning.  Scott's apparently out of town, probably on a little ski vacation if I had to guess.  The weather was really nice with a temperature in the mid-50s and clear skies and a light southeast wind.  Tomorrow it will probably rain when the next cold front drags through. My legs were still not back to normal, although they did feel a little better than yesterday.  We were taking long pulls at 20-22 mph this morning, and by the time we got to the turnaround my legs were starting to loosen up a bit. Shortly after we turned around, Donald, Kenneth and that triathlete woman whose name I can  never remember came past so we tagged along for the ride.  Donald pulled for a few miles before Kenneth finally went around him and got a little bit of a rotation started.  With the light headwind, that allowed for everyone to at least get out of the infamous Zone 2 for a little bit.  Anyway, it was a nice ride and I arrived back home just as the floor guy, who is sanding away as I type, arrived.  I expect it will be a quiet couple of days at the office between now and Friday unless some kind of unexpected fire erupts.  This is the time when a lot of staff and faculty take some extra time off to extend the long holiday vacation that we enjoy at the university.  After Friday, the next work day for us will be in January, unless, of course, there is one of those aforementioned fires.  I am hoping against hope that my long-awaited parts from Great Britain arrive before Friday since I had them shipped to the office.  If not, the new bike won't be seeing the light of day until the first week of January at best. The last, and first, time I ordered some parts from probikekit.com they arrived in about five days.  This time it's been three weeks already, and I can only assume they're stick in Customs somewhere or otherwise have been relegated to the low-priority bag at the U.S. Postal Service. The prices were great, and although I knew there was a chance that shipping would take longer than usual, I really wasn't figuring on a whole month.  I'm still hoping to make it to the local bike shop for some other stuff I need, but I had been holding off until I could start building the new bike since I know there will be a few items that I discover I need during the process.

Easier at the Back

The wind had shifted.  I stood there in the dim morning light staring into a dresser drawer full of riding clothes.  What to wear?  The temperature was 60F and it looked a little overcast. It was a big change from the cold temperatures earlier in the week. I finally settled on a thin jersey underneath my regular one, plus arm-warmers. but skipped on the knee-warmers.  If I ended up doing the long Giro Ride out to Slidell, I'd be plenty warm enough.  Too warm, most likely.



Riverboat passing on the Friday ride.

I arrived at Starbucks a bit later than usual.  My internal debate over what to wear had cost me at least five minutes.

The ride started out a little faster than normal and then when we hit Hayne Blvd. it just stayed up in the 25 mph neighborhood, averaging 25.2 mph for the next 16 miles.  There was a little slowdown as the riders doing the long ride crossed the Chef bridge, but the pace soon picked up where it had left off.  I was mostly staying out of the battle, drafting fairly easily behind the main rotation.  We were nearing the Rigolettes when the rider ahead of me inexplicably dropped his chain.  I slowed and gave him a push so he could try and get it back onto the chainring without stopping, but no luck. The guy on the lefty Cannondale mountain bike stopped with him as I sprinted back up to the tail end of the group.  We later learned that Scott's front derailleur had broken somehow and he had called his wife for extraction.

By the time we left after the stop at the gas station in Slidell I was starting to feel chilled, so it was good that the pace soon picked up. My plan was to do more work on the way back, which I did, although I would periodically sit out a couple of dances to control the overall effort level a bit.  After all, it's December, and although it's easier at the back, it isn't that much easier.  Anyway, I felt pretty good under the circumstances and arrived back at the house tired but definitely not completely wasted.  94 miles seemed quite adequate when I got back home where the contractor and company were busily building a new back staircase.

I think I'll just do another Giro Ride tomorrow.  The Wife needs the car for shopping, so as long as I get a hall pass on the shopping trip, I'm happy with that.

Another Early Turn

The pre-dawn temperature was again around 40F, but the wind had diminished considerably when I arrived, a couple of minutes late, at the ride start. Scott and Richard were there, but that was about it.  We picked up Pat and Lenny and Judd by the time we hit the playground, but it was already clear that there wasn't enough combined horsepower to keep the pace much above the low 20s today.  That was fine with me because for some reason my quads were loading up quickly every time I'd take a pull, even at the serene 21-22 mph consensus speed.  Nobody had said anything about turning around early, at least not that I heard, but I knew they were thinking it. A small group and slower pace translates into a late arrival back home when we do the longer ride all the way out to Ormond.  As we approached The Dip, where I figured we'd probably turn around, Lenny was on the front.  He had been pushing the pace a bit. At the last minute the others ahead of me sat up and started asking each other "are we turning around here?"  Lenny was already heading down the Dip, oblivious to what was going on behind him.  I had to grab the brakes as I tried to guess who might be following him and who might be turning back.  In the end, everyone stopped except for Lenny.  We watched him as he pulled off and motioned for the next rider to come around.  There wasn't a next rider.  Finally he figured it out and turned around.  Oh well.  That was a clear lack of planning on everyone's part. I wasn't feeling very good at all, so the ride back into a slight but increasing wind was frustrating, even though I was taking short pulls.  Just after the bridge I started to feel some mushiness in my rear tire and gave the bike a little bounce.  I felt the rim touch the asphalt and knew I had a flat, so I coasted to a stop around the playground to change it.  Still wearing my gloves, I stuffed the new tube into the tire as Judd walked up with a floor pump that he had in his car. I probably got about 90 psi in there before it blew off the rim because I hadn't taken the time to check that the tire was properly seated.  Fortunately I had another tube and was more careful that time.  I was glad I'd picked up a big can of tire patch glue at Auto Zone last weekend and had patched a couple of extra tubes. Of course my rear tire most definitely needs to be replaced.  I can see the casing in a couple of spots.  I just haven't taken the time to deal with that.  Guess I'll have to now.

So this week's mileage isn't adding up very well so far. I didn't ride on Monday, and then we turned around early both Tuesday and Thursday.  Perhaps I'll do another ride out to Slidell on Saturday to balance things out, assuming that this achy feeling I have right now doesn't turn out to be the early symptoms of a cold or something.

Acclimating

It was another cold and breezy morning and I had to dip into my diminishing reserve of self-discipline just to get out from under the covers.  This is the time of year when just getting out the door in the morning becomes a laudable goal.  Really, though, there is no point to skipping rides when the temperature is still, however barely, in the 40s, unless of course you happen to be one of those people who seek winter refuge in air-conditioned fitness centers, returning to the roads only when the first hints of spring appear.  I'm not one of those.  Although I have been known to attend winter Spin classes and have even ventured into the Reily Center's weight room on occasion, I would in general prefer to be riding an actual moving bike on actual roads in the actual weather, assuming conditions aren't overwhelmingly dangerous.  So there I was riding up to the meeting spot on the levee this morning at precisely 6:40 am wondering why I was again the only person there.  A minute later Big Rich rode up and, knowing there would be no others, we headed off down the road.  A couple of miles later we spotted Donald and Mignon coming toward us and waited as Donald, whose knees were bare, turned around to join us. We did the usual Wednesday ride at a moderate pace as I dreamt of hot coffee and hid from the wind behind Richard. On the way back we saw Ben who turned around and rode with us for a while looking all toasty warm in his Assos winter jersey. 

Yesterday afternoon we had the dedication ceremony for Flower Hall, a science/engineering research building that our office worked on just over a year ago as part of a grant from the Economic Development Administration.  While I was standing there I heard someone say, "Hey Randy."  I looked over and saw Brett Reagan, all dressed up in a nice suit looking like quite the executive (which technically he is).  It turns out he is on a Board with the building's major donor, Paul Flower.  Small world.  I still had work to do, so I passed on the free wine, which took quite a bit of willpower, checked out the finished 4th floor and its spectacular view, and headed back to work.

It wasn't too long after I got home this morning that the workmen started to arrive.  The kitchen demo is essentially done and we're entering the sheetrock and electrician phase now. I wrote another check to the contractor and hopped on the bike to work.

Cold and Grey December Day

It was still just arm-warmer weather on Sunday, so Ben and I drove across the lake to make the northshore ride rather than spend yet another day on the asphalt of Chef Highway.  I guess there were around twenty when we rolled out from Lee Road Junior High for the regular 64 mile winter ride.  This year the standard course has shifted a bit, eliminating Tullos Road and most of 1072 in favor of south Choctaw and Dummyline, and a couple of miles of 1072.  It was a good ride that turned out to be a bit faster than I'd been expecting.  I was pleased to find that my legs were responding reasonably well after Saturday's 90+ miles.  Not that I wasn't feeling those miles, of course, but at least it wasn't bad enough to have me throwing in the towel on the climbs.  So the bottom line was 312 miles for the week, which was the best I'd seen since July and more than ample excuse for skipping Monday morning's ride, especially once I checked the radar and saw the line of rain storms moving in my direction.  Monday turned out to be pretty dismal with lots of rain and dramatically falling temperatures behind the cold front.

Back at home, the kitchen renovation is moving along fairly well.  The old pine floors look to be salvageable after spending the better part of the past sixty or seventy years with linoleum glued to them.  The beam to (hopefully) support the roof once the back wall studs come out is in place, so the whole thing should be opened up by this afternoon.  Meanwhile the old concrete back staircase that is also scheduled to be replaced is literally crumbling as the result of the extra use by the contractor and so that job may need to be moved up before they completely collapse underneath someone.

By this morning the temperature had dropped a good twenty degrees and I rolled out the door at 6:15 to a cold and grey December day with a strong north wind. With the temperature below 40F for the first time this fall, it finally felt like winter.  I was wearing my trusty NOBC winter jacket, skull cap, long tights, etc., so I was pretty comfortable when I arrived right on time atop the levee to find nobody there. I stopped for a minute, hiding from the wind behind one of the big stacks, and a little while later Big Richard rolled up. There was nobody else in sight so we headed out, soon picking up three more riders who were coming from the playground.  It was going to be a long ride, but with so few in the group I knew we'd be turning around early. On the plus side, the strong crosswind and resulting eschelon would allow only five to get any degree of shelter for much of the ride. The pace stayed moderate today and I think we were all just glad to be out there getting acclimated to the colder temperature. For much of the return trip I was getting in about forty pedal strokes at 22 mph at the front before my quads told me it was time to pull off.  I listened to them.