Final Straw

By all accounts it was a good weekend.  A solid Giro Ride on Saturday, followed by a Tulane Cycling party at the house, and then a nice club ride on the northshore on Sunday.  Earlier in the week when Mignon suggested a northshore ride, it sounded perfect.  I'd missed out on a little mileage and intensity that week because of the incident on the levee and crash on the lakefront, and with the Mississippi Gran Prix coming up the next week the timing was good.  We met up at Puccino's at 7 am and I drove across the lake with Tom, which of course meant half an hour of discussing university administration from the perspective of the liberal arts professor, which is frankly something I rarely get to do.  The sky was a bit overcast, but the air was warm, and as I'd been able to do for most of the week I rode in just shorts and a summer jersey.  I love the rides this time of year when there isn't that winter burden of making crucial wardrobe decisions and compromises.  We had over a dozen on hand as we headed off from the Lee Road school with a nice little tailwind at our backs.  My legs were a little tired from the prior day's Giro Ride, which had been surprisingly fast, and in consideration of the inevitable headwind on the return trip I was trying to keep my effort level under control for the first half of the ride.  Since it was a club ride with a mix of riders, we were stopping at all of the intersections to regroup, but there were a few who were already getting impatient by the time we were halfway 'round the traditional 65 mile route, and on that long stretch at the top of the course heading toward Sie Jenkins Road the group split pretty significantly.  Even so, I have to admit I was liking the effort level.  It was hard enough but not too hard and pretty much just what I felt I needed. I pushed it a bit on some of the climbs just to see where I was.  Eventually, of course, a few riders split off to take a shorter route and we turned more and more into the headwind.  As usual, those last four miles straight into the wind on a dead straight road was just a slog.  I got back to the car feeling pretty satisfied with a bit under 300 miles for the week and a plan for an easy recovery ride on Monday.

Well Monday arrived a little on the damp side.  It wasn't quite rain, but it wasn't quite dry.  I went out anyway with the plan to just spin the legs for an hour around Audubon Park where I wouldn't be tempted to go fast. I guess my lower back was feeling just a little stiff, but it wasn't anything I was really thinking about.  After a few circuits around the park the raindrops got a little heavier and so I bailed out a few minutes early for home.  No problem, since all I'd wanted to do was some no-effort spinning.  Back at the house I noticed the two big ice chests from Saturday's party.  They were of course still half-full of partially melted ice, so I decided it would be a good time to empty them out and let them dry. I don't remember them being particularly heavy, nor do I remember feeling any particular strain on my lower back, but a few minutes later when I bent over to wipe up some spilled water I could barely stand  up again.  I guess the combination of some big gear seated climbs on Sunday and the lugging around of tents and ice chests and such from Saturday had taken its toll and lifting those ice chests turned out to be the straw that broke the camel's back, or in this case mine.  I took a couple of Aleve, but the back was bothering me the rest of the day anyway.  I skipped riding on Tuesday, and by the end of the day it was feeling better, but then last night I didn't sleep well because of it, so skipped riding this morning as well.  In an hour of so I'm going to ride out to the lakefront.  Sometimes these kinds of things don't seem to hurt when I'm riding and sometimes they do, but I think it'll still be better than sitting on the couch eating Easter candy.  If it hurts, I'll just take it easy.  We'll see.

Meanwhile, there's a little controversy brewing about Lakeshore Drive. The Orleans Levee District decided to open up Lakeshore Drive again to traffic on weekends.  For the past ten or fifteen years, it's been closed to eastbound traffic on weekends, but a group in the eastern part of the city decided it was a racist policy and so they voted to open it back up. For most of us it won't make a bit of difference since the guys who race are there mostly early in the morning or late in the evening on weekdays, when it was never closed anyway, or early in the morning on weekends before the general public is likely to start cruising up and down the street.  A local bicycle advocacy group got the ear of the levee district and presented a plan to turn half of the 4-lane road into a multi-use bike/pedestrian path full-time.  That would probably be more of a problem than a help for riders who train there in the mornings and evenings, and would likely kill the informal training races entirely.  Some signage along the route would be great, and a reduced speed limit even better, but the idea of groups of riders in training ride mode weaving through joggers and dog-walkers is frightening.

So I'm planning on going up to the Mississippi Gran Prix this weekend, one way or the other.  Depending on how this evening goes, it'll either be as a bike racer or an official.  I'd much prefer the former.

The Crashes

Not pretty, but it worked well enough.

Crashes are like flat tires.  They always seem to come in batches.  We've had a big batch of them this week.  Things started out pretty nicely on Monday.  The weather has been getting steadily warmer, the wind has been dropping down to normal, and there hasn't been any rain in the forecast all week.  I did a nice solo ride on Monday out to the Lakefront and Lake Trail, trying my best to take it easy.  Then on Tuesday I headed out early to meet the morning levee group.  Since the Wednesday Night Worlds have started up again on Lakeshore Drive, the Tuesday and Thursday ride pace has relaxed just a bit. I know I have been a little more reluctant than usual to blow my legs up on Tuesday morning, especially since I've been trying to do both a morning ride and the WNW on Wednesdays.  So anyway, the Tuesday ride was nice and smooth with the speed mostly in the 22-24 mph range.

Part of the aftermath on the lakefront Wednesday

We were about half-way back when Brian got on the front and just started towing the whole line of 15-20 riders at 25-26 mph.  He had been up there for a couple of miles, I guess, when out of the corner of my eye I noticed a big dump truck veering off of River Road and flying up the road that crosses the levee. He was probably going 30 mph and there was no indication that he saw us approaching.  For a moment, before every started screaming "Truck!!!" I didn't think any of the riders saw him either.  Granted, it's difficult for someone driving up the levee to see what's coming at that particular spot, but anyway, there we were in a long paceline going around 27 mph when the screaming started.  This was a full-on panic stop.  Brian reacted a little late and skidded off to the left, landing in the grass.  Everyone else pretty much locked up brakes and hoped that friction would win out over momentum.  I was near the back and had a little more time to react, but as I was coming to a stop I heard Rick's tire explode.  He had locked up the wheel and worn right through both the tire and the Mr. Tuffy, and blown out the tube. The truck driver, and the supervisor, came over and talked with some of the riders as the rest of us gathered ourselves up out of the grass and Rich went to work on Rick's tire.  Judd had a big section of old tire to use as a boot, but even that wasn't big enough to keep the first tube from blowing right through the huge hole.  So I cut a piece of the blown tube and tied it around tire and rim to try and keep things together.  We still had about ten miles to go. We had to take the brake shoes off, of course, but luckily it held well enough to get back to the cars.

I thought for sure it was broken

So yesterday I went out to the training race after work, a bit late as usual, and caught the group somewhere on its first lap. I drifted to the back since I knew it would take me the rest of the lap to get warmed up.  The pace was around 26-27 mph mostly, and the group was pretty big, so I wasn't too uncomfortable as my old lungs tried to adjust to the increased effort.  We rounded the loop at Seabrook and were heading back east at a solid 27 mph when suddenly the whole front of the group exploded sending ten or twelve riders to the ground. For a moment it looked like I had nowhere to go and would end up plowing into a mountain of riders. Luckily, I slid to a stop up against the curb just in time to keep from plowing into the tangled pile of bikes and bodies, and even better, nobody rammed into me from behind.

Cracked downtube, ripped out bottle cage mount

VJ was on the ground, all scraped up, with his front tire blown completely off the rim, saying his back was hurt.  He was back on his feet pretty soon, however.  Riders were already calling for an ambulance and tending to their injured friends.  Noel was standing there holding his bike with the derailleur hanging by its cable and chain.  Someone had plowed into it from behind and snapped the hanger.  Looking around I saw the top of a saddle on the ground, its carbon rails completely missing.  A little while later I found John Thompson's Eddy Merckx missing its saddle and with a big crack in its down tube. He himself had likely suffered some broken ribs and possibly a punctured lung (haven't heard anything definite yet).  Brian Baum, who had crashed on the levee the day before, was feeling lucky because he had landed right on top of Brian Bourgeois, and although he might have whacked his head on the ground a bit was relatively uninjured.  His phone, on the other hand, had probably saved him some skin and serious bruising.  It was bent to the shape of his back, the screen was completely shattered, and the back side looked like it had been the victim of a belt-sander. The other Brian on the other hand had a cracked helmet and some road rash on his face and elsewhere.  Another rider was clearly going to need stitches between a couple of his fingers where there was a deep gash.

Noel's broken hanger

It was only a few minutes later that I noticed Woody lying on the concrete near the seawall holding his collarbone.  It looked like it was broken and he was looking more pissed off than in pain.  The road season is just about to really get going, and so this is precisely the worst possible time to be breaking bones.  As I learned a few minutes ago, it was just an AC joint separation, which will probably take at least as long to heal, but probably won't keep him off the bike as much.  Three riders had already raced off to get their cars, and a few minutes later we had all of the injured riders and their bikes en route to hospitals or homes.  By then it was about the time when the training race usually ends, so the rest of us rolled on down Lakeshore Drive and everyone split off to head home.  I think that was probably the biggest crash we've ever had out there, and that's going back about thirty years.  It sounds like there was just a little lull at the front, causing things to bunch up for a moment, and someone crossed wheels with someone else and it went downhill from there.

Brian's phone, bent to the shape of his back and shattered

Meanwhile, there's an appeal of a USAC disciplinary hearing later today involving a rider/race director/official and a La. club involving some questionable actions taken last year.  The rider in question has been sending stuff to all of the area email lists and including the USAC conference call number and code.  I have been trying to keep that traffic off of the LAMBRA email list since it is clearly inappropriate, especially since LAMBRA is affiliated with USAC.  It is a matter among USAC, the club, and the individual, and the last-minute effort to get other people in the region to interfere with the hearing does not seem like a wise move to me.  I haven't been directly involved, nor should I have been, so I guess I'll find out the final verdict tomorrow.  This is the most significant disciplinary thing we've had to deal with since the City Park thing back in the 80s.

Long Weekend

So on Friday I was feeling in need of an easy recovery ride, and since I was off from work I decided to tag along with a 9 am Tulane ride.  This turned out to be a nice ride except for the fact that it was at times faster than I would have liked.  The whole time I was hoping for a coffee shop stop. 

We rode down Elysian Fields to the French Quarter with the idea of getting coffee and beignets at Cafe' du Monde, but when we got there, there was a line halfway down the block, so we decided to try some place on Magazine Street which turned out to be pretty much of a bust with a long wait for lukewarm coffee.


I was expecting the Saturday Giro to have a good turnout and wasn't disappointed.  Once we hit Hayne Blvd. the guys at the front put the hammer down and didn't let up the rest of the ride.  That meant a couple of 5-mile stretches at 30 mph average speeds and a max speed of 39.  I wasn't feeling too sharp and never really saw the front, but it was a pretty good workout anyway. 

We all stopped at the ghost bike that is now on Chef Highway where the triathlete was killed and met up with the earlier 6:45 am riders, but once we started back things got really fast.  Fortunately we still had a fair number of riders despite losing half the group along the way.  Legs were pretty tired the rest of the day.

So Easter Sunday I did another Giro Ride with a slightly smaller group.  Things started out at a pretty easy pace, and although there were a few fast sections, it was a relatively civilized ride. The whole group actually stopped at a couple of red lights.  I think I'll try and take it easy on Monday.

Viento, Mucho Viento

Last weekend was the Tulane Cycling team's last collegiate road trip for the spring season. Early in the week prior to the aptly named "Velo del Viento" in Wichita Falls, Texas, we were looking at nine.  By Friday morning we were down to only six, of which only four were racing.  Having lost a couple of our best Cat. A and B riders to, of all things, schoolwork and research projects, we knew it would be impossible to maintain our slim lead in the Division 2 conference team championship.  We rolled out of New Orleans fairly late, as usual, thanks to some unanticipated errands that a couple of the riders decided to run after picking up the rental minivans.  Four of us ended up hanging around our house for well over an hour waiting for them.  Since it's a minimum ten-hour drive, that meant we wouldn't be arriving until way after midnight. The drive itself started out pretty smoothly, but then we got to Dallas. There were at least three possible routes through Dallas that would put us on the road up to Wichita Falls, but since it was already around 10:30 pm we decided to take the shortest, which went pretty much straight through the city.  After all, there shouldn't be much traffic by then, right?  Well, naturally there was some big accident and we ended up trapped on the interstate at a dead stop for at least half an hour.  Anyway, we finally arrived after midnight and after downloading and forwarding release forms for the NOBC's Sunday 2-Person Time Trial (registration closed Friday night) I got in maybe five hours of sleep before we were up and headed for the road race course about half an hour away.

This part of Texas is, at least to my mind, just one step from desert.  Everything is wind-swept dirt and rock with nothing but leafless four-foot high mesquite to break the relentless wind.  As windy as it normally is around there, on this day it was even worse and I knew it was going to be a sufferfest for the riders.  I had been volunteered to help with officiating and was assigned to follow the Cat. A race.  We arrived to find the MSU coach, Charlie, running registration pretty much single-handedly at a tiny card table on the side of the road.  It was too windy for an easy-up tent.  The first event was the team time trial.  In collegiate, that means anywhere from two to four riders per team. Naturally, everything was running half an hour late.  There was no start list and in fact no record yet of who was on which team.  Teams were to just show up at the start line.  So I grabbed the megaphone and took on the role of Whip, getting the teams lined  up according to category.  That went pretty well, except that, of course, none of the Cat. A teams wanted to be first so they were all in hiding until finally one stepped up.  Our only team was in the Women's Cat. C race, and they were pretty unprepared all-around so their time was nothing to write home about.

An hour or so later the road races started and so I jumped into the passenger seat of my assigned follow car, fortunately driven by someone who had done this before at Hotter n' Hell.  As expected, the minute the 16-rider Cat. A field hit the crosswind section things started to unravel. They had 8 laps to do on this unprotected 9.4 mi. course, most of it battling 30 mph crosswinds.  They were going fast, but a lot of damage was being done very early. By the end of the first lap 6 were already off the back. By then end of the second lap a break of 7 was off the front and the rest were just riding for the exercise.  We were constantly passing riders off the back from other races, and mid-way through the 4th lap we passed the 4-rider Women Cat. B/C break.  I was glad to see Danielle had made the break and figured she'd end up first or second in the C race.  She had been sick all week and hadn't even been on the bike for six days.  By then it was starting to get hot - hot and dry - and windy.  Very, very windy.  The A group was long out of sight of any of the other riders in their race and although they never slowed down a lot they were now riding smooth paceline with everyone sharing the work.  It was pretty boring in the follow car.  Then, at the start of Lap 6, the whole group stopped at someone's car, opened the trunk, and handed out drinks and food to everyone.  on the next lap a rider flatted and the rest of the group eased up until he caught.  Finally, halfway through the last lap there was some action when a rider attacked on the only significant hill, about four miles from the finish.  Despite the fact that there were three MSU riders in the break, they all hesitated and let him establish a good fifteen or twenty second gap. It looked like he might actually make it to the finish, and finally one of the MSU guys went to the front and took a long fast pull that put a couple of riders in serious trouble.  He pulled off and dropped off as his teammate took over the front and did the same thing.  That rider finally blew up, but by then it was just one MSU rider and one other rider left.  The finish line was only a mile away and the last MSU rider put his head down, dropped the other rider, and caught the solo break with about 500 meters to go - just enough time to sit in the draft and recover for a moment before winning the sprint.

When I check on how Danielle did I was shocked to learn that she hadn't finished.  She had gotten overheated and/or dehydrated and had to drop off the back when her heart rate wouldn't come down below about 210, and then she was so out of it that she rode off the road into some gravel and went down.  A follow car came by but she told them she was OK and would just ride in to the finish, but then she struggled with getting her chain back on and jammed it and ended up getting picked up by the next follow car.  In the Men's B and Men's D races, both Tulane riders abandoned, so Jamie in the Women's C race was the only one to finish.  It was a very disappointing day.

Back to regular riding...

Sunday's criterium was on a nice course on the MSU campus where they actually have a big statue of bike racers.  Danielle was pretty tired and beat up from Saturday but still finished 3rd, I think, in the C race (they were mixed with the B riders, so overall she finished 5th or 6th). I officiated along with three other officials for all of the races except the last, which was the A race. Anyway, although we packed up before the Cat. A race was over, by the time everyone was showered and fed it was around 2:30 pm.  Fortunately, the drive back, other than one big rainstorm, was smooth and fast, so we were back in New Orleans by around 1 am.  It was a long weekend during which I never got to ride a bike, although my bike did at least make the trip.  I had been hoping to squeeze in a couple of laps around the road course, but there really wasn't enough time to make it worthwhile.  It's Thursday and we still haven't seen actual final results of the race or, for that matter, of the conference points standings, which were a complete clusterF the last time I saw them, which was on Saturday.

So this week I have been trying to get back on track with training.  A cold front and high winds haven't been making that easy, but I have at least been putting in a few miles.  Yesterday I did a good solo morning ride and then rushed out to the lakefront after work for the training race, which was fun even though I was starting to feel rather tired.  This morning I went out to the long levee ride with slightly sore legs.  I felt OK, but not particularly good, especially on the way back into the wind.  Tonight I have to rush out to Baton Rouge to help officiate the track race there.

Wednesday Morning

We had lucked out on Tuesday and wrapped up the regular long levee ride a few hours ahead of the rain, the worst of which came through in the afternoon as part of a cool front. As a result, I was expecting it to be chilly and windy this morning.  It was, although the wind turned out to be the larger issue. It has become routine now for me to ride out to the lakefront and Lake Trail on Wednesday mornings.  Leaving around 6:30 am, there's now little need for lights if the sky is clear, and traffic on Carrollton Avenue is still relatively sluggish.  What wasn't sluggish today was the northwest wind.  I kept looking down at the computer, each time disappointed to see a speed of around 17 mph rather than 20.  Turning west and riding along the lakeshore bike path was no better but at least it was less stressful.  After finally turning around about 12 miles out I was glad to have a little tailwind, even if I still had to deal with the northerly crosswind vector.  It was generally one of those slow but difficult rides that barely nudge the fun meter. 

Coming back down Marconi I passed a little groups of teetering "Bike to Work Day" riders and watched the ever-suffering Tulane Crew team walking through the wet grass from their boat corral to the spot where they can climb over the canal floodwall.  It is such a shame that nobody ever gets to see them on the water, and even more of a shame that they don't have a better place to train. There are a lot of parallels between the rowing team and the cycling team - finding good training routes, getting equipment and people to far-away competitions, trying to keep up a challenging training program over the winter months and then squeezing long road trips in while still keeping up with classwork.

Riding from home to work an hour later it was a good ten degrees warmer.  Down on Lowerline Street I spotted a bluebird.  I almost never see those in the city.

Meanwhile, hotel and rental car reservations have been made for the Tulane Cycling road trip out to MSU in Wichita Springs, TX.  It is looking like we will be missing a couple of key riders, and that is likely to cost us the division 2 road championship this year, but these things happen with collegiate club sports.  On the plus side, the advance planning for this race seems to be a notch above some of the others. I was asked to help with officiating and of course foolishly agreed, so I probably won't get in much, or any, riding over the weekend.

Wet Without the Rain

I didn't think I'd be riding the Giro this morning.  The forecast offered little hope Saturday night, but of course I've lived here a long time and have learned to always take the forecast with more than a grain of salt.  When the alarm went off at 5:45, I first listened for the sound of car tires on wet pavement.  Hearing none, I checked the radar and, surprise, it looked fine. All the rain was far away from New Orleans.  The temperature was something like 68F, so I put on jersey and shorts and headed down to the basement.  Danielle was planning on coming out to take a shot at the Giro Ride.  Outside, it was damp and a little foggy but otherwise fine as we cruised up Carrollton and Wisner toward Starbucks.  As we passed the big clock on the Whitney bank on Harrison Avenue it read precisely 6:30 am.  We were right on time, but when we pulled into the Starbucks patio I was a little surprised to discover that we were the first ones there.  Maybe the forecast had scared everyone away?  Well, eventually a number of the regular riders filtered in, mostly a bit later than usual, and we rolled out at the usual 7:00. 

As we headed north on Marconi the fog got thicker, and the closer we got to the lake the worse it got. It never really got any better.  The group had to stop and walk over the steel grating atop the Seabrook bridge because it was so wet, and by the time we were halfway down Hayne Blvd. my clear glasses were fogged up so much that water was starting to drip from them.  Thanks to the smaller group, northeast headwind, and generally wet weather the pace never got out of hand and Danielle was doing fine hanging with the group.  Out on Hayne Blvd. the front half of the group set up a nice paceline and the rest, including us, tagged along in the crosswind, mostly up against the right edge of the road. At that point I rode up alongside and a bit ahead of Danielle to provide some shelter from the crosswind.  That turned out to be a nice little workout, actually, and fortunately the pace was pretty steady.  My plan was to have us turn around early because I knew it would get fast in the tailwind that was awaiting us on the return trip, so when the pace surged about a mile before Venetian Isles, we dropped off the back and turned around.  Motoring along at 23 or so with the tailwind was pretty smooth and I figured that if we could get most of the way to the Goodyear sprint before the pack caught us, the rest of the ride would be relatively smoothly.  The timing worked out quite well. A little break caught us just as they were ramping it up for the sprint, and so we went around the turn onto the service road with the group.  So for the first time in quite a while I logged something in the neighborhood of 300 miles for the week.  It's looking like next weekend's collegiate races at MSU will have me officiating a lot more than riding, but since that's the conference championship it'll probably be my last 10-hour road trip for a while.

Wind Again

Heading back from the Giro

Five forty-five in the morning and before I silence the alarm I reach for the phone to check the radar.  The forecast had not been reassuring, but it has also not been guaranteed.  The early morning radar looked good, with some rain far to the south and an hourly prediction that looked dry until at least 9 am.  The temperature was in the upper 60s, but it was cloudy, so I added a little base layer to my shorts and jersey, popped in my contacts, twisted on my Garmin, pulled on my shoes, and headed off for the Giro under a cloudy pre-dawn sky, the only thing keeping me going was that cup of hot coffee I was planning on getting at Starbucks.  A cool front had come though during the night and it was windy.  Really windy.  That cold front was supposed to be backing up right over us by mid-day, and with it would be a lot of rain.

The early arrivals for the Saturday Giro were already there when I rolled up at 6:35.  Although I was a few minutes later than usual, I'm rarely the first.  By 7 o'clock there was a good crowd on hand, and as we headed north toward the lakefront I knew the day's battle would be with the east northeast wind.  Out on Chef Highway we had a nice long rotating paceline into the wind most of the way out, but when Howard surged after I'd just come off the front and then a big hole opened up in the middle of the paceline I knew the cooperation was about over.  I went around and barely made it across but by then another gap was starting to open up ahead as we neared the Venetian Isles sprint.  I faded quickly and by the time I turned around half of the group had already turned back.

As I expected, it didn't take long for the pace to pick up as we made the turn that put the wind at our backs.  Over the next seven miles our average speed was a bit over 31 mph.  I don't think I saw the front once.  Once on the service road the call "Flat!" went out as Judd eased over to the curb and most of the group backed off and turned back to wait for him to put in a new tube.  The pace was a little easier most of the rest of the way, except of course for that stretch between the two bridges where it always seems to get really quick.  After regrouping on Lakeshore Drive, we turned down Marconi and Daniel said he needed to get to the veterinarian uptown in a hurry because of an emergency, so those of us headed that way didn't have the usual easy cool-down. 

As I rolled up to the door, it started to rain. 

Today was the Sunny King Criterium up in Anniston Alabama, and I knew a number of people who were racing.  Luckily it was being webcast live all day, so I got to watch the Cat. 3/4 women's race in which Mignon finished in the top ten, but missed the Junior 17-18 race where Robert made the podium.  I did, however, get to see Robert race again in the Cat. 3 race, and caught Adam in the Cat. 2 race.  After getting back from a visit to Tulane's CrawFest I was able to watch the recorded Master's race where I think Ed and Woody both must have been in the top dozen or so after Ed had been in a big breakaway that got caught on the bell lap.  Exciting stuff, even with the intermittent buffering problems.  Tomorrow is looking like non-stop rain, but who knows?  Maybe we'll luck out and squeeze in the Giro Ride.

Two Weeks' Worth

The last couple of weeks have been pretty busy all-around, and at the moment I feel like I'm just barely treading water.  Two weekends of collegiate races, officiating, and training have made me really look forward to the upcoming weekend at home.

First off was the conveniently nearby LSU collegiate race.  As usual, I would be officiating for this one which meant rushing off to Baton Rouge during rush hour to make the start of Friday night registration.  Despite my best efforts, there were still a couple of mystery riders in the field, thanks to the "permanent race number" thing that always seems to cause problems.  This time there were riders who had one number on the start list but a different one on their jerseys. Add to that the usual riders who show up for registration and don't actually have collegiate licenses but tell me they've already raced twice in Texas collegiate races.  I just hand them the iPad and tell them to renew or buy their licenses on the spot.  Anyway, the road races went off pretty smoothly.  These races are on a nice rolling circuit near St. Francisville with parking on the property of one of the local riders.  After the race there was genuine jambalaya for all, which was a good thing because it wasn't hardly worth driving back to Baton Rouge despite the fact that the evening time trial was scheduled a good four hours after the end of the last road race.  So we basically just hung out on the property waiting for the TT to start.  Danielle made the break in the C race and finished 2nd, and then missed 1st in the TT by a mere 4 seconds after cruising past the finish line without realizing it and thinking it was actually farther down the road.

The time trial was, as usual, nice and easy, and once Ricky came back from the finish line we sat down on the roadside swatting mosquitoes and entered the times so we could post results before everyone left.  It's interesting that a lot of the collegiate riders don't stick around to check the results, although that's probably because they are often not available.  The forecast for Sunday was not looking good.

Well, Sunday morning was damp, foggy, and rainy for most of the races.  Fortunately, we were at least spared any really heavy stuff, and the slick roads resulted in only a few minor crashes.  By the time we were done, I was pretty cooked and happy to hitch a ride to a little after-race lunch at the home Ben Bradley's parents down in Plaquemine.  It was a long weekend, however, and I really hated the fact that I'd not thrown a leg over my bike all weekend.  Next up was a long road trip to Abilene.

So last weekend we had six riders make the trip with Kenny and me to Abilene for the Abilene Christian University race weekend.  This one started with a Saturday criterium and ended with a Sunday road race, but lacked the usual time trial or team time trial.  Because of classes, one rental minivan with me, Kenny, Danielle and Greg left around 2:00 pm while the other didn't hit the road for a couple more hours.  It was about a 10-hour drive, so do the math. I think we got there before midnight, but the other car didn't arrive until 2 or 3 am.  Races started the next morning around 8:00, and a cool front was coming through so it was pretty cold for the first ones. Since I had no officiating duties for this one, I could actually watch the races and, because they had included Alumni in the Cat. B race, Kenny and I rode with that group.  It was difficult to ride a criterium without really affecting the outcome.  Apparently we were actually allowed to work in this race, but it just didn't seem fair to do so.  I pulled a bit when the pace would slack off, and moved closer to the front now and then when it would get sketchy at the back.  It was actually a lot of fun and I felt good that I got in a little exercise.  Danielle ended up taking 2nd in her race.  The promoting club had made arrangements for us to eat at the university all-you-can-eat cafeteria for $5 each, which was awesome because this was a very high-class setup with everything from paninis and pizza to salad and ice cream.  That night we went out to a local Mexican restaurant, Abuelo's, which was also excellent, but before that we drove out to the road race to pre-ride the course. This was a good thing because it was a lot of unprotected chip-seal and a couple of the key turns were not clearly marked the next morning for the road races.

Sunday morning Kenny and I again started with the B group for their race which was around 40 miles in a strong wind that had the speeds ranging from 18 mph in the headwind to 34 mph in the tailwind.  The race started out kind of slow after a flurry of attacks and early on I decided against just sitting at the back.  Still, toward the end of the first of two laps the pack let a break of six or so roll off the front without much of a response.  A while later I found myself, quite by accident, off the front where I was soon joined by one of the collegiate riders.  There was already a pretty big gap to the pack which still included our only rider, but I figured there was little chance that the two of us would survive the headwind section, so I started trading pulls with the guy thinking it would help tire him a bit.  Surprisingly, when I looked back after we had started the 7 or 8 mile headwind stretch, I couldn't see the pack.  Then the follow car passed us and I though that the pack must have disintegrated, so I continued working with this rider as we pickup up another rider who had come out of the break that was now disappearing from view.  Oh well, at least I was getting a nice workout!  We were near the turn at the end of the headwind section when I sat up and looked back and was surprised to see a pack of riders just about 20 seconds back.  To the dismay of the other rider, I stopped pulling and we were soon caught with maybe five miles to go before the finish.  David ended up winning the pack sprint, so that was about the best possible outcome after he missed the break.  Danielle ended up winning her road race and Ben made the podium for his criterium finish, so we stayed for the awards that were, thankfully, done promptly after the finish of the last race.

We had time to run back to the hotel for showers, and then hit up the university cafeteria again before hitting the road for the long drive back to New Orleans.

Shadow Riding and Training Racing

Helping with the officiating at the TX State criterium

OK, so I'm a wee bit overextended right now and, therefore, way behind on blog posts.  It is just one of those ironies of life that when things start getting busy and interesting, documentation tends to go out the window.  Just ask any programmer.  So here's a quick attempt to get caught up.

Last weekend I traveled with some of the Tulane riders to San Marcos, in the republic of Texas, for the Texas State collegiate race weekend.  From the outset, the weather was not looking real promising.  I rushed around on Friday, having taken the day off from work, picking up rental vehicles and running errands so we could hit the road around 2:00 pm, which of course turned out to be more like 2:30 pm.  With a threat of rain along the 8-hour route we had a lot of stuff squeezed into the back seat of the quad-cab pickup truck.  I was one of them.  The somewhat tight quarters were offset slightly by the fact that Kenny drove most of the way.  We made good time and arrived at the hotel about half an hour outside of town at a reasonable hour.  The minivan with the rest of the team had departed a bit later, but still arrived before midnight.

The Saturday morning road races started from the back of a shopping mall parking lot with a short neutral section before hitting the 9-something mile race loop. We got there about an hour before the scheduled start, but they were still setting up the registration tent.  As usual there were no portable toilets, so we rode down to the nearby Starbucks where a number of the other riders were hanging out for coffee and bathrooms.  By the time the first group, the Cat. b/c Women, started it was foggy and misty and a light rain was falling.  It would be Danielle's first road race.  I let a little air out of her tires and warned her about a sharp downhill right turn I'd seen on the course map I'd made on Strava. I would later learn that there had indeed been a crash there and that Danielle had rolled over someone's arm without going down and ended up in a 3-rider break that went all the way to the finish.  Since she was the only C rider, she got first place in that one.

Kenny and I put on our Tulane jerseys and were allowed to shadow the Men's A race.  This was great since it meant we'd be able to get in 50+ miles at a reasonable effort level.  The roads were wet, but I could have sworn they had been vacuum cleaned.  I would normally have expected a lot of flats with the wet roads and drizzly rain we had, but in fact there were hardly any.  Ben attacked maybe four or five miles in the 60-mile race and got away cleanly with one other rider.  I was surprised that an MSU rider wasn't represented, and more surprised that there was not very much of a chase.  Kenny and I were watching from the back of the pack and it was kind of frustrating to ride like that, trying to suppress your normal race instincts to chase, block, attack, etc. Anyway, at some point after the break was out of sight a couple of lone riders took off in pursuit. One of them took about a minute out of the gap, but still finished about three minutes behind the break.  Unfortunately Ben got outsprinted at the end but he was pretty happy with 2nd place anyway. Ben S. finished 4th in the Men's C race.

Steep.  Very steep.

That afternoon was a 3 mile time trial that featured a brutal 1 km climb up the infamous Fulton Ranch Road. Directions and information were very sketchy, which is to say we didn't know where the start or finish were.  After driving the whole thing and finding nobody at the bottom of the hill we returned to what we thought was the finish.  There we found out that everyone had to park there and the riders had to ride down to the start.  Danielle's group was the first off and she arrived with about five minutes to spare.  The climb was steep enough that some riders ended up walking, but Danielle was riding 650c wheels and a triple chainring bike so she was able to spin up the whole way, passing a couple of riders en route to the finish.

I felt that we really lucked out on the weather because it never rained for the TT.  Ben B. smoked the TT finishing second and the other Ben was 3rd in the TT, just 3 seconds out of 2nd. The next day they had her placed last in the time trial.  Looking at the start and finish times that were, fortunately, posted it was obvious that the math (which had been done with a spreadsheet) was wrong and her time was four minutes off.  After correcting her time and those of a few others, she moved up to 1st in the Cat. C time trial.  Dinner that night was at a little Mexican place in town which was pretty nice if you like Mexican food, which I don't.

So Sunday there were criteriums around the town square in San Marcos.  It was a nice course with a good little downhill and climb each lap, made even more interesting by a strong headwind on the climb.  The sky was cloudy but the rain held off all morning, which was great.  As usual, the course was not too well controlled, which meant that quite a few cars wandered into the course or had been trapped inside it when the roads had been barricaded.  There were two officials at the start/finish and I was volunteered to get video with my iPad for the numerous points primes and finishes.  At one point I think we had four Tulane people helping at the finish line with bells, lap cards, cameras, etc.  Anyway, Danielle got a good start and made the initial break of, I think, four riders but got gapped off on the climb a couple of laps later and was eventually caught by the remainder of the pack so she finished 4th in the C race.  Ben went with a break in the A race and as usual worked his butt off, finishing 3rd.  It was kind of a long drive back, but again Kenny drove the whole way (rather than be squashed into the back seat), and we arrived home at the remarkably early hour of 10:30 or so.  It's Thursday now and of course we're still waiting to see the official results.  Situation normal.

Yesterday was our second Wednesday Whirls out on the lakefront and the warmer temperature and slack wind attracted probably the biggest group we've had in a few years.  I think someone counted 36 riders.  I'd ridden that morning and was running a little late so I drove out to the Elysian Fields traffic circle parking lot with just enough time to make the 6:00 pm start.  We were doing three laps of the 6-mile circuit, which was just perfect for this time of year.  If I'd ridden out and back it would have been getting dark about when I got home.  This way, I got to hang around the parking lot and talk with the other guys for a while before leaving.  The training race itself was nice and smooth for the first lap and then got pretty fast as usual for the remainder.  At one point I had been riding in the shelter of the big group for so long I was worried that I wasn't getting enough training out of the training race.  I did eventually work my way up to the front a couple of times to put in some efforts, and with a kilo to go was positioned well near the front, but someone ahead of us eased up and we got streamed by the middle of the field about 500 meters before the finish and I was pretty much trapped after that.  Anyway, it was exciting to see the training race get the kind of turnout we used to have ten years ago.  Tomorrow I'm heading over to Baton Rouge to officiate the LSU collegiate race with Ricky. I am not yet prepared for that and may end up staying  up late tonight in order to get the registration and results spreadsheets ready. The weather is a little questionable for the weekend, so the rain gear is definitely going to be making the trip.

So Little Time

Morning ride on the Lake Trail

Lots to write about, no time to do it.  Maybe tonight?  In the meantime, a link to some photos from last weekend's collegiate races in San Marcos, TX. 

Reffing Rouge Roubaix

Rouge-Roubaix is a race that began life as more of a wacko group ride, morphed into something that would have been called a Gran Fondo if anyone had been using that term back them, and eventually became an actual, official USAC race that still retains a lot of that original wacko group ride mentality.  This year's edition attracted around 300 riders across its five race categories and one Gran Fondo category.  While the original editions were known only to a handful of local riders, this year's race had representation from twenty-one states and nearly seventy USAC clubs.  Compared with some prior years, the 2014 edition offered nearly perfect weather and, from what I hear, some of the fastest, most hard-packed, dirt and rock sections ever. Although a huge sinkhole caused the route to be shortened to 102 miles about a week before race day, the winning time of 4:09 was damned impressive, a more typical winning time being in the 4:20s.

A flat on the Giro Ride

For the first time in a number of years I wasn't racing. With some still-lingering neck and back problems from my unfortunate October cyclocross experience, I thought it would be particularly unwise to subject my spine to the annual beating this year.  Instead, I helped with the officiating, and in particular with the scoring and timing and posting of results.  It was a very long day that started at 5 am.

Knowing I'd be officiating, and therefore off the bike, on Sunday, I was glad to be able to get in the Saturday Giro Ride before departing for Baton Rouge.  Although there is no race-day registration for this event, they do have a Saturday afternoon packet pickup and late registration session from 2-6 pm, and I wanted to be there in order to check off the riders who actually showed up (there are always a number of no-shows for this race), and also to deal with the riders who didn't have current licenses, were confused about the one-day licenses, etc.  That meant I had to be on the road by around noon, which worked out pretty well since I usually get back from the Giro Ride around 10:00 or so.

The P/1/2 staging for the start

So I made it through the Friday night packet pickup session with perhaps half of the riders checked off in my big Excel registration/results workbook.  Things on Sunday morning started at around 6 am, so I needed to be there around 5:30 to get set up.  As usual, it was a little hectic, and also as usual there were a few riders who showed up half an hour after registration closed (of course we found them their numbers and got them registered).  We got the Gran Fondo group rolling just four minutes late at 7:04.  Their 1-hour head-start on the Pro/1/2 race was still not sufficient to keep all but one rider from being caught and passed.  That lone rider must have know he was just a minute or so ahead of the race because he came blasting across the finish line like he'd won the World Championship.

Masters

At the finish line, I was calling numbers and times into my recorder whenever I could, but that was really just backup in case of camera and official failure.  In fact, the finish line camera software crashed about two minutes before the first riders finished because it didn't recover when the laptop went into sleep mode.  Luckily Ricky was able to get it all restarted in time. So in the three hours after we started the last group, we got the finish line and cameras and computers all set up and waited.  By the time the first riders were finishing I needed to pee.  There was no portable toilet and we were basically in a busy residential area of St. Francisville, so for the next four or five hours I tried not to think about that.  Fortunately, there was a lot to keep me occupied.  Once the first riders finish, there is pretty much a steady stream of finishers for the next three or four hours. Along the way, Lisa, who was the official handling medical issues, had to deal with a rider with a broken collarbone and another rider who had clearly suffered a concussion, and possibly a broken jaw, but nonetheless had finished the race and was refusing to go to the hospital, which is pretty typical of athletes with concussions.  Luckily he was eventually convinced to go by someone he was with, along with a call from his mother.

The results went relatively well, which is to say we were able to post the top 25 or so in each race pretty quickly so that the awards ceremonies could be done over at the Myrtles plantation, about three miles away.  I would print the first page of the results to a pdf file and then use a mobile hotspot to email them to the promoter.  It did take a long time to finish up the results.  Aside from the time it takes just to type in 250 or so times, Ricky had gotten a couple of pages out of order and as a result we ended up having to go through each and every finish to figure out what had gone wrong.  It was easily fixed, but cost us an extra half an hour.  By the time we folded up our tents at the finish line the race clock was reading something in excess of nine hours and there was still one Gran Fondo rider out on the course. One of the moto-refs had found him and he knew we were leaving, so we headed out and someone called in his finish time.  By then the post-race party was over and most of the riders  had headed home, so the officiating crew and the promoter got together at the local pizza place for an early dinner, but not before I made a bee line for the nearby McDonald's men's room.

There are lots of great stories, videos and photos popping up on Facebook and email lists from the race, and although it looks like it was a good one, I can't say I am terribly disappointed at not having been able to race it.  My neck is usually sore after that race anyway, so if I'd done it this time I'd probably still be in the hospital.  Aside from that, I can't say it's my favorite race.  Granted, it is a challenge, and there is a real sense of accomplishment once it's over, but this is a race for the big strong powerhouse riders who plow through the gravel climbs while the guys like me slide around and end  up walking.  Then again, there's always next year!  Results are on the LAMBRA website (and of course the USAC website), but nowadays if you want to see the photos and videos you'll have to check the Rouge-Roubaix Facebook page.  In particular, the video of the Masters riding the final dirt section is pretty good. Update:  Photos at http://inmotionphoto.smugmug.com/Sports/Rouge-Roubaix-2014/i-FzjL96x

Fat, Cold, Wet, Tuesday

Mardi Gras weekend itself was great.  The weather was nice and mild and we made a number of parades in addition to two good Giro Rides.  It being the first weekend of March, I had decided to put myself in the wind's way during the Giro Rides.  It's time to start adding some intensity to my riding, and the nice weather made that prospect ever so much more appealing.  That's not to say that I didn't miss the break on Saturday, however.  We were somewhere on Hayne Blvd. when Howard went to the front and, for reasons known only to himself and his psychiatrist, strung out the whole group.  A couple of the riders at the front followed up on that and before I knew it there was a big split and things were coming apart all around. Coming around the right-hand corner at the end of Hayne, there was a small break already hopelessly off the front, then a fairly large gap, and a bunch of people like me who had been caught off-guard.  I got together with a teammate and we did a couple miles of 2-man time trialing, finally catching the larger group just before the service road.  I was feeling pretty good, and once we got onto Chef Highway we got a very nice paceline going that lasted until some dumbass surged and then some other dumbass decided to try and jump across the gap that the first dumbass had created. We had been holding 25-26 mph and the gap to the break had not been growing, but once that happened the riders who were starting to struggle stopped pulling altogether and the whole paceline crumbled. People were already camped out along the Endymion parade route when I had ridden out to the Giro earlier in the morning and there were even more as we rode back home down Orleans Avenue.

Saturday afternoon we headed downtown to Tulane's Tidewater Building around 3 pm so we could park in the garage and wait for the Endymion parade that evening.  The weather was perfect, the crowd was thin, and the riders on the extravagant floats were throwing tons of stuff.  One of The Daughter's friends from Iowa was in town for a few days, and another from New Orleans was there, so everyone  had a great time.  We got back home around 10:30 or 11:00 pm, after which I went to sleep and The Daughter and her friends went back out to party until maybe 2:30 am. We had watched the Iris parade earlier that day and a couple of others the night before.

Sunday's Giro was similar to Saturday's and I again felt like I got in a good productive workout.  Shortly after arriving home from that one, I showered and changed and rode out to Apolline Restaurant to meet a few people from the club to watch the Thoth parade.  I locked the commuter bike to a little tree on the side street alongside a neighborhood bar. The parade was nice, but as usual it was running a little late and we were planning on visiting Mario at the hospital, so with a few floats still to come we decided to head over there.  Well, I walk around the corner and find that some dumbass has locked his bike to the same tree as mine, and in doing so has run his cable lock straight through the main triangle of my bike.  I asked around if anyone knew whose bike it was, and this rather drunk guy sitting on the stoop of the apartment behind the bar comes over, looks at the situation, and says, "No problem, I'll just pull up the tree."  The tree in question was obviously dead, and he had no problem pulling it right out of the ground, after which we just threaded it through the two locks to free the bikes.

Anyway, over at the hospital, Mario was sound asleep so I never got to talk to him, although after talking with his nurse we decided to go over to the nearby grocery store and get him some chocolate mousse since he is still restricted to non-choke-hazard food.  I had to leave, however, because there were plans to watch the Bacchus parade that evening and I was in charge of making dinner.  Bacchus turned out to be really, really crowded.  We arrived there, near Fat Harry's, just after the first couple of floats had gone by, and it didn't look like there was any way we would get past the wall of ladders, pop-up tents, chairs, and people in order to see much of the parade.  We walked up and down a bit until I saw a spot where we could get up closer, just behind some ladders where there was a small gap.  We stayed there a little while, and then as people moved or left we worked out way up to the front where we could see the parade and catch some beads.  That worked out great, but by then it was getting late and we were all suffering from parade fatigue.  We ended up heading back home as the temperature started to drop.  Monday was basically a recovery day as a cold front came through and it basically rained for most of the day.

Boatner Reily, 7 am, Audubon Park

Mardi Gras Morning:  Danielle and I headed out around 6:30 for Audubon Park to catch the Royal Run, an annual tradition hosted by Boatner Reily who was Rex back around 1982 and has been buying Rex T-shirts and king cake for everyone who shows up since then.  Somehow they always get the king and queen to stop by the race for the start at 7 am. Anyway, Tuesday morning was really, really cold, especially since we were not doing any real exercise, but at least it wasn't raining ... yet.

The plan this year, since The Wife was fighting a cold and wisely decided not to go out in the rain, was to ride down Esplanade to the French Quarter and make our way over to Bywater to catch the start of the Societé de Saint Anne marching club at 10:00.  Well, it was already raining by the time we left home with the temperature in the 40s.  I had my trusty rain jacket and goretex cap, wool gloves and socks, and a few layers of technical wear, but on my legs were just jeans so I was not expecting to stay comfortable very long.  We did find the marching club, but they were still rather disorganized when it started raining more heavily, so we decided to ride back to Faubourg Marigny, lock the bikes in front of DBA, and seek out hot coffee in the French Quarter.

By then, I was already pretty cold and wet, so we sat in CC's for a while drinking coffee with the unfortunate result that it felt even colder when we ventured back out into the rain. Although the crowd was still pretty thin thanks to the rain, cold and relatively early hour, there were still a lot of folks parading around Bourbon and Royal streets.

Looking at my watch I realized that we might be able to catch Rex along Canal Street, so we headed that way, arriving just in time to see the front of the parade make the turn on to Canal.  We jumped for beads and doubloons as they bounced off of umbrellas and heads and hands, and were able to see the whole parade. By then we were getting seriously cold since we'd been walking around in the cold rain for about three hours, so we made one more pass through the French Quarter before heading home.  Naturally we had a flat tire along Esplanade and had to stop and fix that with frozen hands, but eventually we found our way back to the house where there was a big pot of soup waiting for us.

So I didn't ride Monday, and didn't ride Tuesday, and it was still wet and cold on Wednesday so I didn't ride on Wednesday either.  I finally made it out on Thursday morning with a group of only four, and that ride was cut short because of flat tires.  I should be able to make the Giro on Saturday, after which I'll have to rush over to St. Francisville where I will be one of the officials this year for the annual Rouge-Roubaix race.  That means, of course, that I won't get to ride on Sunday either.  Mardi Gras photos are at:

https://picasaweb.google.com/108930640350384729358/MardiGras2014?authuser=0&feat=directlink

Finished with February

February always turns out to be the hardest month for riding. "Hard" in the sense that it's hard to get out on the bike and actually do anything resembling training.  If it's not the weather, it's something else. I'm sure that way back when they were working out the details of the Gregorian calendar, making adjustments for Mardi Gras (oh, I mean Easter), and the Council of Nicea's dubious decrees, someone must have said, "Hey guys, we're going to have to cut a couple of days off of one of these months to make this thing work," to which someone else replied, "Take it out of February, the sooner that damned month is over the better."

So anyway, I'm always kind of glad to see February come to an end. Once we're into March the days start to get noticeably longer, the morning temperatures a little milder, and I start thinking a little more seriously about racing.  This year, we practically get to celebrate the end of February because in a few hours it will be the start of Mardi Gras weekend, aka the weekend before Mardi Gras.  Almost anyone who is in town this time of year has friends and relatives visiting and the streets and sidewalks and neutral grounds are busy with people sporting somewhat eccentric attire, even by New Orleans standards. The weather this year looks promising.  The weekend looks to be mild and dry with daytime temperatures in the 70s.  Monday is still on the fence with a cold front and 50% chance of rain, but if that pushes through on schedule, Mardi Gras day should be cooler, with a high in the mid-50s, but dry.  We can hope.

Last night I ventured out on the bike to catch the Muses parade.  Down around Fat Harry's the crowd was pretty thick and we didn't push our way past the ladders and through the crowd for a while.  About halfway through, however, the crowd started to thin a little bit and, growing tired of missing the best part of the parade, namely the various marching or riding groups and bands between the floats, we squeezed past the tall people and got a great spot just in time to see Keith and the Rolling Elvi come past, and later this whole group with elaborately decorated tricycles.  In my rush to get out there in time (I had to bring the geriatric dog to the vet at 5:00 for a $250 last-minute appointment to deal with various issues, one of which quite odiferous) I'd forgotten to bring my camera, so I got only a few marginal photos with my phone.  Anyway, the parade was great but I didn't finally get to bed until midnight.

So this morning I woke up to find the sun close enough to the horizon that I was able to go out at 6:30 am without my lights, wearing sunglasses. Yeah!!  The earth is finally tilting back in the proper direction!  It was still in the low 40s, but the sky was clear and the slight southeast breeze promised a quick warm-up.  I rode out toward the lakefront via Jeff. Davis, where they still have one lane mostly blocked off while they finish up the curbs, but where you can ride on the blocked-off part pretty much all the way.  I turned west on Robt. E. Lee rather than Lakeshore Drive in order to get to the Lake Trail bike path sooner.  With just a slight tailwind, and the air already a bit warmer, the ride along the deserted path was nearly perfect.  So perfect, in fact, that I just couldn't make myself turn around until I was all the way out to the casino boat at Williams Blvd.  It was just one of those really nice morning rides.  The weekend is looking to be busy and I'll probably end up just doing Giro Rides because we have one house guest arriving this afternoon and I'm sure there will be a lot of interest in the daytime parades, so long rides in the country are probably not going to happen for me despite what looks to be awesome riding weather.  In the meantime, however, I need to finish up an analysis of the three-year rolling average of adjusted raw and normalized research and development expenditures for AAU universities.