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adventures / cycling / I do not know what is happening. / running / swimming / weekend — Comments Off
27
Apr 14

West Point Lake Olympic triathlon

Today I swam 1,500 meters, rode 40 kilometers and ran 10K. This was my first Olympic distance triathlon. I finished it.

The Yankee gave an excellent list of post-race thoughts on her experience on Twitter …

Some race musings: wetsuits really DO give you and advantage, and are kind of awesome. #aquabike

— Lauren Smith (@LaurnSmith) April 27, 2014

So I thought I’d give it a try as well. Here they are for the site, with a bit more elaboration.

First of all, here’s the finish line. My beautiful wife took this picture just before I crossed it. You’ll notice the crowds have gone. You can imagine why.

In the lake thoughts: “Can’t breathe. Don’t drown. Why can’t I swim? Don’t drown.”

We rented wet suits. This race was still wetsuit legal because we have had exactly one week of spring and the water just hasn’t warmed up much yet. We’d intended to go to an open-water swim practice last week, but the morning that was held the weather was chilly to cold and getting in water didn’t seem all that appealing. Today, in her aquabike and my triathlon, we tried them out for the first time. She really liked hers. Mine, it turns out, tended to constrict my breathing. I’m not the best race swimmer in the world anyway and I’m almost always in a beautiful, clear-bottomed pool. Put that, brown lake water and a new breathing experience together … well, I wasn’t the last one out of the water. But it was close.

I had a nice chat with one of the lifeguards who was paddling along as I worked my way to the end of the swim, though.

Here’s the swim route. Nine buoys, 1,500 meters, a big loop:

On-the-bike thoughts: “I am the best bad rider out here!”

All the serious cyclists were far ahead. I swept up a lot of people who struggle in the cycling portion of the race. No one passed me, so I found myself making up some ground, in a virtual way. I always cheer on others I pass who are working hard. We all need it from time to time.

This route, which features about 1,000 feet of climbing, starts at the star at the bottom left of the map below, goes up and to the right near the airport and then sprints back down to the water. You come back up from that park and then turn right to head home. As I was heading toward that park The Yankee was coming to the turning point to head back to the start/finish. (She’s a much better race swimmer and had an early time trial start time.) We waved. I thought I might be able to catch her. Nope. She was moving.

Running thoughts: “I still have to run!? … Why did it take three miles for my calves to unclinch? … Those two ladies cheated!”

No one passed me except for the woman who admitted to taking a short cut and the other one who might have also shorted herself at the turnaround. She would have caught me anyway.

Look closely at the run route. We ran from Georgia into Alabama. And back:

Olympic tri finish line thoughts: “Go strong … Don’t look at the clock. Smile! Where is the water? Give me all of the water!”

Being happy at the finish is important. This was my first Olympic-distance triathlon and I’m not really in the shape I want to be in for them. My swim was bad, my bike was OK and my run left a good deal to be desired. The ride, which will always be my favorite part, was weird. I’d been telling myself for days that I wouldn’t save anything after the ride because the run was so flat. Who needs legs for that? And then my swim was so bad I spent the rest of the race wondering if I should conserve my legs for the run or just go. I never did resolve that issue, and I think it showed in both the bike and the run as far as energy levels and how my legs felt.

But! I was outside, doing something fun, enjoying a beautiful day and trying to be healthy. I don’t even feel miserable at the end. I feel surprisingly good, and that’s not just the endorphines talking.

I do not know what is happening.

We found a training routine last year that says on race day you get to bask in the achievement. We read “bask” to mean ice cream. And so it has been that we’ve probably had the worst food day of the year. But I found a website that told me how many calories I burned and, suddenly, that became the most official site on the Internet, because it says I burned a lot of calories.

Goals for the day: Don’t drown. Check. Don’t get swept up in the water (they have a time limit on the swim). Check. Don’t have any mechanical problems on the bike. Check. Finish. Check. Don’t be last. Check.

The Yankee, meanwhile, finished second in the women’s division of the aquabike – a swim/ride race of the same distances I did today. She finished third overall. Because she is awesome.

And now I’m an Olympic-distance triathlon survivor. Coming up next is a sprint triathlon, which is considerably shorter, but no less fun.

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12
Apr 14

Washington Artillery Park

This is a gun guarding over the Mississippi River, just off Jackson Square, standing in honor of the Washington Artillery, the 141st:

It is a still-active unit, which first drew colors in 1838 (though the unit has an unrecognized pre-history) in the Louisiana Army National Guard. It is the Louisiana Guard’s oldest unit, in fact. It is also the oldest artillery outfit in the nation outside the original 13 colonies. There’s something special about that gun, one of the unit’s original four-pounders.

The Washington Artillery received its regimental flag in 1846 after serving under Zachary Taylor in the Mexican–American War. Four companies of the regiment served in the Army of Northern Virginia and a fifth for the Army of Tennessee. Domestically they worked floods, yellow fever outbreaks and labor riots. World War I ended with the 141st still training in France, but their sons earned a Presidential Unit Citation for the Washington Artillery in World War II. In Europe they saw 463 days of combat and fired 150,871 rounds during 7,004 missions and occupied 108 positions. The modern guardsmen saw action in 2004 through 2005 and in 2010, in Baghdad.

Many of the members were still in Iraq when Katrina hit the Gulf Coast. They rotated back and a detachment immediately went to work in rescue efforts here at home and ultimately worked with state and local police to combat looting and other crimes in the New Orleans area. They patrolled at home for an astounding three-and-a-half years. Many of their own homes and their barracks, were flooded in the storm.

Battles? You name it, they’ve been there. In the Civil War they were at both battles at Bull Run, Shiloh, Sharpsburg, Fredericksburg, Chancellorsville, Gettysburg, Chickamauga, Chattanooga, Atlanta, Appomattox and many more. In World War II they fought in Algeria, Tunisia, Anzio, Po Valley, Rome, Sicily, Normandy, the Ardennes and Germany. Sgt. Lee Godbolt, the last member of the unit to have died in the line of duty, was killed in Iraq in 2005.

Their coat of arms has both the growling tiger and a pelican tending the nest of chicks.

Their unit motto, perhaps the best ever: “Try us.”

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11
Apr 14

Wandering through Jackson Square, New Orleans

On our first day in New Orleans we walked up to Jackson Square. Here’s the statue honoring the general and president:

I posted a few more photos from the square last week. We’ll just assume you’ve heard of him. The sculpture, by Clark Mills was installed in 1856. Mills did a life-cast of Abraham Lincoln’s head. He is famous for several Jackson sculptures. He also cast the Statue of Freedom, which sits atop the U.S. Capitol.

Here are some things that Wikipedia tells you that the local signage doesn’t:

(It) was the prime site for the public execution of disobedient slaves during the 18th and early 19th centuries. After the 1811 German Coast Uprising, three slaves were hanged here. The heads from their dismembered bodies were put on the city’s gates.

In the Reconstruction era, the Place d’Armes served as an arsenal. During the insurrection following the disputed 1872 gubernatorial election, in March 1873, it was the site of the Battle of Jackson Square. A several-thousand man militia under John McEnery, the Democratic claimant to the office of the Governor, defeated the New Orleans militia, seizing control of the state’s buildings and armory for a few days. They retreated before the arrival of Federal forces, which re-established control temporarily in the state.

He lost to William Pitt Kellogg, a Republican from Vermont, a friend of Lincoln’s, who was viewed as one of the first carpetbaggers.

On the square are the Pontalba Buildings, which were built by Micaela Almonester, Baroness de Pontalba. This is a great story. I’m condensing from Wikipedia:

Micaela Almonester, a wealthy New Orleans-born aristocrat, was one of the most dynamic personalities of that city’s history.

Micaela was the only surviving child, and after her parents died she stood for a big inheritance. Her arranged marriage (though Micaela was in love with an impoverished man) moved her to France. Her father-in-law tried to steal away that large inheritance, shooting her four times, point-blank, with dueling pistols. She survived. He killed himself that same night. Eventually she was able to leave her husband. Ultimately she fled France as the revolution there got underway. She returned to New Orleans, saw the property had basically become a slum and she continued her father’s work there when the place was still known as the Place d’Armes.

When she had arrived back in the U.S. Jackson sent his own carriage, and Secretary of State Martin Van Buren, to pick her up. Maybe that’s why she helped finance the statue of Jackson, and helped rename the square after the New Orleans hero.

She turned the square into the modern gardens. While landscaping, she apparently threatened the mayor with a shotgun after he tried to prevent her from tearing down two rows of trees. She returned to France to be near her oldest son. When her estranged husband fell ill she took care of him until she died in 1874, at 78.

We ate in a restaurant inside one of her buildings. The back of the menu had a bit of her story. It was written in such a way that made you think there was more to it. Maybe that’s why there was a play, an opera and several novels written about her life.

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10
Apr 14

We just wandered by this square in New Orleans

This is a part of the Louisiana Supreme Court, which sits in Judge Fred Cassibry Square.

The square is more interesting, as it is named after Fred James Cassibry, who served as a judge for the United States District Court for the Eastern District of Louisiana from 1966 until 1987. The Mississippi native attended Tulane during World War II and was a star athlete there before law school. He cruised on a destroyer in the Pacific during the war. When he came home he got a job with the NLRB and then created a private law practice. He served as a city councilman in the 1950s. His obit says:

With little support from his colleagues, Mr. Cassibry fought Morrison for an investigation of the scandal-ridden Police Department, which was later found to have an organized system of payoffs from illegal lottery operators, horse-racing bookies and houses of prostitution.

In a recent interview, Mr. Cassibry recalled how he was criticized at the time for discussing what he called the police chief’s “intimate relationship” with whorehouse madams. “He sued me,” Mr. Cassibry said. “But when I called him for a deposition, he dropped the suit.”

He was a district judge, too:

After he was elected to a Civil District Court judgeship in 1960, Mr. Cassibry continued to make waves, warning lawyers who tried to talk with him about cases they had in his court. “When they called me, I told them if they mentioned the name of the suit, I was going to go over and beat hell out of them,” he said. “They stopped calling.”

President Lyndon B. Johnson nominated Cassibry to the United States District Court for the Eastern District of Louisiana. He sat there from 1966 until 1987. He returned to private practice and was appointed to the Louisiana gaming commission “where his outspoken style saw him clash repeatedly with the rising gaming interests.

Given what you’ve already learned about him from those three paragraphs of his obituary, what do you think has to happen for people to make note of your outspoken style in Louisiana?

The historic marker on the square reads:

Fred J. Cassibry (1918-1996), U.S. Navy WWII veteran, served on the New Orleans City Council, Orleans Civil District Court, U.S. District Court, E.D. La., and the Louisiana Economic Development and Gaming Corporation. Throughout his 40 years of public life, Judge Cassibry personified the definition of a dedicated public official. He never forgot he was a servant of the people. Square dedicated by 1999 La. Acts 708.

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9
Apr 14

A few pictures from Mobile

About this time last week we were passing through Mobile on our way to New Orleans. As promised, we’re just going to be getting by for a few days here with pictures from that trip.

This is the General W.K. Wilson Jr. Bridge on I-65 across the Mobile-Tensaw River Delta just outside of Mobile. Built during the Carter administration, the bridge marks 6.08 miles of your travels over the delta, which apparently makes it the 10th longest bridge in the nation. Wilson was with the United States Army Corps of Engineers after several distinguished WWII postings and was a Mobile resident. He was said to be one of the first people arguing for a high-level bridge that would not impede waterway development. Wilson died in 1985 and is buried at Arlington. His father, who retired a major general, is also buried there. His son, who retired a Colonel, was placed there in 2008 as well.

This is apparently a Mexican restaurant and margarita bar. So the sign is the best thing going on here on Dauphin Street.

Two cargo loaders at the state docks on the Tensaw River. You can see them on Google, right here.