Autumn's sinking temperatures tested the strength to throw off the doona Saturday morning, another early (obsessed?) prelim lap with Wozz and Temple, joining Jase, Vince and Frido to tap a 25k intro to the Saturday circuit. The Archer-Mitchell-River-Boundary-Channel Rd block was moonlessly black, just six l.e.d.'s to light the darkness and awaken a few bunnies. The eternal enemy (wind) southwester started to brew just as Jase and I fronted Channel Rd, Wozz and Temple taking the load from the cypress trees onward. Luck gave us 13 at Orrvale school for a tow east, foreigners Fisky, Paul, Linda and Ange amongst the regulars Pistol, Hollywood, Cougar, Shorty, AvantiTrev, AvantiChris, Dion, Rudy and Eamon sharing the workload. A hill bound MachineSteve rolled ahead then south into Boundary, we'd locked in the regular anti-clockwise circuit. Wozz and I drove the Old Dookie leg, keeping faithful to the speed limit (wattage was waning anyway). The piggy penitentiary was illuminated for a squealing breakfast (complete with it's obvoius aroma), we had a clear run to the Toaster and Emu before the now WSW made work for us westbound. All put in an effort in 7 degrees homeward (Paul u-turning to fraternise with felines), no doubt driven by thoughts of a hot breakfast and warm coffee? Linda led out the sprint early at DECA, Fisky frisky and Rudy rueful to have missed the jump. Dion, Ange, Hollywood, Pistol et al set off in optomistic pursuit, the pluggers grouped to congeal the bunch again in Rudd Rd. The welcomed warmth of the Lemontree's heaters fired up chat on the Cat rant, bike bling, MTB's and personalised paint.
My clock radio chimed at 5 for round one of the Motor Cortex vs Hippocampus title fight (riding vs relaxation) Monday morning. Hippocampus won on a close points decision, post ride euphoria winning narrowly over the sloth of slumber. The mind promised the legs a quiet Cat lap tap, crossing their start line 5 minutes ahead, slowly and steadily up to the 137 aerobic limit, passing Mitch (the only time ever!) and another just cruising to a Cat crucifixion? Five k's out, the iliopsoas and rectus femorus were lodging complaints against the 7 degrees (and a Sunday off the bike), the head had quickly broken the prior promise peering at a Pussycat pack pursuing. Thinking a westerly was assisting me to Boundary Rd, the teeth were gritted for the River Rd return, suprised to find that progress had improved now that the wind had turned off (spurring on a physical second wind). Looking rearward kept the motivation turned up wondering how long I could hold off being swamped, Breakaways and a soloist or two were eastbound braving the temperature. Eyeballing rearward became a nervous disorder by Mitchell Rd, the feline flotilla rising from the Mt Nicolaci dip as I crossed the highway. Keeping the head down and cadence consistent in Raftery Rd (hard to judge the distance without landmarks visible) I swung into Conrod straight hopeful.Out of the dip and onto the plateau made it a safe bet, lCat ights just swinging into Conrod as I crossed the finish.
Sooties knackered knee knocked him out of the Tri trifecta Tuesday, only Stace and Comet as quick quality company fo a 30k prequel to the Goats lap. It was black as BigMat's bike headed to the Emu, without a moon and just stars to light what a l.e.d. wouldn't illuminate. Single file was haute couture in the conditions, very easy to slip into the zone with swift svelte sessions from the lasses (if only all tows were this smooth!), back to town bang on time to join 20+ Goats gathered and gridded. It took a while for the rituals of rotation to regulate, reappearances of Kate, Snow and BigPaul to the bunch of regulars. By boundary, a faction had fractured off the back (puncture we're told) the remainder settling into the push to River Rd. The deck had shuffled a bit to give a variety of wheels to follow, Hommy seeming to have a magnet for my Mavic. The usual huff and puff disposed of River Rd's length quickly, but slow at wait for David to collect the stragglers. JamisShane reckoned I'd snapped a spoke, BigPaul likened the noise to a cricket in my pocket, but I could sense nothing wrong with ye olde BM. To the back of the bunch and readied for an Archer exit (an early landing needed) the back tyre went to marshmallow, that cricket noise being the beat of the bastard bindii on bitumen. Halted, fixed feverishly yet furtively (Stace & Comet the ace pit crew), I swung the leg over and travelled a metre to find the front tyre gone flat in sympathy! A large green thorn found and removed, a borrowed tube fitted, inflated, wheel back in, about to remount when it went squishy again! Close examination found nothing, so tube number 3 fitted, a 3rd cannister deployed to finally meet success. We turned wheels into Archer for an indian file push north, a hard and frustrating slog home on 90psi.
Far fetched forecasts fooled Foss, felt fairly fresh Wednesday (check the date) with a promised 16 degrees failing to reach 12, forced fitting armwarmers and an extra layer. (just wait for the grizzles about cold in a few weeks time!) Wozz and I arrived early to the Couldabeens grid, FeltMat, Shorty, Cougar, Hollywood, Trav, AvantiTrev and Rudy trickled in, Jase rolling up on the roll out. Steadily up to tempo on Archer Rd, Rudy was a little vague on the roundabout roll over, but all settled into a general groove, plus or minus 10% depending on form, age, mood or pairing. Strings of lights speared southward in Boundary Rd, Cats, Goats and other wild animal riders all incognito in the darkness. A tailwind is always the cream to a ride, but Channel Rd's temperature was rising and falling like Abbott's popularity poll. The Cha Cha lead-out lottery was won by Wozz and I (first in line at the kinder) spin doctor Rudy ruled the sprint roost till Hollywood emerged subsonic from his draft, Jase on the boost button to fight Rudy for silver honours. Interesting to study style, speed, spin and sustainability from the 4th seat viewpoint. Tap tap homeward with an aromatic blend of diesel, hot bread, dicarboxyic acid and SPC's cooked pears to overload the olfactory nerves.
I wheeled south in search of Wozza at 5 on Thursday, suprised to find special guest star Jase joining us for a pre-lap, more like a prolapse from the stressful southwester blowing at 20-50 km/h. The 6k flog to Raftery Rd found Temple waiting, Vince oncoming to quorum a quartet. With wind whipping at wheels, cold rain pelting the skin and heart rates hovering on hurt, one questions the sanity of doing this! A quiet chorus of Carpe Diem infiltrated the corpus collosum (giving credence to cadence?) as the toil tapered in Mitchell Rd, being blown along Archer Rd put us ahead of schedule to loop the glossed roads of Kialla Lakes, murdering a few minutes.
Up to the carpark found nothing but deserted tarmac (any other Couldabeens content and cosy in bed), the Garmin guru's fiddled to reboot Temple's 510 till 5.45 ticked. The fearless five resolved to recourse a Wednesday/Friday loop, single filed track turns to minimise pain and maximise speed. I volunteered the first shift (biting off 3k's at the front was a bit too much to chew into a headwind) draining the resources sector and feeling a bit of the all ordinaries. Lucky that others towed me to Mitchell, we scintilated in Central Kialla, ripped up River and blasted along Boundary with not another bike in sight. Channel Rd was challenging, fraying the edges of Temple by the cypress trees. An ease of the throttle was unanimous for all to survive, grateful of a little reprieve for the leg back to town, only Heady heading steady out as we rolled ragged in.
8 degrees and a crisp south southeaster Easter Friday brought out the new autumn gloves, a social fundraiser Toaster Loop to enjoy to benefit the Royal Childrens Hospital. A cast of Ben Hur proportions assembeld at the Butterfactory, Jonesy and yip-you-Phil the MC's, coralling Goats, Cats, Couldabeens, Adams family, Breakaways, villans, legends and "also rode's" into some form of order. An anticlockwise direction (for the joy of wind up your arse we were told) got underway south on the main drag, factions forming and fragmenting according to speed and pecking order. Baulked and blocked to the punch-up bridge put me in the rearmost mix, plugging quietly to Mitchell Rd as others congregated ahead. A little uncomfortable with some errant wheels and a touch socially outcast, I bid my adieu's at the highway and set off on a chase to the big bunch ahead, passing a cruising Tum, Kate and Georgia, the bridging bunch inbetween. Six minutes in the high 30's got me across the gap to hook onto the back of a 20+ congregation, predominantly Goats but with a few drivers and dags attached. A bit of discipline was injected at the front in River Rd, BigLen and Dazza doin' the drivin' but it was a disjointed dogs breakfast at the back, the Wobbly one thrown in for bad measure. (better to be in the swift and smooth pointy end than with the rubberbanding wiggles at the rear) With wind up the date in Boundary Rd cruise control was set nudging fourty, a cool run up to Old Dookie but I was rotated back into the erratic end, shapening wits for survival. By the turn at the Emu, a dozen decent drivers had segregated the bunch into haulers and hangers-on (perfectly policed by the Eggman?), back in my comfort zone swapping smooth turns with Dipper, Tina, BigLen, Dazza, JamisShane, Coggo and co. Plenty of tarmac traversed with tempo back to town (discarding the dags), Wanganui Rd's waft of the transfer station (or was it the water treatment plant?) spurred on the sprint up the hill, the fire doused in Rudd Rd to cruise back for coffee, basking in charitable glory of raising $1200.
Week 14 335 km YTD 4,241 km
Happy Easter to all, vitayu vas and halsningar to the Ukraine and Swiss fans.
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