Had a wardrobe malfunction on Saturday, the 14 degree forecast halved to 7 and a promised mild northeaster swung to a cool SSE, fingers and knees lodging protests at the chill. I joined Temple at 5, keen to tour a prologue to the Couldabeens lap, a chance to extend the usual distance and re-educate the rear-end from the regular routine. A Mitchell Rd fox and a River Rd possum was our wildlife documentary, a magnificent moon made light beyond our l.e.d.'s. Hunting between the 17 and 15 for the comfortable cadence (wishing for sweet sixteen) the 17 was eventually elected, if only to provide a little warmth in the legs. We'd bounded Boundary and chartered Channel, making it to Doyles before eight Couldabeens came into view, Jase, SpinDoctor Rudy, Cougar, PistolPete, AvantiTrev, Trav, Eamon and Fisky, all rugged up for a fresh fourty kays, Easter's agenda and cursing the celcius's the main chat stats of the lap. An easy speed (in Rocket's absence?) allowed limbs to warm without burning, but Fisky flattened on the Cosgrove rail line, inducing an intermission of puncture protocols. Soon back underway, the monster moon's yellow light was almost head-on for the 15k Lemnos-Cosgrove & Ford Rd return, an eastbound Cat collection culled 'cause of cold? Temple and I took a tame turn into Wanganui Rd (to minimise the rear whip) taking the bunch up to pace by DECA where Rudy's race urge unleashed, Pistol and Eamon unable to resist the chase. Calmed again for Rudd Rd's recovery, we'd reeled in Stace, Comet, Sootie and HWK (astride two wheels again, retirement rumours rescinded) en-route to a testing Tri tap. Back to base camp, Ryan had the Lemontree heater stoked, an egg & bacon sandwich (more like a main course) filled my tank, Thursday's thrash, Alzheimer's, drugs in sport and wobblies filled the conversation.
Clocks were changed but my cranial cronometer was still at daylight savings setting Sunday. Up and about an hour early, boredom drove an early circuit, cranking away the hour on the Old Dookie-Boundary-Channel block, Heady seen heading outbound (with similar time trouble?) as I cranked inbound, steering to Friars to meet PinarelloMatt, BigPaul and Tum for a calm cruise of the Goat track. A soloist had swung into Old Dookie Rd a k ahead, landmarks recalled from months ago suddenly now visible with the sun rising earlier. We caught the soloist (Peter) on the turn into Boundary (tagging on for a tow) as wine, burnouts and weekend chores were chewed over, sentences now possible where weekday rolling turns usually don't permit much more than a word. A somewhat slow motion circuit enjoyed, PinarelloMatt and BigPaul in rare contention for line honours as Tum and I coasted Conrod.
Like a bindii through your last tube or the appearance of Wobbly in the bunch, a chill shuddered the bones (from Wednesday's southerly), all trace of Autumn's warmth blown rapidly (24-39 km/h) away. Ah, the joys of dripping noses, iced ears and numb toes is about to beset us again! Couldabeens numbers down, proportional to the temperature, set south on Archer, a lone light lagging behind caused a pause in pace but there was no gain (and the light soon vanished) so it was back on the boil. A bunch fracture (unreported to the front) put the handbrake on again at the roundabout, unity finally found for the leg to Mitchell Rd. Disheartened my physical state wasn't up to the mental state's demands (Easter egg attrition or the legacy of two days off?) it was a hard push to Archers' end and not much better with the breeze to the starboard side in Mitchell Rd. I swallowed my introspective twaddle to rue Rockets remarkable recouperative remedy, ten days beachside or was it the Fiji Gold that puts potence in the projectiles' pace? Hollywood's lime green ensemble and co-ordinated accessories lit up with the sun's earlier rise in River Rd, haute couture of Princess proportions . We didn't cross Cat paths till Boundary Rd, my legs and lungs were in a stop work meeting arguing with mental motivation to the Broken Bridges, Wozza saving my bacon with a tow. Wozz and I scored lead-out priveliges again for the Cha Cha (Rocket returning to rule the roost), a lengthy leg to regroup by Doyles for the cruise back to town. Happy to be home and heated by raisin toast and coffee, pondering the tune up needed for a worn engine.
Gripped by the doona's half Nelson Thursday morning, the intention of a 5am prologue was mentally shelved, so slumbered till a Goat lap at 6 beckoned. A litany of lasses, larrikans and ledgends assembled at Friars, Tegan (13) definitely representing the development squad. A paired procession plied Old Dookie Rd eastward, soon into syncronicity toward a slowly lit horizon. The Genesis line oncoming was given space for their Cat chase into Boundary Rd, 17 Goats grouping (or groping?) for the southerly spin to River Rd. Reassuring to get Deb's roll call in the change from down line to up line, Tina's tranquil transition a contrast to Joe's joust. River Rd passed quickly under the Michelins, pleasing to have sunlight to guide our westward mission (if only for a few weeks). By Mitchell Rd I was craving Raftery's tail breeze, my h.r. monitor finally out of first gear (82 bpm) into a believable 150. Apexing Roubaix and clicking the chain to the 13 for the grind to the horse stud may have been overtly opportunistic or overly optomistic, but the stars were steadily aligning for me into Conrod; the moon was in Belly's house, Coggo was rising and I was on Hommy's Uranus. Avanti Leigh, Belly and Coggo thrashed toward the final fifty metres, Hommy hit the mental wall of abandonment as I emerged from his draft, the last dip delivering me a slingshot (56 clicks @ 181bpm) to cherish the chocolates (and fan the fortunes).
Deb fronted Friars on Friday, the sugar amongst the old salts (on a macho mission), but turned tail for home seeing the line up. (A regular steady lap needed administrators?) Phill, Coggo, Brendan, Heady, Principal Skinner, Belly, AvantiLeigh and Tim, gilded with a glimmer of guilt, ground out Old Dookie Rd, most on the chapter about high 30's, but some a page or two behind. I'd got safely sandwiched between Coggo and AvantiLeigh, Principal Skinner taking the roll-call duties in Boundary Rd. A few more had retired to the rear rest room for River Rd but all made a recovered comeback in Central Kialla. A profusely perspiring BigBen was caught at Archer Rd, delighted to join in (Notre Dame Catless on his commencement) to make ten. Off the throttle with chins wagging over the highway and exiting Roubaix, curry to the cadence up to the horse stud reduced it to four drivers on the swing into Conrod (Belly blissfully sitting on for the free tow, slyly schemeing his sprint). Hung out to dry on the final 500 metres, I had nill NOs to answer Belly's blast, but was content to finish a lap (and the week) with tenacious teamwork.
Week 15 : 271 km YTD 4,512 km
No comments:
Post a Comment