With a washed out Saturday, What'sApp pulled a petite peleton (Rocket, AvantiTrev, Wozza, Temple, Ange, Linda and Fisky) together Sunday, keen for k's but not so eager on the 7 degrees or the southwester. The Toaster circuit anti-clockwise was the lap of choice, I'd squeezed into the salubrious sandwich of AvantiTrev and Temple, not having to endure the breeze till Mitchell Rd (and then easily shouldered from the right flank). Chilled air niggled nostrils to the point of sniffing being socially acceptable, the Garmin h.r. reading low again (should have been asleep at 47bpm), time to Google some fix facts me thinks. A conversational cruise along River Rd (a delight in daylight) then turned to Boundary, Mark and Trish leaping on, en-route to a Dookie-VioletTown loop as Tour De FightBacc training. Fisky winged west into Channel, our remainder continued the Toaster lap, Mark and Trish u-turning in Lemnos-Cosgrove Rd to join SpecialisedTony, Oz and co on their windy way. Thoughts of extra k's beyond the lap were soon swept aside by the increasing breeze (now SSE at 20-33 km/h), coffee and conversation a far more palatable proposition in the warmth of the Lemontree.
Somewhat Strava-starved Monday morning, a thrash at the Pine to Ford segment netted a 6th overall, the quick quest quenched, it was head down into the length of Ford and Lemnos-Cosgrove Rd for the 12k slog to the Emu, a light SSE to the starboard side chilling the old bones (feels like 3.5). A few k's on the 17 warmed up the old engine to grind the 15 from the channel onward, revisiting the 17 for the leg to the Toaster, a distant glow from town to navigate west. I'd fluked the position of the tempramental heartrate strap to read a believable 160 bpm, blurring the tarmac back to Friars. Finding Coggo, RetiredDave, Belly, Phil and Bickers for a steady lap of Old Dookie-Boundary and Channel Rd to warm up the week, Tina made it a magnificent seven at the Doyles roundabout. Coggo's Otways epic, the weekend's weaknesses and waning weather kept conversation running as legs had a gentle introduction for a weeks work.
Straight off the Antarctic at 25 km/h, a southerly was Tuesday's heartstarter for Wozz and I, enthusiasm easily eroded on the 5k trip to the Archer car park, but it was the rusty return of (recently retired) WhisperingJack that needed motivation. Kenworth, Nick, PistolPete, Rocket, Rudy, Hollywood, AvantiTrev, Bo & Kel had braved the elements, a calm first leg picked up Mark, Trish left in arrears to climb aboard. The pace percolated pedaling profusely east, nothing quite prepares you for the chill and the drag co-efficient at the front, from kinder to the cypress trees enough to wear me thin. Kenworths torque monstered Marks' malevolent mischief, AvantiTrev and WhisperingJack sought solice sitting silently in the cheap seats. Rocket and Pistol Pete's pairing in River Rd was boosted by Bo, felt my tank emptying and there was still 13k's of cruelty left! (an open cheque to Wozz for allowing my shorter contribution at the puffing end). Cars up and back and truck right at Mitchell Rd dampened the velocity on the turn, a long haul to Archer Rd weakened my (weak) will of mind over matter. More had resigned from toil at the tough end over the highway, stubborness drove one more turn at the front but I had to match Bo's boost out of Roubaix. By Arcadia Downs, pain had passed my passion, Kenworth's draft deleriously inviting while Pistol, Rocket, Wozz, Rudy and Bo indian filed the job of slicing the air at the front. Rocket lit the afterburners with 300 metres left, demoting (and demoralising?) all to "also rans", Wozza the mainstay of masochism till 80 metres remained. Emerging from Kenworths tow in the dying metres was like hitting an iceberg, my second place rightly was Wozza's.
The rigmarole of winter wardrobe warrants waking earlier with the multitude of layers to warm, heaven help me getting the bib knicks out of sequence! Deja vu to the cold and southerly wind, another 5k attempt at warming up to the Couldabeens grid. Wozza, SuperMario, Hollywood, Shorty, Cougar, Trav, Rudy and Pistol formed in the carpark, AvantiChris the duck out of water after 3 weeks Territory fishing. Rudy and I headed a litigant ligature leg to the Archer Rd roundabout, a call for calm(er) for a rearward light to catch evolved to be a tardy Rocket, dillemas during dressing delayed dilligent duty. It was cool enough (8 degrees) for Pistol to attire in 3/4 knicks, SuperMario to roast in the jacket but Rudy to expose his knees to the elements. Speed was savoured in Central Kialla, wind wrestled in River, Breakaway ladies legged it west with Genesis in pursuit as we slowed to be Boundary bound. I conceded a cadence contrast beside Rudy from the two bridges to Channel Rd (70 vs 103 rpm), into Channel Rd a slow squeeze up to cruising speed, but I was still 5 km/h shy of the mark glancing at the Garmin. We'd caught and passed Meags and Fee (on a short circuit) just before the cypress trees, unusually, Rocket had the helm on the Kinder corner, podium punters aplenty poised to pounce line astern. Glued to SpinDoctors' wheel seemed the prime real estate for the sprint, but he tucked in for a tow (preserving a short fuse?) when Hollywood bolted early. In an attempt to reel him in, I found myself elected the Golden Gate, a bridge to Hollywood for Pistol, Wozz and Rudy to challenge the Cha Cha. (scored a Strava 2nd best though, despite running out of urge) All calmed to cruise back to town, Kialla coffee for those lucky to have time spare.
A battle with the doona demons on Thursday morning, it was warmth & sloth vs effort & achievement. With 100 reasons to take the BigMat option, a solitary positive thought (unborn chicken voices in my head?) managed to motivate a saddle up. With Comet and Stace taking a later lap, I chose a solitary drive at 5 to the Emu, south to the Toaster and west back to town, a hit before the Goat habit. The bureau said easterly but senses said southerly, good progress to the Emu, the instincts were correct on the hard yards (3,490 of them) to the Toaster. Gently back up to pace for the westward return, winding up to a pleasing progress, arriving 10 minutes early was a reward of recovery at Friars. The gathering of Goats (Joe, AvantiAndy, AvantiLeigh, Belly, Phil, Leon, Snow, Baz, Sandy, Deb, Hommy, Stace, Comet, Tim, Bickers and Heady) set sail on Old Dookie, but it was disjointed as the NBN roll-out till Central Ave. A smooth circulation was hard to find (protests on clockwise by some) till facing the breeze in Boundary Rd, sharing the load with rolling turns far easier than my earlier solo southerly assault. A well oiled machine drove along River with a dozen drivers, down to Mitchell we mowed down Roscoe (commuting to coffee?) and went full steam up Mt Nicolaci following Leons lucious lead. I briefly backed out of the driving group at Roubaix to blend back in ahead of AvantiLeigh, with a finish favour to return. A few rotations later we'd cranked into Conrod, a nod to AvantiLeigh, crested the first dip, then hit the boost past Belly. Keen to shake off the Hommy threat, I cranked into the 50's with Leigh in the box seat, a flick of the elbow with a 100 left (boiler 'bout to burst) gave Leigh the honours, my account paid in full.
A standard start time caused a casual kit-up and relaxed roll to Friars to join Coggo, Belly, Heady, Baz, Deb, Snow and Phil for Friday's friendly frippery. Gently on the go pedal with the Old Dookie track dampened earlier, subtle inuendo on reverse rolls and my intentions were wryly filed, the rotations quickly and smoothly into order. Foggy patches (being just 0.8 degrees off the dew point) and tyres glossy, I was sandwiched between Baz and Heady, watching Snow plough into the pointy end. Less is more rolling turns in a small pack, the sometimes flustering, flapping and floundering fluctuations flowed to fluently fluid, with none of the ripple effects of a big bunch. A rare windless morning made Boundary a breeze, k's consumed quickly in River Rd and muscled into Mitchell, passing Archer on cue to the regular minute, with a calm climb of Mt Nicolaci. I had the lead into Roubaix corner, and with none venturing forward, slowly squeezed the accelerator with a line astern me. Belly bellyached at the horse stud (finally appearing for a turn), rotations resumed but with just four volunteers, thinning to just me and Coggo by Conrod. With 500 metres to go I threw in the towel (for someone else to clean up at the end) making myself useful as a draft for Deb to mid field while Snow skiied to victory. The cruise homeward picked up yet another bastard bindii, Michelin to marshmallow in the closing k, rim just kissing the tarmac at my letterbox.
Week 17 : 318km YTD 5,129km
A rapid readership rise from Russia, bal'shoye spaseeba peeps!
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