Made it to the footpath Saturday morning just as spits of rain commenced, cancelling plans of a ride but breakfast with the crew was enjoyed at base camp anyway.
My suggestion of a circuit at 7 on Sunday was met with an empty carpark start, so set sail solo down Archer Rd, hoping to get the south-southeaster over and done with early. I wrestled with the "yeah, nah, but"s for the length of Mitchell Rd, to commit to a Camel lap or go soft and shortcut, that was the question! Stubborness triumphed over the length and monotony of Bells-Armstrong Rd (as inviting as a holiday to Aleppo with Bashar Al Assad) a lap to map, an aim to reign, a point to prove. The 13 long and narrow k's of Bells Armstrong Rd was like sitting through parliaments question time, only newborn lambs and symetrical rows of burnt stubble to view for half an hour, a wandering mind kept thoughts amused till Cosgrove-Caniambo Rd finally came into view. Nice to be northbound, alpaccas chewing the cud stared to wonder what the hell I was doing with a cold Sunday morning, the coarsely sealed goat track (no offense intended Goats!) pummelled the posterior and created Cosmic chaos till the Midland was crossed. Olive groves in Dookies dark ochre soil and hirsute Herfords were the landmarks in the shadows of Mt.Major till the Camel farm signalled stage left. Kellows Rd was cruel into the (now) south wester (always a head wind back from Dookie!), New Dookie Rd not much better, while I sought shelter from roadside trees to maintain the tempo. Pine Lodge church appeared sooner than expected, but I stuck to New Dookie back to town figuring Old Dookie's wide open spaces would be harsher. Running on thoughts of the post ride nose bag kept the spirits up, nirvana was finally reached under the verandah of the Lemontree, coffee and banana bread to warm the insides, sun on the back warming tired bones.
A myriad of maps montaged mentally Monday morning, chosing a circuit to keep on schedule and inject a little variety to twist the structure of my average day, only the Strava MTS target motivated a ride (a reverse Cat lap). Southbound out of town on Raftery Rd, against the usual grain of Conrod (felt like having the helmet on backwards), the 18 tooth sprocket getting some use (80 rpm) to get the legs warm, promising myself some 15 teeth relief crossing the highway. A vacant stretch of tarmac east on Mitchell and River Rd, barely a glow from the horizon to start the day. Not till the Broken bridges on Boundary did like-minded lunatics appear, a small group ahead of the Cat pack spearing south. I was set for psychological scarring in Old Dookie Rd, the wind wickedly westerly, defying the SSW forecast. Head down and heart rate up (with a g'day to Goats oncoming) for the 8k home, I was hunting the grratio between 17 and 15 for best purchase fighting the wind, giving in to grind the 15. Comfort in reaching SPC to finally ease off the throttle, a quiet roll home to repair with raisin toast.
Pedalled a prepatory prologue (predicting plenty o' peleton pain) prior to the Couldabeens Tuesday, a smooth 10k round the golf course loop warmed the old engine to prevent chucking a rod when revved. Finding Wozz on the return to town we drove into the main street southerly, swerving the road kill of a crucified cassette (audio), commenced rhetorical retro recollections of 8 track cartridges and chrome 90 min tapes on the commute, gridding a little early to witness the gladiators arrive for battle (Bo, Kel, Kenworth, Jase, AvantiTrev, Pistol, Rocket and Nick). Away at 5.45 and into the anaerobic deep end on pole with Wozz, we got the call of 'bike back' beyond the roundabout, a u-turning Mark and hurrying Hollywood playing Couldabeens catch up. Regimental rotations resumed on Channel Rd, Nick and AvantiTrev taking early retirement at the rear. Beside Rocket at the S bend, Mark surged ahead (HBK lives on!), quickly being served a 40+ km/h roasting in retaliation to Channel's end. Regretting riling Rocket's wrath, he was then hung by Hollywood to dry, seconding the motion in Boundary Rd. River Rd was rapid, a busted branch chicane keeping all eyes open, turns were shortening proportional to speed and Mark's elbow was nudging mine in a bid for the best draft. A cautious turn into Mitchell with traffic right and behind, Mark turned tail for home. Kenworth's withdrawal from duty nearing Mt Nicolaci denied me the dream draft (duely deflating dilligence), just another turn or two left in me. An easy cross of the highway, a considerate pairing by Jase then Wozz alongside, two rows quickly became one at the Raftery Horse stud. Track turns took over, Rocket, Jase, Pistol then Wozz drove us to the Conrod dip, my swansong being a lead-out for Rocket (a Lada leading a Lamborghini?). 'Givin her all she's got Captain' for 150 metres burnt my biscuits quickly, flicking the elbow for Rocket to launch, I was swamped by nearly all in the closing metres, OTA (save for AvantiTrev and Nick cruising to the line) but pleased with a quick 45:19 for the lap.
A wintery weight on the doona crushed motivation Wednesday, what fool set the alarm at 4.30am? A glimmer of enthusiasm mustered the strength to throw off the covers, porridge, coffee and kit-up before rationale kicked in, and out the door at 5. 4 degrees was a mother-in-law welcome to the Toaster loop, a pair of new Vredesteins (bulletproof to bindii?) gave some hope. I poked the headlight into the long dark corridor of Ford & Lemnos-Cosgrove Rd to the Emu, on top of the 56/15 and pushing through a custard-like atmostphere had me earning a second breakfast early. Eventually to Boundary Rd and flat-lining at 138 bpm, a light followed me south, no gain made by the Pub, so turned up the tempo to test the mystery one's resolve. By River Rd, curiosity had got the better of me, slowing to to identify the stalker. Twas Wizz who drew alongside just before the dip, the remainder of the lap tapped out with a few grabs at conversation (between my gasps). Over the highway and well ahead of the feline fraternity, the temperature dropped with the sun's imminent rising, giving me an ice-cream headache but with out the benefit of ice-cream! Home early with time to thaw out, 55k's clocked by 6.45.
Groundhog Thursday, same early alarm, same course set out the Boulevard to start the day, Strava striving. (MTS challenge of 1250k/month almost within reach on the last day) 6 degrees was positively balmy over yesterdays 4 degrees, setting sail a little earlier to a prologue goal of Friars by 6. A fleeting fox in suburbia flagged off the 30k lap, a self imposed gear limit on the 17 cog (78rpm is about my vintage) took me out to the Emu and south to the Toaster (a hint of SSE), making it to the piggery before the craving for the 15 was too much to resist (adding 10% to the velocity). A few extra pascals in the Vredesteins caused the Cosmics to chorus (C sharp), a tonal toccata to tempo to, back into town with 5 minutes up the sleeve. Cold had culled contenders at Friars, just Coggo, Belly, Joe, Phill, Bickers, Heady and Snow to go at 6. Rhythmic rotations were underway after Doyles Rd, Tina adding to the compact congregation, Cat l.e.d.'s ahead as our guiding light. All put in their two wheels worth at the front till River Rd, the odd reartirement commencing an increased workload at the front. Some came back for more in Central Kialla but reality struck again with withdrawals in Mitchell. A calm cruise over the highway and to the little bridge collected the crew and their breaths, steadily back up to the boil by Arcadia Downs had only the serious venturing forward. Coggo got the boiler stoked in the last half of Conrod, Tina called me over to go as Coggo stretched his lead, but there was little left in my tank other than towing duties for Tina to take a deserved second.
How indulgent to sleep in till 5 on Friday! I'd finally dug the toasty Zeinel gloves out of hibernation and took a lengthy limber-up (loosening lame legs) to rendevous with Wozz. An aroma de bakerie inspired the commute to the Couldabeens carpark, Pistol, Cougar, AvantiTrev, Rocket, Temple, Nick, Kenworth, Tucks and Hollywood filtering in. At the third stroke of 5.45 Cougar bolted a breakaway, the domestiques spending a k to catch, and welcoming Choppy aboard. Cautiously cagey and complicit cranking up to cruising speed with Wozz, I was almost on the ropes by the roundabout, Tucks was up next, panting from a case of part-time pedalling (religiously running). The Pistol and Hollywood combo silenced the troops at Central Kialla, Rocket considerately cruisy beside Nick in recovery mode. There was work for me with Wozz in River Rd, Temple, AvantiTrev and Cougar reposed at the rear. A pair of profusely populated peletons plied south as we belted to the Broken bridges courtesy of Pistol and Hollywood locked in battle again. I started to find some wattage in Channel Rd (lured into a false sense of ability in the dream draft of Kenworth, Rocket and Wozza), the reality of carving through virgin air from Jameson Rd to the Kinder hit hard, I had all the power of an AA battery by the Cha Cha. Quickly catalogued as a tail-ender with Temple and Trev shooting by (suddenly struck by a new lease on life?) I was left to languish lamenting in the legacy of lethargic legs loosened by long laps. The bunch reassembled at Orrvale school and tapped to town, all but Wozz and I with time to quaff Kialla coffee.
Week 18 : 337 km YTD 5,466 km
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