An eye on an unknown slow clock made the start line impossible to reach Saturday morning, a short cut via Old Dookie Rd the only chance to intercept the group, at least enjoying a steady warm up rather than flogging a dead horse. No sign of Couldabeens in Boundary Rd, I finally found the pack just getting mobile (Jase's puncture pitstopping the pack) near the S bend of Channel Rd, a bit of a chase with Jase to get back aboard a bunch of 14 on a mission of momentum. Identifying the players (Ange, Bo, Kel, Linda, Fisky, Rocket, Cougar, Pistol, SuperMario, Temple, Nick, Jen, AvantiChris and AvantiTrev) on the roll through to the front, we picked up Nath to drive to Old Dookie Rd, then pointed to the Toaster pairing with Fisky at the front. Another scenic sun-up at yonder Mt Major, all were enjoying a steady roll, a welcome change from the weekday thrashings we endure? Westward with the wind after the Emu, a sudden squeal from behind was Fisky inadvertently Zipping my Cosmic, un-nerving having your rubber rubbed! Momentum enjoyed toward base camp, thoughts of breakfast, wind at our backs and a weekend ahead. Sitting at third wheel as we passed DECA begged an assault at the Wanganui hill, cranked up the cadence (nearing ninety!) which only led to lead out Ange, but I was pleased to crest the first first. Calm descended to roll in the Boulevard (Fisky skimming his Schwalbe again!) to the Lemontree for breakfast, politics & banana bread, foreign borders and coffee filling the ears and stomach.
A rather rusty rolling of legs Tuesday (off two wheels since Saturday) but I was determined to jump in the deep end with the Couldabeens. I met Wozz in the main drag for the rare Autumn northerly to blow us to the car park start, random raindrops throwing much doubt into the ride. Only Rocket, Hollywood and PistolPete had braved an appearance at the new start time (touted by many, tried by few) so the gamble was taken, out Channel Rd at 6 with faith in favourable weather. As dry as a chip just a k out of town gave hope, but hurry spelt hurt amongst the Couldabeens cannons. Leg three beside Wozz then four beside Rocket pumped my pulmonaries, impossible to get the heart rate below 170, even when echiloned at third wheel for the final leg of Channel Rd. Pistol Pete was in a Di dillema with the Shimano refusing to budge gears in Boundary Rd, caught in a casualty of cadence he retreated to the rear, the tempo toasty and single filed, fast catching the tail-lights ahead. I sat at the back seat trying to concrete composure and win wattage, twas inspiring to catch and pass the 10 pussycats, driving me to contribute at the pointy end in River Rd, head saying 750 metres but the legs refusing more than 500. Hollywood withdrew from service at Central Kialla, leaving only Pistol, Wozz and Rocket to provide the tow, body language suggesting it was Hollywoods last efforts but I was on my last rites! The machine that is Rocket kept pumping the pace (the depths I dug trying to hang on) while others took turns to be toasted at the front in a Rocket rotisserie to Conrod straight. Pistol had spun himself silly and went OTA, Hollywood hung on for a last ditch dip, Rocket speared onward with Wozz in touch, my legs & lungs had lost the will to live, but we all crossed the line scoring Strava salutes with a 39.3 average (18k's with the heart rate in zone 5).
The ghosts of Tuesday's train of torture ghouled the gastrocnemius and haunted the hippocampus Wednesday morning, temperature halved (6 degrees) to chill thoughts further. I found Wozz rugged up for the spin south, at least a quieter lap was on Wednesday's agenda. The deck shuffled at the carpark for some escaping the first shift, a brief chat with FeltMat and Temple (elected themselves as tail-lights) weren't seen or spoken too again! The single file of AvantiChris, Pistol, SpinDoctor, Nick, AvantiTrev, Cougar, Hollywood, Wozza, Jase, FeltMat and Temple slogged south on Archer till the traffic thinned, I was hiding behind Hollywood while Pistol and the SpinDoctor did the hard yards. My number came up in Mitchell Rd beside Hollywood, my old engine misfiring (magneto malfunction?) under the load, maybe not yet up to temperature? The proliferation of populated peletons were oncoming in River Rd now that our flag falls at 6, half a dozen Genesis, twenty Cats, eight Breakaways and a dozen Goats (at a guess), good numbers considering the temperature. Our speed had stabilised but the effort eased heading to Channel Rd, it had taken 25k for me to get into the groove. On the tail of the Wozza-Pistol-SpinDoctor-Hollywood train was a dream sit approaching the ChaCha, Wozza had the early lead-out and cooked his goose, Pistol fired into the 40's, the SpinDoctor did his brief RPM class, then Hollywood hauled me into the 50's (a delicious draft, but I lacked the wattage to keep in touch). Content with 3rd and a few hundred metres to take in the oxygen, I caught up some conversation on the cruise back to civilisation.
The reasons to ride make rapid reading but there's an encyclopedia of excuses not to, as winters' grip firms in the last gasps of Autumn. It's a case of use it or lose it in these times, way too much work to do getting back on form if winter is spent in hibernation (I submit exhibits WhisperingJack and BigMat as evidence, your honour!) A trundle down to Friars, climatising to inhaling iced air, found Coggo, Joe, Baz, Snow, Belly, Deb, Bickers, Carl and Phil, prepared to brave a lap. Gently on the throttle out of town we collected Tina to get the turns rolling, a bit of a flat spot in the rotations as xxxxxxx (name witheld out of respect....anyone having a dip in five degrees deserves kudos) struggled with pace. A distant red pulse of Cat tail-lights and a white line of Genesis oncoming (then spearing south) marked our turn to Boundary, smoothly back up to speed with gatekeeper Deb roll calling. A notch or two was raised for River Rd but Carl punctured at the bridge, the bunch collectively pit stopping for repairs. With no spare time up my sleeve I made apologies to continue, Deb jumping aboard the little express train (to alight early at the Friars coffee station). Plugging into the breeze on Mitchell Rd I'd unwittingly lost the caboose at Archer, so a coast up Mt. Nicolaci reconnected the rolling stock to steam back to town, keeping me to agenda.
Drowning out the demons of defeatism at 4.30am was difficult, the sense of accomplishment (at the end of Raftery Rd) seemed a world away, concentration on porridge, dates and honey was a more delectable distraction. Threw a leg over the Fizik before rational thinking took over, out the door at 5.10 for a clockwise attack on the Toaster loop. The iliopsoas complained bitterly at pushing the 15 tooth cog, balancing the wattage for a decent dip to the Emu vs the reserves needed to grind into the westerly (15-22 km/h) home. Neural receptors filed an official complaint nearing the soup tin, back to the 17 cog from Lemnos North Rd to the main eastern channel (81 rpm) burned the sartorius and rectus femoris instead. I turned at the Emu and braced for the workout from the Toaster to Boundary, ignoring the speedo to avoid disappointment. Crested the Col du Channel (a tough 2metre ascent) to witness two bikes turning south, difficult to resist a chase. I'd whittled down the gap by the Pub to find Wizz and Fox cruising, a quick chat voted track turns the order of the day. I took the appetiser to River Rd, Wizz consumed the big 6k main course into the headwind, Fox the dessert in Central Kialla, commendable cranking on a crook calf. My go in Mitchell (to Archer) turned torque to a trickle, an elbow giving Wizz the task to tow (admirably driven to Roubaix). Fox took us to the horse stud, I got to the kink into Conrod, Wizz dragging us speechless to the finish to end a week weak, but endowed with endorphines
Week 19 : 236 km YTD 5,702 km
Big congrats to Stace, Comet, Weapon and Kylie for a fine finish at Port Mac Ironman last weekend. Gritty girls!
PS : Cheers China, 100 hits last week :)
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