A bleak Sunday morning had plenty pulling the pin on a spin, I got to Friars at 7.30 to find all had abandoned ship, so a solo ride it was. Pointed east on Old Dookie Rd after tip-toeing the greasy corners in town, a cloud parked on the paddocks made a misty trail to Boundary Rd. Cranking through pea soup speckled specs, vignetting the view. A pair of damp devotees northbound near the pub deserved a salute (justified my insanity too) just one other spotted eastbound on River Rd. (cloaked from Strava Flyby's) The sun finally pierced through the gloom at Central Kialla, vivid colours against the dark blue-grey clouds hanging low in the south. Well dampened by Roubaix corner, I activated the clothes drier of high thirties for Conrod straight to finish, did nothing but make me soggier.
I took the soft option of an anticlockwise lap Monday with a forecast southwester, keeping the breeze at my back for at least half the circuit. 77 rpm seemed to be the groove to sit in, Raftery Rd a chore till turning west into Mitchell. A howler helped along River Rd, superfluous sticks to swerve, Rocket, Ron and co heads down westbound. Wind whipped at the wheels, all fell silent when it swung directly behind, save for the Mavic music. Coggo, Carl and Tum were slogging south at the Broken bridges, I was bathed in bliss for Boundary, blown by the breeze behind, but the honeymoon soon ended turning to town on New Dookie Rd. (just for the change in scenery), the wicked wind had swung westsouthwest to make it masochist Monday. Suprised to make reasonable progress (77 rpm), just maintaining it was the big challenge, focussing a few metres ahead rather than the distant target, a pleasure to end the hurt arriving back in town.
Speared the Cygo into Ford Rd's darkness at 5.05 Tuesday, a tailwind to artificially inflate the ability, a headwind back to deflate and destroy. Out of the dark treetops swept a great egret with the wingspan of an
A-380, banking just above my helmet to scare the sh.....imano out of me, an adrenelin addition to the average. Felt the westerly's wrath at the wheels southbound, partaking the parfum de piggy (a nasal anemometer) at the Toaster, but felt suprisingly good into the headwind home, atop the 17 at 77 rpm seemed to be the cog of choice. Back to the metropolis, all the way back to Friars a minute before Goat flagfall for quick quips with Coggo, Kate, Phil, Sandy, Joe, Hommy Heady and Belly. The team toured east exiting town, regular rollover rituals on Old Dookie sandwiched between Phil and Heady. Once the echelon ettiquette was established, Boundary Rd progress was better than expected, Sandy taking a back seat with convalescent Kate. Into the nitty gritty of River Rd's headwind, we'd just got into a rhythm when Heady hollered a puncture. Time out of my favour, I tendered my apologies and continued solo, a slog along the alternate truck route (a welcomed brief tow from two B doubles and a semi, line astern) then the h.r. escalation on Archer for the drive home by 7.
Keeping condition and counting k's caused an early Old Dookie-Boundary-Channel Rd lap Wednesday (reminiscing the original Cat laps 7 years ago) , odd patches of mist from last nights rain but an eye on the clock to keep a 6am Couldabeens appointment. Concerns were cancelled arriving 7 minutes early, a roll to the bridge and back to prevent rigor mortis, then greet AvantiChris, Pistol Pete, Spin Doctor, Shorty, Hollywood, Cougar and Tucks, assembled for the usual 28k reverse lap. Off at 6 for a gradual dial up of tempo to reach cruising speed, on Hollywoods wheel with a Pistol pointing in my back. Calm was called on the turn into Mitchell (thank heaven after being cooked by Pete) but Hollywood punctured in Central Kialla, performing a pitstop pantomime in tiresome tyre tardiness, assisted of course by lavish servings of inuendo, hyperbole and sarcasm. Back underway just before someone called for coffee to be delivered, the bunch cranked into River Rd, Cougar with another loss of lumens. I had a second basting from Pistol on the Boundary Rd leg, 2800 metres of marinading in a spicy pace to pickle my pulminary's. We settled into Channel Rd bound for home, some champing at the Cha Cha as the mercury settled to zero, my legs fit for the fourties, while others fried in the fifties. An epilogue of a pacy push home making ammends from Hollywood's intermission.
All the signs said "Bail Out" Thursday, a stiff southerly (20-33 km/h), spits of rain multiplying and loss of satellite on the Garmin. Pessimism in the prefrontal spelt doom, defeat and doona. (but a feint call within the cranial cavity cried carpe diem). Waiting at the start (hoping nobody arrived?) it was just Rocket who turned up, a Ferrari fronting a formula Ford Fiesta race! Temple arrived and promptly turned tail for home as we layed tracks in a lightly glossed Channel Rd, bragging rights over the doona divers was the only driving force with the heart rate already at 160. A word or two with Rocket only added more, Rocket delivering unbroken paragraphs while my sentences were fragmented by oxygen intermissions. Rocket's compassion for the frail and aged kindly loaned me a tow when we steered south, a delight to be dragged in the drivers draft along Boundary. I'd zoned in on effort but out on location, arriving at River Rd sooner suprised. I tried the ride beside but lungs denied, legs fried and spirits died, back into the tow again. Two bikes bearing east (determined/ delerious, committed/certified, dedicated/deluded, strike out that which does not apply) were follwed by one a k in arrears, u-turning as we slogged the south leg of Central Kialla Rd, curiousity calling a calming of cadence in Mitchell Rd to identify the pursuer. LateLeigh arrived breathless (funny, he'd missed the Cat lap start), Rocket resumed his tow truck services, out of Roubaix in the fourties, nudging fifties in Conrod, enjoying a hard earned tailwind home.
A prologue of Ford, Lemnos North and Old Dookie roads was a warm up (?, 6 degrees) to the Friars frier, trying to keep below 138 bpm to preserve pace for later. Coggo and Tum were on the Friars grid, a lightweight Heady arriving at the last minute, with appropriate headwear. The quartet filed out of town, Heady handing me the reigns for the heart starter to Dobsons bridge. Tum's typical tempo tested us, good to be in Coggo's smooth tow till the breeze in Boundary needed cutting. (happy to be able to drive at 165 bpm for 2.1 k). The eastbound Couldabeens train was easily spotted eastbound on River Rd, a slow for traffic and their intersection arrival gave us a moment to top up the oxygen. Heady was suffering the speed as I peeled off the front, Tum took the lions share of River Rd from the dip to the end. Coggo dragged us to Mitchell, my go to Archer showed the strain, delighted to duck into the draft till my next shift in Conrod. I'd burnt all the beans by the last dip, handing Heady the chocolates, a quick quadrella quashed queries on quickness but quietly questioned qualm.
Week 29 312 km YTD 8,633
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