A chilled and foggy start Saturday, venue variety for Couldabeens Cate, hubby Mario, Jen (with domestique AvantiAndy) Ange and Lynda, Rocket, Wozz, Pistol, AvantiChris and I, riding the SamMiranda Grand Fondo. An easy paced team start amongst the 190 entrants, plenty of heroes and wannabee's passing us by but quickly kabooming in the reality of solitude or work on the front. Mountain monster Cate QOM'd the first crest at 15k, then wisely settled in to pace the h.r. thereafter. The course turned to 2.5k's of gravel at Bullocks Lane (Greta South), a posterior awakening for me, whacking the bridge pot hole dead centre, AvantiChris ejecting two bidons. Back onto tarmac again, Recalling the sharp pinches ahead, I dropped back from guns Pistol, Wozz and Rocket to leave fuel in the tank for the torment to come. I had one of the startline heroes (ChickenLegs, a wafer thin version of Daniel Tekleheaimanot, minus the gatrochs), sitting on my wheel for a few k's, 50kg wringing wet he should have murdered me in the hills but went OTA in a flash on Myhree hill. Digging my depths of effort, tongue dragging, furrowed brow and in a lather of sweat, the course photographer grinned, snapping me at my most unflattering. Gasping over the crest, I spent the short 2 k descent recovering from the 180 heart rate, preparing to crank the famed/feared Strade Nero (5k's of compacted gravel climbing 350 mtrs). Defiantly glued to the 56 ring (thereby preserving the reputation), I kept eyes off the h.r. read-out (for fear of a mental meltdown), just plugged away trusting the cranial calculations of where the effort red line was, picking the smoothest line through the corrugations and grooves carved by winters rain. AvantiChris caught me, but I ushered him on suggesting I'd be later to the Whitfield break (suprising to find he didn't get more than 100 metres ahead before the 5% gradient whittled him down). A long slow grind for 3 k's then the relief to see the summit, shifting the chain onto the 11 to push the smooth tarmac descent to Whitfield in the 60's.
Wozz, Pistol and Rocket had not long arrived (ego inflation arriving just 3 minutes behind the A team), a brief sugar load (and flatulence fracas), then regroup to slog the 50k's to the finish. Into the groove after a natural break, the rhythm of several k's in the mid 30's was shattered by gravel stage 3 (Top Plain Rd), large stones scattered on an inch purée of sand, turning steering to mush. Five punctures popped around us in 200 metres (one being Wozz) so we paused to preserve our petite peloton whilst Wozz tended to the tortured tube. Away again threading our way between stones (some big enough for garden features), sand and potholes, the senseless 9k's of gravel ("the hell of the northeast") finally finished, back onto sweet tarmac again (albeit 20mm rough stuff). A crank to Moyhu with wind to the starboard side, not looking forward to slogging the 17k to Oxley into a headwind. With five outsiders in tow, (one heard to criticise our turns were shortening.......leeches!) the k's ticked by, Pistol, Wozz, Rocket, AvantiChris and I sharing the toil, the 17km/h wind emptying the tanks. AvantiChris retired rearward, me soon after, Pistol soldiering on till the 4k mark, powerhouses Wozz and Rocket taking the towing duties to the finish (a top 30 result) A cracker complimentary feed of ratatouille, penne pasta, cachatorri and pumpkin salad relished and replenished, the country's most exclusive Coke ($4 can) bumped up the glycogen levels from Strava's epic suffer score of 289.
A stiff southerly stung sinews setting sail Monday morning, legs a little lax after Saturday's hills. I chose the soft option (avoiding a Goat grouping and a Couldabeens congregation) for a solo tap to release the rust and enjoy the smoothness of bitumen. A Channel-Boundary-NewDookie lap suited, idling at 130 bpm and 75 rpm preserved the ride enjoyment. Bliss in Boundary Rd with wind blowing up the behind, don't you just love the serenity (amid the crooning Cosmics) a tailwind offers. Turned west, rode and relished the super smooth stretch of New Dookie Rd nearing Lemnos, Tina's trucks tamping tarmac to a tranquilly tarred tabletop. If all roads were this good we'd have gooey glutes. Pentels perfume, a distressed diesel and the saleyard stink was an olfactory omnipresence back in town.
Out with the cold and in with the wind, September (and magpie mania) is nearly here. A happy band of vegemites assembled at Friars on Fryers, Coggo, Principal Skinner, Heady, Snow, Dipper, Phil, RetiredDave, Belly, Spiessy, Sandy, Kate and Hommy departed East, Tina awaiting on Old Dookie Rd. A reverse roll made the best of the southerly till the work began heading to River Rd, headwind toil made a little easier by the constant roll (though Heady could have sat up a little so I could get some draft) Ten contributed to the velocity in River Rd, a distant pair of tail-lights boosting the enthusiasm to Central Kialla. FeltMat and AvantiTrev (refugees from the Couldabeens tornado Tuesday) were caught and added to the carriages on the turn into Mitchell Rd. Belly was boxed in from a Mt Nicolaci blast, Coggo and I left to crank the climb. A cruise to Roubaix allowed the bunch to reconnect, up and Adam to the horse stud thinning the drivers to seven. I got to the front as we lined up Conrod straight, a glance back finding the right row was now deserted, all Indian filed and electing me the lengthy lead out. I'd run out of jellybeans with 150 metres to go, Coggo taking the chocolates while I had a closing Hommy to deny a second place.
Coffee, toast, base layer, knicks, jersey, socks, shoes, phone, keys, specs, gloves, helmet, pump, headlight, Garmin, bike........damn!, a flat rear tyre. A rapid replacement of tube then an h.r. overload PB to the Couldabeens start line, 6k's in 9:32 to find AvantiChris, Pistol, Shorty, Cougar, Trav, Cate, Nick, Hollywood and AvantiTrev at the ready. LateLeigh lived up to his namesake hooking on as we departed, the Kialla Lakes Drive suprise was WhisperingJack, amazingly out of retirement again, to make up a dozen heading south. FeltMat was caught at the alternate route, clocking 'round the bay k's, I shared a short shift with Shorty, a shade shagged matching his tempo. LateLeigh peeled off to fraternise with felines as we exercised east, AvantiTrev joining WhisperingJack in the caboose while AvantiChris and Pistol towed us north to Channel. I had the best seat in the house coming up to the Cha Cha, a great lead out by Pistol, AvantiChris and Shorty for my launch at Prentice Rd, Hollywood unable to resist the chase, but was weighed down with pseudoephedrine, Cate (Cavendish) looming close keeping us both busy.
A mysterious morning mirage magically materialised, a marvelous metamorphosis (many may mock) made WhisperingJack's a two-days-in-a-row effort, Wozz, Rocket, ChrisA, Cougar, Nick, Pistol, Temple, Trav, Shorty, AvantiTrev and FeltMat similarly stunned at the Couldabeens car park on Wednesday. Rocket and ChrisA opened the account with a double shift, my dip with Wozz from the kinder to the cypress trees and Trav to the S bend hadn't burnt all my biscuits, a little wattage remaining for a change. Pistol and Rocket bore the southerly breeze in Boundary, Temple tentative in taking turns in River Rd, but was talked into one. To Laws Drive and it was time to tap to the front again, a 2k turn with the heart rate on an escalator to 171. Trav, Shorty, Pistol, Rocket, ChrisA and Wozz diligently did the driving duties while the rear stalls filled with permanent residents, all getting a bit squeezy in the narrows of Mitchell Rd with semi's approaching and behind. Over the highway and round Roubaix, I had another go to the horse stud but was out of horse power by Arcadia Downs. PistolPete got the big guns blazing in Conrod but ran out of ammunition after a long lead-out, Rocket and ChrisA thrashing out the finish with Wozz a split second behind (if my blurred vision got it right?).
With a supple solo or a social spin available, something chose the Friday pain train, maybe mental masochism? Coggo, Belly, Tum, Carl and CerveloJohn (first to suggest, last to arrive) stretched forth from Friars at 6, eventually grouping single file at the SPC roundabout, collecting Tina in Old Dookie Rd. With my engine running fairly well, I had the first shift towing the team to Dobsons' bridge, Tum, Carl, Coggo then CerveloJohn took us to the piggery, Belly and Tina to the Pub. I set my mental target to reach the Broken bridges in the drivers seat, the head optomistic but the lungs pessimistic. Tum's "you're an animal Foss" was taken as a compliment as I gasped to the back, finding an oncoming Couldabeens clan at the turn into River Rd. I was kindly towed its' length with generous turns by Carl, Coggo, Belly (bravely bare legged) and CerveloJohn (flash new carbon Zipp tubulars). My next turn in Mitchell (to Archer) wore down the wattage, just enough time to recover when the horse stud in Raftery summoned another go. Shifts at the front shortened till I drew the short straw out of Conrod's dip (again!), managed a bit of a blast for the line but couldn't match the young Carl's throttle.
Week 35 : 317 km YTD 10,398 km
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