Saturday's drizzle kept most under the doona and there were no takers on a WhatsApp invite for a Sunday social spin (supplementary starters soft or just sensible?), something to do with a 1.4 degree start? The full winter kit made an appearance, merino base layer, booties and neck sock insulating against the ice, finding the smooth car-worn groove of Channel Rd was a plus over the temperature. Not a soul on the road strangely enthused my mission, no records set or broken but there's something satisfying in bragging rights of braving the elements. East on Old Dookie Rd and into the dawn, QOTSA's "My God is the Sun" provided the metronomic motivation to the Toaster, but it was psychological warmth only from the big ball in the sky. Pointing back toward town it was nice to get into the rhythm of a steadily increasing speed and hitting the magic Mavic note without blowing a gasket, a couple of Lemnos-Cosgrove k's lost just zoning out, glued to the 17 cog at 76 rpm, each kilometre done was one closer to coffee. Wanganui Rd was welcomed, the Boulevard had cars like a cake shop all topped with icing, made the Lemontree's banana toast taste even better! Dion, Mel, Cobbles, Sherls, Jason, BigBen arriving gave credence to the cold.
Trying to tick the May distance box on Monday on a New Dookie - Boundary - Old Dookie lap (a precursor to a Goat group peace peloton). Fresh, bracing, invigorating and brisk weren't the right words, "faarctic" more descriptive of New Dookie roads atmosphere. Despite the frosted lungs and iced calves I was happy with the velocity, the draft from half a dozen passing cars maintaining momentum. A cool contained train of peace people (Principal Skinner, Heady, Hommy, Coggo, MeridaJohn, Phil, Spiessy, Sandy and Belly) exited town, half wheeling Hommy at it again but I felt it too cold to scold. Heady looking forward to sunny Spain next week, Sandy in the caboose with Spiessy and Principal Skinner joining it after just one turn at the front. It's ride or subside as winter welds the doona up around the ears, 'use it or lose it' as they say (prepare for the pain if it's the latter). There's a smug sensation in tackling the winter elements, work colleagues huddled around heaters, lethargically mumbling and moaning into their morning caffeine fix are stunned at our stamina (or struck by our stupidity?) River roads end and the tick of the clock dictated my regular short cut home, the tangerine horizon sillhouetting the poplars rooted in fog treated me to a scenic spin home, satisfaction meeting the monthly measure of 1250 k's with a day up the arm-warmer. Hump month may be tough.
Three B doubles in close company donated a draft for Wozz and I (Caterpillar kilowatts warming the air a degree or two off zero) to arrive early at the Couldabeens carpark on Tuesday. I berthed first but Wozz gridded to my left, handing me a double shift in the chilled Channel Rd air, leaving me Rocket to match for leg 2! Rehab in the Rocket and BigRon draft on leg 3 was a long one, recuperative effects of 0.4 degrees on the lungs was rather average, then tried to suppress the primal groans of recovery when Nev drove the train. Hooray for Trav and Kenworth taking the pot off the boil and simmer the speed a fraction, AvantiTrev locked into the caboose position. Pistol, just back from sunny Queensland, didn't miss a beat, pairing with Wozz to silence the bunch swiftly south in Boundary Rd. 2k's at the front in River Rd cooked me medium rare, velocity bumped up by Rocket, Nev and BigRon was hard to hold onto. The defeatist inside was discouraging a dip in Mitchell Rd, but I defiantly stepped up for duty, speed a little slower, heart rate a lot higher and the length a little shorter to Archer Rd., cherishing Choppy's encouragement but submitting to the satan of surrender, leaving Nev, Wozz, Pistol, BigRon, Rocket and Chops to drive the train. Didn't feel so bad shirking a shift as Kenworth and Trav had rear-tired too, content that this old engine can still match one or two young 'uns. Swiftly single file at Arcadia Downs the conga line cranked to Conrod, Rocket donating a long lead-out for Wozza to chase the chocolates.
Positively balmy at 4 degrees Wednesday, a preliminary 20k of the soup tin - golf course course, the chain silently satisfied with a long awaited lube. I found Wozz and Cate in town to tour to the carpark, Hoges, Cougar, Chops, Shorty, SuperMario, BigRon, Bo, Boof, PistolPete, Rocket, AvnatiTrev, Temple and BamBam ready to roll in Archer St. It was a lax leg one beside Hoges waiting for the regroup after Pistol's phone did a dismount, then back to the usual velocity with Wozz to the truck route. SuperMario was suffering the two-rides-in-six-weeks syndrome, Temple content in the rear seat, Hoges still with an MTB trajectory, Cate consistently courageous facing the front. MeridaJohn and Tum were the only two Goats out to play westbound in River Rd, the double tail-light ahead spelt Craig Lotsalumens, space given to his usual southbound turn into Boundary Rd as we swung north. Hiding the hurt, I maintained some control in Channel Rd to the S bend with Wozz, relishing the recovery beyond while trying to suppress the groans of gasping. Half the field had ducked into the draft as we swung into Kinder corner, Hoges keen to contend the Cha Cha, who was I to argue waiting in his wake? Rocket sacrificed all on a long lead-out, BigRon's turn was cut short craving kilowatts, Wozza, preparing to pounce on my wheel, scorched by to make it two from two in two days.
A struggle for speed Thursday, spending the 25k prologue pondering personal performance, decisions of joining the Goats / being caught by Couldabeens / soaking up the serenity of a solo circuit, constantly being assessed east to the Emu and south to the Toaster. (some days feeling Ferarri, others Festiva) The softer choice was too easy reaching Boundary Rd, a solo it was predicting I'd handbrake the Goats and go OTA from the Couldabeens. Spin spin spin to River Rd on the 17, cursing the mere hint of a SSE'er . A fog crawled across River Rd to vex the vision, specs already steamed by 98% humidity, an oncoming car with lights welded on high beam cursed cornea's and perplexed pupils. A disco drongo headed toward me, his headlight on strobe almost provoking epilepsy. A glance back in Mitchell Rd saw pinpoints of headlights behind, time to be treated to the 15 for a spell, instant 10% improvement on speed to buoy the brain homeward taking solace in ticking 50k's done.
Lazed in the luxury of placid porridge and calm caffeine Friday, aboard the Baum on a 5:40 late shift to rendezvous with Wozz and Cate for a Couldabeens convergence. (Pain train popularity pining) Hoges, Nick, BamBam, Chops, AvantiTrev, Pistol, Rocket, Boof, Cougar, HBK, Kel, Bo and Kenworth arriving for action. Challenges compared with Cate, their motivational value in woeful weather and the addiction of achievement agreed. Away at 6, it was Groundhog Day with Hoges to the Sanctuary roundabout, but a follow up with Pistol was punishment to the truck route. HBK no sense no feel in short knicks, a River Rd bunch tsunami from one erratic on the cadence, but then smooth operator Kel captained the cranking to carry us to Boundary. My legs said no to the head saying yes to reaching Channel Rd at the front, Pistol pummelling my pulminories. Much easier facing Channel Rd with most ahead of me donating to the drive, tempting to sit and sook on my sluggishness but the position was prime as the speed brewed to hopeful corner. Wozza had the helm as the pot came to the boil at Prentice Rd, sinking his all into a lengthy lead-out. Kenworth cranked forward but over cooked the torque curve, Bo buckled as the field swelled elbow to elbow as many synchronised their limit. Pistol provided the last ditched drive but it was possessed projectiles Boof and Rocket that Irish jigged on the cranks for honours, a fair finish for Foss from furtively forlorn to fourth in a few furlongs.
Week 22 290km. YTD 6,914km
Great to have BassoDave out of hospital and home. Hope the recovery is rapid Dave!
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