Starved of k's from two days of rain, the addiction was finally fed Monday, a longer lap as a k catch-up, clicking over 10,000k's on the Baum (235 days old). A solo start to the week, no draft to delight but then no set speed to sustain, feeling comfort considering time off the perineum. An extension made to the usual track, out to the Cosgrove quarry to add 14 clicks and a change of scenery, albeit in headlight rather than daylight, distant farmhouse globes glowed, the quarry lights sillhouetting Boral's basalt mountains of gravel. Enveloped by darkness in a car-free stretch of New Dookie Rd, a little westerly (4-9 km/h) was of little consequence on the little 17 cog. Reaching the church at 6 and rolling fume free in Old Dookie past Porky's palace, I pondered a Goat intercept at Boundary Rd (but not a led was seen). South in Boundary and across the Midland, lights way behind now followed as I crossed the Broken bridges. Up a cog in River Rd to set a Goat goal going, it was head down for the six k grind, an east bound Roscoe (all of 2k from home) u-turned but my course was the truck route home, no scenic sunrises today, just dismal grey skies to welcome a working week.
Why am I eating breakfast at 4:40, kitted for 7 degrees and preparing to be punished by the winter wind? Riding over-ridden by obsession? New Dookie, Boundary and Old Dookie was selected to spin a prologue prior to a grind with Goats, 20km/h blown up the behind inflated the ego to Boundary Rd, common sense asking "What have I done?" turning west into the headwind. That careful blend of frustration, purpose, stubbornness (and a dash of angry) cooked up a cadence to get back to town, helped by using 17 teeth on the back wheel. A deserted Friars at 5:58 suggested a solo would continue, but at the third stroke, Belly, Coggo and MeridaJohn saved the day. (how a few dull days decimate the disciples!) An unspoken but understood formation to single file out of town was tempo'd by the tailwind, Coggo carrying the quadrella to Dobsons bridge for me to tow to Central. Pain train in formation, speed was solid rather than scintillating, MeridaJohn keen to crank up a couple of k's, Belly setting a pace for the long run. Coggo's big turn to the bridge in Boundary inspired me to drive to Channel Rd, hoping MeridaJohn didn't hit the boost button when he sniffed the front. Belly braved the breeze on the brow in River Rd, Roscoe (arriving eastbound) hitching a ride in the rear seat when he u-turned near the dip. MeridaJohn poured on the purpose in Central Kialla, unhitching Roscoe rapidly, back the original quadrella to finish. A damp tarmac grimed the bike, the sandpaper scraping on the wheels was like fingernails down the blackboard squeezing the brakes at the highway. Raftery Rd's three k's rotated the foursome to hand me the Conrod conclusion, MeridaJohn with the wattage in the last 200 metres to take the chocolates.
Out on the early trail again Wednesday, the road glossed from overnight rain to gild the bike with mud and worms, just a quiet loop of the north of town then the pleasure of Mel and Cate company for the Couldabeens commute. (Bruce, Choppy, Boof, Pistol, Rocket, Shorty, AvantiTrev, Cougar, Temple and HBK represented the die hards at the carpark). In a deliberate positioning midfield, I avoided an early shift, Boof, Bruce, Rocket and Pistol admirably driving the dozen south to Mitchell Rd. HBK, on his once a week pilgrimage was swiftly shattered by Shorty, my turn at the business end was with care from Cate but rotisseried by Rocket (déjà vu from last week), as the NNE perplexed my performance and projected Poppa's preamble from passing pussycats. Temple wound up the knots toward Channel, the hint of a northerly softening me but had no effect on Rocket. I'd decided by the cypress trees in Channel Rd to sit out the sprint, it was down to Bruce, Pistol, Chops, Boof and Shorty to drive to the Cha Cha, by Hopeful corner Rocket had kicked open a gap from them to the "also rode's". I'd become the B team tow truck at Kinder corner, Temple moving up to offer a brief respite at Prentice Rd with Cate and Mel nipping at our heels, the cheek of HBK emerging from a long draft to amble by for a minor placing! Temple and Cate collected those dropped, all reforming at Archer for the verbal post mortem homeward.
I succumbed to a damp and dreary Thursday morning, a prologue swiftly struck off the duty roster, opting for a lazy 5am breakfast and relaxed kit-up instead, Belly's What'sApp invite scoring few takers. It was a tour of trepidation to Friars, the wait on a deserted grid till 5:57 was ominous, had most turned to marshmallow? Belly and Tina were the only ones with fortitude to front, it was chocks away at six with a single filed, long shifted attack, my turn to Central Ave, Tina to Boundary and Belly to the highway and repeat the dose as necessary (till cured). I scored the blessed leg to River Rd (tailwind), tenacious Tina bore into 3 k's of River Rd, Belly the remainder, mine another wind assisted stretch to Mitchell. Tina's determined drive to Melbourne Rd left me feeling I'd made an ordinary contribution, Belly's effort to Arcadia Downs reinforcing the thought. After the holiday in Belly's draft, I opened the throttle to Conrod's end, an elbow for Tina to take the chocolates was taken by Belly. Consensus reached that a solid lap by just a few was better medicine than being dragged around by a bigger (and sometimes erratic) bunch.
Would a clean bike stay that way? Friday's warm up found the track dry, this old engine running like a spark plug lead was off, but it's a therapist needed rather than a mechanic in the clutches of winters lethargy and performance appraisal. A Wozz and Cate rendezvous lifted the spirits, Bruce, Chops, HBK, Nick, Shorty, Rocket, Boof, Pistol, AvantiTrev, Nev, Jase and Trav at the Couldabeens carpark congregated, comparing cleaning cycles. Away at six, we were barely a k south when an intermission was called for a PistolPete puncture. The restart shuffled the pack, an overtaking semi squeezed in ahead of us at the Sanctuary roundabout, the impatient Toyota behind finding us fifteen first in doesn't fit a car too. Berthed between Shorty (3 rides in 1 week) and Nick (3 rides in 3 weeks), I cherished the chinwag on the way to the hyperventilating end, arriving at the front full of beans beside Shorty till a k took its toll, then almost hitting the "disTNTance" beside Nick when he saved the day with a timely roll. A decent recovery for the rest of River Rd, North on Boundary then west on Channel, rising through the ranks in the right line put me at the pointy end nearing the Kinder (Nick now awol), Jase to match as the Garmin read 40 (grateful he rolled over headed to Hoepful corner). Wozza was the sprint sacrifice again, swamped by Pistol, Bruce, Boof and co, meanwhile in the cheap seats, I left the gate open for Cate (hung out drying in the right lane), a few of us mere mortals plucking off the pickled protagonists of pace as Orrvale Rd loomed close, the Cha Cha puddles undoing last nights bike bath. The calm crank homeward contemplated how lucky we are to relish a ride, when so many have been struck down by that dastardly disease of doonitis.
Week 23. 252km. YTD 7,166km
No comments:
Post a Comment