Fighting BigMat motivation (the lack of it) Saturday morning, the head in first gear but the rest of me in neutral at 4am, so the standard 5:45 Wozz rendezvous stood. Snap, crackle and pop went my rice bubble limbs in the 'feels like four' atmosphere, peloton population predictions poor on a Queens birthday long weekend but surprised as the carpark filled with Boof, Bruce, Car+Mel, Cate, Shorty, AvantiTrev, Trav, Ange, Temple, ChrisA, Pistol, Cougar, AvantiMat, Jase, Kel and Bo. Chocks away at six for twenty, the first and second legs seemed longer than its 3600 metres (the toil toll at the front with Jase then Boof eroded my effort), 162 bpm was well below the redline but the legs refused to give more. In the tow at second wheel then at third began the transformation of wrung-out-wreck to human, a chat with AvantiTrev and Trav, and captivated by Kel's eyes (both sets) to Boundary Rd. Line astern, the tenacious trio of Cate, Car+Mel moved up the right line, Boof battling the beginnings of man-flu, Temple talking the benefits of ride day, rest day, ride day, rest day while AvantiMat and Bo reclined in the back seats for the tow. With Jase again (church to the Emu) then Boof (to the kennels), I got a feel of the light NW headwind, but with energy evaporating I set my lung busting limit at Woolshed Rd, ah the joy when Boof called an earlier roll! The Wozza and Ange torque towed us west, Temple lined up the puddles spotting Kel and Cougar (so much for keeping a bike clean) and Nev arrived northbound on Grahamvale. At the back of the bunch as it entered Wanganui, I had Cate itching for a sprint on my wheel, by the test track I'd been rapidly promoted to the front (Q: How to hold 45? A: a draft from Nev rolling across soon after!) as Wozza, Boof, ChrisA, Bruce and cohorts bolted up the hill. Lemontree lingo on hipster coffee, beards, star signs and sayings, hot coffee and toast sustained as the social cup overflowed, draining the will to leave the warmed seats for a chilled ride home.
Overthinking a different course on the Queens birthday, work beckoned but a later start allowed extra k's. Saddled up on a deserted road at 5:20, an instant ice-cream headache (without the ice-cream!), the gauge frozen on zero, pointed anticlockwise on a Toaster lap and "will I, won't I?" thoughts about an extension bouncing around the brain in Mitchell Rd. 'Carpe Diem' won, a long slog south on Central Kialla Rd in search of Karramomus Rd in the fog. 8k's down I finally found it, the narrowing 6k track east was as rough as hessian undies. I found the Shepp-Euroa Rd sooner than expected, thoughts of headlight failure in the wild black yonder fading as light slowly filled the sky. 8k's dragged like an election campaign reaching the East Goulburn main channel, finding my second wind crossing the Midland 5k later, a spell on the 15 rich reward from the incessant 17 spin. East to the Toaster and north to the Emu, ahead the westerly drive home, behind an orange dawn, Caribou's "Sun" setting a trippy musical metronome. Time off the Fizik was becoming essential to keep the speed inspired but rubber legs lagged to make repeating step 1 necessary. A decomposing Mazda (progressively picked of parts) sat sparkling with an iced cap in Ford Rd, the endorphins of achievement slowly flooding the head numbed the grizzles of the gastrocnemius, the 6 k's of Wanganui, Rudd and the Boulevard ticked off 70.
It was chin on the headstem behind Rocket, but I was placed in the prime position (2nd wheel, left line)
for a draft to the Channel Rd S bends till duty called. Tuesday's Couldabeens were driven quickly by Rocket and Wozz, Chops and Pistol, Nev and Trav, my turn with Bruce at the S bend to Boundary then to the Broken bridges with Rocket had me spent of speed, was it ruined by rapidity or Rocket reputation? Pistol, Rocket, Wozz and Nev took the reigns to River Rd, the reality sitting Chops, Trav and I swiftly in the survival seats, heart-rate still on the boil 3 k's later ended my contributions for the morning. River Rd finished, Central Kialla gone in a blink, the Mitchell Rd masochism had me off the Fizik climbing Dave's dip just to keep in touch. Pack cracks appeared over Melbourne Rd as Bruce buckled, viewing valiant attempts by Trav to reach the front told me to sit back, shut-up and hang on! Nev and Rocket drawing away in Conrod and the rare sight of Pistol pooped (albeit with just 500 metres left) told me I was swimming in the wrong gene pool, all my Jellybeans were spent into holding onto second last place.
My OCD (obsessive cycling disorder) kicked in Wednesday despite less than zero showing on the thermometer, a short 11k warm up (ha ha!) on the golf course loop a form of preparation for the Couldabeens. Temperature didn't deter Wozz, Cate, Mel (-Car), Ric, Cougar, Boof, Choppy, Nev, Bruce, Trav, Temple, Weapon, HBK, BamBam, AvantiTrev and Jase fronting the carpark. The launch at 6 had no volunteers to pair with Wozz towing the team solo, eventually Bruce, Chops and Nev stepped up, my glance back saw a long thin line of trailing disciples, so I braved the up line with Nev to join the party faithful. Pleased to measure up to the Nev standards in Mitchell Rd and matched the Boof specifications in Central Kialla Rd, the bunch bore into River Rd, but an oncoming car veered into our eastbound lane causing a cardiac convulsion. I'd hoped it was an unintended lapse of concentration (a foggy screen maybe?), at worst preoccupied with texting?, surely not a deliberate swerve-and-scare tactic? A calm of nerves with no casualties (Trav ready to purchase a lottery ticket) the wheels of rotation resumed, Ric (now dubbed "Softa") emerging from a work blamed ride relapse, Mel proving the cool climate was kitted in longs :( and Weapon, tempered temperature tough from a Cairns 70.3 Ironman (5hrs.17) at a tropical 27, braved the Couldabeens cold at -0.4 three days later. I'd gradually been rotationally relegated to the rear, the caboose KPI being a lookout behind found us enveloped in a wall of black, not a star to guide our passed / past perspective. By the northern trek light had shed a view of fog at one tree dam, Wozz and Nev leading the sixteen swiftly to Channel Rd. Stones at Sellmans were flicked from under tyres to ping the corrugated iron fence, no reply from Darth Vader though, curled up warm in the dog house no doubt. Choppy charged Channels' ChaCha chasing championship choice, cheekily challenging chosen chasers (HBK jumped in pursuit but had a Hiroshima moment soon after), the real movers, Wozz, Nev and Bruce streaking into the distance as I snuggled into the Indian filed line of survivors to hang onto the draft to finish.
A promised 4 degrees didn't arrive Thursday, I suppose 1 degree was twice as hot as Wednesday but it did little for motivation (better than Oymyakon in Russia averaging 50 below!) Coggo, Manny, Tina, PrincipalSkinner, MeridaJohn, Sandy, Belly and a helmet-less Hommy (numb skull?) fronted Friars at 6 keen to keep moving, Carl joining in at SPC. MeridaJohn and I cut through the iced atmosphere on Old Dookie Rd, the effort delivering 10-15% less than usual pace, Manny and Sandy taking permanent rear residence. Speed settled a little lower beyond Dobsons, the standard set at survival rather than speed. There's rather skewed thermal physics of going faster to warm up, speed chills and so it snowballs. Coggo had back tracked to collect struggling Sandy (OTA), PrincipalSkinner gave one more turn before rear-tirement elevating some hope to my own state of fitness. As fingers and toes numbed, I pondered why are we doing this? Keeping in tune? (earning the rites to thrash emerging hibernators in Spring), Sympathy and support for similarly suffering cyclists?, A refrigerated religious ritual?, Some kinky voyeuristic frozen flagellation?, Climatising for Oymyakon? A lost light lit Boundary Rd northbound then u-turned to join, Gazzagrasshopper had apparently missed the Couldabeens and found Goats gracious with an inclusion. At the helm, MeridaJohn's peripheral vision didn't include Belly, a bike in arrears, he seemed content to head the herd solo while Belly mused the lost art of teamwork. Hats off to Gazzagrasshopper on a fair pair with Belly to River's end, my adieu's bid for the shortcut home as the enemy of time tolled.
All kitted up and raising the front Michelin to 125 when the heavens opened Friday morning, no filthy bike and dried worms for me, leave it to the ducks to play in water, June's Strava challenge is on target.
Week 24. 241km. YTD 7,407km
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