Saturday 25th June
Just a little breathtaking in the first few k's of Saturday's precursor lap, setting off on a Grand Fondo obsession in the wee small hours at -0.8 degrees had knobs on it! Trying to relax the internal speed goal and roll with what the legs and lungs could tolerate for a 28k solo was part one of a testing trilogy to satisfy Strava's target (and the OCD in me). Out New Dookie Rd to the church, and back via the Toaster, Boundary and Channel Rd, I was almost back to Kensington when a string of 13 Couldabeens LEDs appeared, u-turning to join Trav, Nev, Pistol, Wozz, Cate, Jase, Bruce, Cougar, TatPaul, Ange, Boof, Temple and Tina (on a diplomatic departure from the Goats) for Part 2. Coping with the front-of-house duties was better than expected, I paired with Ange and Pistol (playing fairly on the accelerator) though my lungs were in the vice like grip of the chilled air. I'd almost completed a social round of Couldabeens conversation when TatPaul's puncture prompted a halt beyond the church, the urge for Nev to use tyre levers instead of fingers sped the fix but didn't lessen the sledges. The resumption had remixed the rotation, I'd berthed between Ange and Wozz to witness Cate's long and strong turn to Lemnos Rd as a poorly populated Pussycat peloton perambulated past eastbound. Shorty-come-lately arrived, the bunch mostly silent now as sprint business loomed for Wanganui Rd. With a further 60k left to reach my goal, I bowed out of another term at the front, lending a tow to the tail-enders to keep in touch with the masses was just as satisfying as the sprint. A social roll along the Boulevard barely substituted for missing the Lemontree chat, pit-stopping instead at Friars for a fast caffeine in the tank as Belly, Brendan, Sandy, Manny, Carl and Snow arrived. Part 3 was yet another breathtaking start for the Toasters first clockwise k's, Manny's smooth spin was quite a contrast to Wayne's cataclysmic cadence last week. Snow and Brendan took short shifts (paying the tax of laxness), Sandy finding her bike legs at the back (a far better effort than Hommy's hibernation under the doona). Quite the chill taking an H2O swig, iced capped puddles in Boundary Rd's tabledrain driving winters reality home. The weird matchbox sized black box on Manny's seat post was the new Garmin Varia radar, a brilliant bit of bike bling, a saviour for the soloist. Winters speed speed standards were yarned with Belly, any average in the low 30's reckoned to be a solid solo effort at this time of year (how the tides will turn in Spring!) The light northwester turned west and blew Snow and Brendan's turns shorter, the tell tale signs of wear showing (a wandering line, dropped shoulders and a nodding head). Belly implemented Indian file in Mitchell Rd, I'd just finished a go on the front when given another shift from Archer to the highway. Manny, Carl and Belly shared the load, Carl's long haul to Conrod's 500 metre marker was a gift for Belly's line honours, Snow suddenly found the go but the engine only gave him third. A cruise to Mandy's allowed Brendan and Sandy to rejoin, the banana & walnut toast (mentally savoured since the 5am start) was a tasty trophy for 120 k's clocked. Goat gassbagging on windtrainers, Hommy's half-biking and the test of temperature bounced around the table.
Sunday 26th June
A lazy afternoon aboard the Baum feeding the distance hunger, a quiet circuit mostly in Zone 2 and 3 in a cool 7 degrees (about as good as it got all day). Ford and Boundary roads were deserted, 75rpm enough without frightening legs, a moment taken to pause to reboot a frozen Garmin. Mitchell Rd toured instead of the oft ridden River, a memory lane of many laps past. An evening chill had arrived hours early, a north northeaster cutting its way through the winter layers. Back onto the familiar circuit at Kialla Central, over the highway, round Roubaix and back to town , June's target just a little closer.
Monday 27th June
Doonitis symptoms were strong Monday morning, heavy eyelids, mentally thumbing through Bo's encyclopaedia of excuses, little strength to throw off the covers......was I turning into Hollywood curled up in his cosy crib? Leaping from my bed at the thought, I put porridge in the tank and saddled up for a preliminary lap to the Goat peace train. Ignoring the 3 degrees and patchy fog, I hovered in the low 30's out Channel Rd and up Boundary, only to have a moronic mushroom (big head, little stalk) take delight at honking me occupying the left 600mm of tarmac. Almost back to Friars, I found Tum, MeridaJohn, Sandy, Belly and Principal Skinner underway, the half dozen merging Indian file the moment we reached city limits. Sandy and Principal Skinner sat back cringing at the cold (at least they were outdoors taking in a cool serve of concrete), the captaincy shared between Belly, Tum, MeridaJohn and I. Somewhat anti-social single filed, it was a steady tap down Boundary and along River, time (or the lack of it) took me via the truck route and Archer to home, the coal face to face yet again.
Tuesday 28th June
A Toaster lap chosen for my insatiable Strava quest Tuesday, but it was pea soup for breakfast on the road with a thick fog hanging about. A slow dripping shower started off the front of the helmet, the outbound streetlights just a glow in a cloud. Needing landmarks put my position in perspective, the further east the thicker the fog, quickly pocketing the specs when my wheel found the roads edge. Slowing to a crawl to find Emu corner, the kit (and the mood) were weighed heavy with the damp, time starved to intercept with the Goats meant a solo mission mindset, better for the current state of speed (or lack of it!) Some security felt when a solitary passing car gave a wide berth, the tail-light (the only rearward lifeline) obviously doing its job. My trek south seemed sluggish, westbound on River better, or was it just the smoother tarmac? Made it home with what felt like a kilo of water as passenger and satisfaction at surviving the elements.
Wednesday 29th June
A damp road dampened enthusiasm to the golf course and northern suburbs, but the mood brightened finding Wozz, Mel and Cate on the Couldabeens commute. (something reassuring finding like minded cyclusts about). Carpark conversation as Boof, BamBam, AvantiTrev, Pistol, Shorty, Rocket, Bruce, Tina and ChrisA converged, the 6am flag summoning us south on Archers damp distance, AvantiTrev baptising me with all the puddles he could steer through. River Rd's pot hole had been mercifully filled, hard going beside Shorty (plenty of wattage for one who only gets out to play a few times a week), my chain groaning and squeaking from the damp and grit of a wet week. Softa arrived from the south in Boundary Rd as we turned north into it, seems an early arrival was treated to solo punishment. It felt like the handbrake was released on the turn into Channel Rd, the NNE'er off the brow inspired another turn at the rushin' front (previously off my menu). Soon in at the deep end of the ChaCha swinging into Kinder corner, the bolt to Hopeful corner with Shorty and a dozen behind me asked the question "What to do?" The role of sacrificial lamb was mine, full steam ahead at 48 (187 bpm) to lead out Wozza to Prentice Rd. Wozza too was sprint fodder for the prime movers, starved of oxygen I was swamped by all, so cruised to Orrvale Rd with AvantiTrev and Cate to rejoin the clan on the roll back to town. Excitement on the return home with Boof, Softa, Cate and Mel, passing trucks on the damp Archer Rd, squeezing through the lane narrowed by a traffic island, suddenly skidding beside us to avoid a motoring malpractice ahead, the burning rubber a bilious breakfast.
Thursday 30th June
A summer's wind (NE at 24km/h) on a winter's day (7 degrees) propelled Wozz and I south to Thursday's Couldabeens, silence with the breeze behind and peace from the chain, finally well oiled. Trav, Bruce, Hoges, Rocket, Pistol, Kel, Bo, Boof and Nev fronted, all relishing a rare dry track. Rocket launched off the start line and caught me napping, a full steam sprint to finally catch onto the draft at Kensington put me in the mental back seat from the beginning, only considering a turn (like Trav) with the wind assistance in Boundary Rd. Pistol, Nev, Bruce and co piled on the pace southbound so the previous thought was dissolved, hang on for dear life the only option. Turns went short and clockwise against the NNE on River Rd, I'd inherited the gatekeeper role, and trying to hold a reasonable line as the wind threw the wheels about wasn't a great help for Kel and Trav in the back seats, Hoges then Boof joining as speed spent 'em. Full bore to Mitchell Rd, even Bruce called it a day, halting for traffic at the highway a godsend for recovery. Rockets puncture seconds later was respiratory relief, the new tube's rupture lengthening the pit stop for Pussycats to pass. Hoping for a quiet roll back to town was dashed, a dash to Conrod's finish line deemed duty, the sideshow of a Falcon nose first into a tree highlighting the tarmac's slipability.
Friday July 1
Roads deemed too damp Friday (keen to keep bike and chain clean), besides, Strava satisfied achieving the monthly challenge (just!)
Week 26. 373km. YTD 8,041km.
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