Week 25 : The heat in the chill

Post 402
17/6 City slick'n

I'm getting used to this metro lifestyle, particularly the balmy 6 degree start and the billiard table tarmac.  Saturday brings out plenty prepared to pedal, the variety of bikes, blokes and belles interesting to say the least! I'm pretty pleased with the old engine rounding up a few northbound from Mordialloc, (most being fairly aerodynamic and newer models), some southbound packs of 40 plus chuffed and chatty with the wind up their tail-lights.  Almost climatised to the climbs of the "Beauy bumps" and "Col de Charman", the slight twists and turns, rises and falls of Beach Rd is the polar opposite of Bells-Armstrong Rd!

The now familiar landmarks of the Mentone Hotel and the Sandy Yacht Club, even the abandoned R32 Skyline have become markers for the next out-of-the-saddle effort to maintain some sort of reasonable progress, gradually gathering in a few distant leds ahead kept the pace percolating.  A young Cannondale captain cranking past me was a tow of temptation till rule #38 (don't play leapfrog) burned into the brain.  Brighton again was the melting pot of pelotons, bunches of bike bling assembling for action in the affluent avenues.  CBD lights were the bait for todays u-turn, up Kerferd and Ferrars to find Southbank a ghost town at 7.  Back to Beach Rd, packs were still forming at St.Kilda's esplanade, the roads now infested with two wheeled demons, dreamers and dipsticks.  Sun lit the bay as the head went down and the tail went up for the express to the espresso.  Through Brighton I found a tempo team-mate Steve on my wheel, and a suburb later we had Martin join in taking turns.  Whether it's the sense of common comradery or competition, more effort is found than you'd get going solo, soon into the high 30's gobbling up groups of fours, fives and more in our pursuit for world domination!

My big heave-ho on "Polkadot Hill" (457 W) and "Coles canal" cooked the calves but scored 6 segment trophies in a row and satisfied Rule #67 (do your turns), the handover to Martin my chance to pull the heart-rate down from 170.  Stocky Steve (a draft like Kenworth) took over the captaincy at Black Rock to push on to Parkdale, a chance only now to do the Rule #19 of introducing myself to these metro machines.

 The adrenelin of achievement flowed and was shared, I'd finished my 54 k's at Mordialloc where Martin and Steve u-turned CBD bound.  Scoring 66 Strava trophies I awarded myself a prize of coffee and fruit toast at the piers' Tour de Cafe, a pit stop for many as the rising sun warmed the bones.

19/6  Bye beach
One last belt at Beach Rd before heading home, the bike population now thinned dramatically (by Mondayitis?) The city's consistent light northerly and +6 degree temperature will be missed, two smooth lanes and sniffing sea air will be the stuff of fantasy for a while.

I wasn't expecting any record times today, Mondays tending to be at a peaceful pace following my sabbath cease cycle Sunday.  A couple of uphill efforts (to avoid the embarrassment of a snail paced climb) and the downhill thrill that followed soon fired the Foss spririt, the odd led ahead acting as carrots for competition. (a g'day passing received silence as the stern reply)  The sparkle of the CBD distracted me at Sandringham pier, a pause for another souvenir snap to remember the ride by.  There were a few turtle shelled with backpacks on workplace commutes grabbing a draft in Brighton, I'd scored 3 at Head St to tow to St.Kilda's marina, car traffic building for the working weeks' start.  My u-turn was at the "Espy" to head back to base, bikes now much fewer but the wind behind was a favored friend. "Drop the Wheel", "500 meters of sprint pleasure" and "Oooh boy!" segments blurred by as the sun struggled to light the overcast bay, barely a bike northbound amongst the sea of city bound cars as I reached Mordialloc with a cache of 23 of Strava's silverware.

20/6  Fresh, fast and foggy
Nice to be back on home soil Tuesday but the chill came out to greet my return ( minus 1.5)  In search of  a team title (Turtles now extinct) Cate, Temple, Killkenny Paul, Softa and HBK appeared from the fog, FDC's Grumpy, Ralphy and BamBam welcomed additions for the 5:45 start.  Two rows ploughed into the fresh and foggy depths of Channel Rd as I re-educated myself on bunch riding (4 days solo has me as rusty as Whispering Jacks chain!)  Turns short and long depended on determination, I wondered how long two rows would last before Indian file found favor, Grumpy and Ralphy already keen to go single. KillkennyPaul and Softa braved the elements at the frosty front, Cate copping a half wheeling from the master HBK.  There was some hope of recovery with the added presence of FDC's though Temple had already opted for the caboose in Boundary Rd.  Tempo and temperature tolled on Softa then KillkennyPaul in River Rd with their contributions curtailed, by the dip single file had won with HBK driving to the channel bridge, Grumpy's short burst then Ralphy polishing off River Rd.  I felt good at the helm for the Central Kialla leg though the vastus lateralis wasn't happy reaching the primary school.  BamBam steered us into Mitchell Rd where all resumed driving duty, hats off to those wringing out all their wattage with 6k still to toil.  The first four idled easy toward Roubaix corner as the rear ranks (split by highway traffic) caught on, Ralphy winding up the speed to the buckin' bronco bend where my huff and puff commenced.  It took some soul searching to reach Galbraiths for the handover, surprised there was just BamBam, Cate, Grumpy and Ralphy left, the others gone OTA.  Weapon appeared at Arcadia Downs as Ralphy drove us hard to Conrod, I'd just inherited the helm as the Hares drove dervishly past.  Digging deep into the ditch of determination I just caught their draft, the body language of Trav trying to stay in touch spoke sufferingly of speed.  Three cheers for those spent but hanging on to the bitter end, Troy, Bruce, Wozza, Rocket, Pistol and Merida-not-AvantiJohn in another league.

21/6 The hump day hardcore (celebrating solstice)
The frost bit hard in the wee small hours of Wednesday, only the hardcore heroes left in this temperature
(minus 1), and some of them are only appearing on a dare or a bet!  Wozza, Cate, Rocket, Boof, Pistol, Trav, Weapon and Merida-not-AvantiJohn assembled for the pagan ritual of the winter solstice, days lengthening from now but I reckon most would trade light for heat.  I hardened up the headspace taking the first shift out of town (hoping my pace didn't either hinder or hurt), Wozza graciously leveling with me at Kialla Lakes for the long haul to the roundabout.  There were no yawns or yells so I guess the speed was satisfactory, or were mouths shut to keep in the heat?  The street light of salvation shone at Sanctuary Gardens, the draft from Wozza heavensent as he and Rocket dragged us to the truck route.  Sentences were scarce as the eight probably questioned what the hell were we doing exposed to the elements, my number coming up again beside Boof to River Rd's channel then with Wozz to the dip, the road totally empty of other bikes.  Not long ago it was full of Cat / 51 packs and their derivatives (I guess they're all tucked up in their cosy little Zwift environments totally ignoring Rule #9)  .  Kudos to the goat train of pain slogging out a fast and frosty frolic clockwise, our exertion north seemed easy in the Boof and Pistol wake, but facing the front in Channel Rd was a whole new world of work cutting through the cold.  My second wind arrived allowing me to see out the shift with Wozz to the cypress trees, Cate and Weapon sitting this ChaCha out.  Pistol charged at Prentice Rd narrowing the field behind, Merida-not-AvantiJohn pouncing with 150 to go, but most had become disinterested with the wind chill factor of the mid forties, the regroup and natter on a cool cruise homeward far more important.

22/6  In the Hares harem
A blending of bunches (5:45's and Hares) makes more sense as winter trims the numbers to the tough nuts (Grumpy, Temple, BamBam, Pistol, Bruce, Wozza, Rocket, Cate, Troy and Trav).   I paid the price of early arrival with the first shift in Channel Rd, wondering where the power would come from to reach Doyles Rd.  Grumpy answered by calling an early roll just beyond Kensington's roundabout, my vision fogged in his and BamBam's tow, then another changing of the guard as Bruce then Pistol worked their wattage to Orrvale Rd.  The order shuffled as some sought comfort in the caboose and others skipped a shift to score more oxygen. 37-38 km/h seemed to be the speed standard till Troy turned up the toil in Boundary Rd, just that k or two torturing my turns to shorter shifts, others feeling the heat in the chill too as the caboose population swelled. Out of my driving depths, I sat in the back berths to observe the engines of Pistol, Bruce, Wozza, Rocket and Troy dish out the duress seemingly with ease, the heart rate slowly settling in Mitchell Rd readying for Raftery's rapidity and Conrod's culmination.  A few of the engines expired as Conrod's mid forties taxed the limits, Rocket hurtling to the horizon and victory, a regroup in the remains of Raftery for some old fashioned back slapping.

23/6 Faarctic Friday
A tsunami of adrenaline overpowered the logic to keep warm on the first few k's of Fridays minus 2.4  (Keep pushing Foss, you'll climatise to this chill!)   The questionable sanity is eventually condoned at the carpark finding Pistol, Boof, Shorty, Bruce, Cate. Trav and AvantiTrev in a similar state of crazy resolution.  Grumpy blended in at the bridge on our escape from town, feeling fairly flat I stayed in the downline, happy to watch Bruce and Pistol tap out the tempo through the fog.  There's a distinct difference between Pistol's calm metronomic motion and Bruce's slog at the shoulders, but both dish out a delicious draft.  If a sit spoke a story, Trav told a tale of toil, Boof said "Let's just get this over with" and Cate stated "I relish the ride".  One car back in Central Kialla and one car up in River Rd constituted the total commuters for Friday, a bike bunch of 8 then 6 in Boundary Rd meant bikes ruled the roads.  AvantiTrev sat in silence at the rear, I thought 2 degrees was his limit (must have missed the minus)  Grumpy was waving like he was drowning, promoting circulation to the fingers for fear they'd snap off!  Shorty's keeping the engine in tune with a few laps a week, I need to find cruisier company 'cause 6 days training is barely enough to keep up!  Chilly Channel Rd had me at the front again approaching the Kinder but temperature tamed the sprint to barely break the forties.  A post ride coffee infusion with Cate (most heading straight home for much needed warmth) came across P&W history, Kylie, Princess, Meags, Fi and the Fox sensibly in civvies.  How long till winters' end?

Week 25     254km             YTD  6,307km