Week 26 : Hitting the Strava straps

Post 402
24/6  The bay bait.
Back in the big smoke, the bay baited another ride, overnight rain and a wintery westerly (19-26 km/h) thinning riding ranks down to the desperate and defiant.  Heading north on an empty Beach Rd lacked the usual Saturday Couldabeens company, the mental meanderings soon focussing on Rule #6 rather than dwell on delirium. Salt air and the white capped surf flavored the wind whipping at the wheels, so I enjoyed a bit of shelter from the beachside bushes but then was punished on the exposed road at Black Rock.  Throw in a gradual rise here and there and the mood swung to angry, off the Fizik to flog Half Moon Hill and the Cerberus Lung Buster, praying for the downhill recovery to follow (but the wind had funneled head-on scrubbing off speed)

The skyline sparkle at St.Kilda Marina

I hammered through Hampton, salvation finally coming in the shelter of Brightons bayside mansions, bunches now amassing with an eye on the (dry?) sky.  Bikes ahead lay a chase bait to St.Kilda's marina, surprising to see so many minus lights (or lacking in lumens) with the sun well short of arrival.  I about faced at Kerferd Rd to relish the wind at my back and to pluck off the ones, twos and threes on my mission south back through Hampton, Sandringham and beyond.  Big bunches were as rare as a BeerMat appearance, the WSW'er somehow assisting my passage to start an assault on the Strava segments south.

Tour de Cafe's complimentary
library and pump for those
pit-stopping (nice touch)

The tarmac was now almost dry save for the odd puddle chicane, most I passed had no reply to a "G'day", the one or two trying a sneaky tow I disposed of pronto.  By Beaumaris I'd hit my Strava straps, 19 nods in a row as my big dip to the finish became obsessive compulsive. Through the "Death Star Canyon", "Love to Sylvia" and "Yeah, Another Useless Beach Rd Segment" segments, Mike (Cube) and Luke (Focus) tucked in behind as I'd passed Parkdale, the Mordialloc finish at Tour de Cafe a chance to chat and chew over raisin toast, k's per week and the regular ride route south (some mental mapping for Sunday)

Olivers' demon descent

25/6  Morning Mornington
There was a ten minute wrestle with lethargy at 4:55 Sunday morning, needing to win this one or regret would ruin my day.  Mapped by mind the night before, my Mordailloc start steered south for the sake of changes' sake. A few spots from the heavens didn't deter determination but a tailwind to Mornington meant a Rule #5 return into a 26-32 km/h NNW'er.  It was smooth sailing on Sir Evan Nepean's highway through Chelsea, Carrum and Seaford, h.r. ticking over at an aerobic 139 with a Cosmic chorus as background music. There were just two bikes northbound in the 8 degree first light, me solitary south, sea air the olfactory bonus instead of carbon monoxide.

Frankston soon appeared with a few bike bunches setting off citybound, I was against the grain of the majority, aimed at Oliver's hill (many moons since I last tackled this one).  The steady climb (100 metres) over 3600 metres rises sharp in the last 400, Rule #90 (always in the big ring) applying despite the 42 rpm cadence burning the legs.  There's restitution seeing the crest and recovery soon after on the downhill, but the rolling ups and downs to Mt.Martha were out to fix flatlander Foss.  A more nimble Pinarello pilot was wheel sucking me at Eel Race Rd and slipped by, Rule #38 resonated till he cooked on the next crest.  A few rises and falls came and went till Mornington appeared, twas time to u-turn and face the headwind home.

I averted Garmin gazing (the slower speed sure to erode the ego) preferring to pace the breathing and savour Olivers' downhill (a short stop for a souvenir snap), but it was a cautious descent with big wind gusts savaging the steering.  Back onto the flat and with chin almost on the headstem, I still felt as aerodynamic as a house brick into the 30 clicks of headwind, thankfully the bit of seaside scrub sometimes offered shelter.  Bunches were now swanning southward as I dug the depths of determination to catch a bike ahead, Colnago Russell being a timely tow till decency drove me to return the favor (Rule #67).  Edithvale and Aspendale counted down the suburbs as the k's to Mordy shrunk, Russ and I swapped the shifts rounding up a few, legs and lungs now longing for a Tour de Cafe toast trophy at the finish.

26/6    A slog in the fog

A loop around the golf course circuit was a foggy foray to the Goat train of peace on Monday.  Jen, Belly, AvantiAndy, Phil, Sandy, Coggo, Hommy and Principal Skinner turned up rugged up like antarctic explorers, temperature (0.4 degrees) taking over the talk in the minutes before 6 (cold the consensus whether its 4, 1 or minus 2)  A billion airborne water drops floated in the headlights beam as we pointed east to Lemnos-Cosgrove Rd, kits served a soaking and eyeballs frozen (for those minus specs).  Principal Skinner took a back seat, attempting to re aquaint himself the fine art of bicycle propulsion, while two rows slogged through the fog in search of Boundary Rd.   I'd convinced myself the co-efficient of drag was two fold in the 99% humidity, berthed between the tall timber of Coggo and Belly who were in for long turns (or were others shortening shifts to minimise exposure to the chill?)  Coggo and I drove the first 2 of River Rd's 6 k's but rotations had gone nearly full circle by it's end. Time for my escape via the truck route, with all faith in the trusty tail-light to mark my presence (just one truck which gave a wide berth), a soggy slog carrying the fog's damp with me home.

27/6  Hare tonic
With the guage resting at zero and a fog descending, I thanked my lucky stars there were a few crazy compatriots (Temple, Cate, HBK, KillkennyPaul and CatCol) turn up for a 5:45 Tuesday thrash.  Six spelled single file to hold off the Hares (5 minutes behind) and maximise our average , the masochist in me chosing to take on the first (and longest) shift to Doyles Rd.  Finding my goal to aim at (the Feiglin Rd street light) in the fog was fairly fickle, tricky to pace your performance without an end in sight. Temple took over leg 2 and CatCol (fresh from holidays warmed by the Spanish sun and Scottish single malt) did a determined drive to the Kinder.  KillkennyPaul's speed steadily strengthens, Cate drove to the cypress trees (despite labored legs from a coastal crucifixion) then HBK dished out the distress to the S bend for my turn to finish off Channel Rd.  Was there a tail-wind in Boundary Rd or did Temple turn up the tempo?  CatCol followed with another good turn, Cate towed us into River Rd, KillkennyPaul shortened his shift and HBK bumped up the huff & puff to the kennels.  Relaxed into a rhythm, I settled into the high 30's with the aim of reaching the bridge, the Garmin numbers steadily peaking as the goal drew near, then relief handing the reigns to Temple and catch that last wheel, encouraging words dissolving some of the pain.  And so the turns turned for Central Kialla and Mitchell Rd, signs of wear and tear appearing as we made a clean cross of Melbourne Rd for the rip into Raftery's.  Hare headlights were homing in, my prediction (almost to the meter) I'd score the front into Conrod straight, and sure enough, HBK's elbow showed the way at the kink for the 1300 meter finale.  There wasn't much more than 40 in the Foss fuel tank, a bonus that our six pack finished wheel to wheel at Steptoe's with the Hares still behind us.

28/6  Hung out to dry (in the 4 degree heat) on the Couldabeens clothesline.

Almost tropical at 4 degrees on Wednesday and suddenly the car park is popular and populated! (Mel, Kenworth, Trav, Cate, Rocket, Troy, Grumpy, Boof, Bo, Pistol, Kel and CatCol)    Rocket and Boof got the bunch rolling, Shorty joining in at Kialla Lakes.

The usual drivers moved forward as many hung tentatively back waiting for a kind wheel to pair with.  Kel and Bo are back from Europe, delighted I'm sure with Paris at 40 one day then Archer Rd at 4 degrees the next.  The pace was on to Mitchell Rd as the rubber band effect affected the tailenders, some part-time pedallers finding standard length turns about three times too long (but at least they're out in it having a go BeerMat, WhisperingJack, Tucks, Softa, SuperMario, AvantiTrev, Nath, TrekTrev et al !)  We rode the River Rd ripple strips as string of leds swung in from Boundary, up to Channel then west to work up a sweat for the ChaCha.   Almost half the field were now sitting on as we approached the Kinder, my ideal spot (4th wheel in the down line) suddenly became 2nd wheel in the up line (behind PistolPete) on pace to Hopeful corner.  As he rolled across I needed all reserves to reach him, digging deeper to get around found me partnerless at the pointy end (hung out to dry in the 4 degree heat!). On and on to Prentice Rd and beyond, legs burning and lungs about to do a Nagasaki, the skull turned out to be the weakest link calling it quits. Instructed by my elbow, Pistol resumed the lead as almost the entire bunch now found interest in the finish line, I'd been relegated to second last in an instant.

29/6  Had a Hare ball
There was traffic light interval training on Thursday, a run of green lights one day and a string of red lights the next. (turned out to be good Hare tonic for the Thursday thrash) Wozza, Cate, Trav, Bruce, Pistol, Rocket, CatCol, Kel, Bo and HBK congregated at the carpark pondering the participation of the professor of pace (Troy) and the pain he'd pour on.  Berthed first meant braving the first shift, Wozza the agreeable ally till my short turn (I'm just an Alto amongst the Aventadors) made sense at the Kensington roundabout.  Feelings of inadequacy eased seeing shorter shifts were on the Hares menu.  I reckon  I'll have another crack at that (finding Trav my team-mate from Hanlon Rd to the S bends), but the following 600 meters with Wozz crushed the cockiness, the respiratory reality was the kink was now my performance peak.   It was now "sit back and enjoy the show" as I took on the role of gatekeeper, Kel, Cate and CatCol cosy in the caboose.  HBK and Trav had one more dip at the flagellation front before rear retirement, Grumpy appearing from the west (but no note from home) to join the jamboree in River Rd.  There was syncronised harmony between Bruce, Pistol, Bo, Rocket, Wozza, Troy and Grumpy as they swapped the suffering along River Rd, Central Kialla and Mitchell road, and we fluked a break in Melbourne Rd's traffic to barnstorm Raftery Rd for the flurried finish.  Turn by turn some of the drivers were now calling it quits, my position advancing in the up line to be third wheel as the speed got serious. Rocket, Troy, Wozz and Pistol poured on the power and turned the bunch anorexic, with 300 to go, Troy just stood up and bolted away.

30/6  Sparrows' fart for stocktake
An early call to the coal mine for e.o.f.y. stocktake couldn't constrict the obsession, just start at sparrows' fart and squeeze in the k's before the 6:30 clock-on.  Escaping east from town on New Dookie Rd with the wind up my willows (WSW'er @ 11-17 km/h) put confidence into the cadence but there'd be a hindering headwind to head homeward.  Boundary Rd southbound sent the heart rate on a climb just to hold the low 30's, a few weeks of calm conditions has softened me to the battles of the breeze.  Thoughts of an early escape via Old Dookie Rd were flattened by Rule #5, down to Channel Rd before time turned to enemy for me.  Thoughts of Darth Vaders' incisors chewing on my ankle drove the extra effort past Sellmans, the wind funneling head-on through the orchards was warming the rectus femorus rather well.  Keeping pace above 30 became the mission for the 9k back to town, pleased to tick that box and soak up the Strava smugness for the weeks' swansong.

Week 26            290km                YTD 6,597km