Week 32 : In preparation for palpitation

Post 407
5/8  Flat, chat, flat chat.

Sodden roads and a vigorous wind brought a wry grin to my morning, there'd be no Saturday specialists today, just the hard core.  Wozza, Rocket, Bruce, Bo, Cate, Kel, PistolPete, Manny, Carl, The Godfather and Boof had cast off their doonas and batlled the WNW'er (24-38 km/h) to congregate for the Saturday spin.  Manny and Carl steered the bunch out of the carpark but had a navigational faux pas choosing Channel Rd, that put me on the front to skip town southbound and, just to keep it consistent, pairing with Wozz to the roundabout.  We'd just crossed the truck route when Rocket hollered a puncture, so it was stop and sledge time while the wind whistled around our nether regions (no pressure Rocket!)  His fix was fast, so we were soon speeding south to Mitchell, but Carls' clicking was concerning.  A pause shed little light on the nuisance noise, so we steamed onward enjoying the wind up the wastgate.  Troy was lurking ahead as Pistol fired the tempo through Central Kialla, the puddles, worms and mud immaterial with the wind whipping us from the portside.  Into River Rd, Carls' click was now a puncture, so stop #3 started the sledging again, a hissing from my front tyre spelling double deflation.

Eagle eyed Kel found the sliver of glass that injected my Michelin, a hurried re-tube and glove fumble later had the dozen back driving east. There was no chat but flat chat with tempo into the forties, big rings and little sprockets de rigeur as we bolted to Boundary.  Noses northbound found Troy remounting after his puncture pitstop (it's all the rage you know!), speed still sizzling over the Broken bridges and past Channel Rd.  (I'd quietly hoped for a short cut to breakfast but calories burned makes breakfast earned)  Positioned betwixt Rocket and Wozz set a swift standard, little left in my tank after a squirt from Fig Farm to Old Dookie Rd.   A few others had withdrawn from the fury at the front as the pace continued unabated on Lemnos-Cosgrove Rd, The Godfather and even Manny now spent by speed.

Mental memoirs of a few thrashes during the week had made up my mind to console in the caboose, crossing Grahamvale Rd  Bo had discovered that puncture No5 was his, albeit slow. (could it make it to the Lemontree without the hassle of a halt?)  Breakfast begged and all had wearied from the wind, a short cut taken via Verney (to avoid it being brunch), but Bo's deflation caused pit-stop #4 on the fringe of town.  Base camp was more inviting than ever, the mental mindset, rest days and Septembers' battle of the breeze kept tongues tattling between bites of breakfast, Weapon's addition adding a dessert discussion.

8/8  The benefits of concrete for dinner.
Rallying the Tuesday troops with a call to consume concrete seemed to work, Cate, KillkennyPaul, Temple, Softa, Pelly and HBK fronted to a fresh (2 degrees) carpark (better than last weeks mass of 2). Tethered by traffic for a bit, we were finally away, my mandatory sentence of the first shift went ok, so long as I didn't look at the heart rate.  A mystery voice from the caboose called me in after the turn as Temple then HBK took the reigns for leg 2 and 3, Softa (back from a broccoli break) braving the drive to the cypress trees.  Cate then KillkennyPaul steamed east to Darth Vaders' place where Pelly led the charge to Boundary.  Gentle on the accelerator in Boundary Rd to keep the carriages connected (and to stay on everyone's Christmas card list) I aimed for a Broken bridges handover.  The old engine was running ok so I set sights on One Tree Dam instead, "oh to hell with it!, harden up and ride to River" the competitive cranium called. I was a bit second hand reaching River, at least there were others to share the workload home. An almost full moon lit the fog at rest in the paddocks, hats off to all giving their best whether short, long or hanging onto the tail (the mystery man still just a headlight in the caboose) There was lots of kudos being spread about as each expired from duty, my turn again for the 2k southbound leg through Central Kialla.  Back in the tow for Mitchell Rd some were now shortening shifts, the Hares hammered by as we reached Archer but there was no intention (or propulsion) to to jump aboard as a gap opened up at Dave's dip.  There was a brief moment to grab more oxygen waiting for Melbourne Rd commuters, then ripped into Raftery for the final fling.  Pelly drove the train past Galbraiths' gate for my contribution to the Conrod kink, it was refreshing to be recovering at sixth wheel with a k to go and HBK to cook on the front. Pelly jumped nearing the last dip just as I'd risen for the occasion, so it was pleasing to get the chocolates by half a bike over the young fella. (the roll home discovered the mystery man was CatCol on a comeback)

9/8  Sighting the endangered species.

I'd hoped winter had given up the chill but Wednesday needed all those layers again to shield me from 2 degrees.  There was a surprising turn-up at the grid (safety in numbers?) KillkennyPaul, Softa, Kenworth, Mel, Wozza, Kel, Troy, Boof, Cate, Rocket, Pistol, Bo, The Godfather, MeridaDanny, Cat Col, Shorty, Tina, Weapon and Merida-not-AvantiJohn, whats' more the endangered wildlife of BeerMat, BamBam and Nick made a shock showing. Six bells tolled for Wozz to drive the train out of town, almost to Sanctuary's roundabout when Bo pouted a puncture.  There was chirpy chat while the fix dragged on (quicker with Kel as pit-stop crew!), eventually back aboard and running southbound in the hope of making up lost time. The rubber band effect was strong on the long line to River Rd, MeridaDanny (interesting kit) driving up the up-line (& out of his depth) setting off a ripple effect to the caboose.  I mused the encyclopedia of excuses with Cat Col, welcomed back Nick (cringing in the caboose) and suggested Softa's skid-lid seeks size sorting.

The quick chicks (Kel, Tina, Weapon, Cate and Mel) were line astern to brave the Boundary battle at the front, BamBam busting a gasket as he paired with me at the pointy end over the bridges.  The long lines threaded the lefts and rights of Channel Rd back to town, a few now happy to sit out the sprint as we swung into Central Ave.  MeridaDanny scurried for cover into the down line as the pace percolated at the Kinder (another shunting of slow domino'd down the bunch).

I was sitting third wheel in the up-line as Pistol (with Kel glued to his wheel) fired ahead early, so gave it full throttle to catch the draft (but quickly shot by).  Done for with Boof, Troy, Bo and co lurking behind, and with no hope of a placing, I emptied the tank to at least make them earn the chocolates.  The finish line was so near yet so far, swamped by several in the dying meters but some satisfaction to stretch the long line longer.

10/8  Hit me with your rhythm stick.
It felt like I was on another planet Thursday, 8 degrees and a stiff northeaster was out of this world! (after weeks of winters' woes)  Troy, BamBam, Ralphy, Bo, Wozza, Kel, Tina, Liam, Travis, Bruce, PistolPete, Rocket, Boof, KillkennyPaul, Cate, Temple, Lenny and CatCol had assembled for the tempo torment, 'gridphobia' gripping several to cower in the caboose (I subscribe to the Wozza theory ; procrastination is for pussies!  Do a turn early and then relish the draft)  The first turn earned an "ease up" for Wozz and I at the Kensington roundabout, fighting the northeaster (18-27 km/h) had un-hooked a few, only half the bunch were driving, the other half surviving, carving into Channel Rd.  (convincing my cranium to continue doing turns was the biggest battle) There was much relief reaching Boundary Rd to get the breeze behind, though that only spurred the speed to River Rd.  I'd scored a brief draft as the front 9 stacked across River Rd, managing to get my heart rate below 170 inspired another go. This was going to hurt,  but the kudos from Troy numbed my neural niggles, into the rhythm of 400 meters on the front at 42 soon switched my pre-frontal cortex from competition to crucifixion.  Hanging on at second wheel needed wattage I didn't think I had, Bo skipping a couple of places to distance himself from the Troy torture.  By Mitchell Rd I'd resigned from rotations to join the long line of hangers on, many way beyond their comfort zone, but at least they're trying!  The long wait at the the highway for a long line of traffic was some respiratory respite but holding that wheel ahead was an effort when the engines fired on all cylinders to Roubaix.  Fractures appeared as early as Galbraiths gate, I felt it my duty to tow the tormented (as I had nothing to contribute elsewhere) so sat back to pick up the pieces in Conrod straight.  It was a slog of survival to reach the finish line, Ralphy, KillkennyPaul and BamBam questioning why they came and Cat Col's heart rate like a Fukushima geiger counter, but there was pleasure from the pain in survival.

I got lucky (& privileged) to witness Mark Beaumont on his 'Around the world in 80 days' epic as he slogged through town on Thursday, half way around the globe and grinding out 350+ km a day is true grit.  Have a look at his challenge on  <artemisworldcycle.com>

11/8  A Friday floggin'
It's been longer than a PistolPete turn at the front since doing a Friday pain train, so scurried (in preparation for palpitation) to the Verney roundabout for the 5:50 express, finding a mix of gritty Goats (Carl, Manny, Coggo and Tum) and '51's (Eggy, lil'Tony, DocPete, Sherls, Trent and Trudy) assembling.  I took the helm for leg one (refer to the Wozza theory) to Grahamvale Rd then tucked in ahead of Tum (concreted in the caboose) for the real engines to rev eastward,  a WNW'er (13-24 km/h) pacing our progress.  Echeloned across Boundary Rd, I was on the fast yet useless wheel of lil'Tony (no higher than my handlebars), well out of my depth in the forties but Rule #5 suggested I get over it.  Handed the lead for a 400 meter drive to Old  Dookie Rd, two oncoming trucks and their gusts wrecking my reserves.  Back into the draft with Tum as backstop and wondering if recovery would arrive was quashing any cockiness I'd had in recent times (it's a bitter but better tonic to be put back in the box of average as others excel).   By the Broken bridges I'd reconciled to be toast, sit back and be humbled by horsepower as 8 now cranked clockwise to River Rd.  The turns rolled into River Rd and it's heartbreaking headwind, Trudy then Carl bowing out of driving duties while crossing paths with the Couldabeens.  Southbound to Mitchell didn't spare the wattage, a flattened bunny causing a hop under Trent's wheel.  Hammer and tongs into Mitchell I was convincing myself would do good, I'd finally got my heart rate managed but my legs were lodging protests. A slow for the highway traffic then back on the gas to Roubaix, Coggo was now sitting back while the 51's and the Manny machine seemed limitless.  Conrod straight was a sight for sore legs, just a k to hold on till the speed symptoms subsided (see your health care professional if pain persists?).  Several faded as the last dip drew near, crossing the line was reward enough for me, the Strava bonus a 40 km/h average for 32 k's.

Week 32     210 km            YTD 8,011 km