Week 28 : Thrilled to be chilled?

Post #456
7/7.  Windustrious.

Damp and windswept were the ingredients for only the tough to turn up to Saturdays ride, an overnight shower and a windustrious 20-32 km/h northwester attracting only Tina, PistolPete, Wozza, Bruce and TrekTrev to the start line.  Down in numbers and up in workload, the consensus curtailed the lap to the old Saturday circuit, (has it really been 10 months since this was the Saturday standard?) blown out Channel Rd to find Boundary and the usual course thereafter. Betwixt the channelled puddles of the ChaCha at a ripper rate of knots, I couldn't help thinking the hurt the homeward leg would hold. 

I was about to face the front again at Beckham Rd's bend when Tina's Continental turned  custard, even in the depths of winter the bane of the bindii bites us.  The joy of repairs and road grime done, we set sail again (Shorty's late pursuit behind went un-noticed), my cortex trying to cope with the fight to face in Boundary Rd.  Wozza kindly considered the age of this old engine as I shunned the signals of stress toward the Pub, finding the extra kick to catch Wozza and Pistol's pace as they took the helm was almost as hard as the last crucifying k.  Exploring the parameters of pain might be a bit perverse, is it the 'banging-your-head-against-a-brick-wall' (feels good when you stop) or murdering muscles to teach them tempo the reason?   Bruce spun the front dervishly, signing his style with hands draped over the bars, in contrast PistolPete sitting statuesquely still beside.

We'd turned into Old Dookie Rd and my turn came up again, blessed with a tailwind but challenged by Tina's tempo.  Back into the wind with noses northbound, I sank the chin to the headstem dredging the depths of determination as Wozza graciously paired with my steadily sinking speed, the saviour a slow for traffic at New Dookie Rd, a second or two to gasp then to crush the cranks to catch the Pistol & Wozza march to the BigRing.   14k's west into the northwester would make us earn breakfast, shielded at times by the odd row of trees but omg on the open sections.

CatKev and one other (representing to total Cats resolve) went easily eastbound, chat put on our backburner as legs and lungs burned toward town.  Shortcutting Shorty's arrival from the west was like the second coming (a fresher pair of legs as a salvation to our suffering), TrekTrev was toiling (a legacy of work getting in the way of regular rides) but there's no end to Tina's tenacity.  I'd been elevated to the expense of energy end again in Wanganui Rd and made the mistake of emptying the tank to the transfer station, so when Wozz and Pistol turned up the tempo and thinned the line toward the hill, I slowly slipped off the tail with no grunt to give.  Tina and TrekTrev on my tail rekindled some urge, grateful to TrekTrev as he shouldered some load 200 meters later.  Reassembled in Rudd Rd refired a bolt on the Boulevard to breakfast, sparing a thought (as my legs went to licorice) for the slumbering slacko's who'd suffer on their next visit. There were warm seats left at the Lemontree among the pedestrians (Kel, ScottMatt, Jen, Mrs.Pistol, Bo and Lynda), babble on old trades, old trains and doing turns making the conversation we'd been denied in the wind.

9/7. What pace is peace?

I'd succumbed to the softness of a six am start on Monday, prologues passe per se.  Six stalwart Goats (Coggo, Tina, Heady, Sandy, Belly and Hommie) fronted Friars for a piece of peace, the lead role left to me again to escape the suburbs (that makes me the scapegoat).  So what pace is peace? A few k's off the usual Tuesday / Thursday velocity would be in order, so I set the speed in the mid 30's, silence saying it was sort of satisfactory.  A tailwind eased the effort, Sandy keen to captain toward Central Ave as I peeled off the front to grab the draft of the giant on a Giant. A cranial calm descends as wind noise disappears and the Michelin music murmurs below, ah how soft we'd become always riding with the breeze up the backside! Hommie hit the front and hit the gas in Boundary Rd leaving a few of us to play shock absorber for those tested at the tail end, all back in line by the fig farm but the echelon was being interrupted by cars oncoming.  I took the drive from the pub to the bridges, restrained to forge fair play and friendships, but Sandy had swapped a second shift for reartirement at the rear.  Into the headwind on River Rd wasn't as painful as predicted, Tina, Coggo, Heady, Hommie and Belly doing their bit to Laws Drive so I returned the favour polishing off River's last k.  Time allowed the rare chance to complete the full circuit today, it felt foreign to carry on through Central Kialla (treated to a Tina tow) and along Mitchell, the signs of wear starting to show on some for the ascent from Dave's dip.  Belly handed me the reigns as we rounded Roubaix, a drive up to the horse stud where Coggo took over and I drew breath ready for the Conrod crescendo.  Heady and Hommie had run out of huff with 300 to go, so I spiced up the speed to the finish line only to have Coggo whip me for line honours.

11/7.  Serve chilled.

Ten minutes layering the winter woollies, grit your teeth, take a deep breath and open the front door!  Minus 0.8 wrestled with the resolve to ride on Wednesday, but I was sure there'd be others as determined (or demented) to clock a few k's.  Wozza, The Godfather, Kreeky, Tina, Mark, not-so-newAvantiJohn, CatCol, Trish and PistolPete were keen in the cool carpark for the 6am launch, but I shied from an early turn at the front till circulation got muscles moving at warp Wozza.   At least wind wasn't working us over, my flexibility less frozen as we reached Mitchell to bear east.  Kreeky's wheezes have waned, CatCol mused on a milestone, Wozza's on a 'loaner' while his Foil is fettled, not-so-newAvantiJohn contemplated cadence and Tina told of sticks and spills. Through Central Kialla and rounding the bend into River, Mark had meandered from his line to put me on a collision course with the traffic island, but a brief blurt averted a horizontal hiccup.  I'd paired with Tina over the bridge and then with Wozza from the dip, but Tina was bereft of breath soon after, a calm called to keep the crew collected.
Kreeky worked me hard from Beckham's to the cypress trees and I served a half decent effort from Jameson Rd to Central Ave, calling Wozza over for the crank to the Kinder.  The troops of tempo advanced to Hopeful corner, Mark's fuse left to fizzle on the push to Prentice Rd, Wozza oh so easily drawing away as CatCol and not-so-newAvantiJohn tried in vein to keep contact for the minor placings.

12/7  Weather warriors.
Weather had whittled the warriors down to Tina, Coggo and Tum for Thursday's therapy, 2mm of overnight wet dampening the determination of yet a few more regulars.  I'll admit I faked a fumble at Friars to skip the first shift (seems I've landed the lead lots lately), fourth in line suited for a slower start  (sore in the saddle site today).   Tina towed us out of town and handed the helm at Dobsons bridge to Coggo, so smooth of stroke and speed toward Central Ave for Tum to take over.  The compact kiwi cranked a long shift to School Rd where I made a debut to drive to Boundary.  "What's that noise?" Tum questioned as we swung south, I thought I might be half a gear out until he pointed out I don't change gears!  Squeamish steering soon spelt out the problem, my mushy Michelin forcing a halt to the proceedings.  It's gold to have a group stop for support (and I'd suggest to savour a sledge), even better it was the front to fix (the lesser of two evils).  Repaired, remounted and riding again, Tina was a hard captain to catch but the syncronicity soon stabilised as four found fortitude.  Another push at the pointy end had all the appeal of a visit to the proctologist, but was it another perceived puncture playing on my mind?  (We all love the C02 cartridge convenience but they do fall short of the 125 psi we really want)  I'd run out of urge at the front at the Broken bridges and joined the tail to reacquaint with resuscitation, only to have Tum ask me the soccer score! WTF?  Coggo cruised on to River Rd for us to work west, without wind but wet making it a dismal drive toward Central Kialla. I felt guilty taking the early exit at River Rd's end (to appease an employer) when the three had persevered with my puncture (there'll be a chance to return the favour I'm sure). A push home made up some time but the price was legs of jelly for the morning.

13/7  A frosty, foggy foray.

Not thrilled to be chilled by minus one Friday, we're just over the year's hump but winter won't let go for a few weeks yet.  Bruce, PistolPete, Tina, Kreeky, CatCol, Mark, Pelly, BamBam, Nev, Trish and The Godfather forced through fog and frost to front the carpark, I'd arrived first so faced the music of the first shift for the 3k drive to Sanctuary roundabout.  Bruce was best buddy partnering me in pace, but I lacked the spare oxygen to deliver full sentences, glad to see the back of him (literally!) as he and Pistol powered to the truck route.   All the huff and puff was steam train style down to Mitchell Rd, swinging east as the social stuff swapped sides.
The Cat collection was compact and Cougar and a cohort calmly cranked River Rd west as we earnestly energised eastward.  Comfort had returned to my (previously painful) pectineus, though the lungs were being crushed by the cold.  BamBam and Pelly have made their return (should we set a stopwatch?), Trish's aboard a new bike and The Godfather was loving the temperature (the lack of it) as Bruce and I struggled to see the
end of River Rd in the fog.  I felt pity for the pain train of two (Coggo and Tum) slogging south as we charged toward Channel Rd with Bruce and PistolPete commanding the 4k's north.  Through the pea soup on Channel Rd, hoping we were headed toward town, I'd progressed toward the pointy end wishing Nev would draw the line Indian file before I got the drama of the drivers seat.  But the sprint was struck off the agenda (couldn't see the finish line anyway) and swapped for a solid tap to town.  I wound up the solo one northbound at Archer Rd, gone are the days of six or seven steering the northern suburbs home while the southerners sip coffee and savour the sweetness of office hours.

Week 28   199km        YTD 7,590km