Week 30 : The leg's lament for leniency.

Post #458

21/7 Coldplay.

I was feeling like Bibendum (the Michelin Man) with an extra insulating layer for Saturday morning's predicted zero,  setting south for the ride ritual keeping the vital bits from the deep freeze.  It must have been a hologram of MyRideTrev in the 1 degree carpark 'cause he doesn't ride at 2 or below, Rocket, Wozz, TrekTrev, Kreeky, TatPaul, Bruce, PistolPete, CatCol, Shorty and TatMat filling a bigger than expected grid.  Mark and Trish arrived on our exit south, Rocket leading a long line to the city's limit, down to Adams Rd and, as rare as a Trump truth, the endangered Ralphy appeared in the Archer Rd mist (sporting a gorilla growth on the chin) Stuck

in the slipstream of the Rocket, Bruce and Wozza leaders made me a happy little Vegemite, waiting for the natural order to promote me forward. TatPaul quizzed my front tyre pressure as he drew alongside, but I dismissed his doubt as just jinx.   Most conversation was constrained in the chill, a few k's needed to climatize to the cold, the turn at Central Kialla steered squishy, TatPaul's theory regrettably right.  A slow puncture allowed me to reach the less-busy River Rd for repairs, the frozen finger fumble changing the tube went better than I'd first thought. 

A new order on the restart sandwiched me between Bruce and TrekTrev, quick yet kind company for me to front the front as we nosed north into Boundary Rd.  Rolling the turn just shy of the bridges was tactical (if I was to survive part two) but TrekTrev's turn shortened easing my workload.  The Rocket, Wozza and Pistol trio of tempo tore on to Old Dookie Rd, the light a little earlier on Mt Major's horizon certainly savoured Spring.  Another turn was due as we swung west toward town, my misconception of driving into a light breeze eased as speed turned respectable.  I called it quits at the bridge beside TrekTrev and spent a minute gathering the oxygen to resume being human, patches of fog assisting the chill.

Kreeky, Bruce, Shorty and CatCol took the Verney Rd escape for other engagements, MyRideTrev, Mark and Trish exiting at Numurkah Rd.  Pace percolated in Wanganui Rd, the file turning quickly single with speed, I was in second last survival mode as Pistol, Rocket and Wozz hurtled toward the hill.  The tempo was taking it's toll by the test track (rare that you find PistolPete pooped), so I lent him my wheel as a paltry payment for his help last Friday.  We'd slowly reeled in TatMat and TatPaul (cast off the Wozza and Rocket express) to congregate cornering Rudd Rd, Sean back aboard signalling the Boulevard bolt to breakfast.  Motors in bikes, warm accessories and Castlemaine and it's climbs captured the chat with the pedestrian peloton  Kel, Bo, Jen and Mrs.Pistol.

23/7  Disturbing the peace.

Legs were lax and the wind was wearing, expectations were fairly ordinary into the 17-28 km/h wind to Congupna on Monday morning and I was being careful not to cook the old engine this early in the week.  The constant wind at the brow was sending the angry meter into the red as I neared the horse hospital, thanks be to the turn south onto the truck route to calm the cardiac calamity.  (Funny, there's only seconds between the legs lament for leniency and the head's holler for a hurry up).  With the wind up the back corridor I had a stressless spin back to town to see which peacemakers would front Friars.  Coggo (Giant) Heady (Giant), Belly (Giant) and Phil (Giant) outnumbered Hommy (Avanti) and me (Baum), six o'clock struck and the tame train taxied out of town.

Heady headed us out of town (S.O.P), silly sucker me slotted in to second shift to Dobsons bridge, setting a speed sociable.  The roll at the bridge put Hommie at the helm and I joined the tail, Belly authorising me to apply the gas next turn.  Coggo, Phil and Belly sliced the 4 degree air to Boundary Rd where Heady, lapping up the tail wind, cruised to the fig farm.  Stalling the push till Heady caught the tail, I wound up the wattage to the bridge but darkness was tailgating me when I peeked behind, so eased up to collect the pieces.  Coggo, Phil and Belly passed by but Hommie and Heady were the victims of velocity so I slowed a bit more to offer a tow as a peace offering.  Over the highway and half way to Channel Rd the six pack was once again united, Coggo, Phil and Belly providing the pace to River Rd for my 3rd shift to start.  I'd duly noted the pace previous and stuck to it (how to win friends and influence people?) sitting centre road so others could get a draft.   Hooray for Heady braving another shift at the front but Hommie confined himself to the caboose while Phil, Coggo and Belly cranked their contributions. We'd run out of River Rd and I bid my farewells, off via the truck route to Archer Rd for a head-down headwind home.

24/7  Chevre menage a trois.

Dank, dark and dreary was the dismal description to discourage all but the gallant Goats from fronting Friars Tuesday.  Coggo and Belly were the tough two to turn up, Coggo doing the honours of first shift to Dobsons, the second leg for me to Central Ave (it seemed just as long but at least the engine was warm). The cranial calculator kicked in as Belly drove toward School Rd, subtract a little speed with only 3 dividing the workload,  recovery time would be fractional and the turns would multiply.  Coggo took over to finish off Old Dookie Rd, giving me the blessing of the northeaster behind in Boundary Rd, so I extended my shift to the bridge in thanks.  Duty came around again all too soon, from the Broken bridges down to River Rd eroded a lot of energy but the boys donated a decent draft down to River Rd's dip.  I'd contemplated finishing off River Rd as thanks for their support, but thoughts of the solo push homeward suddenly switched me selfish.  Over the bridge and on to the next white post, maybe the one after, oh just one more, show the elbow, hand the helm to Belly for the last 600 meters, tuck in for a tow (and a huff and puff), then bid my adieus. I kept it cruisy on the truck route preparing for pain from Archer's 4k of headwind, trying to ignore the Garmin's speed but keeping a 160 bpm cap on the h.r. till home.  

25/7  Rolling in the damp patch.

I don't think the horse was dead but I felt I was flogging the one destined for the glue factory Wednesday morning, struggling for speed out to the golf course into a northwester was understandable but it wasn't any easier east toward Grahamvale (should have carried a box of matches to build a bridge and get over it I guess!).   Dealing with discomfort of an angry adductor kept a light touch on the accelerator, tapping out a tame twenty k as a Wednesday warm-up worked.  CatCol, Wozza, Nev, TrekTrev, PistolPete, Cate, Kreeky, MyRideTrev, Sean, Rocket and Shorty assembled in the damp carpark, 8 degrees almost a heatwave as 6 bells signalled the start.  CatCol, Wozza, Nev and Rocket took the team out of town as I sat spoilt, swept along in their swift slipstream toward Mitchell Rd.

The now west northwester dissolved some of the distress of driving at the front, beside TrekTrev to River Rd's bridge then 5% off with MyRideTrev to the dip (an elephant stamp for effort considering the caboose has been his usual haunt)  The turns rolled on the effort east (passing pussycats giving up Zwift for the great outdoors now that temperatures have raised above hard core), Nev and CatCol driving the distance to Boundary Rd.  Sean was in struggle street, PistolPete toughing it out in short knicks, while TrekTrev and Shorty were seemingly unaffected by restricted riding.  A pain train of five flew south at One Tree Dam as I reached the rear to join the up line, puddles aplenty to kiss goodbye to a clean kit and soil a cycle. I was on a promotion to the pointy end in Channel Rd, Sean had shortened his shift beyond the S bend which put TrekTrev and I at the helm to the cypress trees.  Cate followed up to Central Ave, CatCol leading the charge to the Kinder, me in easy street with a tow into Hopeful corner.  Rooster tails of water anointed all on the ChaCha, Kreeky searching for the dry line kept me saturated to the finish line (another evening's entertainment of bike cleaning coming up) The casual cruise to town has quietly evolved to become a keen crank to keep the calves cooking, all the pain of the previous prologue now passed.

26/7  Four-tuitous.

A decent sleep, a good breakfast and a clean bike aligned the stars for Thursday, no wind and temperature in positive numbers almost made it Christmas, though riders were as rare as BeerMat in a bunch at Friars.  Cate was the only other starter at 5:59 (Goats have seemingly been struck with an FDC virus) but Coggo rolled in at the third stroke to restore some reputation.  Belly brought back belief as we steered round SPC, my usual niggle about scoring the first shift was scotched thinking of the solo option.  Cate captained from Dobson's bridge (consistent change-overs create comfort) as I settled into the rhythm at the rear, the simple pleasures of a dry stretch of tarmac, windless weather and teaming with smooth cyclusts of similar symbiosis was soaked up as we sped to Boundary Rd.  My second semester was southbound (swearing that wind was propelling my pace), driving down to the bridge then peel off into the delight of Belly's draft.  Cate towed us to the highway, Coggo cranked to the Broken bridges and Belly dug deep to reach River Rd, each pedal stroke amplified through his carbon fibre amplifier (aka rear wheel).

I was back on the front for River Rd, taking a few hundred meters to build back up to pace, running on all cylinders and well into the zone at the Angora farm, I set my sights at the dip for the change over. (not often that legs, lungs, heart and head harmonize when you're in a hurry) Cate and Coggo finished off the last 3k of River, but (as usual) time turned me (and Cate) on a shortcut back to town.  The wheels hummed homeward as light filled the western sky, Spring sprung to mind seeing colour in the clouds before seven.

27/7  Morning moisturiser.
A sneaky little shower snuck under the radar at 4:50 on Friday, totally unaware of the damp till I opened the front door.  Why should the bike stay clean for more than a day! With a northeaster blowing me to the carpark, being first on the grid was of little concern, the first shift south would be windswept.  Bruce, PistolPete, Cate, CatCol and SuperMario (out of hockey hibernation?) had decided to get damp, so I led the short line south on a puddled and glossy Archer Rd.  Bruce paired with me to the roundabout, us being careful not to snap SuperMario off the back, the damp blotting bikes, spotting specs and wheel spray doing it's best to find nostrils, but PistolPete was poised pristine, his 'arse saver' guard keeping the cool kit clean.  Sean seemed to be in the street of suffering as I partnered him to River Rd, mind you I was about out of oomph when Bruce rolled across at the bridge 3k later.  CatCol's conversations were copious, Cate keeps cranking continuously and PistolPete's power proves perennial as we worked toward Boundary Rd.

I was on the rushin' front for River's last k with Sean then the first k of Boundary with Bruce as a long pain train of Goats speared south, but I was craving a cog of sweet sixteen (I was spent spinning the seventeen and f...…. flogging the fifteen), cassette combinations contemplated as the calves felt crucifixion to One Tree Dam.  Was Bruce aiming at the puddles as I got into his tow? Another night of cleaning duties was pondered as we worked our west on Channel Rd, lined up behind Sean and readying for work at Beckham's bend. Bruce and PistolPete powered on to Kinder corner and Sean pumped up the pace to Prentice Rd so I rolled quickly over to save myself from being sautéed by speed.  Rooster tails of water from the ChaCha's puddles saturated the seven so it was a pseudo sprint in light of the conditions, trimming back the tempo for the 4k's back to town wondering why the hell we do this...

Week 30     270km           YTD 8,092km