Week 34: The perfect panacea

Post #462
19/8  Sunday's solo suffering.

Rain ruined the ritual Saturday circuit so a Sunday spin satisfied the addiction, the damp had disappeared to be displaced by a wicked westerly (gusting to 33 km/h) and a "feels like" minus 1.7.  Nobody likes a headwind home, so the course was set to hurt first then a treat to town for the return.  With head down and hopes up to Mooroopna and beyond, brand spanking new cheese cutters (wire flexible safety barriers) stood in the centre of the Midland highways new surface, shame the emergency lane was littered with ruts, corrugations, loose stones and tarmac blisters.  Roadworks signs had been blown horizontal to paint a picture of pain, I guess I'd get over my snail-like speed with my analyst, or on the remedial therapy of the breeze behind.  Dodging the bitumen craters put me on the tactile edge-lining, rattling the CatEye to point skyward and the Garmin to point to the ground.

21k's to Byrneside were laboured long, trees gave a fraction of cover here and there and the open plains of Brewer Rd's 3k seemed to face the wind head-on.  Around the sweeper and onto a smooth surface toward the Merrigum metropolis had just the wind at the side to battle, 7k's onto Lancaster where the Sunday sun heaved itself above the horizon (it's a rare treat to ride in daylight), passing the Baron's "Karlsruhe" to steer east.  A calm descended with the wind no longer whistling between the ears, after 36 k's of toil the breeze behind was bliss.  20 minutes on the Lancaster-Mooroopna Rd made up for past pain, the heart rate lowered and spirits raised, just two cars to share the tarmac with till reaching Echuca Rd.  The gusts ruined riding a straight line when pointed southeast homeward, the blast from oncoming traffic questioned the drivers' parentage but the mind motivates the speed as the end draws near.  Somewhat smug I'd overcome the fractious forecast and not succumbed to a shortcut, it was happy days to head home and thaw out.


20/8  Degrees deficiency.

Monday's little prologue was as cold as fronting '51 uninvited, 0.1 degree with a wintery westerly thrown in made a bureau's 'feels like' minus 3.9 (feels like Antarctica more like it!) 10k's was enough climatizing to the cool, the Goat commitment crashing to just Sandy and Hommie fronting Friars for the peace train.  Sandy led the trio out of town (like drafting half a matchstick!) for my turn from Doyle's Rd, and with just three to contribute, I set Central Ave as the end of shift.  The westerly helped to ease our effort east, Hommie providing the tow to Boundary Rd (for Sandy to suffer the starboard struggle south?).    Coggo had arrived on the tail as we swung south, Sandy strove to the fig farm to make my second shift due, so I set another long one as a Coggo and Sandy recovery time.  It's a rare treat that the heart rate didn't hand grenade, the legs didn't turn to jelly and the lungs didn't collapse with the cold, and combined with a bit of orchard shelter, it allowed me to reach the highway half human! Hommie's horsepower got us to the Broken bridges where Coggo took the reigns to River Rd, looks like I had the honour of first to face the bitter breeze head-on.  Gingerly on the gas pedal, I wound up to what was maintainable, surprised when I spied the speed in the mid thirties (under the circumstances) so set about driving to the angora farm as my fair share of the workload.  Sandy had retired from duty (at least she'd the fortitude to front-up!), Hommie made it to the dip and I though Coggo was going to finish off River Rd for me till his elbow beckoned me to crank the last k.  Adieu's and merci's were swapped as I separated, grinding into the truck route and Archer Rd toward town, the tempo now tamed 10% so I'd get home hernia free.

21/8 Come on baby, make it hurt so good.

Sandy, Phil, Cate, Hommie, AvantiLeigh, Dipper and Belly turning up for Tuesday's tap rekindled some Goat grit, 6 degrees was better than a bindii in the bum but the westerly hadn't quit from yesterday.  Cate, Sandy, Phil, Dipper, AvantiLeigh, Hommie and Belly had Indian filed behind as I inherited the Heady position to put suburbia behind us, out to Dobson's bridge with the boosted bravado of the breeze at our backs.  With my first performance done I returned to the rear, Belly riding a cautionary metre off the wheel ahead (but I wasn't complaining in his decent draft), Cate, Sandy, Phil, Dipper and AvantiLeigh did their diplomatic best onward to Boundary Rd.  Hommie's heroic hurdle over a chronic case of man flu was worth a mention, Belly opened his account at the pig pen and I made use of the hint of a northerly in the west northwester to get to River Rd.  Roadside trees took the edge off the wind as we worked west, a little chirp from my chain reminding me it's high time to guage or garbage it from it's March fitting (6,000 k's ago).  Deja vu Monday when I was handed the last k of River Rd to finish, not a lot left in the tank for the push home as Cate and I turned to the truck route with time against us. That wind wore down the resolve to Archer Rd, over-ruling the legs begs for leniency took some cranial convincing to continue as Cate set a suffering standard of speed.  Reaching town with legs like Gumby's, at last a traffic light ordered a halt the head wanted, endorphins and lactic acid combining to make it hurt so good.

22/8  Under pressure...

Sleep was as scarce as a Softa sighting on Wednesday so it was solved on a sortie of the golf course loop.  With 10k added to the addiction, I rolled into the carpark as Rocket, Cate, Shorty, Wozza, not-so-newAvantiJohn, Kel, TrekTrev, Nev, Superman, Mark, Boof, The Godfather, Trish, PistolPete and Bo berthed.  Eagle eared Rocket had heard a hiss, homing in to my rear tyre as it happened.  Damn deflations!  Finding the cause (glass) and a new tube later, I was under peleton pressure but at least under the carpark lights to repair.  16 set sail south just four minutes behind schedule, though even now there was a hint of light on the Dookie horizon.
Wozza turned up the tempo gently but niggling negatives of imagining an undetected bit of glass slowly deflating my tyre (and speed) and that the CO2 had barely put 50 psi in was on my nerves.  I joined the up-line in Mitchell Rd to defy the defeatist in me, noting Shorty and Trish were already defeated, cemented in the caboose.  Superman swiftly suffered the speed in River Rd despite TrekTrev's kind compliance beside him (is it callous to take comfort in anothers' suffering? Thought I was doing it tough till I read his body language!)   Reality soon slapped me as I hit the front, TrekTrev wound up to common Couldabeens cruising speed (36+) but I was struggling driving any distance, so I rolled the turn at the quarter horse stud bringing Boof alongside me.
Boundary Rd seemed a week away but stern words to self said "Soft!" Rule 5 reigns!  Deeper and deeper I dug into the shallow tank of tempo to finally see those white lines of River Rd's last 500 meters, the rumble strips such a relief to reach.  Rocket and Wozza set the speed at 'shut up' toward Channel Rd (no passing pain train today, cancelled 'cause it was Coggo-less), several in tempo trouble as the speed sustained west toward town.  Half the bunch were now confined to the caboose (me included with a psi deficit) as the titans of tempo trimmed the time to the ChaCha.  Nev peeled off at the Kinder, The Godfather shied from the up-line as the front thinned to spin to Prentice Rd.  Threading a line around the expirees with a few in my draft, I finished midfield in a mess, but relished the recovery on the roll home. (The rear tyre stayed up, but read just 64 psi!)

23/8  Cruise & coffee contentment.

Felt I owed myself a cruisy circuit on Thursday if only to celebrate day 22,280 on the planet.  Even in it's dying days winter still tamed the temperature to two, so the seventeen cog had the job of working some warmth by cadence.  Fully immersed in the purr of the (new) chain and the Michelin melody being played on the tarmac of Ford Rd, attention was averted from averages and speed, just soaking up the serenity of a solitary spin.  It was peak hour at the soup tin as three cars crowded Lemnos North Rd for the 6am shift, but I went west on New Dookie Rd back to town. Justified by plenty of long and fast laps of late, a short and sweet lap was pure contentment, besides,  the massive magnet of coffee was beyond resistance, Pablo Brothers pulled me to the perfect post pedal panacea.


24/8  Fossilised from frost.
Layering like an onion as a force field to Friday's frost took time, climatizing to the cold took even longer, muscles muttering "masochism" all the way to the carpark.

TrekTrev, The Godfather, PistolPete, Cate, Superman, Pelly, MyRideTrev, Boof, Kel, Rocket, Nev, Bo and Bruce faced a fresh foray too, but I sat smug in fourth wheel having dodged duty of driving first.  The up-line took as long as a party room poll to get organised as we sailed south out of town, Rocket, Pistol, Nev, The Godfather and Kel priming the procession by Sanctuary's roundabout.   MyRideTrev was in respiratory rigor mortis behind Rocket, so a slow was called if we were to preserve our pit-crew for possible punctures.  I took a lead role through Central Kialla with Kel then Boof, the workload not too wicked being wind-less,  but (like others) wanted winter well into the history books. 

River Rd's scenery was sublime as Friday's first light forced through the fog, certainly beats the last three months of driving through the dismal dark.  (no cruisers or Goats today, just two Cats for The Godfather to goad)  Up Boundary Rd to Channel Rd and the roadside grass had turned white, westward we went with Bo enjoying the comeback (even though his lungs don't), Cate braving short knicks and Pelly defying FDC standards with commitment.  One can only crave to copy Kel and her super smooth slice through the atmosphere but I made a feeble attempt alongside from the S bend to Beckhams, Boof pairing with me to Jameson Rd where hope of a recovery before the ChaCha looked likely. With about as much hope of a placing as Mr Turnbull, I was surprised to be up near the pointy end by Prentice Rd (helped by a few reclining in the rear) but Boof's bolt to the finish put my pace into perspective.

Week 34    242km    YTD 9,050