Week 35 : Tempo on tap

Post # 463
25/8  Refrigerated ride.

No amount of mental motivation, priming preparation or murmuring mantras can really ready you for the reality, just liberal lashings of Rule #5 to face the freshness of zero.  A few layers of lycra seemed ludicrous but a slow and steady stoke of speed soon had circulation and adrenalin conquering the cold. A sneaky roll around the block avoided the number one grid position, this old engine not quite warm enough for a frosty first shift. PistolPete, Rocket, TatPaul, MyRideTrev, Boof, Mark, not-so-newAvantiJohn, Shorty, Trish, Wozza and Pelly had lined up, Cougar and Popgun behind, keen for a calmer course.  Launching south at 6, the bunch was strangely silent for a Saturday, maybe the urge to contain warmth within kept jaws from flapping? Lodged between TatPaul and Shorty suited me well for my first facing of the fresh front, the foggy fields of River Rd setting a scenic start.  Nath arrived from the north as we swung into Boundary Rd, MyRideTrev and Trish the rear-gunners as not-so-newAvantiJohn and Rocket led the charge toward the highway.

Almost on cue to the landmarks, the turns rolled to share the stress, the Broken bridges, the pub, Boundary's channel bridge and the figfarm, the pairs did the do-si-do with a chorus of carbon the music to move to. Two pairs of gloves had little hope against the 'feels like' minus two, my fingers in frozen distress got tucked under the brake levers away for the icy breeze.  Nath was my partner in pace to Old Dookie Rd's bridge, Shorty's efforts now confined to the caboose.  Around Toaster corner and up to the Big Ring, four Cats had come out to crank a clockwise course.  TatPaul called the roll a little shy of Woolshed Rd (just as I was about to suggest it) but it was Nath's overwhelming performance I had to ignore.  To be fair, he played ball up to the bridge where I was due for retirement anyway, I'd made the mistake of looking at the speedo which overwhelmed myself.   Performance anxiety was calmed as many made similar drives at the pointy end, gradually returning to coherant in the draft as we neared suburbia.  I'd resolved to ride at the rear as pace picked up in Wanganui Rd, there was way too many fast fellas line astern for me too match. 

Pelly shook his head at the promotion forward too, his change of gear going queer (down three instead of up one) and losing him a few lengths just as the speed spiked at DECA.  I held back to loan him a tow but catching the swift six ahead was a tall order.  My tank had emptied short of Mt.Wanganui but Pelly saved the day and returned the tow favour, allowing us to rejoin the bunch in Rudd Rd.  Breath was back for the bolt to breakfast on the Boulevard, 5th fastest I reckoned earned me the egg, fetta and pesto breakfast.   Dollars in sport and lasting injuries
was the tattle at the table, Mrs.Pistol, Sim and Temple joining the conversation as the rising sun warmed chilled bones.

27/8  A Monday mood mender.
Melancholy from the mares of the night were mended with an early solo on Monday, surprise surprise, a southerly whipped up to stifle any speed I thought I had.  Down Raftery Rd with the CatEye cutting the 5:15 darkness the moon hadn't lit, I was hoping the chill kept kangaroos in their cot, so relief was the reward reaching Galbraith's gate to be riding roo-less, although ragged from the headwind.  (26 km/h gusts not on my ride recipe)  It was easier eastbound on Mitchell Rd so I cranked on to Central Kialla, my solo slog figured to be the concrete cure for going soft in bunches.  Up to the truck route with a tail wind bliss, west to Archer Rd wrestled with the breeze at the portside, but dopamine was now driving the demons away.  Northbound on Archer Rd egged on the ego to return to town and partake of the Pablo Brothers panacea to put week 35 on a positive start.

28/8  Serve ice cold.

That the dying week of winter may be it's end and our woes was probably all that motivated Sandy, Phil, Belly, Cate and Hommie to the Tuesday Friars Goats grid, already minus 0.4 and with an icy cold serve of a southwester to look forward to.  Hommie headed the heroes out of town and almost to Dobson's before swapping the lead role to Sandy for a bolt to the bridge, I did the bit to Central Ave finding mid thirties the acceptable tempo for the temperature. Cate, Phil and Belly shared driving duties toward Boundary Rd, dozens of little burn-off fires in the orchard (to fight frost from the fruit?) a scenic distraction. Contribution number two was due at the pig pen after a dreadful draft from Sandy (60kg wringing wet and knee high to a derailleur), the southwester not so nasty under the cover of the orchards but it was as cold as a hangman's hospitality.

I made it to the highway and handed the helm to Cate, a few minutes recovery while others took turns at the torment on the front.  Sandy was cooked by River Rd and had retired to the rear, so I had Hommie's draft as he hauled us into River Rd's first k.  His elbow flicked predictably when speed sagged, the head dropped and a gear changed at the quarter horse stud.  A few hundred meters at his pace (so he'd catch the tail) then I slowly turned up the wick toward the dip, the smooth tarmac a treat for the tempo.  I'd timed my turn well today, dragged along in the draft of Cate, Phil and Belly before the usual exit to keep on schedule.  The south southwester had strangely swung to an east northeaster, a bonus propulsion to Archer Rd then a 7k spin to town for the joys of work to begin.

29/8 The frosty five.

Seriously cold temperatures had trimmed the ranks to just PistolPete, Cate, TrekTrev and The Godfather for Wednesday's effort, minus three keeping all but the dedicated/demented (strike out that which does not apply) away.  Thinking thou shalt not covet PistolPete's heated gloves, I was up for the long leg to Sanctuary's roundabout (berthed first is often cursed) on an unspoken but understood single file attack on the lap, cranking comfortably in the company of likeminded, predictable cyclusts all on the same wavelength.  PistolPete drove a double shift all the way to Mitchell Rd, Cate and TrekTrev donating the drive to Central Kialla.  I rarely get The Godfather's wheel to draft, a chance today to study the style.  Clunk, clunk echoed through the Enve wheel as the chain was dropped to the top gear, all that torque tormenting the links and 11 cog to drive the Reacto forward, just a hint of variation in the velocity but I'll put that down to the freezer like atmosphere.

My duty was called again 500 meters into River Rd, happy with self's speed, particularly over the bridge for the most subtle of downhills to the dip.  In fact, progress pleased so much that I added three more white posts worth to my shift before handing the captain's hat to Pistol (who made a mockery of my turn by driving all the way to Boundary Rd with barely a puff to prove it) .  TrekTrev took the reigns from Cate at One Tree Dam and pushed through the pain to reach Channel Rd with just a little fade in the last 100 meters (a big dose of determination with Around The Bay not far away).   The Godfather ploughed into the westward drive on Channel Rd, all the way to the cypress trees before electing me to head the hurry.  36's and 37's were right in my zone today (makes a pleasing change), shifting my target of turns' end beyond the corner into Central and again beyond the Kinder.  Why can't I have this tempo on tap always?  I'd almost made it to Prentice Rd before throwing an elbow at PistolPete, who drove on and on (emulating the Energiser bunny), beyond the school and the truck route, beyond Kensington's roundabout to complete a tenacious tow for us back to the start line.  With fingers too numb to change cogs, I tapped home with a weird satisfaction of conquering the climate while others cringed.

30/8  Thematic Thursday.
Just to rattle the routine, I swung the leg over the Fizik early on Thursday, the hint of a headwind on New Dookie Rd getting the head down and the heart rate up.  A few moments of reprieve as four cars sped by to the early shift at the soup tin was replaced with the reality of toil to reach Boundary Rd, a tailwind back to town would make it better.  The return to civilisation with a few lumens of light already on the horizon showed not a Cat committed to the cold (2 degrees), though that was tropical after yesterday.  Tum, Manny, Phil, AvantiLeigh, Sandy, Hommie and Belly were the Goats with guts to front Friars to spin a circuit, that Indian file routine the most sensible given the slim size of the squad.  Manny took the train out of town, skipping the chain over nearly every gear the BMC had, a smooth and sublime start if ever there was one.  He'd had enough a little shy of Dobson's and gave me the drivers duties to Central Avenue which I spent wondering why I was 20% better paced than solo (knowing there was a rest at the rear?)  Tum took over to take us toward School Rd, Hommie hitting the boost button toward Boundary (Sandy, tested by testosterone, sat safe in the caboose).  AvantiLeigh gets out once or twice a week but still sets a swift standard, although eight managed to harmonise the hurry south despite the differing fitness.

My turn was coming up as we breached the Broken bridges but my finger fumble in the pocket dislodged the phone, so peeled off to retrieve the escapee.  The kind crew had slowed, so hot footed my way back onto the pack, readying for River Rd's western leg.  A shuffle of the order had put me at sixth wheel, so I was gratefully dragged along by Manny, Phil, Tum, AvantiLeigh and Belly, all the way to River's end.  The east northeaster eased my journey on the short cut homeward, the suns rise in a brief window of a cloudy sky luckily lit the suburbs streets.

31/8  Riding Rule #9 (and riddance to Winter)

Fed, dressed, tyres (and motivation) pumped, I was just out the door and saddled up to be met by Friday's first drops from the sky.  I couldabeen curled up in a warm bed, I couldabeen enjoying another coffee, I couldabeen driven dippy by early morning tv, I couldabeen softening on Ralphy's training program, but I couldabeen hardening up, so contemplated Rule #9 and the opportunity to ride the riddance to Winter's end and turned the wheels south. 

Cate was as badass (or barmy!) as I, converging on an empty carpark, PistolPete figured to be the only other contender as the spits from the heavens continued.  But it was Nev who confirmed the commitment (or craziness) arriving on the stroke of 6.  A clockwise course was figured to be less taxing with a vigorous northeaster blowing so (ensuring there were no late comers for the anticlockwise routine) we set sail on Channel Rd to get the hard yards done first.  I took the first shift to the truck route (memories of the machines many months ago....when there were machines!), the wind mocking my efforts to keep 35 on the Garmin.  Cate put in a tough turn to Orrvale Rd where Nev set the tempo to the Kinder and beyond.  His elbow finally flicked at the cypress trees so I set my sights at the S bend.
I got there with a little left in the tank so reset the target for Boundary Rd, reckoning Cate wouldn't complain to get the tailwind south.  10 degrees was almost bliss but the raindrops felt like bullets of ice driven by the 32 km/h wind, ah the disbelief we' get from those doin' doona duty!  Nev smoothed the speed down to River Rd, the way west set on the roads' crown to negate the (now) northerly.  Nev finally relinquished the lead at the dip, my meagre donation made it to Rivers' end.  Rooster tails of water and the continuing driving drizzle turned us short cutting to the truck route homeward, Nev kindly cranking as captain all the way back to town. Back ten minutes ahead schedule we took a Lemontree pitstop to toast the winters' end, a fitting finale to the week and the season.


Week 35     240km      YTD 9,290