Post #490
9/3 Cruis'n Creswick.
Straight into the deep end on Saturday, a category 4 climb out of Creswick was a heart-starter for this flat-lander. Holidays had taken me to new lands and a solo spin was out of Saturday character, hardly the exploration of Burke and Wills but I'd mapped a clockwise course to take in new territory. The few k's uphill to Sawmill Rd was taxing, but the land soon flattened at Springmount and put a little comfort into the 5k drive to Newlyn. A narrow strip of tarmac curved gradually south toward Dean (and into a headwind to make me work), rises and falls through the spud growing country adding to the toil. Just 50 meters of road was visible through the 6am darkness, so there was mystery to Dean before finding the C292. The turn toward Pootilla had a little pre dawn light but it showed a longer climb to Clarkes Hill ahead. After a bit of huff and puff, the city lights of Ballarat showed at the crest, the few k's of long descent the bonus but 13 degrees was fresh at 50 (minus base layer and arm-warmers in the hope of riding faster to warm up!) I took a moment at the roundabout to consult Google on my position, then steered west onto Bungaree-Creswick Rd, a gradual uphill (but the breeze from behind) to Wattle Flat. Expired 'roos and wombats scented a long downhill to the Creswick state forest, 5k's nudging 50 with a keen eye for wildlife as the sun filtered through the trees made a fitting finish to a fresh forty k's, but back into town, Creswick killed me with not a café open to quaff caffeine.
11/3 Bike + Ballarat = beaut!
Strava mate Stu got me a berth into Monday's Thinking Man's Bunch while I holidayed in Ballarat, Crusty, Greg, Simon and Ash the few to front Racers café at Lake Wendouree for a public holiday spin. Setting off at a civilised 8am, a westward course to Windermere was work into the wind, the turn north to Weatherboard not much better with a few gradual rises making muscles complain (at least I was in considerate company) Ash had returned to town (criterium calling) so Crusty (Cervelo) Simon (Opera) and Greg (Swift) made the trio to tap toward Addington. Low cloud swept over the wind turbines atop the hill but I was assured it wasn't rain (only Ballarat mist), a long gradual rise to the top of the hill finding a Dorset ram roadside, unimpressed with our climb.
A few decent descents to Ascot paid us back for prior pain, chat on why we ride finding a common thread ; fitness, freedom and the free endorphins (and it feels good when you stop!). The ups and downs to Bald Hills built some bravado particularly with the breeze at our backs, Greg and Simon stoked up some strong shifts speeding toward Sulky, Crusty a little second-hand in speed at this stage. Of course Rule #79 had to be observed, a squirt to the 60 sign before crossing the M8 to return to Racers for the obligatory caffeine and conversation.
12/3 Where the f#%& is Moorookyle Tuki ?
Uphill out of Creswick, northwest into the 6am darkness and into a northwester made me a glutton for punishment I guess. I'd recalled a gradual downhill toward Glendonald from holidays here two years back, so there was some incentive on the incline to get there. Eau du dead 'roo kept up my cadence to the top, the long slight descent caressing the confidence on the 16k crank toward Clunes. I took the north course out of Clunes with sights set on Ullina, a few gentle ups and downs discovered by the rise and fall of reflectors on the white posts ahead. A little pre dawn light lit nothing but a broken windmill at Ullina, the tarmac toward Kooroocheang on a diet at just 3 metres wide till it turned to dust at Newstead-Creswick Rd. So this was Moorookyle Tuki, marked by nothing but a hill and a letterbox.
Steering south I felt the force of the westerly that had been a friend for the last 25 minutes, now a foe for the 5k to Smeaton. I've learned to accept the 20's on the uphills and get over the sub-standard speed (see how riding the flat-lands gives you performance anxiety?!), there's nearly always a downhill to pick up the average after. A scenic sunrise was worth the diversion via Kingston, along the avenue of honour to the Midland highway to steer west through Springmount and relish the downhill into Creswick, even though the westerly handbraked the speed to the mid 50's. Creswick cursed me again with closed cafe's so instant sufficed as a sub-standard substitute.
13/3 Preventing Poppa's podium.
Traditions were set in stone back home on the flat-lands, Boof leading Kenworth, BamBam, SuperMario, MyRideTrev, Col, The Godfather, Cate, Shorty, Tina, Laura, Kreeky and Nick out of town into the southerly, with only Kreeky prepared to form the up-line. With no takers by Adams Rd, I moved up for some punishment, Rocket and Wozza the embers left of the early edition joining us for leg 3 as I paired with The Godfather to muscle some motion to Mitchell Rd. Breaths were spare for social sentences by Central Kialla, congrats to Wozza for his 9:42 thrash of 3 peaks, condolences on Laura's Ironman training schedule, understanding for Tina's tenderness from "a little bit more" in the hills yesterday, and concern on Col's continuing cough-cough.
Just three occupied the Hurtlocker train, Doc's cruisers curtailing (Cats continue a constructive collection) and the Goat train of pain cancelled due to lack of commitment. Weather is wearing away the workforce, soon the Zwift heroics will begin I suppose! The breeze blew us up Boundary and I was already back in the up-line and being promoted forward, there'd be more than the one-turn tango today!
I did my bit with Kreeky at the cypress trees and up to Central Ave, then paired with The Godfather to the Kinder where Nick, Shorty and Tina hurled themselves toward Hopeful corner. SuperMario's luck put him in the drivers seat and the body language spoke of hard labour by Prentice Rd. The caboose filled quickly and I'd been called across to the up-line again, scoring the dream draft behind Kenworth, so sucked up the oxygen and waited for the moment. With a responsibility to keep The Godfather out of the placings (we'd never her the end of it!) I gave it full throttle with 150 remaining and got that rare taste of ChaCha chocolates for breakfast (thanks to the serious sprinters sitting this one out)
14/3 Thrash therapy.
It's only just Autumn and already sloth and despondency has struck the once fearless few who'd front for the 5:45 thrash therapy. (not counting the FDC's who's resolve is as rigid as rice-paper!) What happened to the 10 to 12 we used to get? Soften and suffer the Spring come-back I say. True grit turned up in the form of TrekTrev and Cate, and weren't we lucky to add Col as a contributor as we departed the car park. Effort from the engine room was needed on my glance at the Garmin, pace was pedestrian for the role of captain for leg one. Calves were cooking by the truck route so I was pleased to pass the baton to TrekTrev to drive leg 2 and take a tow. Cate continued TrekTrev's tempo through the ChaCha and on to the Kinder, Col's contribution a cracker, cranking to Channel Rd's end though it set me slightly second-hand sitting second wheel for the distance. The pure pleasure of pushing into the south southwester was all mine, one tree dam my target if I was to catch the tail without a coronary.
TrekTrev hauled us to River Rd and beyond, Col (on call) calling it quits when work pleaded his presence. There's a move in the mindset when 25% of the workforce clocks off, so slicing a k or two off the cruise control would see us all survive. My turn again at the Angora farm and I pressed on to the bridge, just enough jellybeans in the jar to catch the tail as TrekTrev turned it up to top off River Rd. Cate was lacking lumens for the leg to Mitchell Rd but battled on in true fast form, my turn up again to work west with legs lacking in labour by PistolPete's. TrekTrev was tiring too, mind you the west southwest wind was working us all over. Across the highway and on to Roubaix, lights from the Hares drew closer, though they handbraked their hurry to respectfully pass when the course was clear. Five sped into the distance but we'd gained Kreeky in the caboose (wrung out from labouring on Liam's wheel), TrekTrev our tow truck catching a hint of the Hares draft and keeping us speechless to the end of Conrod.
15/3 Friday frivolity.
A stiff southerly spelt the same old scenario for Friday, Boof leading a line of 'let-the-horsepower-do-the-work-while-I-lament-the-lack-of-it' out of town. MyRideTrev, Kenworth, Tina, Shorty, Superman and Nick were steadfastly single filed behind, TrekTrev the only instigator of an advance line till Hooper's Rd when Superman got the guilts and moved up. His shift was short matching TrekTrev's torque (the super socks sapping speed?), Nick and I left to labour leg three as the early edition (Pelly, Rocket, BamBam, Bruce, Wozza and Kreeky) arrived.
It was happy days headed north through Kialla Central, the call of an approaching car at the bend (double white lines) got complicated as a car bolted by from behind (on a schedule that was more important than our lives apparently) Cardiac convulsions had calmed by River Rd's bridge, so most settled into the social intercourse as The Godfather blurted his greeting from the Cat collection working west. The pain train was missing (minus motivation) as we drove into the darkness of Boundary Rd toward the bridges. The west in the south southwester stifled speed in Channel Rd, we'd almost made it through rabbit row when three bunnies bolted across the tarmac in the final meters. I was between calmer company with Superman ahead and Nick behind as we cranked past the cypress trees, but Bruce calling a calm for the ChaCha took the pressure off those labouring at the limit. That only excited BamBam with thoughts of a podium but Boof, Wozza and Rocket put that pipedream out to pasture.
Week 11 284km YTD 2,994km
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