Week 19 : Solving that softness.

Post #498
4/5 Saturday ; sledges and satire.

Despite the multitude of winter layers, I'd readied to ride a little early on Saturday, so set off sedately to ease the old engine into action.  I'd unwittingly wasted minutes daydreaming and dawdling, suddenly pace was paramount if I was to reach the Couldabeens grid by 6.  With a minute to spare I joined TatMat, Boof, The Godfather, GiantAndy, Shorty, Tina, TatPaul, MyRideTrev, DeterminedDan, Joe, TrekTrev, Bo, PistolPete, Bruce, Col and Lance....and at the third stroke, Nev.  Boof's regular role of lead led us out of town, I was letting the natural promotion to the pointy end happen while waiting for my motivation to arrive.

Joe's helmet light was as welcome as a boot full of bindii, PistolPete made a stylish statement in a new class kit (GiantAndy a close second in co-ordinated colours), Nev mimicked a Minion sporting snow specs, while Col's Campagnolo clattered at half gear.  The Godfather was occupied supplying sledges by the bucket-load (something to do with being dropped Wednesday I'd guess), the bunch steering east onto Mitchell, north through Kialla Central then east again on River Rd.  Behind all the crew chatter, cranial calculations were already underway of my debut to the drive, hoping that westerly wouldn't blow me backward and it would be at a pace that wouldn't pickle me.

As it happens, I was running out of steam beside Col at the bridges in Boundary Rd, but distant blues and reds ahead under a floodlight spelt trouble, slowing us just beyond Channel Rd.   Downed powerlines (from a motorcycle fatality) u-turned us to re-route the ride, Lance and I heading the diversion via Channel and Central but the drive to the S bend was cooking me, some days you've got it and others you 'aint (and I guess some were struggling with less than that).  Tina tagged along in the caboose with Bruce who'd been bitten by the CBF's, new scenery to view along Central Ave a welcome change from the ride repetition of the same-old same-old Saturday circuit.  
Back onto Boundary Rd and without warning, Joe faded fast (strangely from fifth wheel), those behind rounding him up to get back in touch with the bunch. Sledges swapped sides on the drive back to town, baits laid going unbitten but the laughs were in plague proportions.  Heads were down and heart rates were up in Wanganui Rd, but not the frantic thrash we're used to, so it was another Saturday sans sprint but The Godfather's endless sledging warranted earplugs!  Keen for coffee, the bunch barrelled along the Boulevard Lemontree bound, but I regrettably had to skip the sociology and breakfast with other tasks pending.

5/5 Obsession overload?
Eyes opened early out of habit on what is my cycling sabbath, so what better cure than to feed the obsession? It's all about the bike isn't it? The intention for a sedate Sunday spin (now that's a ride rarity) lasted for at least thirty seconds, that cool 6am start stirred some swiftness to warm up, and that fuelled the fire to keep decent Garmin numbers on the screen (it's that cranial curse of competition again)  The south southwester cut through the base layer but helped my hurry out to the golf course, already an orange glow on the horizon to aim at the Big Ring. 

Speed seemed a bit high in Wanganui Rd but the heart rate reflected the effort, I'm sure the headwind would bring me and my ego back to reality later.  A lazy late breakfast or coffee and a Rouleur read on the couch was driven from the thoughts, substituted for keeping 86 rpm on the screen ; isn't it weird how the distance evaporates when you concentrate on something other than k's, a relaxed perch and staying smooth worked for me.  The 3 headwind k's to the Toaster wasn't so bad but there was enough westerly in the wind to cull some calories.  Boundary Rd chipped away at the average speed so there was satisfaction to pick up the pace in River Rd with just a side wind to battle.  The sun heave ho'd off the horizon and put a little spring in my spin but the other addiction (caffeine) was calling me back to town.  I could almost taste a long black in Archer Rd so with a long awaited tailwind and near to 300 on the suffer score, I awarded myself a trophy of banana bread to accompany coffee.

6/5  Not so nasty.
Monday's first few hundred metres were chilly but a bout of cranial concentration on Rule #5 soon solved that softness, arriving at the carpark 5k's later with the freshness forgotten, now to match the muscle of Grumpy, The Godfather, Kreeky, Wozza, Cate. Bo, Kel, PistolPete, Cobbles, Sherls and Col who'd gathered for the 5:45 foray.  Two rows of six steered into Channel Rd's darkness, time for me to prepare for pain at the pointy end as I joined the up-line.  The weekend's post-mortems kept my doubt diverted till it was time to face the music at the front with Wozza at the cypress trees.  I'd look at the Garmin numbers later on Strava rather than suffer the reality of the moment!   Focus was fixed on reaching the S bend (but I'd weakened 100 metres shy), Cate bailed out of duty and ushered Kreeky to the helm, the tiny trimming of tempo helping me to reach Boundary Rd just short of implosion.  Kel and Cate had taken the role of tail-lights, the northern leg blessed by a hint of breeze behind.
 How attuned we become to the whims of the weather when we become bike junkies, the slightest suggestion of wind dictates our position and course, weather apps become lifelines, winters' cold and headwinds are a measure of our worth and tailwinds become trophies.  Scenery was still draped in darkness at 6:15 (there goes our daylight credit when the clock changed to eastern standard time), so I eyeballed Enve's, Dura-Ace's, Mavic's and Prologo's instead, so soon we'll be plunged into darkness from start to finish (and all the way home) as winter tests our motivation to the max.
Cobbles was hoping all would drive longer turns to keep him from further duty, Sherls just tapping away to the rhythm of his helmet lights (doing a disco for those behind)   The Godfather was restrained minus his sparing partner to sledge, Col supplying his usual trivia tattle while I primed for the task in the drivers seat beside Wozz again (kindly running his engine at idle while I revved the daylights out of mine).   Two passing cars helped by vacuuming me part way to the highway beside Kreeky, then back into the tow for me while others worked Wanganui Rd.  (Cobbles got the short straw to haul us up the hill)  Into town along the Boulevard before the commuting chaos began, those few doubts I started with were now history, now I was trying to forget that work would drag me from the bike.

7/5  A Goat gathering.
The demise of the 5:45's, variety and a touch of Goat guilt lured me on a Tuesday lap down memory lane, a 14k solo, join the Goats for 25 then hurry homeward to appease an employer.  The dark and desolate 5k's of Ford Rd wasn't so inviting at three degrees, at least I only had me to keep up with.  It was peak hour in Lemnos as four cars headed to make soup, I headed back to town making haste if I was to catch the Goats launching from Friars at 6.   Coggo, Heady, Sandy, Snow, AvantiLeigh, Belly and Hommie represented the determined division, seems all others are in the fairy floss faction.  Heady did his head-out-of-town ritual, all assuming a single file stance as Sandy turned up the wick towards Dobson's estate (ranks as 'most improved' since I last gallivanted with Goats)

I'd scored the wheel of wattage behind AvantiLeigh and he'd kindly held back on the horsepower to keep all aboard, and making a note on the pace, I did my bit from the bridge to Boundary Rd.  Kudos as I slipped to the back in Boundary Rd confirmed I'd conformed, taking the rear seat as Coggo drove to the pig pen.  Snow had a go and Belly took us to the pub, but Heady had developed the huffs and puffs moments after facing the front at Channel Rd.  Sandy quickly restored the pace to One Tree Dam, Hommie (minus his trade-mark surge) driving to River Rd.  I put in pace to River Rd's dip after AvantiLeigh dragged me to the Angora farm, a turn in particularly sharp focus with new (prescription) bike specs taking the fuzzy out of the tarmac, even the Garmin small print is now legible (is that really my heart rate?)  Love your work Dippa!   Heady was awol when I'd withdrawn to the rear for respite,  I'd recovered in the last k of River Rd, hollered my hoo-roo's to short cut homeward with the chill factor of a soon-to-rise sun keeping my cadence cooking.

8/5  If someone says 'character building'!

The wind whistled and whittled the numbers down on Wednesday, Rocket, Kenworth, Grumpy, Wozza, Shorty, MyRideTrev, Boof, The Godfather, Tina and PistolPete counted as warriors of the wind, the missing as marshmallows.  A drawn-out game of "choose your partner" was being played at the back of the bunch as those blessed with wattage drove south toward Sanctuary's roundabout, PistolPete left un-paired till Kenworth bit the bullet of bravery (me thinks the 30 km/h gusts from the west was part of the key selection criteria).  I'd queued up with The Godfather ahead and Shorty behind, instant relief reaching Mitchell Rd but left gasping by the giddy-up when the westerly blew us to Central Kialla.

Stealing shelter from the northwester beside The Godfather helped me reach River Rd, Shorty the man to match as the bridge was set as the turn target.  Shorty saved me some suffering calling a shorter shift, the pace put in the percolator as Rocket, Boof, Wozza and PistolPete flexed their fitness to Boundary Rd. (no complaints from the crew, though I guess oxygen was being put to more urgent use than talking!)  Real estate became valuable in Boundary Rd's echelon, I got lucky having the shielded side to psych up for my next turn into the headwind. PistolPete and Kenworth opened the account in Channel Rd but turns shortened with the suffering, finding myself beside The Godfather (strangely silent) to the S bend.  Shorty paired with me to negotiate rabbit row but had rolled again before the cypress trees.  I was happy to see Rocket and Wozza take the tempo by the scruff and charge at the ChaCha, we only needed to bite on a bullet and hang on to their  hurry.

9/5 A fast and faithful five.
I'd almost resigned myself to a solo lap Thursday, such is the evaporating enthusiasm of late, so it was inspiring to find PistolPete, TrekTrev, not-so-newAvantiJohn and Col prepared for pace at 5:40.  Oh me of little faith!  With the circuit and speed agreed on (I could see Col's call of "35 all the way around" lasting about 35 seconds) I assumed the mantle of pilot for leg one to the truck route. Now the task of living up to that expectation!  37 was all I dared to drive if I was to have something to catch the tail on leg two, just enough it happens to latch on as TrekTrev tore onward to Orrvale Rd.

Col kindly calmed the pace a whisker (that's 2.6 smidgeons or 9 umpteenths in the old measure) allowing me to get out of that oxygen deficit disorder.  Not-so-newAvantiJohn drove from the kinder to the cypress trees (and he reckons he's not well?) where PistolPete played captain.....all the way to Boundary Rd ('cause he can).   The bait of a red led ahead shuffled my priorities from pain to pursuit, passing a stray cyclust who attached as caboose.  Over the bridges I started to re-taste breakfast, so elbowed TrekTrev to the front, but he hit the turbo toward River Rd leaving Col to hold station.  Eventually, silence and a lack of lights behind told Trev he was driving solo, Col effectively doing a double shift as he soldiered on to River Rd's dip.  Not-so-newAvantiJohn was not-so-new taking the lead to the bridge but Pistol was in his prime powering to River Rd's end.  A tailwind pumped up my performance to make the shift swift to Mitchell Rd then slipped back into the draft as TrekTrev echeloned us westward.  I'd stolen the shelter in the last left centimetres of Mitchell Rd, our hitch-hiker would have to use the gutter 'cause I needed all the recovery I could get!   Col took the lead role as we crossed the highway and not-so-newAvantiJohn got keen to be captain at Roubaix corner, all that effort placing me closer to the pointy end again with a headwind to come!  PistolPete put in a tenacious turn from Galbraith's Gate, past Arcadia Downs, to Conrod straight.  Through the dip and up onto the flat, Pistol drove on till the 500 metre mark, only then his elbow handed me the hurt. I owed him a decent finish after that hard slog, wringing out what wattage I could muster to reach the 60 sign.

10/5  Green blotted the radar and plenty of precipitation presented a rare chance for extended shut-eye on Friday, and with a sparkling clean bike Rule #53 over-ruled Rule #9 (although the purest of the badass ventured out ; to be gifted the cleaning task tonight!)

Week 19     271km                      YTD 5,007 km