Week 23 : The dying breed of the dedicated.

Post #502
1/6  Winter's warm? welcome.

Lots of layers of lycra for the first day of winter had little effect against the chilly southwester, not till a k down the road did a decent heart rate and circulation turn up the internal heater.
TatMat, Lance, TrekTrev, Tina, TatPaul, Kreeky, Kel, The Godfather, PistolPete, Rocket, Liam, Boof, Travis and Col set south at six, last minute Nev was a little later than that, hurrying head down to chase to catch the tail as TatMat sped smoothly to Sanctuary's roundabout (I'd taken the easy option of tucking in for a long tow before facing the front).  Grumpy joined the clan as we crossed the truck route, winter's darkness our companion for most rides over the next twelve weeks unfortunately.

Wozza was found in River Rd, The Godfather's garble echoing through the bunch and across the fields, testing the limits of the Noise Abatement Act and sleeping residents en-route.  Lance's turn dialled down the tempo a tad to the relief of many, mind you his tail-light strobing was almost inducing epilepsy.   I'd arrived at the business end in Boundary Rd at the Hosie Rd intersection, pairing with TatPaul to the ham hotel then a long stretch to Old Dookie Rd with TatMat.  1500 metres looked longer than the legs would labour, what your head says and your legs will do are often worlds apart, so finding faith beyond the signals of stress is the hard part.  Surprising seeing a 92 rpm cadence but I made sure to avert eyes from the heart rate number, that reality might ruin me!  TrekTrev, Tina and Kel took comfort in the caboose, PistolPete, Liam, Wozza and Rocket providing plenty of place to the Toaster, Pine Lodge's church and up to the Big Ring, beating the Cats to the corner.

My lead role came up again at Matilda Drive, TatPaul's turn terminating short beside Boof, so I had a short but swift shift to Verney's roundabout then the kilometre of cruelty to the highway with TatMat as the hurry heightened for Wanagnui Rd. (some comfort coming from TatMat's kudos and  being relieved of driving duty)  The dash at DECA now seems history, although the pace still percolates to the hill, the fast forties are favourable over the freakish fifties for most. A sensible spin along the Boulevard brought us to breakfast, seems sad to now have café division (after six years of post ride social harmony) but ten teamed at the Lemontree to tattle on carbon wheels, Vietnam and winter insulation.




4/6  Thrash therapy.
Most of my motivation was invested in others fronting up, Tuesday's chilled southerly (17-30 km/h) doing little to wear away winter woes.  The craving to crank a few k's (denied from Monday's damp) got me to the grid, finding PistolPete and with two led's (Bo and Kel) coming.  Kreeky's inclusion at the third stroke was a bonus but I was silly enough to get Pistol's wheel of wattage as we set off.  He was at least kind dialling up the hurt gradually, but by Sanctuary's roundabout I was ready for rest rather than face the front.

Suffering into the southerly for 800 metres went better than expected, handing the helm to Kel at the truck route was a respiratory relief though.  Kel had had enough of the front half a k later, Bo driving the train to Mitchell Rd for Kreeky to crank to Kialla Central.  The southerly behind primed PistolPete to get pacy north, though I scored the slog with the wind to the starboard side to River Rd's bridge.  Kel had called it quits and called me in to forth wheel, recovery would be hard fought as Bo took a long drive to River's end in a display of dogged determination.  Kreeky did likewise in Boundary Rd, still swift and smooth at the Broken bridges but the search for a lower cog at Channel Rd said his shift had reached the use-by date.  Pistol took over as pilot and poured on another 4 km/h, this was going to hurt for a while I reckoned.   Not wanting to be the link that breaks, you hold on to keep the train as one and prove something to the team (and probably to yourself), gradually the legs hardened to the hurt but I just needed to get my heart rate off the escalator.  Pistol drove on and on to Old Dookie Rd, handing me the pain of the portside wind, and aiming to reach the bridge might have been shooting for the stars 'cause I was certainly seeing them 100 metres shy of the target.   An elbow to Bo and retreating back to forth place, that growling bear stayed with me for several hundred metres, Bo thankfully keeping pace just below my heart's Hiroshima.  Kreeky headed the hurry from Central Ave and took another long shift to the city limits, my rubber legs happy they'd finished the thrashing at the front and happier for the therapy of a quiet roll home.

5/6 Wednesday in the Westinghouse.

Take a deep breath, clench your buttocks, grit your teeth and open the front door, Wednesday's temperature (feels like -0.4) was going to bite!  Without a moments thought on why I was doing this, I set south guessing there would be only the tough that would turn up,  discounting the many that have succumbed to softness.  Rocket, Tina, Kenworth, Col, The Godfather, PistolPete, TrekTrev, Boof, MyRideTrev, Joe, Bo, Kreeky and Wozza restored faith in the hardcore prevailing, readying for the six am carpark launch.  I'd promised self to harden-up and do an early shift at the rushin' front.....till Rocket took the squad by the scruff of the neck and tore into Archer Rd's darkness.  Lads in his league moved up to contribute to the speed while others (including me) sat for the natural rotation to force them to the front, some choosing to cringe in the caboose.

MyRideTrev was slowly slipping off the wheel ahead till compassion caused a calm in pace at Sanctaury's roundabout, Joe and Tina cocooning him in the rear seats.  Over the truck route, Wozza and Boof resumed the regular rate of knots, though not enough to silence The Godfather garbling behind me while I soaked up the delightful draft that Kenworth provides.  Kreeky led the way east to Central Kialla, fog making navigation a niggle in River Rd, just as I was about to score the lead.  To the dip with Kenworth and beyond beside The Godfather (how silent he becomes at the front!), I found the pace most bearable thanks to new found comfort atop the Fizik (I'll spare you the gory details!)
  

Bo paired with The Godfather toward the quarterhorse stud, but may have been dreaming of Vegas driving almost into the right hand gutter, but Rocket soon straightened the aim toward Boundary.  There's a marked drop in clockwise pelotons and their numbers now that cold is our constant companion, HurtLocker is history, the cruisers are compact, Cats have condensed, even the PainTrain runs on limited days with just a few carriages.  I was back in the up-line in Channel Rd, The Godfather now babbling in the rear seats, Col and Kreeky driving from Rabbit Row for Kenworth and I to face the front nearing Central Ave.  I'd thought I'd done well getting to the Kinder in the high thirties till Bo rolled across and opened the way for Rocket to fire up the afterburners, high forties now asked of the legs as the bunch thinned and lengthened on the ChaCha.

6/6  Therapeutic Thursday.

Legs were labouring (or maybe it was the will weakening?) Thursday, that buzz from a jolly good thrash on the 5:40 fling was substituted for a tap with the Goats to stem a speed psychosis setting in.  I took the pair of lax legs on a golf course loop to inject a morsel of motivation into them, the hint of a west southwester felt like the handbrake was left on but time (or the lack of it) kept the tempo going to berth at Friars at 5:57.  Phil, Sandy, Hommie and Snow represented the dying breed of the dedicated by six am, so I assumed Heady's heady responsibility to lead the line out of town.  Sandy and Hommie had suffered the rigors of a week in Bali, so out of compassion I took a long drive to Central Ave.  I must have set a suitable speed 'cause Sandy contributed a short shift, Phil and Hommie polishing off Old Dookie Rd for Snow to steer us south.  That WSW'er had faded to make the effort a little easier, Snow's elbow promoting me to the drivers seat at the Fig Farm, so I made the highway the target for the next roll.  Snow dragged the chain crossing the Midland, so I plugged the gap at forth wheel, five eventually back into line for Phil then Hommie to tow us to River Rd.

Settled into a sweet spin on the sixteen, the task of train driver wasn't so daunting, I'd aim at reaching the quarter horse stud and see if there was any horsepower left.  The four leds behind me cast shadows ahead, the tarmac smoothed and wheels hummed as I slipped comfortably into the zone.  Re-aiming to reach the dip, focus was fixed on smoothing speed within +/- .3 (but keep your eyes off the heart rate Foss!)  Flicking an elbow to Snow downgraded me to last in line, time to soak up a draft and prepare for the solo spin home.  I bid my farewells at Central Kialla Rd, finding Coggo arriving from the truck route (alarm malfunction?) to chase down the four I'd just departed.  I kept the cadence cooking to maintain some momentum against the gusts from oncoming trucks, north into Archer the labour lessened to make a pacey yet pleasant pedal homeward.

7/6 Mild Melbourne.

Down in the big smoke, Port Phillip had lured me to lap a few k's on Friday and Melbourne's mild temperature (12 degrees) made it a fitting finish to the week. A south-north spin made a change to my usual north-south tour of the eastern side of the bay, just bikes in twos and threes setting south from Port Melbourne at six.  I'd passed a few by St.Kilda though it wasn't long before finding three spinning a similar speed, though without an invite I stayed respectfully five metres off the back.  Through Brighton and massed bunches were now plying north, but I was content dealing with my own company instead of a mixed menagerie of the unknown.  Those first few inclines at Sandringham took up the slack in my flatlander legs, the whiff of salt air stirring some spirit to get off the Fizik and have a go.  A second's hesitation at a yellow traffic light and I was on my own again, high time I stopped being a wheel sucker and did some work anyway!  Down through Black Rock and Beaumaris those gradual rises and falls kept me busy, a few more solo cyclusts now out and about giving me something to chase. The road almost levels at Parkdale and gives way to a gradual decline to Mordialloc, bumping up the average (and the euphoria) before my U-turn point at the Tour de Café (closed weekdays).  I'd expected a fair expenditure of effort for the return but the slowly increasing commuting traffic had the effect of a vehicular vacuum, nearly all respectfully giving that metre that matters.   It pays to ride the road of regular riders in these parts.  Light started to fill the sky and bikes were less common by Hampton, copious cars now all on their way to work while I secretly sniggered on my rostered day off.  Lifestyle!  Back to St.Kilda and onto Beaconsfield Parade, luscious lycra lasses now jogged the paths by the beach, but my focus was on coffee, considering a 1:30am bedtime and 5:00am rise!  (a great gig then a great ride well worth the deprivation)

Week 23    236km             YTD 5,983km