Week 41 : The horrors of lycrack

Post 521
5/10 The Saturday express.

Allegiances were in a tug-o-war at the start, the decision was made to split a sizeable Saturday bunch and I was see-sawing thoughts to have a quiet lap with 'ol mate Temple, MyRideTrev, Molly, Dalts and CatKev, or suffer the speed with the majority (PistolPete, GiantAndy, Tum, Batman, Manny, Boof, BeerMat, Rocket, Liam, The Godfather, TatMat, Trav, Kreeky, Wozza, Tina, TatPaul, DeterminedDan, Lenny and Bruce)   The lure of speed got me.   Braving short knicks in "feels like five" wasn't a problem, Rocket and GiantAndy were putting plenty of heat in the legs on a swift start into the southerly.  Determined Dan's drive drew me into the advance line, he'd latched onto Liam's wheel so I had no excuse to sook at the rear.

Father and son drove a solid shift in River Rd, Liam in trademark horizontal sit, Determined Dan pairing him to the quarter horse stud where it was my turn to reach River Rd's end.  The Godfather partnered me north, his new aero helmet not quite matching the physique, but his speed was keen to the bridges while my eyes were peeled for kangaroos (we did have the Manny marsupial magnet aboard)  Three bikes southbound at the fig farm copped a satirical spray from The Godfather (TatMat a centimetre from a perforated ear drum), the fast fellas (you don't need to be told) dragging us east to the Toaster and up to the church, the work into the southwester would be the test back to breakfast.  The sun at our backs in Lemnos-Cosgrove Rd had highlighted the horrors of lycrack in a certain (cheap) new kit, revealing details too nasty to describe.

Just spend the money folks.  A decent kit will maximise modesty, keep decorum and style in a bunch and deliver comfort you can't put a price on.  And should you notice an inkling of that certain transparency on your fellow cyclust, a quiet word is to be encouraged, avoiding embarrassment for them and nightmares for others.  In the draft of a dozen drivers I was lost in a world of whirring wheels, the gas bill, how close Christmas is and the plight of the northern hairy nosed wombat was forgotten, though the sting of the speed would be remembered for a while.  A split at the highway for traffic had The Godfather, DeterminedDan and I slowed for the bunch to catch us, but the big train was full steam into the mid forties and shot by with us napping at thirty eight.

Catching the tail was mission impossible, legs would give no more and I was still ten metres shy of the tail, so with BeerMat and DeterminedDan in tow (The Godfather o.t.a.) we skedaddled down Kittles Rd in hope of intercepting the pack (made it by ten seconds)   Legs were asked the impossible again on the Boulevard's bolt to breakfast but we hung on till the roundabout.  The sprint post-mortem finally faded for chat on other bunch's etiquette and coffee and it's varieties.





7/10  Hello darkness my old friend (I have to ride in you again)
I'd considered a solo mission for Monday but darkness threw a dampener on it in the early hours of daylight savings.  A social spin seemed more sensible.  That finely tuned nerve sensed the west northwester on a five k spin to the starting grid, no matter, there'd be several wheels to draft for that long leg back to town.

Oh no there wouldn't! Only PistolPete had fronted for the 5:45, there'd be a large serve of suffering instead! Blessed with the breeze behind, we'd settled into swapping turns the high thirties out Channel Rd, reserving some sort of wattage for the westward work back.  Pistol's pace would test rather than torture though.  The bonus was my heart rate monitor was on the blink (what you don't know can't hurt you eh?) as the regular turns began to bite in Boundary Rd, PistolPete of course, unperturbed by pace.   Legs were defying the head's will, each target I'd set would have the engine misfiring short of the mark but Pete would drive a bit further as compensation. The peace train of eight Goats looked inviting cruising south as Pete and I faced the music of Lemnos-Cosgrove Rd and it's handbrake of a headwind, though my second wind came at the bridge to make mid thirties tempo less taxing.....till Ford Rd.  A lack of trees as cover left me open to the will of the wind, doing my fair share would get me to the front but shifts shortened as heart and lungs protested the pace.  The guilt of overstaying the draft pushed me to the front for one more turn at DECA but it was as short as 'lil Tony's headstem.  Pistol kindly dragged me to Rudd Rd but there'd be no rest there, the throttle stayed open along the Boulevard and the man with a hammer was knocking but hopes of a good circuit average inspired the last turn to empty the tank.

8/10  A hard rain's gonna fall.

I ranked myself an optimist among Belly, Snow, Sandy, Phil, Coggo, Tina and Hommie assembling for Tuesday's Goat lap, green was spread ominously to the west on the radar but we reckoned on beating it home.  25 km/h worth of westerly begged a blast out Ford Rd but a carefully considered first shift won me votes at Grahamvale Rd.  Coggo carefully wound up the wick till all were happy (silent and not squealing) toward Lemnos North Rd.  Belly, Tina, Snow and Phil did their bit to Boundary Rd but Hommie and Sandy missed out on the wind up their willows and wrestled the westerly on a struggle south (most of us in the gutter.....thanks Hommie!) 

A couple of spits from the sky cranked up concerns though the dripping tap had dried up by the fig farm.   The real worry lay ahead in River Rd with that wind to work us over.  Hommie hurled himself into the hurt first and soon settled into a pace less lofty, Sandy drove determined to the quarter horse stud (eyes off the heightening heart rate?) and threw the elbow for my contribution.

Surprisingly, speed wasn't a struggle, chin to the headstem, cadence in the nineties (and the head in the right space helped) and I'd soon made it to Trevaskis Rd to hand over to Coggo.  A k in the draft recharged the batteries for the shortcut home, I'd scored Tina as team mate but the heavens opened along the truck route swiftly soaking us.  With the delight of the wind gusts head on, saturated socks, rooster tails of water up the nostrils and damp reaching places better left anonymous, we swapped shifts back to town, rainbows to the left, an orange sun-up to the right and wet as a shag in the middle (but at least we were martyrs to Rule #9)

9/10  You say goodbye and I say hello.
Wednesday's southwester had me turned inside out just on the ride to the carpark, there'd be no way this old engine would be doing an early turn today!  It was bye bye to Batman today (coping with the Cairns climate will be tough on him) and hello to Bo and Kel (back from Trumpville)      Bruce, PistolPete, Wozza, Liam, Tina, Boof and Rocket formed the team, six struck and the squad spun south, me setting my turn at the front for later (with the wind behind me). 

I was definitely in division two in this company.  Weapon had missed the earlier bunch and jumped aboard as we reached Sanctuary's roundabout, feels like two cutting through the base layers en-route to Mitchell Rd.  The air of optimism on Batman's wheel switched to pessimism facing the front in River Rd, this old engine struggled with the speed and that bridge to reach was miles away.  I rolled short and luckily Liam had sympathies for slowcoaches staying with me to the bridge, my next k spent most unsociable as I overdosed on oxygen in the draft.  Bo braved the pointy end but suffering the five week holiday syndrome in silence, PistolPete kindly rolling a short shift to put him out of his misery.  Coherence had returned to me at the angora farm but by then I was content to court the company of Kel, Tina and Weapon in the caboose and watch those with wattage work the front. The southbound Goat train of pain had popped Heady of the back as we breached the Broken bridges, our fast lads kept the pace pumped up and I'd got way too comfortable drawn along at the rear to bother about another shift (how quickly one softens!). The bait of early bunch tail-lights was missing (leaving earlier?) so the west way home on Channel Rd was constrained, even putting a choke on the Cha Cha.

10/10 Everybody hurts....sometime.

A different course to prologue the Goat gathering set my tempo target at stupid o'clock, reach the Goat grid by six a.m. with the challenge of an untried route, a tailwind out and a headwind back  (banking some wattage north on Nathalia Rd to spend it south on the highway).  A crosswind east on Zeerust Rd readied me for the suffering south, road surface playing it's part in pace.  Legs were burning to reach Verney Rd and it seemed uphill till a bump confirmed my Michelin like marshmallow, thankfully rideable till under the lights of the Ford Rd roundabout to repair.  Hommie, Tina, Snow, Batman, Sandy, Heady and HG arrived as I'd finished the fix (with a minute to spare), so led the line east casually for half a k as a warm up (in feels like two) in sympathy to the struggles of HG.  Batman took charge at Jodie's ridge but HG slowly lost his Goat grip on the tail. (Another pedestrian pedal home pondering the restorative effects of pinot noir, merlot and sparkling burgundy).  Snow towed us with tempo into Boundary Rd, Tina's strong shift reaching New Dookie Rd.  Hommie's varied velocity was followed by a good speed by Sandy, my turn at Old Dookie Rd inspired enough to reach the highway (hoping that rear tyre wasn't deflating).    Batman had the lust of a long turn down to River Rd, then followed on for the six k's of River Rd (as a parting gift to Goats) while I did my usual shortcut to town with the bonus of a breeze behind back to town.

11/10  Everybody's working for the weekend.

The TGIF factor puts a positive to the day even if the temperature was still stuck in July.  Rocket, Manny, The Godfather, Bo, Shorty, Liam, Wozza, Bruce, PistolPete, Carl, Tina, Trav, Kel and Boof showed up in the seconds before six, PistolPete setting us south with a smooth build up of speed (cruising for some, cruelty for others).  Manyy, Carl, Tina and Kel found comfort in the caboose while I joined the promotion forward, The Godfather ahead and Shorty as back-up.  I'd convinced myself I had a southwester helping me alongside The Godfather at River Rd's bridge (bureau said later it was calm), matching Shorty from the dip needing the special services of a Spanish doctor though (how can he perform like that for his only ride for the week?)

Bo's battle of the holiday ballast continued, Pistol pouring on the power to finish off River Rd as Cats cornered from Boundary (the later intercept courtesy of their longer lap).  Two very distant tail-lights (Hollywood and SuperMario) prompted a pick-up of pace but the speed slowly subsided when the led lures vanished, favouring that rare ride called recovery.  You know, that relaxing 36+ average.  Ah, those days when any speed over 32 incurred howls of protest! Homeward bound in Channel Rd I had the draft of the Godfather to relax in, ever-closer to the front and ever-closer to the ChaCha of little consequence. There was a world of wattage behind me.

The Godfather had speed stable heading to Hopeful corner so I put some spice in it when rolling across, but hat moment of glory as train driver lasted about five seconds, the big engines, line astern, filing past before letting loose at the finish line.  The bunch was still mostly intact on the left/right at Orrvale Rd, a collective chat on the cruise back to town a worthy way to end the week.

Week 41 :     275km               YTD 10,451km