Post #529
30/11 You'se are all soft!
That forecast five a.m. shower had been and gone on cue, toast and coffee consuming the wait while the drizzles subsided. How dare the weather threaten the sanctity of the Saturday ride! Kitted and ready to roll, the radar's band of green had almost passed, so I set south on soaked streets with an air of optimism of clear skies and the company of Couldabeens. Deserted roads and an empty grid at 5:58 hinted at the softness that had struck the normally tenacious team, even PistolPete had failed to front! The sounds of silence at six was deafening. Starting into the wind on Archer Rd's damp and dreary stretch was hardly inspirational, a taste of one upmanship getting the wheels up to speed, but squishy steering soon tested the resolve as a puncture halted me at Adams Rd. A sledge free repair not tested by time was careful and considered, I had two CO2 canisters but just one tube. Another flat and I'd be using patches. With the delight of damp socks, spotted specs and a filthy bike, I was back in motion, drawn into the ideal world of Rule #6 (free your mind and your legs will follow). I'd channelled the hum of carbon and rubber on tarmac, transported comfortably in the mid thirties along River Rd (with a little help from 'ol mate southwester). A Channel Rd shortcut to breakfast was considered lame, Old Dookie Rd was closed for roadworks so a New Dookie course to town was set as a worthy forty k's. The real work began westward, I'd found a rhythm and tolerated the speed that went with it, white post after white post ticked away but progress was pegged by roadworks blocking New Dookie Rd at Grahamvale Rd, so a dismount to walk around the construction at least settled the heart rate. Traffic lights in town did their bit to delay my caffeine fix but I soon berthed at the Lemontree to find Shorty, Boof and Rocket (minus bikes). The rising skyline, decommissioning petrol stations and cultural figureheads filled the conversation void and breakfast filled the tank.
1/2 'Cause others did (& a long winery lunch followed)
Coffee orders continued as the 8:45 deadline slipped by, a fine misting rain blew in from the northwest as a Friars table full of raucous Goats pondered the 60k ride to Longleat winery, a Christmas tradition tempted by a long lunch. Inevitably, bikes were mounted a little after 9. I'd joined Hommie, Spartacus, Tina, Heady, Sandy, Belly and Coggo for the loop via Karramomus and Miepol, HG, Baz, Rooster and Brendy opting for a slower, shorter and softer route via Tatura. (both routes destined to be damp as grey clouds curtained to dampen the dry ground) At least it smelled sweet.
Previously scoffed at, Heady's full winter kit now made sense as our spring base layers and socks were soaked in Channel Rd, a tailwind picked out as a paltry positive. At least lunch was a lure. South on Boundary Rd toward the metropolis of Miepol (population 9), that fine driving rain dragged the 'feels like' down to four, two rows of four thinning to a single line of eight echeloned to ease the effort. Smoothness was shattered when Hommie paused pedalling at the front, wheels uncomfortably close and confused for a moment till Coggo and Tina smoothed the tempo again. A gentle rise or two sent Spartacus and Heady rearward so I stayed rearward as windbreak while others stretched their legs to Murchison-Violet Town Rd.
The real work westward into the wind took a few minutes to get organised, Hommie taking natural break. Maybe masochism drew me to the drivers seat at Shepp-Euroa Rd but the urge was to set a standard rather than let the mob meander, and that long strip of tarmac stretching to the horizon had all the appeal of Bells-Armstrong Rd (though this one was wider). I'd stopped questioning why I was riding in this rotten weather, steady spinning in the low thirties kept all silent and together while barely breaking 130 bpm, so I stayed on for 6k till Two Chain Rd. Belly, Tina and Coggo did their shifts (a brief blast by half-wheeling Hommie) while the caboose seemed content to sit in silence. Murchison drew gradually closer, though two oncoming B doubles (with a wall of water in tow) blew us backward as if to test our mettle. But wine and lunch over-ruled the obstacles. Over the bridge and into Murchison, a brief OMG moment with wet brakes doing nothing onto Old Weir Rd, only a k to Longleat and we'd earned a glass or three. Bruschetta, mushroom risotto, slow cooked pork with sweet potato salad, tiramisu and several shiraz soon erased the toil as partners and friends filled the cellar, glasses and appetites with early Christmas cheer and cackle.
3/12 Hit me with your rhythm stick!
Less I slip down the slope of softness, it was time to harden up to the hurry of the 5:40 lap, PistolPete, Kel, Vince, Bo, Col and Kreeky turning up for the Tuesday torment. Kel was captain to the truck route, Bo in charge for leg two as a surprise showing of ScottMatt joined our Indian filed charge on Channel Rd. A west northwester supplemented our speed as I psyched up for duty in leg three and it went rather well till that two metre rise to the Kinder nearly killed me. PistolPete took over and I retreated for recovery, my huff and puff probably deafening ScottMatt locked in the rear seat. Into Boundary Rd and Vince did the business to the highway, Kel to the Fig Farm and Bo beyond Old Dookie Rd, my turn again over New Dookie had my Mr Defeatist calling an end at the railway line but Mr Stubborn drove on to Lemnos-Cosgrove Rd. I don't like Mr Stubborn, he hurts me! (but where would we be if we always listened to Mr Defeatist?)
We crossed paths with the Cats as I retired rearward on the turn west, PistolPete driving the hard yards into the wind, doing a double shift of course to Lemnos North Rd. While Col and Kreeky captained us into Ford Rd, I wondered if I'd have to face that wind or would luck bless me being towed by the others to Rudd Rd? ScottMatt had gone missing in action but we gained MyRideTrev entering town, my Christmas coming early as Vince Kel and Bo stretched their turns to drag me to the top of Mt Wanganui. Feeling a little guilty I'd avoided the real rigour, a full steam shift to Canterbury's roundabout might have rated as recompense. I should have reserved a few watts, PistolPete's drive on the Boulevard burning the tibialis anterior to keep up.
4/12 I'm givin' her all she's got Capt'n!
I had to haul my head out of the doldrums Wednesday, it was one of those mornings where motivation stayed snoring in bed as I flung a leg over the bike. A sluggish start might energise endorphins? Bo, Col, BamBam, Grumpy, Rocket, PistolPete, Wozza, Kreeky, Shorty, Coggo, Tina, The Godfather, Kel, Boof and Bruce rolling in added enthusiasm, Rocket and Boof adding to the heart rate by mobilising the mob toward Sanctuary's roundabout. BamBam hesitated to join the advance as a winter off the bike played hell with his hopes of hurrying.
Need I say I told you so?
A little bit of westerly helped to rip along River Rd but it carried the cackle of The Godfather through the ranks, Bo and Col towing us into the forties. Coggo copped a pasting about allegiances from the pain train headed south (it's a free country lads!), Kel taking to the front at One Tree Dam where I tried to simulate the smoothness alongside. As if! BamBam paired with me at the Broken bridges, his hibernation now paying him back with pain. His short shift became shorter when Wozza took pity. Two lines thinned to one in a hurry at Hopeful corner, Wozz and I stuck in no-man's-land and suddenly committed to the sprint. Almost on the red line hanging onto his velocity, Wozza's elbow threw me into the deep end with 200 metres to go.....and there was no go left! The howl of Boof's wheels hurrying behind spelt an instant end to a shift I'd barely started, blasting past as if I'd stopped, but I wrung the last out of the old engine to clutch at Bruce's draft to finish third.
5/12 Warm us o sluggish summer!
The start was snail-like, a northwester didn't help and an old creaky engine wasn't warming up, the wait for wattage to arrive would while away a couple of k's till gathering with Goats for a social spin. The roll-up of Tina, Snow, Belly, Hommie, Sandy, Manny, AvantiAndy and Coggo was as good as it gets, I wonder if another winter will put this bunch on the endangered species list? AvantiAndy assumed the Heady role of pilot for leg one, a Brown's cows beginning as who-follows-who got organised. The 5:40 fellowship of Couldabeens hurried silently west into the wind as Goats talked weather , work and the weekend wet. Time for me to serve a term when we steered south into Boundary Rd, Tina's tempo a test even if the Garmin numbers contradicted it.
Fitness factored the lengths of shifts at the front, some seemed to be nearly dozing while others were nearly dying during driving duties. Efforts were amplified in River Rd as the wind swung to a westerly, it wasn't helping the hurry and did nothing to egg on the ego. Belly's was the wheel to follow, the giant on a Giant had ten times the draft than the matchstick shelter from Sandy. All too soon, time tore me away from the tow of the bunch to face the reality of a solo slog homeward, time to contemplate the bonus (out of a breeze) a bunch brings and how suffering solo strengthens......I hope!
6/12 Friday frivolity.
GiantAndy had the helm and the hammer down into Archer Rd and I was glued to his wheel like Rocket to a brewery as the long line of Coggo, Tina, Joe (not Tony), The Godfather, Shorty, TrekTrev, Kreeky, Trav, Bruce, Kel, Wozza, Rocket, Boof, PistolPete, Grumpy and Col strung out behind to the exit of town. Funny, few were coming forward for a turn. The excitement had settled by the truck route and the sociology started ; Kreeky's more aero minus mo, Tina's podiatry problems pegged her in the rear seat, The Godfather serenaded "That's Amore", Joe (not Tony) was recovering from an ale ailment incurred at Adelaide's test match, Shorty reminisced rides of a 33 average, Kel's craving more hours in a day and Col ruminated the pace of passing time.
Felines in flouro faced River Rd as we turned north, sledges ricocheting at the rear along Boundary Rd as The Godfather delivered jibes to anyone who'd listen. How could you not listen? Up to Channel Rd and the southwester freshened faces, after 21 k's in the draft it was time to earn my keep, sandwiched between Coggo and GiantAndy as the ChaCha drew near. Coggo was king to Central Ave and GiantAndy was probably at an idle to the Kinder when Col came forward. I'd expected an explosion of speed toward Prentice Rd but it stayed surprisingly steady, Col and GiantAndy driving onward with wattage to burn it seemed till Trav opened the throttle and snavelled the chocolates.
Week 48 273km YTD 12,477km
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