Post #530
7/12 The Saturday sting.
Saturday had swelled with starters, was it the weather, the festive spirit or purely a bunch belonging that created the crowd? Superman, Manny, Col, Boof, Grumpy, The Godfather, Lance, Tina, GiantAndy, Wozza, Lenny, TatPaul, Temple, Determined Dan, Rocket, Shorty, TatMat, PistolPete, Kreeky, Trav, MyRideTrev, Dalts and Bo amassed at the carpark awaiting six bells.
We'd just reached the standard Saturday velocity with two rows almost organised when Wozza puctured, the repairs rapid with MyRideTrev as the ever faithful pitcrew. Back to business after the babble, the juggernaut sped onto Mitchell Rd but I'd found myself sandwiched by speed between the swift slices of GiantAndy and Wozza. An old nag among the thoroughbreds. High thirties and moments in the forties (once punishable by vehement vitriol from the caboose) is now the acceptable norm, admittedly a light southwester was favouring the flight.
Sentences were swapped between the rows as River Rd blurred under the hum of forty six wheels, stacked (by chance?) in groups of the swift and somewhat slower. It's probably the choice of what wheel to follow that decides the factions. I had my time in the seat of suffering toward River Rd's end, calling it short to Wozza so rhythm was preserved. I could cope with the speed, it's just the fuse that's frustratingly short. Taking a minute or two to regain some breath becomes anti-social when the guy beside chats happily away without your reply, but soon enough there's oxygen to spend on the natter that bonds a bunch together. We'd caught CatKel at One Tree Dam who joined Dalts in the hitch-hikers seat.
The long length of Lemnos-Cosgrove Rd rose me through the ranks, feeling that southwest breeze midfield only painted a picture of pain at the front. GiantAndy departed for work which put me on Boof's wheel, my next appearance at the front would be brief, less I go o.t.a. through lack of oxygen. Half a k on the red-line and my donation was done, Trav and Wozz then easily driving a two k shift (driving in the knife of my deficiency). Some escaped pain with an exit via Verney Rd as a bee line to breakfast, by Wanganui Rd I was among the rear ranks all shaking their heads when questioned about promotion to the pointy end.
At DECA the bunch had broken into bits, some slipping spent from the front, others dislodged from the caboose as legs, lungs, hearts or heads raised the white flag. Several (including me) took a Kittles Rd shortcut (the gravel coated entry causing a calamity) to press on to the Boulevard and attempt to catch the train to breakfast when it passed. Rocket and Wozz, with carriages in tow drove by, most grabbing the draft only to split for the café of choice. Doing turns, the medicinal properties of onions and the benefit of bunch divisions was bantered over breakfast.
10/12 Wind woes.
JFK's quote (
nothing compares to the simple pleasure of a bike ride) resonated Tuesday morning, two days off two wheels was too long in my book. Back aboard the Baum was bliss.
A southwester helped the 9k loop of the golf course to reach the grid with a few minutes to spare, Sandy, Snow, Heady, Hommie, Phil, Joey, Coggo and Belly filing in for the 6am spin. Heady's habitual piloting of leg one had some hurry about it (I won't mention the prevailing wind assisting), Sandy and Hommie sharing the last two and a half k's of Ford Rd (an unspoken but understood Indian file today, possibly preparing for the pain of the south and west legs ahead?) Echelon education hadn't progressed beyond pre-school standards in Lemnos-Cosgrove Rd, the tail end in the gutter in the search for cover. The 5:40 Couldabeens express had heads down heading west, there'd be work for Goats too on the Boundary and River Rd legs to come. Echelon might mean more then. Sandy, Coggo and Snow were in for long hauls but Belly, Heady and Phil's shifts were short. Joey may have had his focus fixed a little short, rapid reactions to wind gusts and the wheel ahead had a ripple effect back down the line, Snow suffering the staccato.
Tisn't easy with the wind whippin' at yer wheels, but setting a pace by peering a few wheels ahead can take the variables out of the velocity. The bike behind will bless you. Smoothness returned down to the highway, Snow setting a course to the Broken bridges left me to target River Rd as a reasonable donation. The line stacked sensibly across the tarmac for the six k's to Central Kialla, my usual departure for home had Joey join in (tested for time too), he was delighted to be in the draft but not too keen to contribute. The wind continued to crucify on the truck route but north into Archer was easier, so of course one spices up the speed. Joey stayed silent but Strava gave him trophies.
11/12 A quiet Wednesday roll (says Rob!)
That south southwester would see the fit to the front for the leg to Mitchell Rd, many (like me) would shy from a shift till the going got easier. Rocket, Grumpy, Lenny, Kreeky, Bruce, Kel, Wozz, Bo and Bruce cruised into the carpark from a quick Kialla Lakes Crit (their Wednesday warm-up), us mortals The Godfather, Joe (not Tony), Col, Manny and Boof may suffer as a consequence. I'm not sure what's needed to drive at 37 into 30 k's worth of wind but I wished I had some sitting at third, forth then fifth wheel to Mitchell Rd, only then did I consider joining the advance line.
Kel took an early exit (Christmas breakfast beckoned) and I moved ahead with Joe (not Tony) to the fore and Col to the aft. Speed was keen (understandably) with the wind whipping us through Central Kialla, the sun casting long shadows at us in River Rd. The Godfather and Joe (not Tony) faced the front in Boundary Rd, Joe quick to call my roll at the Broken bridges where Col came alongside.
I'd had enough on the turn into Channel Rd but Col (quite rightly) reckoned I'd done nothing, calling me to htfu for a decent drive. So, wrung out reaching Darth Vaders, Col let me off the hook, I gasped a long recovery toward the cypress trees but Rocket (knowing no limits) was just hitting his straps (no doubt spurred on by sledging from you know who). Volunteers for velocity at the front thinned as the caboose swelled with permanent residents, the ChaCha was covered quickly with a relaxed roll to the school as respite. But just as breaths were caught it was back on the gas again for some testing tempo to town.
12/12 I'll have what Pistol Pete had for breakfast!
Unlike a tax audit or a visit to the proctologist, there's pleasure after the pain of a fast lap. Like banging your head against a brick wall, it's lovely when you stop! So with that perverse proposition, I set off to join the fellowship on the 5:40 flogging. Bo, PistolPete, Kel, Kreeky, Col and TrekTrev charged into Channel Rd with the help of ChrisA (warming up for the 5:50 thrash). With Pistol, Bo and Col ahead, my reckoning forecast I'd have the hell of the headwind for that short squirt in Central Ave, but Col saved me from that suffering doing a double shift to the cypress trees. My kilometre at the front to the S bend was suffering enough. Kel took command to Boundary Rd as I pigged out on oxygen at the back. TrekTrev and Kreeky gobbled up the northern legs of Boundary Rd to New Dookie Rd, longer shifts with the southwester right up the posterior. I'd just got my heart rate back to a happy place when PistolPete took charge, this would be yet another tour de fast force from the sultan of smooth (and style).
Not content with a dash to Lemnos-Cosgrove Rd (the corner congested by Cats cutting the apex), Pistol ploughed on to the main eastern channel and beyond (I gasped a g'day to Goats eastbound). With forties commonplace I pondered Pistol's breakfast must be fast ; was it Clenbuterol on toast? maybe a cup of Eyrthropoietin or is his diet managed by a Spanish doctor? A change of driver at Ford Rd had set Bo a big task, back up to Pistol's previous pace but his exposure to the wind out of the shelter of the trees shortened the shift. Col soldiered on to Grahamvale Rd and suddenly my turn for torment had arrived again. Where was TrekTrev? OTA? The aim at Verney Rd was a world (of pain) away as I tried a tempo previously paced, a little shelter among the outskirts houses was a brief bonus but the legs were losing the will to live. That roundabout couldn't come soon enough. Kel hit the gas for Ford Rd's last hurrah, my guttural gasps hard to keep a lid on while overdosing on oxygen to catch Col's wheel. Plenty of horsepower ahead said I'd be spared the driving duty for a while, fingers crossed it'd be out of the wind and I'd have recovered by then. Kreeky, Bo and PistolPete laid down their labour to drag us to Mt.Wanganui, Col kindly captaining to the Boulevard. Buildings blocked a fair amount of the breeze so speed was almost acceptable while I had the helm to Tarcoola's roundabout. The last drops of my weakened wattage were used to catch the draft as Kel bolted toward the Butterfactory.
We lost 'ol bike mate Nev Yuille today, a gentleman of the first order. After a courageous battle to the finish line, he now has a tailwind home. A pleasure to have known him.
13/12 All aboard! Tickets please!
Friday's scattered start had the squad spread out along Archer Rd, eventually amalgamating at Adams Rd to look like a proper peloton. Or at least an organised one. Tina, Manny, Coggo, Rocket, Shorty, Col, Boof, Grumpy, Kel, Bruce, Bo, Wozza, PistolPete, The Godfather, Kreeky, Joe (not Tony) and TrekTrev were all in t.g.i.f. mode despite the niggling southwester that wont go away (although it had lost yesterday's ferocity). Social stuff occupied all but those on driving duty at the front, The Godfather's garble audible from front to back. The familiar figure of Snow was caught in River Rd, he'd not long got aboard when Cat Minno was absorbed into the pack too.
A big Cat pack blurred by as we rode the last ripple strip to Boundary Rd's intersection, the chooks out again to cackle their good morning as we accelerated north. I was careful to level with Joe (not Tony) as he faced the front in Channel Rd and complied with his call for an early roll at the S bend. Let's not shatter the dreams of the 'new' guy when he's prepared to have a go. Not long ago he confined himself to the caboose. Wozza showed the same courtesy to me while I huffed to Beckham's bend, or maybe it's called a pensioner concession?. The customary charge at the ChaCha had the usual punters participate, though Manny's chain had a hiccup in the sprint to cause a few posteriors to pucker. Traffic at the truck route allowed a few to regain breath before Pistol and Rocket resumed a bolt to the Butterfactory.
Week 50 221km YTD 12,698km
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