For self's sake.

Post #537
7/3  The Creswick cruelty.

It would have been so easy to go straight back to bed.  Creswick had turned on a stiff southerly (24-33 km/h) and a "feels like 4" to welcome my weekend away, but something deep within said ride,  possibly proving to myself (or others) that I wasn't that soft?  The uphill start to Springmount wasn't horrendous but it was a heart starter, 5% incline a cruel climb straight off the bat for this flat-lander.   There was 3 k's of it till the road levelled toward Newlyn, then that wind whipped across the potato plains to make maintaining 30 a thorough thrashing.  Turning south into a proper headwind at the Newlyn roundabout was an ego crusher, it turned uphill again and I was in search for the little chainring already (the close ratio cassette had sacrificed the 28 cog I'd normally have relied on)

First light lit the dark red soil that spuds love in these parts and clouds brushed the hilltops as far as the eye could see; yeah, I was concentrating on anything but that snail-like 25 km/h the Garmin was tormenting me with.  I finally came upon Dean, more an intersection than a town, and banked breaths for Clarke's Hill just a little further on (memory of it's incline still sharp from a year ago).  Out of gears and almost out of breath, reaching the bluestone church at the top was my salvation, the 3k's of gradual decline toward Pootilla turning me human again.  Spirits lifted with that icy wind now behind me, heading north east 30's were now commonplace and there was just a few gentle ascents to go before the long gradual decline from Wattle Flats back to Creswick.  It was almost a pleasure to run out of gears at times on the last 10k's (average 43 km/h) through the State forest and back to base camp, though an eagle eye was open for wandering wildlife within it.  This Saturday was strange being socially silent, but ride restitution was taken at the delightful Le Peche Gourmand, partaking of rhubarb patisserie and an espresso as an epicurean end to the effort.

9/3  A crisp circle

That wintery wind up my 'whatsits' primed the pace out of Creswick, the 16 k's to Clunes would be covered quickly, though there'd be toil to come facing 23k of headwind to Miners Rest.  I had only myself to blame, I created the circuit!  "Belinda still lives in her little white house" was nominated for the strange Strava segment of the day, the 10k's of "Clunes-Creswick Rd" the one I was happiest with (average 37.4)   Don't get a big head Foss, there'd be lots of slow ones to come! It was still dark through the streets of Clunes, the turn southward toward Tourello turned up the torture, that southeaster (28-43 km/h) delivering an ice-cold (feels like 4.4) dose of reality (more of that uphill cruelty with a headwind too boot!)  The optimist in me had only packed a base layer, fingerless gloves and short knicks (One underestimates the Ballarat effect).

No sooner through Tourello (two houses) than Ascot appeared (five farms spread over three k's) so progress appeared positive despite the Garmin struggling to stay at 27 km/h.  A half k of gravel fine tuned my balance on 25mm tyres, roadworks soon ending to deliver a super smooth stretch of hotmix as compensation.  Passing the plains of potatoes, a steeper uphill to Coghill's Creek Rd called for the little ring to mount it, that wind relentless in trying to blow me backward.  Even with a 3% decline into Miners Rest, speed still struggled to stay in the 30's and the way east on Kennedy's Rd to the highway kept tempo tame.  All that effort for 10k's of tailwind home?  Better have words with that crazy course constructor, eh?  The head's in a happy place with the wind behind, even a long gradual uphill at Sulky didn't distress, knowing the last 5k was all descent.  Traffic was thankfully scarce as a 3 metre emergency lane suddenly went on a crash diet thinning to 500mm.  The p.r. back into Creswick by 8am finished 50 on a high, the Strava suffer score (361) was nothing compared to the pain of finding Le Peche Gourmand closed till 9.

10/3  The sermon on speed (read by the Rev. R. Bell)

Back on home soil, a chance intercept with LegalSteve (commuting to the Cats) chatted the virtues of the long weekend just gone, but how to make each one long was the perplexing problem.  The Friars roll-call was brief, just Coggo and I to call with a minute to go but Belly, Snowman, JB and Phil fronted in the last minute to reduce our workload.  A sermon on speed (directed at JB and me) was read by the Rev R Bell, hinting at his lack of training (and his hope Heady would front to promote him up a place)    Coggo set the standard to Dobson's bridge while I sat second wheel attempting to simulate the smoothness.   Belly had locked himself in as backstop while JB (sans speedo) crept up the pace touching 40 to Boundary Rd.  It was smelling a bit of the Wednesday/Friday POC's.  Snow and Phil towed us to the highway, Belly now braving an advance while Coggo breeched the Broken bridges.  Belly's shift was as short as Jodie's headstem, his elbow ushering me to the drivers seat way ahead of schedule.  A push to River Rd was in order though that hint of south southeaster was a handbrake, the weight of expectation extracting the energy to reach the corner.  Worth the effort though, I'd at least get a tow for most of River Rd to recover.  I was eased with that breeze now at the port-side and four ahead to slice the atmosphere, though the speedo-less JB stretched the team at the dip.  Thanks to long shifts by Snow and Phil, I was spared another sit in the drivers seat, my solo exit via the truck route and Archer Rd (without the expectation of others) could turn down the tempo a little. But not so much as to turn soft.

11/3  11 for 28 in 16 @ 32.

Rising to the ranks of the 6am squad is a longer road than expected, my impatience to find former fitness is only hampered by their ever rising average speed.  I should give thanks that the group's various factions of fitness will find me a suitable berth.  Siding with the Wannabees (MyRideTrev, Laura, Kenworth, Jase, Marion, Nick, Joe (not Tony), Telly, KillkennyPaul and Softa) for Wednesday gave me some worth if only by proper contribution to the cause (there's not a lot team spirit just hanging on the back)  The quirk of mild weather (16 degrees) might be the reason for Softa's reappearance, but to his credit he drove the first shift.  So in consideration of calmer company, I formed the advance line beside him on the exit of town.  Hey, his speed was pretty good! Well, to Hooper's Rd where the wattage waned.

Jase's pace kept me honest to the truck route where Kenworth paired with him for leg three.  River Rd was struck from the route today, Mitchell the preferred passage to Coach Rd, although an easterly breeze exacerbated the effort.  Speed slowed a whisker but (nearly) all were holding true to Rule #67, the effort finally easing on our turn north toward Channel Rd, anticipation amplifying for the tailwind home.  I'm well and truly over this riding through darkness thing, particularly when dark dressed pedestrians suddenly appear at the roads' edge right when pace percolates for the ChaCha.  I finished my shift at the Kinder and locked onto Jase's wheel for a tow, the bunch thinning toward Hopeful corner.  Lights behind faded fast leaving Joe (not Tony) and I happy to hang on, Jase digging deeper to reach the finish line.  He deserved the win.  The cruise to the truck route was slow to gather up those o.t.a., the spin back to town quite chatty for some while others overdosed on oxygen.

12/3  Bunch benefits.

Excavating any enthusiasm took an effort, the snooze function stretched to a maximum Thursday morning.  C'mon Foss! A mild morning, mates to thrash a lap with and you know you'll feel better for it when you finish!  A spin around the golf course loop failed to get more than 32 out of the old engine, so confidence wasn't so keen fronting Friars for 6am.  Pickings were slim again from a bunch once numbering 18 on a good day, only Belly, Heady, Phil and Snow on the Goat grid today.  (HG's standards are spreading!)   Coggo was dragging the chain this morning, to the delight of Heady's lead out of town, JB and Deep Fry joining from their usual SPC start line.

Phil set the benchmark toward Boundary Rd while I sat in his wake forgetting my prior pedestrian pace.  The humility of going o.t.a., the pressure to perform, participating as part of a team or just plain pushing the boundaries are some of the bunch benefits, seldom succeeded solo.    Whatever it was, I managed a decent drive at 37.  So go figure why that wasn't possible prior?  The tow from School Rd was comforting compensation, DeepFry doing the duty to Boundary Rd.  My heart's hurry had calmed accustomed to the draft, now into that rhythm with focus sharpened on smoothing the speed for self's sake (and it benefits the bloke behind to boot!)  I'll bet you can name a few that don't.  Belly drove a decent turn toward One Tree Dam (inspired by Heady's huffing and puffing?) and Phil steered a sensible line into River Rd sheltering those behind from the north northeaster. My shift to River Rd's dip nudged zone 5, handing over to DeepFry at the bridge where I could calm before my usual truck route exit.  A headwind home wasn't so handy but the hurry continued to get me to the coal face timeclock.

13/3  Kinda cruisy (till the end!)

I caught KillkennyPaul and Softa doing the old "relaxed-roll-to-the-start-line-to-berth-at-the-back" trick in Archer Rd and that pretty much set the tone for a tame tap around for Friday.  Don't get me wrong, I could do with a sedate spin. Strava suffer scores haven't been below 140 all year!  Steve, Marion, MyRideTrev, Jase, Laura and Joe (not Tony) had turned up for the 5:50 lap, Marion setting the speed sedate to the city's limits.  Joe (not Tony) charged to the front beyond Kialla Lakes Drive and was quickly chastised, falling back to a tamer tempo (less he suffer a lashing)   We'd barely breeched 32 even with a north northeast breeze at the backside so there was plenty of idle chat as we idled to Mitchell Rd.   I paired with Steve for the last 2 k's to reach Coach Rd, showing some tell-tale signs of being new to bunch riding, but he's smoother than some I know who've clocked up years of experience.  Signs are good we've hatched a smooth one.

Turns were long and short (relative to commitment to k's) up to Channel Rd, Laura just delighted to face that breeze that was fast becoming a wind.  Fortune favoured Foss, tucked into a draft till Channel Rd's calm when bearing west.  Joe (not Tony) and Jase turned up the wick and Steve took a back seat knowing the ChaCha was to challenge ahead.   We'd avoided the almost invisible pedestrians at the road's edge as we worked toward the Kinder, me placed perfectly at third wheel into Hopeful Corner.  I had MyRideTrev's tow to Prentice Rd where it was high time I opened the throttle, that finish line a spec in the 400 metre distance.  Sensing Jase closing in behind at the 100 mark, mental messages to the engine room found a whiff more wattage to hold him off though my recovery took a k to come back.  Strava said the suffer was 161, so much for that sedate spin! The pace homeward with KillkennyPaul and Softa seemed quicker than the circuit just done, a close call with a motorist on a mission to storm a roundabout we were already on recalled the ruination of ribs 11 weeks back.  Ride like all other road users have an IQ of 15 folks...….

265km this week                  1,183km YTD