Drowning in darkness.

Post #540
28/3  Strange Saturday, sans sociology.

Being in a bunch was banned but the standard Saturday ritual to ride wasn't to be missed (obeying an obsession if you like).  The ritual route was chosen, a few halts happening through an empty town with traffic lights frozen for want of traffic to direct.  Passing the empty carpark was weird bound for Mitchell Rd, a not-so-subtle east northeaster (24 km/h) guaranteed me work for most of the circuit, the saving grace being a tailwind home.  A bit of banked wattage was quickly worn on the push east to Central Kialla, those few minutes of respite headed north to River Rd hardly enough for the cruel 6 k's to follow.  Eyes were off the sluggish speed, focus glued on cadence instead to keep the spirits up and the effort down.  A glass half full philosophy said most of the hard yards were done by the Angora farm but that wily wind had swung to become a northeaster, extending the effort in Coach and Boundary Rd's.  Breakfast was going to be well earned today.   A few rows of trees offered shelter and comfort to laboured legs, those wide open fields giving no mercy where wind whittled down the average.  The end was nigh in Old Dookie Rd, just an obstinate spin to the Toaster where the northbound leg to Lemnos-Cosgrove Rd seemed easy.  Was that LegalSteve and Ed Dookie bound as I turned west toward breakfast?

At last, the tranquillity of the wind (almost) behind me instead of whistling between my ears, the ego massaged managing high thirties with little labour and just for good measure, a red led ahead (entering from Boundary Rd) to chase.   Gains were gradual and distancing needed careful consideration, so the overtake was planned for maximum separation.  Getting closer, that ride style was familiar and the stature was the give-away, MyRideTrev was passed with greetings given many metres apart. Feels so anti-social!
A collection of Cats, daftly defying distancing, crossed Grahamvale Rd while I headed for suburbia, any Wanganui worries evaporating realising there was only me to keep up with.  Hey,  I'd even manage a podium position!   Up Mt.Wanganui lapping up the last of the tailwind, the turn to Rudd Rd and on to the Boulevard was reality slapping me in the face, back into that wind again!   A craving for caffeine powered the push back to the Lemontree, an empty footpath where the long table once sat felt foreign but their coffee cured that.  TatPaul happened to front as I tucked into a take-away breakfast so we deliberated (at a distance) on how wearing the wind was, metal detecting and worthy wheels.

30/3  Tour de Tally.

Those miserable excuses to lay in bed grew longer, the need to snap out of the slumber becoming more urgent less I succumb to softness.  Mapping a lap less travelled over breakfast injected some inspiration but urging lethargic legs up to speed along the highway burned most of it up.  I'd set sights on Zeerust though a fog hung low on the tarmac from yesterday's rain, the dew point matching the 13 degree temperature fogging the view.  Several k's north and I finally found Zeerust church, the fog clearing to show a sky full of stars to guide my way to Bowey Rd.  Morning Col!  Farmhouse lights bordered the tarmac to Tallygaroopna, a westbound truck the first sign of life I'd crossed paths with.  Tally's half dozen lights dazzled after 19k's surrounded by darkness and time had ticked away reaching the highway so the planned course via Victoria and Katamatite Rd's was ditched for a swifter spin on the A39.  Many may rant the risks of riding a highway but a smooth 2 metres worth of emergency lane to yourself beats a narrow rough edged B road in my book.  There was just a handful of (courteous) cars to deal with anyway.  A breeze from the east wafted the fragrance of wattle and gum trees across the nostrils (how's that eau de body odour, sweaty Zwifter's?) as the k's clicked away toward Congupna, the feint glow of a sluggish sun in the Dookie distance about to herald another Monday.  Looking forward to next week's return to eastern standard time, I might enjoy a ride in daylight for a for change! For a week or two. Verney Rd was my way back to town, 80 minutes in Zone 4 a worthy workout to start the week.

31/3  Tour de Tat.

An enthusiasm to explore got me aboard the Baum on Tuesday, something was needed to stir the senses now that bunches are banned, and with no constraints on a course, the call from the creative corner of the cranium was "Go west young man!"   With worries about wildlife along the bike path I made tracks along the Midland (reasons explained yesterday) to Mooroopna.  Working west, those wire rope safety barriers were a little daunting but the tactile edge-lining is a good repellent for cars (shame  the emergency lane is rarely swept).  Traffic was rare as I settled into a spin toward Tatura, a little uncertain on distance but the clock ruled my turn-around time. On schedule at the Tatura-Undera Rd roundabout, I steered south to Tat, the fire siren sounded but few plied the streets.  I struggled with speed to escape the township, the promised breeze from the west of little help with my hurry.  The slightest suggestion of a downhill got me on top of the gear, Ferguson Rd feeling somewhat thinner than the tarmac previously tapped.  Not keen to thread the thinner Toolamba Rd home (competing with commuting traffic, building for the 7am starters), I chose Craven Rd for a quieter car-free course, but being alone with my thoughts was a high risk activity!  Despite increasing cars on the highway, the 2 metre wide emergency lane was vacant, so 12k's was spun safe and satisfied back to base, just a shame that eight hours of work now interrupted the day.

1/4  Tour de T'lamba.

Toolamba was my "Tour de" target on Wednesday, 9 degrees providing a nip in the air to keep cadence cooking toward Mooroopna.  The southwest strip of the C369 is skinny, with a rugged edge and patches on the patches to test your steering stamina.  Darkness swamped the surroundings and the k's seemed to crawl in search of the railway line that marked the imminent turn to Toolamba.  Only when bearing east did that hint of southerly strike me as the source of slowness, so the velocity was on the improve toward the township of 772, all but one of them asleep.  I wondered if  the Goulburn bridge was passable (and had a u-turn option if it wasn't), 5,600 new bolts have uprated the 100 year old structure to take 9 tons, but those old red gum boards still have gaps that would swallow a wheel whole, so walking it was the best bet.  A minute on foot was just the medicine for moaning muscles, the spin to the highway feeling rested and revitalised.

Just as well, Union Rd's roughness was to come.
VicRoads took a tired old goat track, sprayed it with tar then sprinkled 20mm stone on top, replicating a Roubaix-like roughness for all to enjoy. Thank my tormented toosh there was only 4k's of it to get to Central Kialla Rd.  The budget was better on this one, smooth hot-mix the reward though there was a sense of drowning in darkness with not a light in sight.  Welcome to the brave new world of social distancing Foss!  Aldous Huxley's dystopian society edges a little closer?  Mitchell Rd was back on familiar ground, the glow from distant city lights a reassurance and with time on my side I chose the Raftery Rd route back to town, eyes peeled for wandering wildlife.

3/4  Tour de Toaster.
The trouble with this social separation stuff is the sudden loss of schedule, there's no start times to motivate you morning, so left to your own devices the saddle-up time gets slack.  A 5:40 start was 20 minutes later than my ride ritual so a short course was created in the cranial cavity to get me home on time and preserve employment.

A hint of a northwest breeze blew me out Ford Rd, settling into that circadian rhythm a 15 year habit has permanently marked into my mornings.  The pace was pleasing (for this ageing engine) in Lemnos-Cosgrove Rd, mellowing the madness of the pandemic planet with a little Michelin music (played on the Craftworx turntables) refining the minds' metronome.  History filled the head en-route to the Big Ring, that day Killer came to blows with Ivan the World Champion, and the evening I glanced off the side of a startled cow that charged across the road. I won't begin to calculate the times I've tapped this stretch of tarmac. The reality might make this obsession a bit frightening.

South to the Church and that breeze wasn't so bad, down to the Toaster (needs some work on it's list to starboard) and pointed back to town the predicted push wasn't so punishing.  I'd ummed and ah'd on taking a Channel Rd route back but that enemy of time ticked a toll of 'late to work'.  A pair of led's flashed ahead in Old Dookie Rd but the challenge to chase was dampened by social distancing laws (the sheer lack of horsepower was the real reason!)  It was pleasing to finish a slightly shorter lap with a few minutes to spare, now to dredge the depths of motivation to inspire more solo spins for the weeks (dare I say months?) to come. What's that commandment?  Thou shalt not soften!

This week: 232 km      YTD:  1.923 km