Facing facts on fitness.

#546
9/5 Mustering motivation.

The snooze button was nearly struck a second time.  Enthusiasm was at empty and the motivation meter was at minimum.  Peering out the window presented grey and gloomy skies and the radar reckoned the rain was due at 9.  Carpe diem old boy!  Legs were lamenting the long lap yesterday but Mr. Voight's words were quickly uttered to them.  Facing yet another socially starved Saturday did little for the resolve and a forecast northerly would soak the standard circuit in suffering, so I softened to take on the lap clockwise instead.  12 degrees felt almost tropical, the old engine gently prodded up to pace in Wanganui Rd.

There's been a gradual acceptance of a slower speed over these Covid constrained weeks, low 30's being the new norm brings a new found appreciation of the tow a bunch brings. We're maybe not as quick as we think when left to lap alone? (of course this does not apply to fit freaks like Rocket, Pistol, Boof, Wozza etc)   I was keen to reach Pine Lodge North Rd before the forecast swing to a northeaster but just as keen to keep a 145 cap on the heart rate (yesterday's 548 suffer score suggested a slow down was due) This obsession may as well be enjoyable.  To the Toaster and I reckoned I'd caught the wind's change, the 3k leg to Boundary Rd covered with increasing calm.

Southbound on Boundary was better again but the self preservation voice inside wanted wattage banked for later.  We've been spoiled by scenic sunrises in recent weeks (for those who've been out to relish it!) but a curtain of grey was veiling that vista this morning, and trying to kerb any enthusiasm with it.  I took a guess at the two bikes oncoming near Channel Rd, two bright leds cutting through the darkness kept identity a secret but the eau de aftershave gave The Godfather away.  (Bo his partner in crime?)  One Tree Dam was painted in a strong shade of sombre, happy I was running on endorphins to overpower it. That feeling of being followed was back when I pointed west into River Rd, the second crow from the rooster told me I was being tailed, but a hurry to hold off another wasn't on my menu ; the headwind home and the breakfast after was.

Rosella's flashed their colours against River Rd's monochrome and a little orange was squeezing through that grey curtain behind me, delivering a quick "G'day" to Steve steering east when I pointed south to relish the last of the tail wind through Central Kialla.  Hardening the head for the headwind occupied the mind in Mitchell Rd.  Up a sprocket set the spin into Archer Rd to keep speed respectable though I found myself chasing the few seconds of sunrise for a picture to prove something positive in the day.  Lust for the Lemontree's breakfast was all that was left in the tank to get to town, the average speed was so-so but overcoming the sloth that struck when the alarm went off was counted as a p.b.  Steve rolled into the Lemontree as I tucked into the warmth of breakfast, a chat at footpath's length soaking up some social stuff.

11/5  New kit, same old cold.

A taste of the temperature winter will bring arrived early to test Monday's resolve to ride, the mercury only managing to reach two, but the Couldabeens kit (mark 4) was hot off the press and that was a reasonable excuse to road test it.  The Antarctic rated base layer was left in the cupboard for a cooler day.  Rather than a random lap, I mentally mapped Monday's circuit backwards, to lead me not into temptation of the tail-light time trial but deliver me to the Covid correct compliance of a solitary spin.

Breath was drawn quickly outdoors, legs instantly craving cadence for a touch more temperature and any exposed skin feeling the bite of the atmosphere.  And I wasn't to the end of the driveway yet!  Fog filled the dips of Wanganui Rd, the speedo settling into the low 30's while lungs laboured in the chill of my eastward effort to reach Boundary Rd.  A solitary light approached, two tell-tale blue lights of heated shoe covers and gloves guessed Tina was toasty.  That most basic urge to keep warm pushed the pace up beyond the usual, a stronger version of having a tail-light ahead to chase. Questions on wind direction had answers turning south onto Boundary Rd, reasons for sub-standard speed couldn't be blamed on a breeze, not a twig was stirring, so fault was quickly put on the cold (to side step the reason of a worn old engine)

Sun-up has noticeably turned slow motion while this distancing has socially starved us, memories of riding in sublime Summer weather now slowly slipping away.  Suck it up Foss, there's 7 weeks yet till the days turn longer.  I kept the heater turned on staying on the 17 cog (should have added an extra base layer), the new kit certainly a stand-out and comfortable, despite what felt like a thinner chamois. To Channel Rd the subtle hues of dawn put colour into the sky, though my eyes were on the hunt for wildlife following Skippy's surprise last week.  One random rabbit kept it's distance. 8k's of very familiar tarmac back to town were tapped in strange silence, a relaxation of restrictions (craved by many) will change that to rowdy.

12/5  Sayonara solo's!

Sequencing all those insulating layers is a skill soon tuned as temperatures tumble ; don't you love it when you finally pull the gloves on to discover the heart rate monitor still in the cupboard!  Suitably layered like an onion, I felt the freshness of Tuesday's 5 degrees, hardly something to get excited about though with restrictions being relaxed tomorrow riding in bunches is eagerly anticipated.  Riding solo without any comparison for nearly two months would I be the Lada in a field of Lamborghini's?  Tomorrow and tempo would tell. The trip south to Raftery Rd stirred the circulation into action, surfacing the sentiment of what I'll miss about a solo spin ; changing courses on a whim, setting a speed to suit the mood, the possibility to pause periodically to snap the scenery, start and finish times to suit me and the freedom for flatulence without fear of reprisal!  Doing Conrod straight backwards always feels weird, somewhere in the roadside darkness the sound of a barking dog and the approaching scuttle of feet prompted a surge of speed to cover the metres more quickly.

Through the dark and the cold to Mitchell Rd and across to Archer found not a fraction of inspiration, a challenge for the winter months ahead.  Fellowship of the few that will carry on through the season might be the only lure.  North on Archer and back into town, time was on my side to have one last freestyle course home, a tap along Channel, Orrvale, Poplar, Central and New Dookie, just for the hell of it.  Ritual routes resume tomorrow.  One more scenic sunrise was worth a pic for posterity.

13/5  Group love (& labour)
Surviving the bunch speed simmered in the back of the skull but the camaraderie in Couldabeens company drew me to the carpark on Wednesday.  34 days doing solo's was sending me psychotic!  Familiar faces formed (almost) in distanced divisions of ten to comply with Covid's relaxed restrictions, so I joined Bruce, Shorty, Boof, Grumpy, Joe (not Tony) Kreeky, Wozza and Rocket while division 2 (Kenworth, Laura, Marion and MyRideTrev) assembled at the rear.   5:50 struck to send us 9 southward, others filtering in to form separate squads.   Complying with distancing proved difficult for most, getting into the draft an almost automatic reflex.  Bruce and Boof set a swift standard while I became draft dependant climatizing to mid 30's.  Crikey, reactions were rusty! Haven't had a wheel that close for ages.  Rocket was remaining at the rear sensibly spaced,  so I tailed Shorty in joining the advance line, hoping I'd handle the hurry.

Crossing the truck route was time to tell as Shorty and I faced the music, did we really ride this speed pre-isolation?  Ignoring the km/h (and definitely the HR) helped me reach Mitchell Rd, hopes now set that Joe (not Tony) hadn't been to a Spanish doctor!  He hadn't, opting to roll across just a couple of hundred metres later.  And wasn't the draft a godsend! Recovery was set to fast forward while Kreeky, Wozza, Bruce, Grumpy and Boof did their duty, my next appearance at the front would happen sooner than I wanted (this wasn't a two-turns-in-a-bunch-of-thirty ride)   Half way into River Rd and it was testing time again, I'd set a roll-over target a little shy of a proper turn but Shorty called it shorter still.  An elephant stamp to Joe (not Tony) facing the front again (the turn brief but brave), at least he hadn't resigned to the rear. Wozza kindly kept tempo when summoned to the drivers seat, a strong shift to Boundary Rd where Boof and Bruce took the reigns.  And they were in for the long haul, thankfully.  A north northeast breeze would have broken me at the front, so I appreciated the real wattage towing us to Channel Rd.  The next shift west of the S bend had some shelter though Joe (not Tony) had got his second wind to keep me busy till Jamieson Rd.  A solo Superman spotted eastward.  That charge at the ChaCha got me gasping, Bruce and Boof silenced us with speed and sent us single filed in survival, Wozza kindly keeping me in touch with the gift of a draft when I hit the rev limiter.  

15/5  Ff f fresh F F F Friday!
Concerns about keeping up are best cured by jumping in the deep end.  It'd been many months since catching the 5:40 train so Friday was to face facts on fitness.  I'd either survive the speed or suffer the silence on a slow solo home.

Tina, Joe (not Tony), Kreeky, The Godfather, Kel, PistolPete, Bo, Col and Grumpy had (by chance) formed a train of ten in Covid conformity to set forth south from the shop, PistolPete (the perfect pilot) carefully turning up tempo to keep all the carriages connected.  Me? Perfectly placed at 7th wheel thanks, climatizing to the long lost labour.  PistolPete proved his pace to Mitchell Rd where Kel capably captained to Central Kialla.  Hey, The Godfather's fitness has flourished (like the fur on his chin), a rapid ride to River Rd to hand over to Joe (not Tony) for a go.  But River Rd's bridge was too far, Tina taking charge as his wattage wilted.  My contribution to the cause was looming large.  For a moment I thought Kreeky was in for one of his long drives, but a flapping elbow at the Angora Farm handed me the helm.

That long smooth lead up to my driving debut eased me into the effort of the job as train driver, reaching Coach Rd cooked but content.  I wasn't going OTA....yet!  Col captained the charge north all the way to the Pub, adding a couple of clicks to the velocity ; how does he do that with just 6 rides in 8 weeks?  A partner prescribing pills of pace possibly?   Grumpy's another one on the up and up, making short work of Boundary Rd, Bo finally getting a turn at the front into Old Dookie Rd.  It was likely to be a one-turn-lap for me when Pistol commenced his second effort 3k's from town, I could have managed another go (moments in the 40's were manageable) but why should I stand in the way of Pistol's progress?  I was puffed but chuffed spinning the streets into town, I'd survived the speed, had a thrash with mates and found some form from way back in December I thought had been lost.

This week 226 km    YTD 3,381km