Suddenly surreal.

Post # 547
16/5  What the?!
Consensus was confused for Saturday's start.  Some suggested a 5:45 launch and others suggested 6 stay as is.  Not much in stone was set.  I'd stuck to the old school flagfall of 6am but only Shorty had joined me at the regular time, so we pondered a minute.....then pointed our path at Channel Rd with a hope of intercepting the earlier departure.  Side by side, I struggled to match young Shorty's speed, though a push beyond the comfort zone is probably what's really wanted (and what'll make you stronger?)  Driving the Orrvale Rd to the Kinder segment, I had to ignore the heart-rate 'cause reality would raise the white flag in the skull.  So wasn't it a relief when Shorty suggested single file turning into Central Ave!  The tow for a k to the cypress trees was just the ticket, my next turn to the S bend now bordering on respectable.  2 degrees had lungs in it's vice like grip as Shorty took the reigns to finish off Channel Rd, the blinking red led's of the premature peloton seen spinning north 500 metres ahead.  Unable to catch (or match) the wattage of 8, we'd settled on a shortcut up Boundary Rd to head them off at Lemnos-Cosgrove Rd, so I took to the front again at our mid 30's velocity, watching those lights steadily become distant.

Shorty took the lead role at Boundary's bridge at a slightly settled speed, we'd have a 6k advantage over the others.  Those lights ahead seemed scattered now, preparing (perhaps?) to turn into Old Dookie Rd.  Nearer to the fig farm, red leds parked left and right suggested it may be a puncture that'd be our chance to catch, but a headlight waved at us signalled all was not well.  Serious in fact.  Suddenly surreal.  PistolPete lay motionless on the road, Molly supporting his head, Col, The Godfather and Grumpy urging his eyes to open, but not breathing became the bigger issue. Suddenly surreal,  Pistol was rolled carefully onto his back, Col and Grumpy sharing CPR duties, guided by 000 calling the compressions.  Bo, Kreeky, The Godfather, Shorty, Brue and I, all feeling rather useless, could only stand sentry.  The stuff of TV drama was live in front of us.  Wozza arrived on the scene from his 5:50 start, discussions discovering Pete had passed out while heading the pack in the high 30's, collapsing like a bag of spuds to the tarmac.  What seemed like an eternity was in fact just a few minutes till reds and blues lit up the area from both north and south, bringing relief as MICA paramedics took control.  By good fortune the pedestrian partners (Kel, Simone and Jen) had brought Cate to the site.

 Protocols had police and fire brigade attend, paramedics assisted his breathing and soon had vital signs under control, preparing to transport Pete to Melbourne via helicopter. So as 2 degrees took it's grip on cooling muscles and with no purpose to serve standing there, us 8 headed to coffee and consolation (at a considerably calm pace).  Ambulance subscription and the importance of knowing basic first aid had re-prioritised, the bonds of the group's fellowship and advantages of being in a bunch had new and clearer perspective. Sun-up dropped the mercury more and the morning's drama had really rattled the nerves, a brew at the Butter Factory thawed  chilled limbs while the Couldabeens crew consoled.

PistolPete underwent emergency surgery that day, a partial aneurism was diagnosed and a coil inserted in the brain.  Sedated and intubated, he's expected to be in intensive care for three weeks then undergo a very long recovery.

18/5  Trainspotting.

That ability to spring out of bed has wilted with winter's early onset, to tap a lap with a bunch of bike buddies seems to be the only drawcard left! (I've served my sentence of solo's with hard labour over the past two months)  High-tailing it to Archer Rd's shop for the 5:45 fling was in fact in vein, seems that lap lapsed in lockdown and not re-started.  The car park was vacant.  I pondered joining the Goat train of peace when Bruce rolled in, realising his tardy timing too.  So it was a Saturday deja vu ; a chase on Channel to catch a premature peloton.  Bruce took turn 1 to the truck route, turning tempo to the high 30's, my slightest deviation left or right feeling a headwind that'd handbrake my attempt at hurry.  Suffering is a dish best shared, so I expended energy to Orrvale Rd, hoping recovery would come quickly in Bruce's draft to the Kinder.  Yeah....as if!  The push down Central Ave went ok but the eastern effort to the cypress trees had this old engine miss-firing by the bend.  Sounds of that growling bear were heard.  Heart rate wouldn't drop below 175 so I sat out the next turn while Bruce bore the brunt to Boundary Rd.  Cheers mate! Nothing northbound so we steered south, struggling to spot the train of led's expected eastward on River Rd while I overdosed on oxygen, readying for more to come.  At least the wind was in our favour now.  Soon into view, Wozza led the train of Kel, Kreeky, Tina, Joe (not Tony), Bo and The Godfather, Bruce and I climbing aboard at One Tree Dam.

Speed was swift (but made survivable with smoothness) aided to by the draft of 6.  Wozza peeled off the front at Channel Rd, Kel served up the speed to Boundary's bridge, Kreeky's leg likewise to Old Dookie Rd and Bo took to the drivers seat for the west way to town with the wind now helping the hurry (mental calculations had me serving one shift nearing town at this rate). Tina's shift was swift, Joe (not Tony's) cut short with insufficient oxygen and almost falling prey to the rumble strips from hell.  The Godfather was keen to keep the km/h cooking, driving past Dobson's while I watched expecting an elbow to flap, but it didn't wave till across the truck route.  I got the easy bit, the k to SPC on that heavenly hot-mix.

19/5  Wizards with the wind, average against it.

Wet weather to come caused a keen launch from bed on Tuesday morning, the opportunity to tap a lap wasn't going to knock often this week.  Believing the bureau's 10 degrees took a while to sink in, so short knicks had an outing (maybe the last for several months?) on the golf course loop, just for temperature's sake.  It's been a while since pedalling this precursor. A few Goats had made noises of re-emergence and a social spin with them was long overdue, so Friars was the 6am starting grid from my 12k prologue.  Heady, Coggo, Belly, Sandy and Hommie lined up, Heady shirking from his standard 1st shift gave me the lead role by fault of first arrival.  Reaching Dobson's estate was a test of tenacity, just my luck I had a northeaster to push into (I guess I could blame my tardy tempo on being kind to those on a comeback?)    Coggo kept a similar speed and I'd won a commendation for consideration from Belly, Sandy added a k or two to the pace from School Rd as Heady struggled in her diminutive draft.   His turn was shorter than a politician's promise (too many push-ups and not enough pedalling Heady!)

Hommie headed our way south on Boundary Rd, instantly in trouble for tempo as Heady grappled to catch the tail.  All back aboard by the fig farm, the pace pumped up a little with that northeaster's assistance, Belly taking his turn over the highway while I waited for his elbows message.  Given the drivers seat at the Broken bridges, my shift to River Rd was a breeze, blown from behind (ahh....we're all wizards with it but average against).  Heady had found his true calling on the turn west, hardly the length to slap an OMG on but the speed would put his head in a happy place.  Hommie had the helm at Laws drive and stuck it out to the end of River, so I started my solo shortcut home somewhat fresh.  That wind felt more like an easterly pointed north on Archer Rd so I could stay on schedule without bursting a boiler in pursuit of clock-on time.  A g'day to Sherls and Cobbles idling the streets of town (the only time I'll pass them!) got me back to base with a minute to spare.

22/5  Late and laboured.

I hate running late.  Just a bit slow out the door on Friday then every intersection was against me (as well as a refrigerated southwester) en-route to the start.  Head down and cadence up, I was still 5 minutes behind schedule at the city's centre.  4k to go with legs like liquorice already!  Backing off and taking a shortcut to intercept the 5:40 folk had a split second's thought, then the head lowered further and feet spun faster with a window of opportunity just ajar.  I might just make it.  This was going to be close....till the last traffic light turned red.  Clinging to optimism as the light changed to green, what felt like the last drops of energy were spent hammering the last 500 metres, but a line of seven strung from the carpark just 400 ahead.  Maybe I'd catch them if they were slow up to speed.  (Yeah...not likely!)  Thankfully, eagle eyed Tina had spotted me coming.

With just enough oxygen to blurt "thanks", I tucked into GiantAndy's draft as Bo turned up the tempo south to Sanctuary's roundabout.  Who else made up this pack? A peek right to i.d. the cohorts almost blew me o.t.a., never underestimate the draft (particularly if it's GiantAndy!)    Kel took the 2nd shift to the truck route and Kreeky suffered the southwester to Mitchell Rd.   The Godfather did a double shift to reach River Rd, though velocity varied in the last k as his tank emptied.  Tina restored the rhythm with a strong shift to the bridge, Joe (not Tony) making progress with a good turn to the dip.

I'd almost got my breath back when GiantAndy took the drivers seat.  Being in his draft has it's advantages but hanging onto his wheel when he's off the leash in the lead is the tax you pay.  A 3k turn was nothing for the big fella, towing us all to Coach Rd but  I was left a swift standard to uphold headed north (how lucky to have that southwester to make my drive to the Broken bridges look respectable)   Bo did the leg to the highway, Kel keeping heads down and effort up to near the fig farm, the hard yards of Old Dookie Rd into that wind being the short straw for Kreeky, The Godfather, Tina and Joe (not Tony).  GiantAndy had the reigns crossing Central Ave and I'd readied (mentally) to take my medicine at Dobson's, but that big engine kept running strong all the way to SPC (oh to be 30 years younger!).  A day off work allowed a post ride coffee and chat (suitably distanced) till the dropping temperature forced some muscle movement, topping off the short week with a quiet roll of the golf course loop.

This week 173km       YTD 3,555km