Inches from implosion.

Post #551
13/6  Suffering swiftness.

The steering turned suddenly vague.  I'd hoped my prediction of a puncture was wrong, but within seconds the bike had the road handling of a marshmallow.  Just as well I was running 4 minutes early.  Under a Kialla Lakes street light the wheel was off and a sliver of glass removed when Kreeky rode by, promising to deliver the data of my delay to the start line.  Pressure was off to get the repair right.  Soon fixed and underway (although the CO2's dismal 80 psi would be a handbrake in my head), I found a long line spearing south from the car park, but traffic hampered a quick u-turn.   A sprint to catch the tail would be my heart starter.  Trav had dropped from the rear to kindly tow me back aboard (bless him) so I was soon on the team's tail trying to calm the cardiac crescendo.  The familiar posteriors of Col, CatKel, Tina and Shorty were visible (The Godfather audible anywhere) but the Indian file stretched into the darkness ahead ; others would be identified as they peeled off form duty and retreated rearward.

Speed was well stoked by an unseasonal northeaster, Wozza then Rocket had done their bit and tucked into the tail end, Bruce then TrackStan working east then north with wind now the real workout.  The tailenders battled for cover till GiantAndy took one for the team to tow a second echelon, River Rd's real estate fully occupied in the search of a decent draft.  Times like these you yearn the cover of two rows (and the shared pace of two at the front would be nice rather than some solo sprinters).  My turn wasn't due for a while but I couldn't help hoping it would come with the wind behind (yeah, this week's "as if" moment), so sit back and enjoy the tow Foss!

The Godfather appeared to be driving the train hard till Liam peeled off from his shadow ahead.  Promoted further forward over the highway my turn suffering the wind seemed more likely, thankfully Trav's tow took me up to Old Dookie Rd before duty called.  The reality of facing the wide open spaces was a slap in the face, sitting on the rivet and with chin on the headstem the old legs spun like a mixmaster to keep respectable rhythm, that 80 psi haunting my head with the heart-rate in the heavens to reach the bridge.  Called in to 2nd last wheel to sit on Lance's wheel, gasps and groans were gutteral for a k while Rocket ramped up the tempo.

I'd almost returned to coherent by Pine Lodge's church, so banked breaths for what I'd guessed would be a quick trip home.  Bo, Boof and Wozza guaranteed speed and silence to Lemnos-Cosgrove Rd and beyond, mid 40's all the rage toward Ford Rd.  6k's in 8 and a bit minutes would hand out Strava trophies for many.  Lance's body language spoke of hanging by the fingertips as the pack poured into Ford Rd, Tina stuck like glue to Kreeky's wheel while CatKel had no option to cling to the caboose with Cats yet to appear.  That feeling of  bunch belonging stoked up the wattage to hold on along Ford Rd to reach Wanganui (though Lance had let go to join CatKel and MyRideTrev to tour to town), there's pain to the pace but the pleasure of finishing with the pack has a happy ending.  Most returned to the ritual base camp of the Lemontree (some still favouring the berth at the ButterFactory) conversation on MyRideTrev's imminent retirement dominating discussion.

15/6  Morning masochism.
Best laid plans of doing the first turn (method in my madness, there was a tail wind to help) came to nought at the grid, while briefly chatting with Steve and Tina,  Kreeky, Rocket, The Godfather, Bo, Bruce, Kel, Wozza and Col lined up ahead.  Bo got the party started with a surprisingly sedate speed while I'd foot fumbled my way into 8th wheel, guessing the hurt would come later.  The Godfather turned the wick up a bit to Mitchell Rd, Wozza's wattage towing us to Kialla Central.  The northerly was nasty.  Rocket, unperturbed by the headwind to River Rd kept the speed the same (I hope this wasn't an expectation).   Steve stamped his strength on a long shift almost to the dip, Kel then Tina preserving the pace in slightly shorter shifts.

There's not a lot of Tina to tow from and that northerly wasn't subtle, so when I took the reigns as her elbow suggested it certainly dialled up the distress.  The last 1500 of River Rd was a bite a bit big to chew but a skull full of stubborn had set a Coach Rd target.  The heart hollered for a holiday and legs had lost the will to live ; and where the hell was the road's centre line that says the rumble strips for the intersection are near?  What drives this morning masochism is best left unanswered.  I'd given Col the chore of a headwind north (no Christmas cards from him this year!) so understandably the shifts had shortened, Kreeky next to sacrifice himself to speed at the business end.  Bruce continued with cadence on a dash into Boundary Rd, Bo back in the lead role flogging us into the 40's up to Old Dookie Rd.  At last relief turning out of the wind, and relief finding plenty of power ahead, I'd done my one and only turn so there was only hanging on to go.  The Godfather needed a prod to get up the road (dragging the tail into the gutter), Wozza then Rocket heading our hurry to town.  Coffee was calling.

16/6  A Tuesday tap.

Somedays there's neither the muscle or the motivation, and Tuesday it was an effort just to rise after putting porridge in the tank.  Bed beckoned me back but the commandment of thou shalt not soften echoed through the pre-frontal cortex.  A Tuesday tap would tick today's box.  10 degrees was working toward warm but drizzle had dampened the track (of course it had, the bike was squeaky clean two days ago!)   The tibialus anterior was giving grief (tongue surgery needed on a new shoe) and the right knee niggled (just to give it balance), a shoulder complained, another 2 hours sleep would have been nice, the ribs hurt and spondylosis was giving me gyp, otherwise I was fighting fit!   Drawn into the darkness of the Boulevard, Rudd and Wanganui Rd, foregoing someone else's speed standard was a change and I certainly wasn't putting anyone else o.t.a. today!  The knee had stopped knocking and the shoulder had shut up so I was now nearly relishing a ride that wasn't pushing any boundaries. Mice scurried across Ford Rd while I dodged puddles in the blind optimism of keeping the Baum resplendent (2nd "as if" for the week), that breeze feeling more northeaster than the bureau's north northwest. Reaching Pine Lodge North Rd, the turn south toward the Toaster eased the load, a steady spin got me to Old Dookie Rd where speed came naturally west.  I must have had a tail wind  'cause 2 seemed snail-like headed east.  Time wasn't taxing so I plotted a Boundary and Channel Rd tour to town, Cats in pursuit toward the highway kept my cadence keen. (Didn't want to be catpured!) The fellowship of the 5:40's flew north, I would like to have soaked up their sociology but not their speed.  Maybe tomorrow?  Channel Rd was deserted but damp, a few spits of rain at the Cha Cha turning to a brief shower into town.  Despite the now filthy bike there was a satisfaction of clocking a few calm k's, a restoration for this rusty wreck.

17/6  Slingshot Steve.
Boof led an Indian filed incursion into Archer Rd, Liam and Bruce next in line for labour.  Why I was at 4th wheel in that procession of power was anybody's guess, Steve, Bo, Kel, Tina, Grumpy, Col, The Godfather, Wozza and Trav had lined up behind so an expectation of effort was well upon me for my Mitchell Rd salvo.  It's all so easy for the first 300 metres, into a rhythm with a head full of hope......then reality strikes as energy evaporates with the end of the shift (Central Kialla Rd's intersection) but a spec on the horizon.

The slightest incline felt like Hotham's CRB hill (10%), a passing car's draft a godsend, for a short moment.  The briefest of Garmin glances checked the smoothness of speed, trying to avert eyes from the heightening heart rate. I reached the intersection almost inches from implosion, handing over to Steve for his shift.  Something had stoked Steve, with his slingshot north, blind to the headlights growing smaller behind him.  Let's call it enthusiasm.  Bo held station so there was a draft for the remaining riders, not till River Rd did Steve discover his disconnection.   Kel took the turn to the bridge, Tina towing us to the dip, Grumpy making up for his absence with a determined drive to the quarter horse stud. Col seems to time his turn nicely for Coach Rd, The Godfather varying velocity in his trademark turn toward Channel Rd.  Two rows of Cats rolled south receiving The Godfathers greeting, our single filed assault on Boundary Rd tempo'd by Trav.  Gee, Bruce's bike could do with a clean! (the things you zone in to as distraction from the hurry and the hurt.)  With Boof, Liam and Bruce ahead another turn for me seemed unlikely, though hanging on at 4th then 3rd wheel was an escalating effort (Bruce was providing most of the draft, Liam's leaness can't)  Heart rates peaked at Doyles Rd roundabout, the car that suddenly brakes at the last moment always alarms.

18/6   As good as it Goats.
Kittles, Wanganui and Verney Rd's didn't help with any heat, Thursday's 2 degrees bringing 'bracing' to my pedestrian paced prologue in an attempt to stir some circulation.

Coggo, Belly, Sandy and Hommie was as good as Goats get fronting Friars for winter, six a.m. had struck so Coggo led the line out of town.  Belly became delayed at Doyles and Coggo retreated to tow him back, so my shift to Dobson's bridge was a tame one, tempo turned up to Central Ave when the ranks reunited.  Sandy committed to captaincy to School Rd and Hommie was remarkably restrained with a controlled turn to Boundary Rd, maybe the cold constrains the tendency to toil?  Coggo led us to Boundary's bridge, a favour for Belly to take a brief sit in the drivers seat to the Pub but time was already chipping away at my agenda to take a Channel Rd solo spin to home.

19/6  Paired (& pooped!)

The car park was fairly full Friday, an almost tropical 10 degrees and the threat of a soaking on Saturday may have amplified attendance, so Kel's call to pair-up on the exit of town altered the headspace.  Climatizing to two rows would be a challenge following a month's Indian filed formation. There was comfort on Kel's wheel in the advance but Bo lurked behind (hopefully he wouldn't break me when duty called at the rushin' front)   A northeaster was blowing to break those serving their sentence at the front (does not apply to the likes of Wozza, Liam, Boof, Rocket etc), and apart from the three or four closest to the pointy end the cackle and chat was back in the bunch as conversation ping-ponged left and right.  What a change from the single-filed and almost silent string of huff and puff of distancing.  Effort slowly escalated nearing the business end, Grumpy, Joe (not Tony), Kreeky, Bo, Tina, Col, The Godfather and Trav doing their thing while I was trusting Kel's kindness at the front wouldn't cook me. Time came to serve my crew and country a bit beyond the dip and Kel thought I was joking saying "I'll try to keep up".  Barely 600 metres later and I'd calculated a cardiac arrest if I aimed further than River Rd's end.  Rolling across was worse, copping that northeaster almost head-on, I'd barely reach the rumble strips at this rate.  Bo was sympathetic to this senior citizen holding station as I struggled, the last 100 metres with lungs at full labour to blurt out a "yep" for Bo to take the reigns.  Now, how to hang on while he and Boof bolted north?!

Grumpy tried conversation but my want for oxygen made me unsocially silent, I should have taken a leaf from Tina's book and confined myself to the caboose.   Trav tamed the tempo a fraction over the highway so my ticker finally dipped below 170, don't get too comfortable Foss, Wozz and Rocket were about to take the stage!  The hurt of a headwind must be severed from their senses 'cause 40 was our flogging up to Old Dookie Rd, thankfully mercy overpowered them when we pointed west toward town.  It's weird when 38 km/h feels like a treat!  Effort had eased for the 8k leg back to civilisation (and coffee), news of "clear back" for the rumble strips hard to hear over the chorus of chat.

This week  280km  YTD 4,583km