Post #550
6/6 Fog, frost and fellowship.
0.1 degrees was a borderline positive, fog filling the streets wasn't so inviting but that lure of a Saturday spin (and the social stuff afterward) was enough to inspire a multi-layered insulation against the elements and brave the brisk 8k spin to the car park. Legs whipped up a cadence to stir the circulation but that only amplified the wind chill factor, so legs spun a little faster, the breeze became brisker etc etc..... The ups and downs of little blue lights ahead told me Tina was ahead in the 5:55 darkness, lights of her heated shoe covers and gloves pointing out her presence as I circled the block to while away two minutes before launch. Grumpy, Kreeky, The Godfather, Gazza, Boof (and nephew Luke), Col, Bruce, Shorty and Rocket formed a slightly over-populated peloton but nobody was counting for Covid conformity, sensible people were still in bed!
Kreeky headed a single filed line south at a considered pace but Grumpy upped the ante to Mitchell Rd. Fingers and toes were already numb but the 6k intro before facing the front had limbered legs for my drive to Central Kialla, happily handing over to Tina for the tow to River Rd. Boof played guide at the back for nephew Luke, all on full gas east as Bruce tore into his turn to the bridge. The draft wasn't so good for me as Grumpy was a length off Kreeky's wheel, though I guess it'd be a tougher tow behind Bo when he let loose at the front. Those few seconds rest slowing for the turn into Coach Rd ended quickly, hard on the accelerator to catch the draft as Rocket stoked the fire north. Col took his turn at the Broken bridges but was well done (roasted by Rocket?) reaching Channel Rd. We savoured the silence as The Godfather gasped at the front to Old Dookie Rd, Shorty heading the crew to the pork palace (no wind today spared us the smell). It's been many moons since Gazza graced us with his attendance and hadn't lost his touch driving to the Toaster and half way to the church (easy when you're a junior in the ranks). Bo did his usual boost to the speed, Kreeky doing the captaincy west in Lemnos-Cosgrove Rd, toning down the tempo a touch (at least I could bank a breath or two before my next turn).
Grumpy surprisingly shortened his shift a bit beyond Boundary Rd, not from the lack of wattage but the lack of vision through the fog. It seemed strange there wasn't a wind to battle, I just had that lack of temperature and a feeling of pushing through porridge aiming at Lemnos North Rd, like finding your way through a thick cloud glued to the tarmac. Reaching the rumble strips took an eternity but avoiding them was easy, plenty of white paint showed where you could have fillings shaken loose, so the empty oncoming lane provided our smooth passage. Kind words as I retreated to the rear did nothing for lame legs or the lack of oxygen, but they helped the head. The old bloke wasn't doing too bad. Turns rolled a little more often as the cold and distance showed their effects, Bo and Bruce guaranteeing silence with speed toward Wanganui Rd. Rocket led the labour toward the hill, competitiveness gripping Gazza to launch an attack, though most were satisfied to sit back and watch while The Godfather entertained with sledges. All but one were headed to the ButterFactory this morning so I followed for the fellowship, maybe the Lemontree is done being de rigueur? Wozza's whereabouts, post lockdown sport and Col's pancake passion was the distanced discussion over a (now treasured) seated breakfast. How civilised!
8/6 Feels like? F F F Fresh!
Want's bounced between bed and bike and staring at the wall for two minutes wasn't going to resolve it. A public holiday lay ahead but I'd drawn the short straw of work, the bait of a bike ride was there but the mercury was in the minus, the warmth of bed vs the regret of not riding the real battle to fight. Best stop thinking about it and do what Fausto Coppi said, "ride your bike, ride your bike and ride your bike". The labour of layering all that insulation had better be worth it! Anything lower than 5 degrees is going to be cold regardless of the number, so the first k facing the frost was treated tentatively, slowly stoking the speed or those microns of motivation may freeze over.
Streets were empty, the Garmin speed was showing a rather enthusiastic 43 km/h ("as if" and "I wish" rolled into one!) but soon settled into reality as I headed east out of town. The solo spin flashbacked feelings to those lockdown months, not a car to contend with and even the wildlife were having a day off. Expectations of speed had eased, the 155 bpm heart-rate saw to that, keeping the blood flowing to prevent it turning to ice. I'd mentally broken up the 40k lap into bits of east, south, west and north to preserve a feeling of progress seeing as speed was somewhat sluggish. Being bunch-less (most blessed with a day off had What'sApp-ed a 7am spin in the sunshine.....envious!) had the advantage of a personal pace but I had those voices in my head to listen to rather than the babble of the bunch. Old Dookie, Boundary and Coach Rd were soon behind me, the turn east onto River Rd with only the moon following me. I thought I was the silly one out in this stuff, cows standing naked in the fields chewing frosted grass almost made me look sensible. A second wind came through River Rd's dip, a couple of k's added to the pace having a positive effect, though the feels like minus 3 was definitely a negative. It's not often I pedal the path of Raftery Rd home (random 'roo sightings not a concern with plenty of moonlight beyond the headlight's beam), memories of many a rapid finish and the gasps to follow but only the competition of the cold to contend with today.
10/6 Clans combined.
The 5:40 and 5:50 tribes became one on Wednesday, numbers to team up for a tap were diminishing with the temperature so the clans combined to preserve some volume in the bunch.
While others manoeuvred for their wheel of choice in the exit of the carpark, I'd got Rocket's wheel to follow (several rungs up the ladder but a fair player among us of lesser ranks). Wozza captained to Sanctuary's roundabout, Boof boosting the breathing rate down to Mitchell Rd. Kreeky took control for the drive east to Kialla Central, the ease of pace winning friends with many in the bunch keen to recoup oxygen lost. The long line of a dozen drove north to River Rd with The Godfather as a guide, my turn looming as Rocket steered us east. Hopes hinged on his conservative turn so I'd something left for my shift to look respectable. Rocket relinquished the lead at the dip, it'd been a busy 3k's for me hanging on to his wheel but a bit of wattage remained to grind out a k. Joe (not Tony) took his turn but the shift was short, peeling off the front before I'd even berthed at the back.
Tina and Col did their bit bolting to Coach Rd, a northeast breeze not such a breeze to ride into. Bo turned up the hurt as the line pointed north, a few prompts finally getting him in the centre of the road to deliver a decent draft. That helped the hurry to the highway nudging 40 (Bo proving his pace again), Bruce cementing that standard along Boundary Rd. The breeze may have helped our west way home on Old Dookie Rd but Kel drove the train possessed with pace, Boof back in charge at School Rd. A parked truck kept us on the rumble strips approaching Central Ave, Wozza doing the distance to the truck route (though The Godfather's squeeze through the roundabout wasn't quite the example we'd care to associate with). Kreeky found form for a sprint toward SPC, or was that inspired being nearer to coffee?
11/6 R.I.P. Goats.
A fraction of fog at Friars and optimism sank like a stone, Coggo the only dedicated Goat to turn up while the rest rest in peace. It's been coming for a while now, the days of a dozen or more are ancient history, excuses slowly thin the ranks, the temperature whittles down the faithful to a few, then almost any reason finds the few faltering.
Chances of finding Belly on the exit of town were slim, so Coggo and I were left to uphold team tenacity working east on Old Dookie Rd. Deja vu last Thursday. Taking the front seat and aiming at Central Ave (that expectation of a 3k turn when there's only two to share the load), I kept the cadence cooking against the 3 degrees, mid 30's enough for this old bloke considering another turn would come up again quickly. A red led flashed ahead to tempt tempo, finding Snow our quarry as we dodged the rumble strips (oddly, far smoother eastbound than west). Great, an extra player would motivate the ride, but Snow was spinning slow and turned down the offer to join in, so two continued, Coggo taking the reins to Boundary Rd. I'd banked few breaths in his draft for the turn on the front southbound, the battle of head vs legs see-sawing toward the pub. Doing the River Rd leg would tax my time so the safer option (keeps me employed) was to exit via Channel Rd, Coggo understandably keen to tap the full lap, so our ways parted. The temptation was to ease the speed home but I found the prior pace not so painful, wheels humming the 8k back to town with a slight sense of improvement massaging the ego (the next head wind will probably deliver the reality). What to do on a Tuesday / Thursday with the "death" of the Goats was the cranial quandry, 6 days a week with the Coulda's could be too much of a good thing?
12/6 Frosty Friday.
"Summer's just around the corner" quipped Col as 5 halted at Archer St's red light. Minus 1 bit at the bare skin while I caught a breath during a hurried commute to the start line. I wasn't going to miss the 5:40 train as feared, Rocket, Boof, Col and Joe (not Tony) would tow me there on schedule. A minute had passed at the shop, Wozza, Steve, Bruce, Kreeky and The Godfather had tolerated the temperature to turn up too, so at the stroke of 5:40 Wozza led us into the depths of Friday's fog south to Sanctuary's roundabout. Boof's wheel was my lucky dip as the mob fell into Indian filed formation, 4th position would suit me fine, there'd be time to "warm up" before I'd be needed to provide pace at the pointy end. Where were Tina, Kel and Bo I wondered as specs fogged with the 100% humidity, sleeping in if they had sense! Rocket provided a quick tow to Mitchell Rd, Steve seemingly well toasted when his elbow gestured to Boof shy of the Kialla Central turn.
I'd guessed his lungs were locked in the atmosphere's grip when speed settled into the 37's, Boof was kind not to cook me at 2nd wheel up to River Rd. Allowing the tail to catch the head before setting the speed was the excuse for the sluggish start to my shift (rather than revealing the root cause of an old engine) so reaching the bridge (albeit breathless) was possible to hand-over to Joe (not Tony). He's improved since Wednesday, driving further today to the dip, a slight dip in tempo quickly corrected by Bruce in his characteristic spin to the white fence of the quarter horse stud. For a rider "broken" at the start line, Col set a decent speed to polish off River Rd, The Godfather wrestling with rhythm on Coach Rd in a Bo-like bolt to Channel Rd. Kreeky captained us on Boundary Rd passing Cobbles and Sherls on their tap north as a Goat-less Coggo slogged solo southbound (the orange helmet and twin headlight signed his signature through the fog). Wozza's wattage took over a bit beyond the old bacon barn while I predicted if I'd face the front again; there was wattage aplenty ahead but let's not bank on expectations Foss!
Rocket predictably poured on the pace in Old Dookie Rd to Central Ave, Steve sustaining speed to Dobson's bridge, so Boof played pilot into town while I got the easy bit leading the line through the streets to The ButterFactory. A day off work allowed me to soak up the social stuff, catching up with Coggo as he berthed for a brew when the Coulda's departed for work. Half an hour swilling coffee built the guilt and a rising sun made bait to tap an epilogue to the week, despite the bitter cold, a spin south on a Raftery- Mitchell-Archer loop soaking up some rare-on-a-ride-these-days sunshine.
This week 256km YTD 4,301km
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