Post #568
18/10 Obeying obsessions.
This circuit had been brewing in the OCD division of the skull for a while. A road not traveled and a challenge into the bargain. Covid isolation and a saturated Saturday had starved me of a ride for two days so Sunday was all about obeying the obsession. And a savage southwester wasn't going to change my resolve. The nose was pointed north at stupid o'clock toward Nathalia, Bunbartha bound and buoyed by the breeze at the backside. High 30's was feasible but that would have emptied the tank too fast, there was a distance ahead and a lot of it would be into the wind. Conservation was key. It seemed I'd just found a rhythm reaching Zeerust Rd when the rear Michelin changed it's tune, the heart sank along with the tyre pressure as a puncture halted progress. (profanities uttered) This would be a repair in low light with the sun yet to get out of bed. The dreaded bindii was the culprit and I was pleased to have tweezers in the kit to extract the stubborn thorn. Fixed and rolling again, I battled the negatives niggling at the noggin, just one CO2 canister left, no pump and no other tube. The next flat would resort to a patch.
The likely-hood of a second puncture wasn't worth thinking about. Logic was calling a u-turn to home, but the head said h.t.f.u. and ride! The tarmac does a subtle snake toward Kaarimba but that wind wasn't so subtle, the long length to reach the Murray Valley highway eased by the sun rising behind. Finally arriving at the B400, this highway's mostly minus that metre or so of sealed edge, and in places a with a 10cm drop to the gravel from it's jagged edge. The white line became the limit. What luck just 5 cars wanted to use this road this morning, those audio tactile centre lines giving a reassuring rumble as traffic behind did the decent distance thing. Shame the ruts and bumps made it like mixing a martini!
West, southwest and south the grey strip meanders toward Kotupna, a few roadside trees giving respite from that wind on the west bits but giving hell on the rest. Setting expectations on speed were quickly ditched for managing the heart-rate instead. Cockatoos screeched at my high-viz presence (or was that the screech of labored legs?), breaching McCoy's bridge, the almost 80 year old concrete crossing of the Goulburn hinted a turn southeast at Wyuna was near. The short 2k of Trevaskis Rd head-on to the wind was a truely humbling experience. 31k's headed south southeast into the now 30-40 km/h south southwester would make me stronger, right? Scar me mentally more like it! But it's all about suffering isn't it? Part of the addiction? Keeping a handbrake on the heart-rate and sucking up the snail-like speed, the 8k's to St.Germain's spent surveying the purple paddocks of Patterson's curse instead of being soaked in self pity. A metaphoric pat on the back getting there, now the next 8k to Undera! Don't even think about the CO2 canister struggling to deliver 80 psi an hour ago Foss!
That wish for a fleet of B doubles to pass wasn't honored, a sole Toyota Camry was a short-lived and pitiful substitute. Undera finally came into view but another 16k lay ahead to battle, a few outcrops of trees offering some shelter, keeping the head below the channel banks theoretically helping the aerodynamics. A smooth stretch of tarmac nearing North Mooroopna probably added 0.00054 km/h to my pace, but I would take anything at this stage. The wind just blew stronger (like a dose of the "Dookie demons" when you head homeward) The waft from the water treatment plant was like nitrous on the nose but even that didn't help the hurry, the speed sinking toward the cemetery and into town. There was real respite among the residential part of town, the promise of coffee keeping the wheels turning back to town. Rocket, Grumpy, Troy, Bruce, Wozza and Boof were quaffing coffee at the Butterfactory as I berthed to replace lost calories, a chat on F1 salaries, Chris's generosity and re-purposing Pistol's chamois distracting me from the legs lament. Heading homeward the odometer baited me showing 94km, so that obsession (that never let's up) drove me on a few laps of the avenue homeward to clock the 100.
19/10 A line for labor.
Legs were a little like liquorice on Monday (lamenting the labor of yesterday) so the spin to the Sanctuary start-line was sedate. Bo, PistolPete, Kreeky, The Godfather, Tina, Col, Kel and Didak had rolled to the roundabout and I was keen to avoid the southwesterly (spooked from Sunday) so lined up at 5th wheel in the order, hoping to score a turn with a tail-wind. Pistol fronted first (and who was going to deny him the head-wind?) for his trademark turn to Mitchell Rd, Kreeky piloting our path to Central Kialla. Bo's turn next and a longer shift was almost guaranteed, just how long was anyone's guess. To River Rd was standard protocol but this was Bo, proving his pace to the bridge before he handed over to Col. He would have stayed on the front for longer but I'd say Kel's payback would have life threatening consequences. Col was the considerate captain driving to the dip then further, suitably centered on the road for all to shelter from the south in that southwester.
Hang on, was Col bitten by the Bo bug to go far beyond? Thankfully no at the Angora farm when his elbow showed me the drivers seat. Out of Col's draft called on a fair bit more throttle, even with that wind sort of behind,; it's slicing that virgin atmosphere that makes you appreciate the draft you just left. The road's centre-line and the two rows of rumble strips signalling Coach Rd's intersection was a welcome end for my turn, retreating rearward for respiratory relief finding Vince and The Rabbit aboard to share the shifts.
Where they appeared from I don't know. My focus on Col's wheel must have been sharp. Kel wrote the book on straight and smooth to the Broken bridges and a little bit more, Tina towing us to the highway while Didak continued his Bachelor of Bunch Riding degree in the caboose (trophies accumulating as predicted) The Godfather made his contribution to Old Dookie Rd, PistolPete providing pace toward School Rd but Tina's Garmin jumped overboard. A half minute's calm was Christmas on a stick. All aboard again, Pistol powered to Central Ave, Vince motivating muscles into the 40's to get us back to town.
20/10 A few. No phew. (Heady's happy)
East and west, east and west put variety into the prologue menu, I may be asked to contribute to the road maintenance budget of the Golf course loop if I did another lap. 12k's got the legs free of rust to see what Goats may front in 6 degrees. The Friars footpath found just 4 fronting at 6, Snowman, Heady, Phil and Mitch the only takers. Heady seemed happy to head the compact crew out of town, but hurriedly handed me the helm at SPC where DeepFry joined the line. This shift to Dobson's bridge must be written in my job description, the speed set at sufferable considering the few aboard.
Mitch has made the move toward road bike conformity in lycra,.....well mostly. We just need him to ditch the cardigan now. Snow took the captain's role toward Central Ave while I rolled rearward onto Mitch's wheel, leaving a little leeway for his velocity variables to the wheel ahead. I'm sure his speed will smooth as confidence grows to focus further ahead. Snow then Phil had tamed the tempo a tad so I may have set the bar a bit high at the start. But I'll play ball and spin with the status quo. Not often do I see DeepFry at the front, he's usually the last to join and has yet to front the pack when I exit. So he scores an elephant stamp for smoothness southbound in Boundary.
Heady stayed glued in the caboose, Mitch braving the front to nail a steady rhythm without obstructions ahead; it's the beginnings of worthiness when he's already straight and smooth, though his elbow was less than subtle to usher me forward at the bacon barn. It's a pleasant change to get more than one appearance at the front during my brief visit , that smooth stretch of tarmac toward the highway lifting the spirits as wheels hummed, speed spiked a fraction, the effort eased and there was a hint of a holiday on the heart rate.....if I keep talking VicRoads will tear up this tarmac and replace it with something rougher than hessian underwear! Adieu's were bid at Channel Rd and despite the fraction of breeze at the brow, time (or the lack of it) kept up the tempo to hurry me home.
21/10 Ten at my tenths.
An early exit from home allowed a sedate spin to Sanctuary's start-line, a pleasant precursor prior to the pace aplenty ahead! The Godfather, Bo, PistolPete, Col, Kel, Didak, Kreeky, GreatScottSteve and ChrisA arrived to confirm the "build it and they will come" theory. The Godfather was baited to take the first shift by reason of being last to arrive. PistolPete would have been suffering withdrawal symptoms! Like a diesel on top of the torque curve, The Godfather drove a good shift to Mitchell Rd (considering the aerodynamic anomalies), Kreeky then Kel dividing the drive to get us to River Rd. Wasn't I in the deep end with a world of wattage ahead of me!
PistolPete, GreatScottSteve, Bo and ChrisA were yet to do their shifts and that made me the Daihatsu behind the Diablo's ! I could be fried before I fronted! Crimson painted the horizon as Pistol performed a triple shift to Coach Rd, GreatScottSteve giving a concession for the aged in Coach Rd with 5% off the tempo. Didak had chosen to advance from the caboose in my draft, presuming this was a practice for a debut at driving. Bo kept labor on the agenda over the highway to Old Dookie Rd, the parade of pelotons southbound making Boundary Rd peak hour. Clearly from the Kel class of smoothness, ChrisA headed the homeward stretch west in Old Dookie Rd, but hanging 6 inches off his wheel for 3k at 40 got me muttering mercy! Trouble was, he'd set a standard and who was I to let it slump.
The bait of Vince and The Rabbit were less than a k ahead as I was handed the reigns at Central Ave, but I would applying my senior citizens discount to the distance at this pace. All the alarms were going off approaching Dobson's bridge, lungs were bursting, legs would give no more and thoughts were welded on quit ; at east I'd kept eyes off the horror heart rate! Legs buckled to catch ChrisA's wheel as The Godfather and Bo bolted toward the truck route, a quick peek behind seeing Didak slipping off the rear. He knew the way home. A bit of traffic paused progress at the edge of town, 'never say never' Didak catching the tail as Kreeky turned up the tempo to SPC.
22/10 The Belly bait.
A stupid o'clock spin of the streets got a sense of the subtle southerly while warming up lax legs, though a lap with the Goats shouldn't be too labor intensive. Snowman, AvantiLeigh, Coggo, Heady, Phil and Dippa gathered at the grid, Ranso, Macca and Damien as Goat guests to share the labor. Heady guided our path to SPC where DeepFry and JB joined the pack, two rows forming fortuitously (most likely a Cat ritual) as Ranso and Coggo set the speed to Dobson's estate. Heady hid in the caboose. Rather than the single filed silence, the bunch was brimming with babble as paired pals chewed the fat on retirement, returning to restaurants and (questionable) Cat kits. How sublimely social! (though it does get a bit peaceful at the pointy end when there's work to do) Damien, a self-confessed newbie, suffers a case of jabber-jaw at any position in the pack, conversations distracting him from a straight and smooth path ahead (hints of WobblyTrev)
Not the most reassuring wheel to follow. Breathless by the time I'd drawn alongside, he'd gestured me over in a heartbeat, Coggo and I left to do duty toward River Rd. Westward with the wind off the brow made River Rd cruisy, Snow keeping Heady company in the caboose. Ranso's got wattage way beyond Goat requirements, he and Coggo driving to the dip as a distant red led flashed it's "come get me" to inspire AvantiLeigh and Macca to power on. The familiar figure of Belly appeared in the last k of River Rd. Damien did a short shift again (less time on his wheel may reduce my insurance premium?) so Coggo and I were on duty to drive to Central Kialla. Time was taken today to do a full lap - a treat from the usual short-cut and hurry home. Belly joined the workforce in Mitchell Rd, the tempo nothing to raise a sweat but maybe reserves were being banked for the flurry at the finish?
Damien had charged into Raftery Rd's bend but was cooked by Roubaix corner, Coggo and I doing the leg to Galbraith's gate where Ranso took on the partnership. Speed simmered and hopes heightened for a few, into Conrod's dip Coggo called it quits so Ranso drew the line longer. Heady had dislodged from the rear. The finish line became the bait for Belly to bolt, albeit prematurely, speed sinking with 50 metres to go. (Phil and AvantiLeigh pounced the opportunity). It's been a while since getting into the mix of a sprint, a spate of single filed circuits seems to exhaust the urge at the end. A case of too spent to sprint?
23/ 10 Catching the right train.
I'd missed the What's App note on the change of grid and time for Friday, so that explained the serenity at Sanctuary at 5:40. Back toward town in search of bike brethren, a line of led's swung west into Kialla Lakes Drive, turning it time for tempo if I were to catch that train. My pursuit was in vein at Melbourne Rd, their velocity (and distance ahead) had the better of me. They'd plied a path down Raftery, so I mentally mapped a short-cut ; straight down the highway to head 'em off at Mitchell. And don't spare the wattage Foss! Mitchell was empty west and east, so a quiet tap to Dave's dip soon had a bunch at my back. But the blur of Rocket, Liam, GiantAndy, Bruce, Lenny, Wozza and Trav bolting by told me this was the express, and I didn't have a ticket (or the tempo) for it! Opportunity said hang on and see how long I'd survive......in the caboose. Bruce peeled off from duty in Central Kialla and rolled rearward, telling me the Sanctuary squad were somewhere behind. Dropping off the back was suddenly appealing.
A quiet roll along River Rd viewing a scenic sun-up hardly ever happens, soon the line of TrackStan, Kel, The Godfather, Tina, Kreeky, Lance, Didak, PistolPete, MexicanAnt, Bo and Col were closing in ; an easier train to board. Lance retired from the front and slipped silently to the rear, Kel cutting the headwind to Coach Rd. Hadn't I joined at the right time to be towed; at this rate my turn at the front would come with a tail-wind. Didak was on the advance for a first time turn as captain, Col in the commentary seat behind.
Bo set a high 30's hurry north with the followers fanned across the tarmac in shelter, Tina was tasked with the tow to Old Dookie Rd while storm clouds lit with lightning worked west beyond Dookie. Red faded from the horizon. We received just three spits from the sky. The Godfather toughed out a turn to the Toaster, his chain agonized on the smallest sprocket in protest. TrackStan led us to the Pine Lodge church, MexicanAnt doing the swift shift to Lemnos-Cosgrove (so how does that happen when he hasn't ridden for ages?) All were happy in the heaven headed west, boosted by the breeze behind, Kreeky and Lance leading the way to Boundary Rd where Pistol took charge.
Didak's leading role was nigh. The call of "clear" for Lemnos North Rd flung the gate wide open for the young fella, full steam into Ford Rd and gapping the bunch into the process. Ah, aint' youthful exuberance a wonderful thing! Col set about a gradual pursuit to keep the line together, Didak relenting when caught. A first appearance was worth kudos, there was a few weeks work to get there. (There'll be no holding him back now) Col did duty to Grahamvale Rd as I mentally braced for the toil next, thankful that wind was there to enhance the ordinary. Speed was manageable, doing the distance the drama. Kreeky took the turn to the highway while I stifled the gasps at the rear, focus finally restored for the work to come on Wanganui Rd. (hoping a sprint was to be struck from the agenda) Several had taken up rear residence, the re-shuffle putting me on MexicanAnt's green wheel (green tyre, green shoes, green bar tape, you get the picture). I was pleased the pace stayed steady ('cause legs weren't giving much more), Bo building the pace back up from a brief respite in Rudd Rd, but The Godfather taming it again on the Boulevard. Col had other ideas to bolt toward breakfast, traffic lights eventually bringing the bunch back together. A brew and banter at the ButterFactory made Friday feel like Saturday, the forecast most likely to squash a Saturday spin.
This week 350km YTD 8,948km
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