Post #569
25/10 A Sunday soliloquy.
Yet again, Saturday's damp had deferred a spin to Sunday, but it would be starved of the social stuff. Not a hint of a ride on WhatsApp. Maybe there were too many sore heads from celebrations / commiserations surrounding a certain football match? Solo would curb my craving to ride, I could set my own course and my own pace, even win the sprint! I'd just have to suffer the soliloquy. (go on, Google it!) But was I reading July's forecast over breakfast? Feels like 1.5 degrees? And a southerly up to 37 km/h? With just 10 weeks till Christmas? Well, at least it wasn't raining.
Without contemplation, I'd found myself tapping the golf course loop again (old habits die hard) but the aim was further ; a fair bit east then a fair bit west and as little southbound as possible. Wanganui, Ford then Lemnos-Cosgrove is a track often tapped, the power of suggestion that there was a whisker of westerly in that southerly helped the eastern effort (mentally). Barely 6:15 and a little light on the horizon mustered some motivation toward Cosgrove, with no-one else's agenda to follow it would make sense to set the speed to cruise, but something weird within drives the tempo into Zone 4 fairly quickly.
It's probably Strava's fault; posting a pedestrian pace seems silly. (That competition curse strikes even when spinning solo). It seems foreign to cross Pine Lodge North Rd when its usually a turn south to the Toaster, the distant lights at the quarry drawing me like a moth past the old telephone exchange and landfill site. Yep, that southerly was certainly stiff on the turn into Quarry Rd. A couple of k's at Muppet pace would soon be forgotten Foss! West on New Dookie Rd wasn't as cruel, the sun was up and psychological warmth at the back almost got thoughts off the icy wind, particularly in the shelter of a few trees. The tarmac has copped a beating over winter, water creeping under the cracks in the surface and traffic dislodging the loose stuff. Holes to hammer a wheel to death in some places. That wind was doing a good job of steering me around them though. The 6k's back to Pine Lodge church passed fairly fast, but that meant facing another stint into the southerly. Briefly.
Toasted at the Toaster, the turn west onto Old Dookie Rd was a short holiday, but some crazy fool had a bit more suffering southbound in mind. Concentrating on coffee kept the legs spinning south on Boundary to Channel Rd, knowing the hardest stuff was done made the west leg to town a treat. And only 3 cars to deal with for the last 45 km. Don't you love the serenity! Roads were reasonably clear in town too, finally reaching Melbourne Rd to enjoy a whole 2km of tailwind. The quiet over coffee was quite queer.
26/10 Bunch bust'n.
Fortuitously, I'd thrown a leg over the bike a little earlier than usual, another southerly was doing it's best to blow me backward en-route to the Sanctuary start-line. I could afford a slightly slower pace and still get to the grid on time (mentally mapping a manoeuvre to avoid the first turn to Mitchell Rd.) PistolPete, GreatScottSteve, Tina, Col, The Godfather, Didak, Kel, Joe (not Tony) and Bo converged on the roundabout, Kel surprisingly taking the first shift into 3k's of headwind. I'd strategically slid into 4th wheel, though PistolPete ahead would test me with pace. At the end of Archer, Kel retired rearward, Tina (2nd wheel) rolling back to the caboose too, battling breaths, so Pistol headed our hurry to Central Kialla.
I couldn't complain, I would be blessed with the wind behind on my drive to River Rd. There was a slow start to my shift with bother at the back, the calm allowing the caboose to re-connect. Not till the public hall did the "all aboard" come, so guilt had me adding a half shift into River Rd as a fair contribution. The urge to reach the bridge was quickly erased by the wind whipping in at the right flank, so I handed the reigns to The Godfather to assume the seat of suffering. Tina called me in to 3rd last wheel, assuming Didak commanded the caboose. Not sure where Pistol had gone. The Godfather did well to tow us to the dip, Bo's shift strangely a standard one to the quarter horse stud. Col opened up the throttle but hollers from the rear (that didn't reach the front) told of an o.t.a. Delivering that news to the front took some wattage but the subtle trim of 2 km/h off the pace had little effect on gathering the remains, now 100 metres in arrears. Vince was caught and absorbed into the front line. Taking the news to the front again turned my focus fuzzy.
The calm to Coach Rd had almost collected the congregation, GreatScottSteve patient with his pace till the "all good" came. Steadily back to speed, I had the wheel of smoothness ahead (guess who?), Bo driving the hurry beyond the highway while sledges were swapped with the southbound squads. Joe (not Tony) scored the west leg of Old Dookie Rd first as the horizon turned orange (briefly) behind us, his quick trip to School Rd (or a bit beyond) for Kel to captain us to Central Ave. Calls from behind about traffic were cryptic, or was the wind carrying words to Wodonga? Looks like I'd be up for a second shift. Central Ave to Dobson's bridge again, and the same mental mountain to climb. My slow start to make sure all were aboard but that only allowed the fast fellows (Lenny, Rocket, Wozza and Bruce) to gain ground, passing our line as I'd reached respiratory ruin a few metres from the bridge. Catching the tail was torture under Vince's velocity . Didak was now on the missing persons list. Mid 40's had sent Tina retreating to the rear, traffic at the roundabout pegging progress for the front runners so us stragglers could rejoin. With a decent oxygen refill tapping the streets of town, the crew had re-united to convene for coffee.
27/10 Six addicts.
We are all such creatures of habit! Eat, sleep, ride, repeat. Monday, Wednesday, Friday at Sactuary, Tuesday & Thursday at Friars. It's a rusty old record. But my habitual prologue needed a shake up, a different direction for variety's sake. Northeast to what was Radio Australia then south back to town satisfied the distance to warm up the old engine. Easy out and head-wind home got the heart doing a bit of overtime, but a few spits of rain in the suburbs might well have dampened some Goats enthusiasm. The Cat's start-line was vacant. Coggo, Belly, Sandy, AvantiLeigh and Ranso parked at Friars to prove addicts were about, a minutes chat in the hope of others fronting (failed) so Ranso led us east.
A glossy Old Dookie Rd was devoid of DeepFry and JB, two lines in conversation led to the roundabout where it quickly turned Indian file behind Coggo's drive to the bridge. Belly was saving himself at the rear. Ranso took the helm to Central Ave while I attempted to get some sort of draft behind Sandy. I needed to be knee-high to a grasshopper and just as thin! AvantiLeigh captained to School Rd, Sandy's shift swift but shorter than expected. I'd been given the lead with just a k left of Old Dookie, and by chance escaping the head-wind of Boundary. Belly, of course, was quick to criticise. (says he who hadn't done a turn yet!) Wind in the face hadn't hampered Coggo's hurry, towing us to the bacon barn where Belly finally took the lead role.
Of course, we were spellbound by his awesomeness and tenacity pumping out colossal wattage to the highway** (850 metres) The tarmac was dry, the file forging south of the pub as dark clouds rolled east, but my habit of an early exit couldn't be broken, the sheltered path of Channel Rd taken to tap back to town. It seems a lifetime ago when the bunch would bolt this way for a sprint to erupt on the ChaCha, the brief recovery battling for breath to the school, then the rush into town. It now seems foreign to spin the last k's at less than full throttle.
(**oldfoss.com have yet to verify the accuracy of this information and therefore do not accept any liability [directly or indirectly], loss claim or damage arising out of, or in anyway connected with this information. Belly Corp Aust P/L has made no commercial or financial restitution as a result of this publication. Yet! )
28/10 The labor line.
A clean bike and a sparkling well-oiled chain would surely open the heavens - the last minute forecast update had it on the cards - but the "just ride f.f.s!" message echoed in the skull. PistolPete, Kreeky, Kel, Tina, Joe (not Tony), The Godfather and Chris A had braved the possible precipitation too, so Pistol's trademark first turn towed us up to speed to Mitchell Rd. A south southeaster didn't hamper him ; liked it so much he drove on to Central Kialla! Kreeky commanded the leg to River Rd, Kel propelling the Propel toward the bridge. Smooth operator. That south southeaster wasn't so savage, I'd make the expected distance to the dip but with Tina in tow it'd be poor form to handover the helm with an uphill start. Chivalry said to carry on to Trevaskis Rd and let her start on level ground. She had no battles breathing today, towing Joe (not Tony) for a quick k before the change of shift.
Clouds hung ominously overhead, a little colour on the horizon outlining Coach Rd for The Godfather to pilot our path. Chris A's acceleration caught me napping as we rolled into Coach Rd, it was tempting to go full gas to catch the pack but there was a responsibility to see bits weren't broken off the back. A gradual squeeze of the throttle kept the tail in tow. 30 seconds of toil got us back into the slipstream but legs would have to wait for the relief when we slowed at the highway. Pistol was gentle on the throttle to Boundary's bridge, River Rd bound bunches of all shapes and sizes suffering the southerly....and The Godfather's sledges.
Scenic sunrise number 2 started on Dookie's horizon to distract some distress, Kel setting the speed toward School Rd. At least my therapist wouldn't have to endure my traumas about the Central to Dobson's shift again. It would be the distress of School Rd to Central instead! Tina stepped up to the task of tempo toward town (Vince and The Rabbit just a little out of reach). Slowing for the streets steadily increasing traffic allowed chat after 45 minutes of flat chat.
30/10 Frivolous Friday.
A rostered day off had set a relaxed mood but my grid arrival had just a minute spare to board the 5:40 train. GreatScottSteve, The Godfather, Tina, Col, PistolPete, Kel, Joe (not Tony), Bo and Kreeky had formed at the roundabout, Col first to face the southerly breeze (a little more hurried than Pistol's considerate first shift)
Boosted by Berocca, The Godfather turned up the wick to Central Kialla, obviously effervescent enough to tow us all to River Rd too. (sure it was just Berocca?) Dark clouds again threatened but the window of hope was open till 8 according to the bureau. Kel parted the atmosphere to River Rd's bridge, Bo minus his mojo (his words, not mine) making modest movement to the dip. Pistol was next up, with me making efforts to hold his wheel behind, mentally preparing for his likely long turn. Smooth makes all the difference on the distance (and that southerly was barely a breeze) so survival to River Rd's end was possible though the tank was rather empty when Pistol handed me the lead into Coach Rd.
Before I opened the throttle, a look to see all were aboard noted Tina on my tail, so a considered speed was built slowly, the aim at handing over at the bridges. With 10 in the team this was likely to be my one and only shift ; thank heavens 'cause the legs wouldn't deliver what the head wanted! I flicked an elbow to Tina at the descent off the bridges where she soldiered on to the highway. Kreeky was let loose on the lead beyond the Midland, but GreatScottSteve's attention was drawn to a challenged chain (recent deraileur hangar repairs had the chain jump the 11 sprocket and force a halt, fingers greased rectifying the drama)
Kreeky, Joe (not Tony), The Godfather and Col had charged on ahead unaware, so Kel offered the tow truck duty to drag us back to the leaders. Good job Kel, where's Bo when you need him? Behind you, offering advice! Teamed as ten again, Joe (not Tony) muscled the movement to Central Ave, elbows out preserving the pace, Col making the last leg a labor with a determined drive to the truck route (passing long-time-no-see-on-a-bike Meags) That rostered day off allowed the social stuff at the Butter Factory, good gloves, cheap wheels on nice cars and feeling flat the talk over the table.
Heading home, a second stop to caffienate with Goats (Coggo, Dippa, Ranso, AvantiLeigh and Macca) was almost social saturation.
This week 233km YTD 9,181km
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