Proof of power.

 Post #570

31/10  Clocking k's.

What a change of fortune with the change of forecast early Saturday morning.  Friday night's news told of a soggy start to Saturday but a dry day dawned with the radar clear.  A southerly blew strong just to make a lap a labor!  A hundred was on the agenda in support of Love me, love you Foundation (#ridewithme  #neveralone #knightsofsuburbia), the distance thought to keep a few away, but the car park was near full.  Rocket, Lenny, Bruce, PistolPete, DeterminedDan, Tina, GiantAndy, Col, Liam, Boof, Wozza, Oscar, TrackStan, Didak, Kel, Grumpy and Bo split into two teams for Covid conformity, Bruce delivering directions on an anti-clockwise chicken farm loop. 

The car park cleared at 5:40, fate selecting me to join Col, Lenny, Bo, Tina, Oscar, Didak, PistolPete and Kel  while the others (you figure it out!) rolled rapidly out Raftery Rd.  Col and Lenny set the suffering in the mid 30's to Mitchell Rd, all I could consider was 95 kilometres worth of that ahead! (Defeatist)  Some course confusion at Central Kialla put the trailing team ahead, our two rows behind them rolling clockwise against the southerly in Euroa Rd.  Rows rapidly thinned to Indian file to lengthen the respite, Oscar first to suffer the wind's 18 km/h head-on to Union Rd.  It was my turn as martyr to Curries Rd but Col made mine mediocre with a big shift to Arcadia Rd.  Pistol's drive to Meipol (skirting safely 'round a freshly flattened 'roo) humbled us all. Most get slower with a headwind Pete! 

I'd been banking on the relief steering east onto the Violet Town Rd, a long stretch of super smooth hot-mix and that wind now at our side was almost like a holiday with Bo setting a suitable speed.  The first of three inclines (rare as rocking horse manure in these parts) just a few hundred metres at 4-5% twinged the thighs of this flat-lander, but Didak bolted up like a Columbian possessed (easy when you're 50kg wringing wet!)  He soon payed the over-eager tax blowing a head gasket on the 3rd rise.  A holler of the o.t.a. to Lenny at the front barely slowed the speed, PistolPete had hung back to shepherd Didak's dilema, but eventually the effort eased so the ten could team again, the other huddle of horsepower still visible about a k ahead.  A few downhills on the super smooth road was lulling us into a false sense of comfort, The Shepp-Violet Town Rd lay ahead.  After 46km working the woes of wind, the turn north northeast was welcome, but this road is nothing short of a horse and cart track with coarse stone and tar slapped on. Col took the first turn 4k to Tamleugh (go on, pronounce it!) handing me the responsibility to tow on to Lehmann's swamp, the short sharp rise burning the legs to climb it at a respectable pace.  Toasted, Tina's turn.

Oscar and Didak had command of the caboose so 3rd last was my place for respite.  It's said that a fast recovery is a measure of fitness, so when the heart rate was finally down from the heavens 3 minutes later, it told me fitness was still a way off.  Road ruts made hanging on to handlebars a little like a jackhammer, recent chat on good gloves was rather significant watching a few shaking the pins and needles from palms.  Kel then Bo covered the k's toward Tamleugh North, PistolPete's turn onward toward Cemetery Rd.   Col took control as the line turned west to Euroa Rd, the bunch ahead waiting to chaperone us to town.  Col was closing in to the bunch's tail but was still shy of the draft when crossing River Rd, his elbow almost suggesting it was my task.  It took a k with cooked legs, the tow the perfect prescription.  Bruce was checking odometers at the Broken bridges, the target "ton" so near that the Channel Rd option to the Butter Factory would tick the box (reminiscing only last week on the history of travelling this route with this rabble)  Thankfully most legs lacked the labor to make the traditional sprint at the ChaCha.  Two tables filled for talk on big brakes, a brewery recovery and head office decisions.   4k's short of the hundred, the roll home clocked the century. 

2/11 A puncture and pace.

I got that sinking feeling as the traffic lights changed to green.  One moment chatting to Col on the commute to Sanctuary, the next a mushy Michelin was under me, Col now way ahead oblivious.  Leaving home early turned out to be timely, but the pressure was on to change a tube in that 3 minute bonus.  Fumble, fumble...  Joe (not Tony) and newbie JJ halted to offer help but I'd ushered 'em onward saying I'd short-cut to River Rd if I missed the 5:40 train.   Tube out, nothing in the tyre, replaced the tube, re-seat the tyre, CO2 deployed and a third of it blew into the atmosphere.  Don't you hate that?  Spinning south again with 4 minutes lost had little faith in making the grid in time, but it's worth the effort just in case. 

Thankfully Joe (not Tony) had stalled the train for a minute, Col dragging me onto the tail as ChrisA set sail to Mitchell Rd on a mission.  The Godfather, Kel, PistolPete, Tina, JJ and Joe (not Tony) had single filed behind, the sky lighting up a promising Monday.  PistolPete muscled the way to Central Kialla for The Godfather to rule the ride to River Rd.   Supurb sunrise #3 readied with a red sky in River Rd, Kel making the motion to the bridge for Tina to carry on toward the sun-up.  I'd almost calmed enough by then to think about making a contribution, grateful a few more were ahead of me to deliver their drive before me. 

The Godfather did the driving to leave 400 metres of River Rd remaining, newbie JJ (from the Didak School of Over Eager Enthusiasm) bolting toward the rumble strips with youthful exuberance.   He'd seen the error of his ways arriving at Coach Rd and calmed the drive to get us all as one for the leg to the Broken bridges.  Col took charge, I sat second in preparation.  Vince and The Rabbit at an idle near Channel Rd jumped aboard.  I'd reckoned Col would extend his shift beyond the highway as an extra effort, quietly hoping the bridge might be the handover (a sense of a southerly behind would help my hurry), but he'd coveted the charge to Old Dookie Rd (as proof of power?)  Now was the winter of my discontent.  Strangely, the sense of a southerly had gone.  The first 100 metres wondered if I'd get above 35, such was the feeling of a lack of legs to do it, the thought of that rear tyre way short of pressure (measured at home later as 68 psi) not helping. 

Enough of the excuses Foss, down to business!  The speedo steadily climbed to something respectable (39), ChrisA breathing breathing down my neck no pressure at all!  Goats eastbound on the peace train looked welcoming.  With just 80 metres to reach it, the sight of School Rd's sign triggered an almost involuntary elbow twitch, the head threw legs into neutral and lungs demanded oxygen by the bucketful as ChrisA opened the throttle to Central Ave.  Kudos from team-mates in the tow made my helmet a little tighter though Vince calling me into 3rd last wheel turned legs to liquorice to catch Col's wheel.  PistolPete primed us for the last leg to the truck route but Vince, from the comfort of the caboose, launched a lunge at the city limits sprint.  (doesn't count when you "sit on" without a turn Vince!)    

  3/11  Doin' Dookie.

Seems this distance thing is contagious! Thee cup day holiday and part 2 of the #lovemeloveyou Foundation #ridewithme charity ride drew plenty of participants to the car park for another hundred. 

By virtue of my grid position, I'd drawn a place in the horsepower division (and out of my depth) with Rocket, Wozza, Liam, TrackStan, Boof, Bo, Josh, Kel, PistolPete and The Godfather.   The cream had risen to the top with Pistol opening the tempo into Channel Rd, Rocket applying pressure to the pace toward Orrvale Rd while Grumpy, GiantAndy, Bruce, Tina, Col, Lenny and Didak had distanced safely behind, keeping Covid counters content. Legs were already smoldering in 11 degrees, and with a hundred ahead I wondered where the wattage was going to come from to get to Dookie and back, let alone to climb the hills in between.  Indian file was the order of business so I'd maximised preparation time for the driving position by being last in line.  Boof's big shoulders made a delightful draft.  Wozza's wattage dragged us to the Kinder, Liam (at an idle) supplying swiftness to the S bend.  The Godfather's shift got us to the pub, Boof's turn likely to be a long one ; time enough for me to harden the head in preparation for train driving.  As expected, my call to duty came into Old Dookie Rd, pouring all the power into resuming Boof's prior pace which would rate as a calm and considerate cruise to keep the bunch together. 

The slight descent off the bridge helped to inspire a longer shift to the pork palace, hoping I wasn't causing undue wear to Kel's brake pads.  Taking my speechless self to the rear for respite, Kel kept the speed simmering to the Toaster.   Over-thinking again, I'd hoped the horsepower ahead might tow me all the way to Dookie.  Heaven help me heading the hurry in the hills!  Lemnos-Cosgrove Rd pointed us to the quarry, Wozza doing the tow truck thing to the phone exchange where Liam had the drivers seat to Quarry Rd, but went on to New Dookie Rd, then the length of Kellows Rd, then to the Cosgrove silo, then half way up Sutherland's hill. (Just a 10k turn).  The Godfather was toasted at second wheel.  Rocket took the lead and kept the pace up for the climb, I'd managed to time the ratios right to keep in touch (in the draft).  Liam and Wozz played shepherd for The Godfather's struggle up the hill, the 10 now split to do battle with the inclines beyond Dookie's deserted street.  Cemetery hill relegated me to the little ring quickly, Rocket joining the shepherds to help the hopeless (me and The Godfather) up the rises.  It's just part of the quality of the Couldabeens. 

The view out beyond Major Plains at the top was a distraction for hammered legs (a hot air balloon floating in the distance looked tranquil)but the sharp pinch of Duggan's Rd lay ahead to hurt some more. Does the downhill compensate for the pain prior?  Of course it does!  Major Plains Rd back toward Tallis sorted the climbing classes, I felt a little better ranked second last gasping to the crest.  The Godfather and I shared the 5k workload back to Dookie to join the waiting clan, Col, Didak and Grumpy bearing the (mild) battle-scars of a touch of wheels and going horizontal. The return to town was as a team, some content in the caboose, I figured the tail-wind home would help me so joined the rotation to work west, the sun now warming weary legs. 

High 30's wasn't such a chore back via Cosgrove, Kellows and Quarry Rd, that northeaster turning up the tempo touching the 40's on Lemnos-Cosgrove Rd.  Grumpy's Di2 had turned semi-automatic from the horizontal nudge so pairing with him at the front for a short shift suited me fine.  Time at the front was shorter again when Liam drew alongside.  What was left in my tank would barely get me home.  Rocket and Liam set low 40's on their cruise control for the long haul to Lemnos North Rd, Trav arriving from the west to join the thrash to town.  Legs were really laboring as 90k ticked over in Ford Rd (that weekday 40k lap repetition probably doesn't help) and the speed stayed simmering.  Several still had acceleration as Mt.Wanganui came into view, but many like me had none.  A slow roll into Rudd Rd got bunch back together, Rocket lighting the afterburners on the Boulevard back to the Butter Factory.  

4/11 The morning after.

With legs a little lame from Tuesday's hurried hundred, a calm commute to the Wednesday start line would be nice, but some dithering old fool was late getting aboard the Baum. 

Liberal use of the accelerator for 10k's got me to the grid, just as Kreeky got the train  (GreatScottSteve, Kel, PistolPete, Bo, Joe (not Tony), The Godfather and JJ) rolling toward Mitchell Rd.   How welcome was that mild 17 degrees and what joy to have that northeaster at our backs, but Kreeky had the perfect position, the rest of us would suffer east and north till Old Dookie turned us west.   GreatScottSteve got those gastrochnemius grinding to Central Kialla, if I moved a centimetre off his line I reckon it would have pulled the helmet off my head.  And I'd get the joy of that wind north to River Rd.  A little shelter for the first half k helped me up to a hurry but facing the force of it at the starboard bow will be discussed with my therapist later.   

Reaching River Rd couldn't come quick enough (cue sound of 1974 Datsun 120Y running on 3 cylinders at 4500 rpm).   Kel's kudos got that number 4 spark plug firing again, my muscles moaning the morning after syndrome as she dragged us toward the bridge.   Bo was feeling the tyranny of distance from yesterday, a standard shift to the dip totally out of character for him.   Young JJ demonstrated how youth and matchstick aerodynamics can drive a 3k turn without so  much as a bat from an eyelid ; he was more mindful today of letting the bunch stay with him to Coach Rd.  Hang onto your heart rates folks, PistolPete was about to haul us to the highway.  I found myself, at times, just millimetres from GreatScottSteve's wheel, the instinct that closer = easier will be the downfall (literally) of me one day.  A metre matters in this case too. 

The Godfather's contribution came north of the pub, that diesel engined cadence taking us the 2 and a half k's to Old Dookie Rd.  Work into the wind done, it was time to reap the benefits of an almost tailwind home, Kreeky (perfect position again) doing the long haul to Central Ave, crossing paths with a solitary Coggo on a goatless grind east.  The wind behind erased concerns about another turn at the pointy end, GreatScottSteve towed us all the way to the city's limits anyway, my short section to SPC was in easy street. 

5/11  Windswept.

A wind whipped in from the south southwest in the mid 20's, whipping up thoughts there'd be few to front Friars in these conditions.   (Cats had just one starter at Notre Dame).  Coggo, Sandy, Belly, Phil, Hommie and AvantiLeigh proved me wrong.  (Dippa and Heady proved me right)   Sandy led the line to the outskirts of town, JB joining in to share the work in the wind. 

A few moments at an idle after crossing the truck route allowed Coggo and Belly back aboard (stalled by traffic light) while Sandy slipped back to leave me the lead. There was just enough west in the south southwester to help a hurry east, setting a 36-37 pace guessed to be agreeable to all.  Nobody passed and nobody cursed, so I must have guessed it right, taking the team to Central Ave.  Hommie got a wriggle on toward School Rd, the tail-end in the gutter in search of a draft.  Phil positioned perfectly to tow the team to Boundary Rd, crossing paths with the 5:40 fellowship working west,  Rocket, Wozza, Bruce, Boof and co in hot pursuit behind.  (Grumpy a lot further behind).   

Phil had timed his turn to a tee, peeling off the front at Old Dookie's end for AvantiLeigh to face the wind to the Bacon Barn.  JB's shift started strong , reality reducing his enthusiasm rather rapidly over the bridge.  Sandy's contribution shortened too, despite the aerodynamic advantage.  Coggo to the rescue over the highway setting the speed at suitable though Hommie looked to be in struggle street.  I'd lucked a sheltered Channel Rd on my exit to home, the Strava struggle score dropping below triple digits for the first time this year.

This week 336km       YTD 9,519km