What labor does to your logic.

 Post #575

5/12 A quintet's quest.

That air of anticipation kept speed spiced to Sanctuary's start line, Saturday's spin is that chance for change with a longer lap and the sustenance of the social stuff after.  A chance that's denied by work's early start on weekdays.  A few were rolling Sanctuary Drive with a minute or two up their sleeves but by 6am the grid had only PistolPete, Bo, Kreeky and The Godfather attending.  There'd be little reprieve today with only 5 to share the suffering for the 46k lap.  The glass-half-full was the challenge to stay ahead of the shop squad, gifted with horsepower on tap, leaving at the same time 3k's behind us. 

Of course PistolPete led the way to Mitchell Rd.  Bo was behind, Kreeky, me then The Godfather doing the role of rear gunner. (gunna get a long tow before facing the front)  Long drives were on the menu, PistolPete in the hot seat to Central Kialla, up to River Rd and east to the bridge before letting Bo at it.  I sensed his spin would be shorter, an easterly making the speed sink.  Our line tracked a little straighter, no one dare deviate from the draft less they be blown backward by that wind.  Kreeky was handed the hurt when Bo retired at the Angora farm, here's hoping Kreeky was in long drive mode.  It's weird how you find focus on that bike ahead in pace-line, maybe to concentrate your efforts as a distraction from the duress?   For some reason, it was Kreeky' chain-stays that had me somewhat spellbound as his high 30's dragged us toward Coach Rd. (you missed a bit on the clean-up Kreeky!) 

 That second wheel syndrome started to strike me (heightening heart rate, an emptying tank and the "what-the-hell-am-I-doing-here" sensation flooding the head) but a sneak peek ahead, without getting my head blown off, saw the rumble strips that signal Coach Rd's intersection.  We'd soon be out of that headwind but my duty to drive was due!  Others had dug deeper for their contributions so a sense of duty tapped on my pre-frontal cortex to step up from a standard shift.  The easterly at the right flank was better than blowing head-on, the aim to reach the pub seemed a little far fetched but trees along the Broken River offered some shelter.  The old tank wasn't quite dry at the bridges so that shovel dug a bit deeper to get to the highway.  The Godfather debuted in Boundary Rd for his 2500 metre donation to Old Dookie Rd, PistolPete drawing the short straw to suffer to the Toaster.  I was already predicting the pleasure of the west way home.  Bo towed us north to Lemnos-Cosgrove Rd, that west way to town putting the head in a happy place. 

Kreeky set a sensible speed toward Boundary Rd (no point cooking the few contributors we had this far away from breakfast, drop one now and there'd be a 25% increase in workload!)     I was only too happy to conform with that pace when handed the reigns.  I just hoped I could keep it. 

Those rumble strips that wake the sleepy about Lemnos North Rd were nearing when the dozen of the shop squad passed us, (somewhat chuffed it took 'em 35 k's to catch us), I had no intention to catch the tail but The Godfather tried to get us in their slipstream when he captained into Ford Rd, the reality of that speed soon easing his effort.  Our little team would soldier on in solidarity.   We're lucky to have PistolPete in his prime to drive a long shift while recoveries were in full swing behind him, Bo doing the Wanganui work for Kreeky to head us into Rudd Rd.  I could almost taste breakfast.  I'd reckoned on Kreeky's elbow showing me the drivers seat along the Boulevard with that easterly to suffer but not a signal was received all the way to the Butter Factory.   Hand-built wheels, junk art and phone obesity kept the breakfast table noisy while calories compensated for the k's prior.  

7/12  Bit breezy!

At least it wasn't raining! Last night's peek at the forecast painted a picture of a damp Monday, but the day dawned dry....with plenty of wind in the rain's place.   The spin to the start-line was swift, that 30 km/h west northwester pushing me ahead of schedule to Sanctuary's roundabout.....but there'd be some hurt homeward.  Bo, Tina, Kreeky, PistolPete, Gazza and The Godfather lined up behind Kel who captained to Mitchell Rd, there was 10 k's worth of wind at our backs and about 15 minutes to enjoy it before the real work began.  All went silent in Mitchell Rd while Tina led to Central Kialla, just that chorus of carbon wheels at speed as the wind whipped up our whereabouts.  The temptation was too much for Bo with a big breeze at the behind, we expected the shift to River Rd, onward to the bridge was taking a liberty but Sir Selfish went on beyond the dip in the hunt to pass Vince and The Rabbit going easy east and waiting to join in.  No sooner had the pair been passed when Bo's elbow beckoned me to the front.  Low 40's wasn't blowing a head gasket as I aimed at the quarter-horse stud but I was happy to spin a standard shift and share the tailwind, I might need these guys help into a headwind home!  PistolPete taking charge took an effort to stay on board, it was head down and tail up for a while till I'd tuned in to that tempo, trying to suppress that growling bear.  The Rabbit was confining himself to the caboose.  Coach Rd, like most in this area is pancake flat so that little incline to the bridges could count as a catagory 2 climb, Kreeky dragging us there for The Godfather to take the lead.  Like a lot of Monday's, the shop crew (Rocket, Bruce and Lenny)  turned up seeking company (they were shy on numbers at 5:40), joining our line when traffic cleared at Channel Rd.  Gazza's debut came at the highway, the echelon now using too much real estate so PistolPete headed a 2nd line to keep the oncoming lane clear.  Kel bore the brunt of the easterly in Old Dookie Rd, her shift swift but short as Lenny volunteered his services to the speed.  It looked likely I'd have a share in this suffering with just Lenny and Bo ahead. Lenny dug deep to drag us to Central Ave but Bo wasn't so selfish to have the front seat now, a good effort to get to Dobson's bridge but he handed me the hurt.  Nearing a 100 rpm kept the velocity but it was revving a tired old engine just a few hundred metres later.  Better to peel off early and preserve pace than handbrake the hurry.  Vince was better equipped for the effort, driving us to the truck route as my legs went to jelly, the hopes of a traffic light going red to rest them almost answered. 

8/12  Solo - social - solo.

Eyes had opened well before the Passer Domesticus had flatulated, so rather than cook the cranium on Fb frivolities, I swung a leg over the bike and took flight (it was a tail-wind) on Ford Rd at stupid o'clock.   I was well overdue for a bit of solo stuff, there's way too much opportunity for a draft in bunches.  Out to Boundary Rd and back would keep the legs spinning to reach the Goat grid by 6am.  With time ticking away, the head-wind back to town ramped up my effort.  With no fear of filling Friars' footpath in "feels like 3.4", just Ranso, Snow, AvantiBelly and Furph had fronted to make up a (strangely) Coggo-less crew.  Ranso stepped into the captain's shoes to lead the town's exit, JB joining you know where.  Some wondered if two lines would form (remember those days of old when two lines rotated turns?  Seems like ancient history)  but my guess was Indian file would rule with just 7 players. 

Indian file it was crossing the truck route as Ranso applied the accelerator gently to Central Ave for Furph to then put his motion forward.  It was happy days to get the pilot's position when Furph gave the nod at School Rd, that westerly helping the work toward Boundary Rd.  AvantiLeigh made the spin south look easy, that wind hadn't hand-braked his style to keep high 30's on the agenda. Belly behind was probably pondering his place in the pace-line.  I was only just into the rhythm and with one easy turn done, that curse of time was already turning me back toward town.  Facing the westerly toward home meant work, but the bonus of two bikes to chase on Channel Rd incited an effort rather than a roll for the 9 k's back to suburbia.

9/12  Wednesday's want for wattage.

The slightest of southerly's played havoc with my head, it seemed a world of wattage was wanted to reach the starting grid.  Yes, I had got those tyres up to 110 psi.  And I did get to the grid with 3 minutes to spare. See what labor does to your logic?  Col, GreatScottSteve, PistolPete, The Godfather,Tina, Bo, Kreeky and Kel assembled, PistolPete setting the tone of tempo to Mitchel Rd of course.  I was trying to come to terms with the "feels like 5".  Where's my 20 degree morning with a tail-breeze?! We've been sold a suspect Summer!   I was witness to a rare event on The Godfather's wheel as he did duty toward Central Kialla, the chain was on the 15 sprocket and his legs were almost spinning (instead of that trademark torque he's famous for).   Some spin and some grind, each engine has it's own optimum rpm I guess.   

The 2k turn to River Rd was mine to drive, and it should have been cruisy with that southerly at my Khyber, but it felt like the uphill to Kelvin's View.  I'd reached River Rd a little short of a heart attack and definitely short of breath, handing over to GreatScottSteve.  Well, hadn't he had a big serve of Clenbuterol on his Corn Flakes!  Not content with a drive to the bridge, GreatScottSteve forged on to the dip and beyond while I took another minute to get things back into focus.  Maybe he'd been bitten by the Bo bug?  He was still going strong at the Angora farm ; I wondered how cooked was Kel at 2nd wheel?  Finally at River Rd's end GreatScottSteve retired, Coach Rd was Kel's and there was plenty left in her tank for tempo.  Tina, Col, Bo and Kreeky played patient behind, they'd yet to make their driving debut.  The Broken bridges was quits for Kel, Tina then making her move to the highway.  

Finally let off the leash, Col took to the front possessed with pace, bunch upon bunch plying their paths south.  There's some comfort in going against the grain of conformity, our counter-clockwise circuit not chasing (or being chased) in a direction with a little less traffic.  Bo scored the work west on Old Dookie Rd with that southerly to deal with, my guess he'd retire at School Rd was erased as he kept pace to Central Ave.  Kreeky got the leg to Dobson's bridge but extended his time to the truck route, the turns finally coming full circle for PistolPete to speed to SPC.

10/12  Get well soon Coggo. 

Wind whistling through the trees was quickly seducing a sleep-in, but Rule #5 made a bigger noise whistling between my ears!  Out of bed Foss, the regret of not riding will haunt the day anyway.  No prologues today, keeping it short might just make it sweet.  Straight to Friars found Hommie, Snow, Sandy and Belly all somewhat subdued contemplating Coggo's injuries from being rear-ended by a car yesterday (bleeding on the brain and a possible C4/C5 fracture for those not in the know)   Sandy started solemn but swift as our guide out of town, Snow slipping quietly into the caboose.  Guess who we found at SPC? 

I was given the driving duty at the truck route, trying to do that Christmas good will thing by squeezing the throttle gently and sitting "up the road" to shelter the following from the southerly. Most seemed happy with the speed standard set to Central Ave though Hommie looked to be in a world of hurt for his contribution to School Rd.  The last 800 metres of Old Dookie Rd were Belly's to drive and hats off to the giant on a Giant, he did well ; perhaps the performance was enhanced 'cause he wasn't into a head wind?  Snow poured his energy into the southern spin toward the highway but his force faded by the fig farm.  JB restored the rhythm rapidly ; only recently out of hibernation he's found form fast, making plenty of friends by forging on to the highway into the head-wind.  I thought there'd be a changing of the guard beyond the pub but JB made it Christmas by soldiering on toward the bridges.   How convenient for me that Channel Rd and the lack of time turned me toward town.  No bikes to chase today, but a ticking clock to keep the wheels turning.

11/12  The pleasure (and pain) of pace.

That struggle to the start line eventually found some incentive, a draft behind Joe (not Tony) and JJ (intercepted en-route) relieved some stress till JJ's elbow elected me to the pain of pushing into that 20 km/h worth of southerly.  There was a delight in the draft but there's nearly always a payback for pleasure.  So why did I do better towing two than struggling solo before?  The Godfather, Kreeky, Kel, Col, Bo, PistolPete, JJ and Joe (not Tony) formed for Friday's 5:40 fling, Col breaking the PistolPete stranglehold on the opening shift to Mitchell Rd.  PistolPete was second, most stylishly, to spin the second shift to Central Kialla. With a line of 9 able (some maybe not so willing) for driving duty you're almost guaranteed there's possibly just one shift to do on this circuit, so The Godfather did well to score the tail wind section to River Rd (so he rightly should score a second shift later?)   Kel's sublime smoothness towed us to River Rd's bridge, Bo showing remarkable restraint to keep the same speed simmering toward the Angora farm.

I was sitting quite confidently at 3rd wheel, predicting Kreeky would tow me to Coach Rd.  I'd need that tail wind to preserve this pace.  The rooster crowed as Kreeky steered north at River Rd's end and showed me his elbow, I hit the front with all the force of a Ferrari going in, but just the energy of an Excel came out.  Some days you got it, others you 'aint!  Did someone move the Broken bridges even further north?  It's barely three minutes worth of hurt to get there though it seems like hours, finally relenting at the second bridge to hand Joe (not Tony) the helm.  The pain quickly turns to pleasure in the caboose, and with only 12 k's to SPC, I was being towed all the way there.  JJ was captain crossing the highway (Waiter! A helping of horsepower please!) so the shovel came out to dig a little deeper; these young ones with the aerodynamics of a matchstick have a distinct advantage.  Each had done their bit arriving at Old Dookie Rd, so the labor had come full circle to Col for the task of driving westward home.  Maybe the respite of 26k's in the draft gave him all that energy to take us to Central Ave? The power of PistolPete dragged us back to town. 

            This week 284km          YTD 10,834 km