Post #597
2/5 Saving sanity.
Missing a Saturday bunch ride could be tantamount to heresy, but sometimes other tasks take precedence. The pangs to turn a pair of wheels along a road couldn't be ignored by Sunday and a hometown circuit would barely break double digit elevation (That'd be a change from the ups and downs of last week) Starting at the usual stupid o'clock ('cause other things beckoned attention in daylight hours), Old Dookie Rd was as flat and familiar as last week, a light east northeaster making it a chore to keep the low thirties registering on the speedo. At least the temperature was considerately attempting double figures.
A solo spin could start to fester solitary issues (I'll abandon the practice if I find I'm singing to myself!) but at least allows some serenity and the freedom to change the route on a whim. I'd altered course to set my sights toward the Toaster, chasing a sunrise instead of the usual track to River Rd (I'm probably responsible for a fair amount of wear to it's tarmac anyway). Time and temperature had avoided the parfum du piggery on the last sealed k of Old Dookie but what promised to be a delightful daybreak had faded behind a grey curtain of cloud over Mt. Major.
That dulled the drive, though I'll admit it was nice to be back as part of the flat earth society! Up to the church and west on New Dookie, the breeze behind became the bonus from the prior push into it. Steering south into Boundary Rd was tending to go 'round in circles (squares actually) though it's worth doing a distance after the lengthy ritual of readying to ride. A waft of something expired in the long grass at the roadside (ah, the aromas you miss cocooned in a car!) rekindled the tempo down to Channel Rd, the quickest way to caffeine (almost as the crow flies) was now the priority after the craving to clock k's had been satisfied. Sanity was saved.......for now.
3/5 Punctures aplenty.
Away from the bunch for a week and the worries of hanging on to their hurry were already filling this silly head. I'd be jockeying for a position at the back of the bunch to grow accustomed to their pace. And a big grid it was (GreatScottSteve, Gazza, TheGodfather, Kel, Kreeky, Tina, Emil, PistolPete, Bruce, Lenny, Trav and Rocket) as two squads combined. Gazza had the Cervelo in launch mode when 5:40 struck, Emil ugring "easy" falling on deaf ears as the rear of the line got well into the 40's to get in the wheel (attend the PistolPete School of Pace Setting Gazza! There'll be less knives in your back!) With all restored to line astern, Emil set a course to Mitchell Rd. I had a sense in the sit site that said something was squishy as Rocket steered us to Central Kialla, at first I though all this level ground was messing with my head after a week of ups and downs, but that marshmallow Michelin sensation soon said where the problem was.
A halt at Central Kialla's school found a few flints buried in the rubber that could be to blame, so with no nasty sharp stuff found by finger on the inside of the tyre, a new tube and a dose of air had the wheels turning again. GreatScottSteve guided us for the first 2 k's of River Rd, the northeaster keeping heads down and heart rates up, but the small bump over the bridge returned that softening sensation again. Pit stop 2 called on Emil's generosity for a tube and Kel's eagle eye for something I'd missed earlier....a microscopic glass splinter as the unwelcome intruder. Plenty of puncture practice for me! Bruce got us down to business toward Coach Rd, maybe in an effort to make up for lost time, but I was haunted still by the sense of sponginess. Hopefully it was just the CO2's lack-lustre 80 psi rather than puncture number three! Each restart had shuffled the order, this time I was on Kreeky's unwavering wheel but now much closer to serving duty in the drivers seat. Kel copped the northeaster on the open shift to the Broken bridges, handing Kreeky the task to take us to the highway.
It may have been luck that I'd scored the somewhat sheltered shift toward Old Dookie Rd, something I hadn't banked on but relished the rarity of it. Rather chuffed at stoking up the speed to the prior level, the trick was now to maintain it, cancelling my usual 'bail-out' option to finish at the bridge to press on till the engine started miss-firing, wherever and whenever that might be. All went well till the fig farm, 500 metres shy of Old Dookie, when thoughts of that measly 80 psi under my seat started to labor legs. The power of suggestion eh? (Funny, the glimpse of 175 bpm earlier didn't raise any white flags). Rocket took over the tempo and I rolled rearward and readied for the acceleration west. Wasn't it handy to have Bruce on lookout near the back, his eye sharp on anyone about to drop a wheel as the tsunami of 13 reactions to pace struck. A long line soon got back to close quarters and looked like scoring Strava segment success till The Godfather eased my embarrassment of puncturing with one of his own. The wait at the roadside was worth it, sledges were world class! The craving for caffeine was now the order of business, Lenny driving from Central Ave and Pistol continuing the urgency into the streets of town to berth at the Butter Factory.
5/5 The woes of wind.
With not a hill within cooee of town, there's usually plenty of wind to deal with instead, a southerly at 26-39 km/h chilling Wednesday's morning to feels like 5. The tank felt almost empty reaching the starting grid, but it didn't trouble Lenny, Kel, Rocket, Emil, PistolPete, Jen, Kreeky, Bruce, Lance, Kim, Greg, Bo, Tina, The Godfather, Boof and Gazza fronting Sanctuary's roundabout to lap up a lap. The start was stalled while a pit crew tended to Tina's puncture (a daily occurrence in the bunch lately) Bruce set the squad south, but just a second or so delay by each made a big gap to fill for those at the rear, the front runners now almost half a minute ahead.
The front 8 were off the throttle beyond the truck route till reacquainted with the rest, Bo advancing to inspire a two row formation and keep the pack compact. That made days of old with conversations bouncing left and right in the bunch.... how socially civil! Out of that headwind on Mitchell Rd, enthusiasm was a little more elevated at the front, but Bruce delivered news of bits breaking off the back. That only brought a half-hearted calm from the pacesetters. Wednesday's cap on speed had been stretched a bit beyond, 16 had become 2 x 8 through Central Kialla but with energetic engines in both bunches, those needing a tow had workhorses with wattage to assist. Wind whipped in at the right flank in River Rd, and being promoted to the advance line
( Jen to the fore and Greg aft ) we had some steering to do. 
Pistol, Lenny, Gazza, Rocket and Boof had kept a cap on their abilities and settled the speed to something less than scorching so Jen and I faced driving duties for the last k of River, a slow called to regroup as one in Coach Rd. With all back aboard, PistolPete and I did the task to the highway, Greg bidding adieu for his Channel Rd exit. Again, back in the tow, the social stuff resumed while others faced the front. Turning west into Old Dookie had that wind whip in at the left flank now, though I shouldn't grizzle, just keep the echelon to a minimum Foss to keep the rear out of the gutter, there'd be far more grief driving at the front! A few ducked from duty as their promotion forward looked likely to score the drivers job but Wednesday's a social spin, designed to gain a few recruits and rest many a labored leg from a weeks worth of work.
Frustratingly, the body clock automatically chimes at stupid o'clock, irrespective of what the alarm is set to. A grind of gears, a puff of steam and the pre-frontal cortex spluttered into a rough idle, no hope now of a short slumber till the alarm did chime! The ride ritual had become a runaway train. Coffee, something in the tank, gauge how many layers from the "feels like" forecast and kit-up. A few solitary k's will clear the cobwebs, smooth the splutter, deliver dopamine and get the endorphins flowing. Addicted eh! (eat,sleep, ride, repeat) 40 minutes too soon for the Wouldabeens and too late for the Sanctuary squad, a 20 k spin of the golf club loop en-route to Kialla Lakes would fill the time till the start flag was due to fall. The slightest suggestion of a south southwester (9 km/h) got legs out of their comfort zone and to work on Numurkah Rd, finding I was chasing the smoothest section of tarmac to lighten the labor. Still too soon at Gordon Drive, a loop of the lake fixed the start-line schedule. Joe (not Tony) held hopes that BamBam may come out to play, experience suggesting a stall to the start time might be worth a wait.
True to form, BamBam appeared at 6:01. Yesterday's wind had scarred BamBam's hippocampus, so a northbound lap reached consensus. Conforming to the ritual of first drive north to Channel then east to the truck route was made easy by my prior prologue, handing the lead to Joe (not Tony) for his contribution there. Respite in the slipstream only survived till the Kinder. Duty called again for a shorter shift to the cypress trees. There's some comfort in turns being predictable I guess, time for the mental preparation at the business end even if the physical side doesn't like it! Joe (not Tony) assumed the lead role again but undid my theory with a double shift to Channel Rd's end. Tramadol on toast for brekky Joe? BamBam found enough motivation on Coach Rd to continue at the front into Boundary ; I think it's called a breeze at the backside! Over the bridge his elbow said enough, time again for me to tap a turn in the spirit of sharing. Joe (not Tony) and BamBam shared the distance on Old Dookie Rd to Central Ave. I'd usually take on the shift to Dobson's estate at Sanctuary's speed, but just a couple of k's slower turned my target far further to the truck route. What a difference just a couple of k's make!
Some kind soul had turned the wind off! Akin to being on an alien planet! Commute speed to Sanctuary approached reasonable (I could tell because Emil wasn't snoring) to the southern reaches of town where PistolPete, Tina, Kreeky, Bo, Rocket, Lenny, Boof, Wozza, Kel, The Godfather, Bruce, Greg, BamBam and Grumpy had gathered. Surprise, surprise, no punctures today! PistolPete started wheels turning at 5:40 as I slotted in at third wheel behind Emil ; time enough to ready for duty at the business end. But with a big bunch, Bruce formed a second line, instantly demoting me down the order to 12th on duty.....thanks Bruce! I could sit back and soak up the social stuff now and worry about the work later. Over The Godfather's racket delivered on sock standards, chins wagged with Lenny, Rocket and Boof to pass a few k's away, even got to know new lad Greg with a few sentences about holidays (or his lack of them!)
Friday meant it was kit co-ordination day so a flurry of fluoro lit up the River Rd darkness ; Greg was excused being the newcomer but BamBam being out of uniform was just plain non-conformist! (I'll take a bet that Boof will set his socks in order from now on!) Duty finally called me to work beyond the highway beside Grumpy when we'd finally translated The Godfather's garble of "Orll arkss spess'mins" as 'All across lads'. The task of matching muscle power beside another is a lot of mind over matter, way different than setting your own speed, so I called a roll to Grumpy at the bridge if I was to have some jellybeans left in the jar to keep up with Emil on part two of the shift.
My gasps must have frightened him by the fig farm, he rolled across without a word. I was going to say thanks Emil, if it wasn't for my preoccupation with oxygen at the time! I'd done my few minutes of martyrdom to be ranked as a contributor, time now to let others feel part of the team and take pity on the old guy! There was a brief fanfare when The Godfather reached the drivers seat on Old Dookie Rd (Rocket and Wozz riding him off their wheel!) but Kel upstaged the attention with a very audible puncture on the final leg to SPC. Deflation is the new sensation!
Pistol, Lenny, Gazza, Rocket and Boof had kept a cap on their abilities and settled the speed to something less than scorching so Jen and I faced driving duties for the last k of River, a slow called to regroup as one in Coach Rd. With all back aboard, PistolPete and I did the task to the highway, Greg bidding adieu for his Channel Rd exit. Again, back in the tow, the social stuff resumed while others faced the front. Turning west into Old Dookie had that wind whip in at the left flank now, though I shouldn't grizzle, just keep the echelon to a minimum Foss to keep the rear out of the gutter, there'd be far more grief driving at the front! A few ducked from duty as their promotion forward looked likely to score the drivers job but Wednesday's a social spin, designed to gain a few recruits and rest many a labored leg from a weeks worth of work.
6/5 Un deux trois.
Frustratingly, the body clock automatically chimes at stupid o'clock, irrespective of what the alarm is set to. A grind of gears, a puff of steam and the pre-frontal cortex spluttered into a rough idle, no hope now of a short slumber till the alarm did chime! The ride ritual had become a runaway train. Coffee, something in the tank, gauge how many layers from the "feels like" forecast and kit-up. A few solitary k's will clear the cobwebs, smooth the splutter, deliver dopamine and get the endorphins flowing. Addicted eh! (eat,sleep, ride, repeat) 40 minutes too soon for the Wouldabeens and too late for the Sanctuary squad, a 20 k spin of the golf club loop en-route to Kialla Lakes would fill the time till the start flag was due to fall. The slightest suggestion of a south southwester (9 km/h) got legs out of their comfort zone and to work on Numurkah Rd, finding I was chasing the smoothest section of tarmac to lighten the labor. Still too soon at Gordon Drive, a loop of the lake fixed the start-line schedule. Joe (not Tony) held hopes that BamBam may come out to play, experience suggesting a stall to the start time might be worth a wait.
True to form, BamBam appeared at 6:01. Yesterday's wind had scarred BamBam's hippocampus, so a northbound lap reached consensus. Conforming to the ritual of first drive north to Channel then east to the truck route was made easy by my prior prologue, handing the lead to Joe (not Tony) for his contribution there. Respite in the slipstream only survived till the Kinder. Duty called again for a shorter shift to the cypress trees. There's some comfort in turns being predictable I guess, time for the mental preparation at the business end even if the physical side doesn't like it! Joe (not Tony) assumed the lead role again but undid my theory with a double shift to Channel Rd's end. Tramadol on toast for brekky Joe? BamBam found enough motivation on Coach Rd to continue at the front into Boundary ; I think it's called a breeze at the backside! Over the bridge his elbow said enough, time again for me to tap a turn in the spirit of sharing. Joe (not Tony) and BamBam shared the distance on Old Dookie Rd to Central Ave. I'd usually take on the shift to Dobson's estate at Sanctuary's speed, but just a couple of k's slower turned my target far further to the truck route. What a difference just a couple of k's make!
7/5 enola reveN
Some kind soul had turned the wind off! Akin to being on an alien planet! Commute speed to Sanctuary approached reasonable (I could tell because Emil wasn't snoring) to the southern reaches of town where PistolPete, Tina, Kreeky, Bo, Rocket, Lenny, Boof, Wozza, Kel, The Godfather, Bruce, Greg, BamBam and Grumpy had gathered. Surprise, surprise, no punctures today! PistolPete started wheels turning at 5:40 as I slotted in at third wheel behind Emil ; time enough to ready for duty at the business end. But with a big bunch, Bruce formed a second line, instantly demoting me down the order to 12th on duty.....thanks Bruce! I could sit back and soak up the social stuff now and worry about the work later. Over The Godfather's racket delivered on sock standards, chins wagged with Lenny, Rocket and Boof to pass a few k's away, even got to know new lad Greg with a few sentences about holidays (or his lack of them!)
Friday meant it was kit co-ordination day so a flurry of fluoro lit up the River Rd darkness ; Greg was excused being the newcomer but BamBam being out of uniform was just plain non-conformist! (I'll take a bet that Boof will set his socks in order from now on!) Duty finally called me to work beyond the highway beside Grumpy when we'd finally translated The Godfather's garble of "Orll arkss spess'mins" as 'All across lads'. The task of matching muscle power beside another is a lot of mind over matter, way different than setting your own speed, so I called a roll to Grumpy at the bridge if I was to have some jellybeans left in the jar to keep up with Emil on part two of the shift.
My gasps must have frightened him by the fig farm, he rolled across without a word. I was going to say thanks Emil, if it wasn't for my preoccupation with oxygen at the time! I'd done my few minutes of martyrdom to be ranked as a contributor, time now to let others feel part of the team and take pity on the old guy! There was a brief fanfare when The Godfather reached the drivers seat on Old Dookie Rd (Rocket and Wozz riding him off their wheel!) but Kel upstaged the attention with a very audible puncture on the final leg to SPC. Deflation is the new sensation!
This week 227km YTD 5,124km
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