The encyclopedia of excuses

 Post #600  (do you think a habit's become an obsession?) 

22/5  The cold concession.

The bureau shortchanged us in the wee small hours of Saturday, a promised five degrees could barely get above zero and the 'feels like minus three' rallied the search for heavy duty insulation.  We'd waited till the agreed 5:35, even gone in search, but with no text received, time beckoned Emil and I to set sail to Sanctuary.  What luck that I took a peek behind half a k later, Wendy was now in pursuit (now that her winter gloves had been found)   With legs in motion and wheels up to speed, the cold became less of an issue.  What wattage awaited at the grid was more important than the temperature.  Crossed fingers for a mixed bag, if only for Wendy's sake!   All rugged up like Antarcticans, PistolPete, Wozza, Kreeky, Rocket, Molly, Boof and Lance gathered in Sanctuary Drive's darkness, an eerie silence hanging over the start-line till The Godfather's absence explained why. 

 Whether by co-incidence, choice or force, the order happened to fall into the ranks of fitness.  Molly's wheel of choice was rearward, the scars of second wheel syndrome still show!  Wendy's choice of caboose was probably to gauge the tempo to come.  The faster fellowship (no need for names, you know the culprits!) may barely get out of an idle, Sanctarians (for want of a better demographic description) would find the speed the standard stuff but others may spend the lap on the limit.  Par for the course when clans combine (the alternative of separate squads would struggle to reach a quorum of any comfort.  So all for one and one for all it was.....

Pistol's opening pace was just a toe in the water for what tempo could be tolerated, and bravo for the gentle introduction Pete!   The tsunami of acceleration at intersections and corners stretched the line longer so the real rhythm on the longer lengths of tarmac was better to bear.  Blame comes as standard though when you're on the front and the caboose happens to disconnect, Wozza copping the flack when Wendy succumbed to the tsunami into River Rd.  Just a couple of k's trimmed off the pace and ten became one again, Emil now in the drivers seat choosing a workout on a long shift to rooster corner (yep, still calls in the cold).   It was my turn to slice the chilled atmosphere in Coach Rd (feels even colder on the front) but was that a breeze up the backside assisting? Whether it was there or not, I used the sensation to motivate my turn up to the highway.   

Lance followed up in sync with the speed to Old Dookie Rd and that meant no chase to catch the caboose as I rolled rearward (Molly and Wendy had cemented their places there anyway)    Boof kept a lid on his horsepower to follow the suit of speed but Wendy was just millimetres from baling out nearing the Toaster. A few dropped back to donate a draft to the distressed.  Kreeky had all ten re-aquainted in Pine Lodge North Rd.  Is it the feeling of heading back to town or being closer to the warmth of breakfast that builds the speed in Lemnos-Cosgrove Rd?  High 30's was back on the menu as we crossed paths with just five Cats headed east, winter woes have slashed their roll call but not a Goat got out of bed.    A check was kept on the caboose as Pistol, Rocket and Wozza did their duty and rolled to the rear, the lights of suburbia saying coffee was soon to be enjoyed.  The blame was shifted to Lance for breaking the bunch with a k of River Rd remaining, though the slow start into Wanganui Rd got things back together again.  An Indian filed squeeze along the Boulevard decided the Butter Factory was the berth for breakfast, a growing pedestrian peloton (Kel, Sim, Tina and Kim), Al, a bike-less Bo Lynda and The Godfather (on foot) filled the table.  Making lists, Melbourne in the rear view mirror and the curse of the cold ride home making the racket.

24/5  The blame game. 

It was all Emil's fault!  PistolPete (read Mr. Consistency) had gently brought the speed up to boil to Mitchell Rd with Kel. Kreeky, Greg, Wozza, The Godfather, Tina, Bo and Rocket in procession behind, but Emil's exuberance toward Central Kialla broke Tina off the back.   The slow and brief respite from forty felt like Christmas.  Bo took his time winding up to speed toward River Rd be he lost demerit points off when Tina's lungs labored again in three degrees.  My turn was due and the pressure was on, The Godfather's mantra "Don't f#@& it up!" ringing in my ears.  I was happy to oblige with a low 30's drive to the dip, an east northeaster was against me anyway.  Kel felt it too, shortening her shift for Wozza to show us what wattage was all about.  Tina had obviously climatised to the cold, now advancing up the order a place or two while Rocket carried us along Coach Rd to the highway.  

Greg had his position perfected, towed along for the circuit then exiting stage left into Channel Rd without a drop of sweat spent on the front.  The breeze became a thorn in the side on Boundary Rd (deja vu last Thursday) but Kreeky mustn't have read it on the front, so I positioned a little toward the road's middle so those who'd served their duty had a slipstream to recover in.  (Yeah right, Rocket and Wozz behind me need to recover?)   The babble and banter suddenly stopped in Old Dookie Rd, The Godfather now pre-occupied with oxygen intake instead of verbal dispatches.  A clang rang from the rear, for a moment sounding like something going overboard, but the halt revealed a metal bracket laying on the road caused the commotion.  Underway again, The Godfather finished his shift to Central Ave for Pistol to head the hurry to the truck route and Emil to sprint to SPC.    Deja vu every second day!

25/5  I want my mummy!

A tailwind to the start-line is a great way to start the day but you know it's going to hurt for most of the lap fighting the wind back home.  Greg, Rocket, ChrisA, Lenny, Grumpy, Kreeky, Kel, Wozza, Boof, PistolPete, Emil, Bo, Bruce and The Godfather must have been masochists lining up at the roundabout!  Greg broke the convention by leading to Mitchell Rd (must have been the temptation of the tailwind, 30 km/h worth of northeaster is hard to resist)  PistolPete seemed out of place as captain to Central Kialla, that wind sending 13 single filed behind ducking for cover across Mitchell Rd.  The way north to River Rd reversed the echelon and whoever was driving the high thirties was hidden from view (the likely suspect would be in that little list of big horsepower)  In these blustery conditions basic survival techniques would have you tuck in for maximum draft but priorities get skewed when you think of the tail-enders in the gutter to get any benefit.  Just a fraction to the left of the wheel ahead was the diplomatic thing to do.  Still single filed as Boof and Lenny unleashed their exertion, the front half dozen had a sense of order but the rear resembled a writhing snake's tail in the hunt for cover while wind did a lot of the steering for us.   Wozza, Rocket and ChrisA tidied up the shamozzle by forming an advance line but several still procrastinated an advance.  It's not often that there's an urge to abandon ship but this was close, caught up in the rear struggle for shelter had many a close moment.  

Kreeky restored some sense to the speed in Coach Rd, no more long skinny tail hanging on in desperation, two almost regimented lines stacked across the road to work the wind wisely to the highway.  Greg took his early retirement into Channel Rd, Bruce (not long off the crook list) confining himself to the caboose.  Grumpy's appearance at the business end was brief to Boundary's bridge (too much MTB and not enough road bike?) so I hit the breezy end of the bunch alongside Kel, driving the right gutter with gritted teeth and a vice like grip on the bars.  Kel called enough at the fig farm, Bo keeping me breathless to Old Dookie Rd.  Wasn't it bliss with the wind almost behind, but don't get too comfortable Foss, a wind behind meant turn up the tempo!   ChrisA, Lenny and Boof made mid forties fashionably fast toward Central Ave, the sting of speed to town would be eased by a few new Strava PB's (and I could have a slow solo spin home as recovery)

26/5  The peace agreement.

Lethargy, as the 4:30 alarm barked it's "get outta bed!" eased realizing it was Wednesday - the combination of the clans would almost guarantee a calm ride.  Boof, Kel, Laura, Superman, Rocket, PistolPete, Lance, GreatScottSteve, Wozza, Emil, Joe (not Tony), Tina, Bruce, Kim, The Godfather and Kreeky filling Sanctuary's grid proves the popularity of a lap of less labor.  PistolPete (of course) showed the way south and an advance line quickly formed, and that would lessen the whiplash effect at the back.   

Superman, Laura, Bruce and Joe (not Tony) slipped quietly into the rear seats as Boof, Rocket and Wozza fronted for an early effort, a fair dose of west northwester promising happy days for Mitchell and River Roads but the likelihood of labor for the way home.  Tactical positioning to appear at the front on River Rd's stretch was keen, something to do with the prevailing wind I'm guessing (and playing your position in the pack right, you'd be spared the struggle of fighting the wind in Old Dookie)  Only just off the sick list, Bruce braved a brief sit in the drivers seat, others possibly daunted by the company of wattage abbreviated their appearances too (a short shift's better than none....and a lot better than staying in bed!  If those of the lower ranks keep this up they'll be the force in their faction come Spring!)   

Sandwiched between the smoothness of Kel and Tina, our turns came due in the last half of River Rd, and hearing the scheming for Kim to debut at the front, I kept my shift short so she'd at least score some of that breeze behind.  Emil drove the long leg to the highway and the west northwester seemed to ease, though the wind from The Godfather continued (he was yet to face the front).  Bo's absence seemed to be the entertainment for the day, apparently he was engrossed in volume six of the encyclopedia of excuses not to ride.  A full moon lit the way west back to town and what was going to be a battle was downgraded to a 6 km/h breeze.  Rocket and a now silent Godfather guided the way home.

27/5  An ice-cold smoothie.

Just for a (refreshing) change, girls equaled the guys.  This congenial Thursday thing is becoming infectious!  Kim, Tina, Kel, Wendy, Emil, Jase and Bo converged on the shop, despite the feels like -0.6.  Emil commenced proceedings, the unspoken but understood understanding that Indian file was kosher as others slipped into their draft of choice, Bo being my 'whatever wheel will do'.  Comfort comes a k down the road when rhythm is set (not on the rivet) and muscular movement has taken the edge off the chill.  Emil earned his brownie points handing Kim the last 500 metres to Orrvale Rd, Kel then Tina following up to take us to the cypress trees.  

Bo had finally braved being on a bike and led the way to the S bend but slowed seeing a patchwork of road repairs freshly topped with gravel (and no Roadranger report as a heads-up)  It was my time to preserve the status quo in Boundary Rd, the few hundred metres to the highway was a bit shy so stayed on till the bridge.  The temptation to stay longer till Old Dookie Rd was there, but that would toast Wendy on my wheel.  Back in the rear seat felt a quarter of a degree warmer (I'll take anything to improve a minus!) while Wendy dug deep at the front.   Jase was put in charge at the fig farm when Wendy pulled  the pin, but there wasn't quite enough left in her reserve tank to catch the caboose.  The pressure of a public performance can be nerve wracking, and leaving a bit in the tank is probably the last thing on the mind of someone new to this pace-line thing.  How much horsepower is needed? Will the next to drive hit hard?  Can I recover to hold on? A lot of variables that experience will fix, in time.   Bo & I took care of our guest as Wendy's light grew smaller off the back, donating a slipstream for half a dozen moments was enough to restore her place into the line.  Jase finished round one at New Dookie Rd for Emil to start round two up to Lemnos-Cosgrove Rd, the Cat count low again as five felines spun south.  Emil stayed on in the drivers seat (hoping to cook Kim a golden brown?) and so reduced the possibility of a second shift for some.  Kim was finally let loose in Ford Rd and understandably kept her shift short, Kel and Tina contributing their bit to Grahamvale Rd.  Bo spared me a second shift towing us all to town, so I (unusually) rolled home relaxed, without feeling like I'd been put through the wringer.     

28/5  Lockdown laps.

 

A day off work donated a couple of life's rare and simple pleasures.  Covid had again constrained outdoor activities to one or two people within five k's from home, so a solo spin in the sunshine at sensible o'clock was two rarities relished under the circumstances.  How good is waking (whenever) without an alarm and readying to ride without the drama of deadlines?  This riding in daylight habit could become addictive it it weren't for the 7:30 to 4 grind!  Staying within the distance limits the route but there's enough tarmac in these parts to offer a bit of variety.  The old standby golf course loop was a starter, feeling the freshness of a southwester to halve the temperature to a feels like four.  Despite the solitude, something inside urges an effort beyond a cruisy roll around, so thanks to the southwester for the inspiration into the mid 30's along Wanganui and up to Radio Australia (to be re-named acres of abandoned aerials?)   Verney Rd lowered the head and raised the heart rate, and with little shelter from the wind whistling across the billiard table terrain, I'd earn my breakfast.  Knight St became my southern limit (thinking the nanobots and microchips in my Covid vaccine would be tracking my every move down to the last metre....direct to ASIO), the way west a little easier now that the city's buildings were blocking some of that breeze.  Rolling resistance halved on the hotmix of the Boulevard, traffic noticeably thinned from the usual 9am rush hour of dozens down to handfuls.  And so, arriving back to the starting point it was repeat laps as necessary, mindful of the time constraint of two hours.  (there'd be stopwatch software in those microchips!) 

This week 282km       YTD 5,938km