Keeping cadence cooking.

 Post #604

19/6  Like Saturday's of yesteryear.

The Saturday grid really is the veritable box of chocolates ; who and how many will turn up is a mystery till 6am strikes.  Another cold morning would probably attract just a handful to the Sanctuary roundabout and a southerly wind thrown into the recipe lowered expectations even further.  There'd be work to do this morning, and plenty of turns to tax me.  Well, pickle my grandmother, there was a crowd at the start-line!  GiantAndy, Kreeky, The Godfather, Boof, Nev, TrekTrev, Liam, Molly, Bo, Rocket, Lance, Superman, Trav, Lenny, PistolPete, Joe (not Tony), Emil, Greg and Grumpy made it a Saturday squad of old.  

Prior predictions were erased, there'd be plenty of chat and probably just one turn in the drivers seat today.  The advance line didn't get many takers as PistolPete set the tempo south, plenty were waiting in the long line behind, probably to see what the speed would finally settle on.  With most of the performance at the pointy end any wonder division two's waited!  As the speed settled into the high thirties toward Mitchell Rd a few braved the advance line but many were choosing their "wheel of choice"  (the longer the wait the fewer the options folks!)   I'd grabbed Greg's wheel early in the game of musical wheels, who was on mine was anyone's guess.  

Looking rearward saw nothing but blinding leds and there wasn't a lot of chat to identify people on the acceleration toward Central Kialla.   The flurry would soon settle as heads and heart-rates grew accustomed. The bunch got a little squeezy as the procession found the slipstream so it felt like I was about to be impaled as Nev drew alongside on a flat-bar hybrid.  What? In a bunch of road bikes?  (It is Nev) Sentence swapping was underway in River Rd (it'd be a while before I was called up for driving duty) but Superman wasn't saying much.   It's been a while since wagging chins with GiantAndy and TrekTrev, Lenny and Grumpy not so regular on rides either but others wont be seen till late September (and that will be in the confines of the caboose)   

Wind direction suddenly became important getting closer to the front, would I draw the short straw of a headwind at the front or would turns roll sooner to spare me the suffering?  Get over it Foss!  One turn in fifty k's is hardly a workload!  My time had come beyond the Toaster but drawing level with Greg wasn't going to happen, the moment I'd get a wheel near his bike would grow longer, so I settled for the speed previously set rather than stretch the bunch (and the friendships)   There's no point keeping up with a half-wheeler (whole bike in this instance), preserving rhythm rules.  I'm sure Greg will appreciate the purpose of Rule #86 in time.  He's new.  He's excused......for now!   I was put to the task in Lemnos-Cosgrove Rd, there was just enough west in the southwester to make me earn my breakfast driving to Woolshed Rd, TrekTrev surprisingly swift given his rarity riding of late. Superman's shift was measured in milliseconds (something to do with fitness), so Lance must have been on his payroll, rolling straight over before Superman imploded.  

Pace seemed keen crossing Boundary Rd and a glance at the Garmin massaged the ego seeing velocity nudging forty, but it's tantamount to fraud when you take away the half dozen drivers ahead.  There's nothing like a bunch to amplify your abilities - trying it solo slaps you hard with reality!  Speed had become kryptonite for Superman in Ford Rd, retreating to the rear before it became an o.t.a. moment.  Would a lid be kept on the labor in Wanganui Rd?  I could name a few who hoped so!  A clear cross of the highway could have been the cork-out-of-a-bottle moment but the speed stayed at a simmer to Mt.Wanganui.  Not so tortuous along the Boulevard either where the consensus steered us to the Butter Factory.  Talk turned to credit card punishment, hoarding stuff and rustoration over breakfast as the sun finally got out of bed.  

21/6  Trial by temperature.

Like accidentally cutting your finger, you draw breath and get ready for the pain when you open the front door on "feels like minus 2.4".  Laying in bed doesn't make it go away, the only cure is to h.t.f.u. and ride!  That frozen feeling soon fades a k down the road anyway as everything goes numb.  Finding Greg, Kel, Bruce, Bo, PistolPete, Tina, Kreeky, Emil and The Godfather at the start was reassuring, there were others just as committed (or crazy) as me. Like most mornings, PistolPete provided the reality of real speed, the commute is just a soft introduction.   Joe (not Tony's) arrival at 5:40:08 only just caught the caboose. 

I could deliberate my drive at the front, being ninth wheel gave me tons of time before being put to work at the business end.  Bruce continued the tradition of high thirties to Central Kialla, Greg following suit to River Rd where The Godfather silently (a rare occurrence) spun toward the bridge.  0.2 degrees kept it's vice-like grip on the lungs.  Probably constrained by the cold, Kreeky and Bo made shorter shifts than usual , Tina using too many reserves at the front then struggled to keep the role of caboose as Kel captained to rooster corner.  A calm half k into Coach Rd closed up the gaps.  With calm and considered use of the accelerator, Emil towed us north to the highway in the  36's and 7's, an ideal intro for my shift.  Way better than starting a turn half cooked!  Maybe that's what left a bit in the tank at Boundary Rd's bridge?  It's usually gone blurry by then!  The smooth stretch of tarmac stoked a bit more speed out of ye olde engine and the fig farm looked to be the best target to call it quits till the call of "car back" brought a bonus.  It was a truck!  That draft was like being vacuumed along, just the inspiration to go the distance to Old Dookie Rd.  Joe (not Tony) was gentle enough on the throttle so I could catch the caboose and start catching my breath.  I'd just got enough by School Rd to survive the shifts of PistolPete and Bruce to drag us into town. The slow to turn at SPC felt almost warm!

22/6 Three as therapy.

To turn into Channel Rd with Kim and Emil at the last moment was a drop-of-the-hat decision, I'd got all psyched up for the Sanctuary thing but had missed the memo on these two doing a separate circuit till the intersection was almost on us.  Why not I thought (in a split second), a different course and a whole lot of turns at the front would change the routine a bit.  And change is as good as a holiday they say.  With thanks to Rocket and Wozza for the tow along Archer, we swung east into Channel Rd's darkness and into a light easterly as it happens, but that almost promises a tailwind home to look forward to.  Indian file and long turns in the drivers seat were the order of the day, but cooking Kim was out of bounds.  Thou shalt not shatter the aspirations of one new to the addiction.  Besides, I reckon Emil probably toasts her enough!  There was more beyond the truck route, continuing to Orrvale Rd was Emil's want, so I took on the ChaCha then extended the effort to the cypress trees in reply (gotta feel like you're earning your keep)    There was no expectation for Kim to copy, just to put in her two bob's worth, however long or short.  Smoothness came naturally 'cause all were on the same page of pace, not  quite the cohesion of the three tenors or Peter, Paul and Mary ( maybe the Marx brothers would be a better analogy?) but it was a chance to fine tune the rhythm and focus on keeping the speed static. Couple that with riding a straight line and you're on a winner.  Well that's my theory for what it's worth.  "Keep it straight and keep it smooth ; the speed will come naturally" an old time pro once told me.    

In a dose of deja vu, I'd been given the lead at the highway to drive north on Boundary, a couple of k's off the effort needed yesterday but this was just one turn of many due today.  I wondered for a moment if Old Dookie was the chosen path home so elbowed Kim to the drivers seat a 100 metres short.   Back into the slipstream I found the course was still set north, up to Lemnos-Cosgrove then west back to town.  Just a handful of Cats toured south, their "new" course from Verney's roundabout to Boundary and back in Channel no different in attendance to the old lap, but then winter won't swell the ranks much.  If there was a lure of free beer it probably wouldn't raise the numbers either! Captain again pointing west toward Lemnos, the bureau's reported easterly had little urge about it, maybe adding a k to the cruising speed, but that was enough to further my aim to reach Ford Rd.  The hum of wheels behind and the shadows cast ahead told me the tempo found favor  (Darkness and silence or yawning would say otherwise I suppose)  Kim dialed up the determination along Ford Rd while I tucked in for the tow at the back, how refreshing to note Emil's La Pierre restored to a shiny state.  (Rule #65 as homework young man!) Street lights glowed between the dark grey of the tarmac and the darker grey of the sky to tell town wasn't far away, the effort would soon ease and at home the thawing could begin.  (Well, that was the best inspiration I could muster at the time)  We'd most likely gob-smack the workmates that we'd toughed out that temperature then spend the day building bravado to do it all again......tomorrow. 

23/6  Gimmie shelter!

Headlights circling the block pierced the Sanctuary's streets, even Joe (not Tony) was early.  A keen wind that blew us to the grid would humble us for most of the lap now, several seeking the shelter of the caboose before we'd even started.  As sure as eggs PistolPete set us south, that northeaster priming our egos into the lofty heights of A grade....but reality was just around the corner.  30 k's worth of gusts at the port-side soon had two orderly lines scattered like the National Party administration, Wozza (by chance in the drivers seat) instantly branded the perpetrator......again!  I'd lost the fear of being stabbed today, Nev had considerately chosen a road bike to blend into the bunch. 

Lenny had the (almost) vintage steel Cannondale in use so with Bruce and I on Ti, we were the only metal fans in a crowd of carbon connoisseurs.  River Rd's 6k length felt longer wrestling the wind coming in at 10 o'clock, The Godfather's vernacular still audible over the wind howling between the ears (and you reckon all this is mundane Laura?)   Kim's  wattage went to a trickle nearing Rooster corner but Bo kindly loaned her a draft.  Nev and Emil set the perfect pace north on Coach Rd, positioned well too, providing the shelter for most from the now starboard wind.  Christmas had come early for me when I contemplated position in the peloton along Boundary, Kel and Kreeky paired for the long drive to Old Dookie so Tina and I hit the front for the west way home with the wind at our backs to accelerate our efforts to acceptable.  

Tina requested a roll straight over at School Rd, I'd guessed her 176k and 1,190 metres of elevation yesterday may have had something to do with it!  Bruce and I played tow trucks to Central Ave.  Wednesday's cap on velocity was chucked out the window as PistolPete and Bruce stoked up the boiler to town but I heard no complaints ; maybe they were drowned out by The Godfather's garble or were lungs too busy downloading oxygen?  

25/6  Target practice.

There's no escaping it.  Unless you're BeerMat, Hollywood, Whispering Jack or Nick, hiding under the covers.  The wind blew again on Friday which was a help to the start line but would hurt for most of the anti-clockwise circuit.  Just as well Bruce, Bo, Rocket, Tina, Wozza, Boof, Kel, Emil, The Godfather and PistolPete arrived to share the stress of it.  Pistol is usually the one facing the wind first, today he got to relish a tailwind to Mitchell Rd for a change.  And here's me, on Emil's wheel yet again and silly enough to be third wheel, the sucker to suffer the head wind first!  Emil ensured I was well warmed up for it.....almost burnt to a crisp in fact, second wheel at 40 to Central Kialla.  

Starting a shift at 168 bpm wasn't going to set any PB's!  It wasn't a good idea to look toward the (expected) end of shift, even in the dark of 5:50 am that tiny pinpoint of reflective light off the River Rd sign seemed a world away. And I was going to be in a world of pain to get there.  I found it better to take my eye off the target and shoot blind.  Ignore the heart rate, just keep the cadence cooking old boy!  (hey, where was those passing trucks when you needed them?) My fate was in Tina's tempo at River Rd, I wasn't answering the kudos given by the 10 passing by, too busy overloading on oxygen so I'd catch the last wheel.  Tina tore into her turn toward the bridge while I tried to silence that growling bear, but Tina's enthusiasm outweighed the energy just shy of the bridge and rolling to the rear, couldn't catch the tail.  Just Wozza's luck to be on the front as the call of Easy! went out.  He scored the blame again (not guilty of course, but many seized on the chance to sledge)  

With a little trimming of tempo, Tina was back aboard and careful use of acceleration restored the speed to Trevaskis Rd.  Boof kept the squad swift and silent to Coach Rd.  Riding gravel has turned Grumpy a little gaga, the Bureau said it felt like 4 but Grumps turns up in short knicks.  Maybe that turned up his adrenaline north to the Broken bridges?  Rocket set his sights on a hurry to the highway.  I reckon it was The Godfather driving the Boundary Rd shift, I couldn't see who was cutting the north wind  but 15% variance in velocity signed his name to it.  Silence gave the game away too!  Kel got my vote for the maillot blanc with her swift shift to Central Ave, Bruce then let loose to the truck route in the characteristic cadence that would turn cream to butter.  PistolPete's pace needed heads further down and effort further up to SPC, wringing an extra watt or two from labored legs was possible knowing the rush would end soon and the first aid of caffeine could be applied to the wounded souls. 

This week 246km      YTD 6,766                    

Taming the ticker.

Post #603

12/6  Damp road, dark, cold breeze, drizzle......good mates, great ride!

A wet forecast Friday night turned dry at stupid o'clock Saturday morning and an invite to join Tina, Jen, Emil and Kim for a spin (a little slower than supersonic) added more enthusiasm.  8 degrees and a light northwester was a bonus, a stark contrast to last Saturday's minus bone-chiller.  Joe (not Tony) arriving at the shop balanced the genders and evened the numbers and with many away for the long weekend the feeling of abandoning the Sanctuary squad barely scratched the conscience.  Indian file was the unspoken but accepted formation, Emil taking charge of the tempo first into Channel Rd.  I wonder if The Godfather's mantra was barking in his ear?   Yep, I was on Emil's wheel again! (a trustworthy one at least)  Handed the lead at Orrvale Rd the road was dry under the tree's canopy but semi-gloss on the ChaCha's surface, so the tyres were throwing a little water to polka-dot the kit. 

Avoiding those puddles that irrigate the nostrils is the trick!  That northwest breeze was probably assisting the travel toward Boundary Rd, through the S bend and something in the darkness went Whack! under the wheel ; cue sudden sphincter palpitations.  (Nothing but a discarded plastic bottle conveniently left on the apex)  One and a half moments later, Tina hollered a halt for a deflating tyre.  

(Emil came to the mechanical rescue)  All this new fangled disc brake stuff and here's a bike without a lever at the end of the skewer!   An Allen key instead!  (Go on, call me out-of-date) With all that and a cotton Specialized tyre that needs levering back on, Tina's talking tubeless!  (Where does it all end)  Hat's off to Emil's efforts, we were back in motion albeit a bit beyond the 3 minute expectation but that's the price paid for technology I suppose.  Jen's been a stranger to the squad for a few weeks but had no problem putting the power down at the front, Kim showing ever increasing improvement too.  Those drops of H2O were now coming from above as well so eyes strained into the dark horizons for ominous clouds while thoughts searched for the shortest route home (should a soaking dictate it).  

It was touch-and-go passing the pork palace but those drops eased by the Toaster.  Joe (not Tony's) persistence is paying off, diligence to the Sanctuary speed has seen his engine tuned to a higher speed.  Tina took the lead into Lemnos-Cosgrove Rd, the breeze less laborious than I'd imagined, each doing their donation to the drive with the urgency probably fueled by the thoughts of breakfast and the social stuff at the end.  Emil went long range to Lemnos North Rd and Joe (not Tony) to Grahamvale so I contracted the distance disease driving to Mt. Wanagnui, mid thirties being my happy place, just a k or two quicker and I'd be short shifting.  It's a fine line between boom and bust eh?  A bit of broken glass chicanery on the Boulevard and I could almost smell breakfast, Joe (not Tony) departed on a family agenda, the remainder Butter Factory bound.   Lycrack, pilfering and when parents crack made the cafe chat.   

14/6  The Bells-Armstrong syndrome.

"Who's riding tomorrow?" was posted with a degree of trepidation.  What wattage would turn up? Who was still in town on a long weekend?  Would there be a great divide between the fast and not-so-fast? Would anybody respond? It would be a lucky dip.  And the silence was almost deafening!  Emil was keen and BamBam said yep.......well, I'd at least have Emil as company.  A 6:30 start was civilized and I'd broken the same-old-circuit habit suggesting the camel farm loop.   (BamBam was a no show at the golf course of course)  Blessed with a mild 9 degrees and barely a breeze to battle, that long stretch of tarmac east to the Cosgrove quarry was about as exciting as an appointment with an accountant (no offence meant Greendawg!)    

Maybe it was the woes of winter that hampered any hurry in this old engine?  Poor Emil must have thought he was out on a drive with Uncle Walter in the Datsun 120Y at 76 km/h down the freeway!  I think my conscience had the handbrake on ; there's a whole different mindset to riding 70 k than the usual 40 k thrash.  Emil's empathy came to the fore swapping turns in the low 30's, a feeling of pushing into a breeze not helping my outlook to reach Quarry Rd.  Should I bank on a breeze behind for the return to town?  (You know what'd happen if I did!)  I got well into the zone climbing Mt. Cosgrove's lofty 3 metre ascent overshooting Quarry Rd,  but a u-turn fixed that.  It did feel a fraction easier headed south but east on Kellows Rd to the camel farm turned the effort up again.  Turns were being swapped a little different today, second wheel took the incentive of overtaking rather than first wheel flapping an elbow when spent.  It puts the pressure on getting the timing right ; the sound of two wheels coming alongside was like music to a soul suffering at the front!  

The slight ups and downs on Caniambo Rd knocked the speed around a tad but my head was preparing for the numbing that Bells and Armstrong brings.  (Memories of my maiden voyage along it's mundane length into a hot northeaster still cause palpitations but today was the polar opposite with a cool breeze behind)  You can't change the fact this road is still a water worn dirt track with a thin topping of stone and tar.  24 minutes of constant uninterrupted cadence is good to teach the legs a thing or two.  I was on the zone 4 limit in the drivers seat but at second wheel those numbers weren't dropping much anymore, and Emil must have made an effort 'cause I couldn't hear him snoring!   Ten minutes of that routine and the road slowly widened from it's thin two metre width, another 10 minutes worth and the surface slowly smoothed.  Doesn't that lift the spirits!  Coach Rd appeared beyond the Main Eastern Channel as a familiar path to town so we'd almost turned on the auto pilot reaching Old Dookie Rd.  Of course there's a squeeze of the throttle toward SPC ; can't have anything in the tank at the end can we!  The coffee tastes better that way I reckon.

18/6  Like diving in the deep end!

Three days off the bike may well have been three months!  With the throttle wide open I could barely hit the mid thirties and that played a mental toll on the commute to Sanctuary's start-line with Boof and Emil, I had to sit in the slipstream to tame the ticker below 165 bpm!  Doesn't take too long for this old engine to go out of tune.  Bo, Bruce, Tina, Greg, PistolPete, Kreeky, Wozza, Kel, Rocket and The Godfather lined up on the glossy grid, the overnight damp making a slippery circuit for 13 to negotiate.  Pistol turned up the pace on the dark, slick journey south while I wondered if I could hang on for the distance or even brave a turn, but strangely, it felt great to back on the bike.  Two lines formed with the horsepower congregated at the front (as usual) so being almost at the back gave me some time to harden up before facing the business end.  Puddles were being pointed at, not that avoiding them would keep the bike and kit clean (that was was already on the weekend to do list) but it might just save a face-full of water for the guy or gal behind.  

I was in denial that the steering felt fuzzy, a damp road can alter the sense of road-holding instantly but a spongy sensation grew stronger nearing Central Kialla.  Yep, a puncture it was, and what perfect cold, damp and dark conditions to have it!  At least the front tyre was the easier chore.  Kel's eagle eye found the offending sliver of glass embedded among the grit covering the Michelin so there was satisfaction the culprit was found.  (far better than agonizing over a mystery deflation)  Another tube and a dose of CO2 got me underway again ; now to shut out the doubt of a further flat! (the CO2's lack-lustre 85 psi doesn't help)  Emil kindly towed me back aboard after the fumble in the dark to engage the cleats, The Godfather's entertainment a distraction from deliberating deflation.  

The advance line felt a little warmer on River Rd, that north northeaster was chilling the ribs on the port-side.  Pairing with The Godfather at the front in Coach Rd went well but that wind was wearing away wattage by the Broken bridges so I relented and called an early roll.  Matching Emil's eagerness a 100 metres later was out of the question, I'd stuck to the speed but his standards were far faster.  Tina braved a pairing with him at the front but she was distanced at Channel Rd, Joe (not Tony) then put to the test (he ducked for the draft at the highway)   Kreeky, Wozza and Boof got the tempo back in order.  The way west on Old Dookie Rd had several on caution with reports of a chasing dog at large, the dark, damp road didn't paint a pleasant picture either.  Some comfort came with passing traffic and there's a degree of safety in the numbers of a bunch.   Even in the draft I struggled with speed, though the city's lights grew brighter so it would slow soon.  There'll need to be some k's consumed next week to find form again.

This week 169km       YTD 6,519km             

Eau de cooked caboose

 Post #602

5/6  Comfortably numb

Five days into winter and only the hardcore remain. Minus two might have been the reason! A mixed bag assembled at the starting grid,  Diehards Emil, PistolPete, Bo, GreatScottSteve and Greg had a few of the (wilting) Wouldabeens (Superman, Joe (not Tony) and Wendy) join in, all keen to clock some cool k's.  (Too cool for the shop squad to turn up though!)   Building up to PistolPete's speed can be a soul searching experience, slicing through the icy atmosphere at a pace well above the cautious commute makes the very decision to ride a debatable one.  Time to contemplate Rule #5 Foss!  

At least there wasn't a wind to battle.  Emil kept the tempo at a simmer toward Central Kialla but there was a hint of something burning two k's on......eau de cooked caboose.  GreatScottSteve went easy on the accelerator toward River Rd as Superman and Wendy got back aboard. The shift toward the bridge needed a slightly softer speed for ten to stay connected so with a little less effort, I did a little more distance to the dip where Joe (not Tony) was handed the helm.  I was ushered in to eighth wheel on the roll to the rear.  Bo pointed us to the Broken bridges but another disconnection just beyond one tree dam  raised some mid-field questions.  Seeing lights grow smaller behind us u-turned Kreeky, Joe and I to assist, but it wasn't an o.t.a. occurrence, Superman was suffering a slow deflation. This was his third in as many days.....so much for the tubeless tyre argument!  Well armed with CO2, Superman opted for a shortcut to home for repairs and with a big slice of encouragement, Wendy was egged on to continue.  

(Maybe Pistol, Emil, Greg, Bo and GreatScottSteve were waiting at the highway?)  Kreeky set the standard north to the pub but no, we'd been dropped like a cold potato!  So much for one team, one dream!  No matter, the faster would get their fix, the slightly slower content to continue un-cooked. Kreeky settled in for the long haul to Old Dookie Rd, Joe (not Tony) driving the 2300 metres to the Toaster, so my share was playing pilot to Lemnos-Cosgrove Rd.  (A few '51's had the fortitude to ride)  Wendy played her part in proceedings driving a shift to Woolshed Rd, it exonerates the feeling of fare evasion I guess but she'd earned her train ticket just turning up in this temperature.  With a tempo a bit below the usual threshold Kreeky did the distance to Lemnos North Rd which gave plenty of respite to those in the draft.  Joe (not Tony) faced the front in Ford Rd to Grahamvale, sun-up sinking the "feels like" down to minus 4.2.  I'd lost the feeling in fingers and toes anyway!   

Thoughts of hot coffee was probably the only motivating factor for the four at this stage, though we hadn't softened so much as to take a Verney Rd shortcut.  Riding under the red-line allowed this old engine to aim at Mt. Wanganui before handover, Wendy doing her bit to cemetery hill.  Breakfast drove the Boulevard effort to the Butter Factory, musical genes, Worksafe compliance and thermal insulation kept conversation ping-ponging across the table while fingers and toes thawed.  And now for for the hardest part ; getting out into the cold again and back on the bike for the commute home!  The sun's presence eventually put an almost tropical flavor to the way back north, inspiring enough for me to tap another 38 k's back along Lemnos-Cosgrove Rd to Pine Lodge then head home on Old Dookie.  Gets a century into the legs and breaks that almost daily ritual of 45. 

7/6  The great divide.

The Sanctuary start-line was a little over populated.  9 degrees was warm enough for the shop squad to turn up, so that swelled the ranks for Monday's 5:40 foray.  I'd lined up with Joe (not Tony) Bo, Kreeky, Kel, The Godfather and Tina when Bruce called a division, the swift (Rocket, Wozza, Emil. PistolPete, Lenny and Greg) could blow out a few cobwebs and the others, by chance occupying the rear grid positions, could avoid being toasted.  A most un-seasonal north northeaster was going to be a test for most of the circuit so maybe that's why Bo volunteered to guide us south to Mitchell Rd?  Guilt must have played on his conscience 'cause he drove the eastern leg to Central Kialla as well as compensation.  The Godfather was the man in the middle pursuing division one (a hundred metres ahead), but the reality of their tempo had him retreat back to us of lesser ranks. At least he donated the tow north to River Rd.  

The battle to the bridge with that wind at the side was the test for Tina, Joe (not Tony) taking the lead role to the dip.  There's a certain pressure to perform arriving at the front, steering a straight (ish) line at a tempo not too testing (but not too tardy either) and going a reasonable distance to earn your keep can be best summarised in The Godfather's mantra "Dont f%@& it up!"  Despite the wind playing havoc at the port-side, it felt easier at the front than midfield trying to hold a line, so even as the white fence of the quarter-horse stud came into view there was still energy left in the old engine.  Let's not get greedy though Foss, the load is best shared.  

How fortunate to have a few biscuits left in the barrel 'cause Kel hit the boost button to rapidly reach rooster corner.  I'd grown accustomed to the acceleration by the time we'd reached Coach Rd, the pace then dialed down a little as Kreeky took on the 20 km/h worth of work into the wind.  (I'd timed my turn to a tee avoiding that one)  Ten out of ten Kreeky, a great drive to the bridges.  Bo was equally energetic to the highway.  Without the shop squad to taunt, The Godfather actually positioned himself perfectly (as a welcome change) to shelter the crew up to Old Dookie Rd and there was just enough east in the now northeaster to help our progress west, Tina and Joe (not Tony) sharing the 2600 metre distance to Central Ave. It was one of those rare laps where a second shift was required,  my usual drive to reach Dobson's bridge was extended onward to the truck route, thanks to the encouragement of the assisting wind. Thankfully, Kel didn't hit the boost button again (cheque's in the mail!), enough in my tank to stay aboard to SPC and through the streets, parting ways as the crew cornered for coffee.

11/6  Rusty.

It's meant to be just like riding a bike......but it wasn't.  I'd already forgotten what it took to keep a reasonable speed to the start-line, a southerly was head on and was already knocking on zone 4's limit.  Three days off the bike (incessant rain and a clean bike didn't compute) and it was like starting all over again!  I'd be hiding in the mid-field ranks when the flag fell this morning. Rocket, PistolPete, Kel, The Godfather, Boof, Wozza, Emil, Bo, Tina, Greg and Joe (not Tony) were keen to get a few k's up after a wet week,  Wozza breaking the PistolPete tradition of first shift with a gentle introduction to the truck route but full steam to Mitchell (that Wozza wattage knows no bounds) Somewhat spent at third wheel, Tina retreated for the cover in the caboose.  

The pack was rather fragmented arriving at Mitchell Rd, but some cohesion came nearer to Central Kialla.  Two lines had formed (and that lessened the tsunami effect), the tailwind to River Rd helping the bakers' dozen stay together.   Just up to speed headed for the bridge, PistolPete called a pause for a puncture, seems to be the season for deflation.  Greg's agenda forced him to continue as others admired Pistol's composed and refined repair, a tiny piece of wire found as the offender.  (Sledges were aimed at Wozz,  the brunt of the blame being at the front when bits broke off the back)   Pace was pegged back a little on the restart, the chat and cackle calming a few concerns it'd be full gas to make up for the pit-stop. 

Trav joined from his clockwise approach at Coach Rd, the memories of my struggle to the start-line now erased with a tail-wind up to the highway.  Good grief, I was on Emil's wheel, again!  (no matter, speed was set at sociable)   A short shift from the highway to the Boundary bridge was enough for part one and a pairing with The Godfather to the fig farm totaled the energy rating for this rusty old one.  The way west to town was a bone chiller as a little west snuck into the southerly, but Rocket warmed us up lifting the tempo into town.  Feels like 1.5 required the internal heating of coffee though! 

This week 195km    YTD 6,349km                

The scourge of softness

 Post #601

29/5  Cold, Covid constraints, coffee and company.

Facing the prospect of a solitary Saturday felt foreign.  It's normally the social satisfaction of the week but Covid restrictions scuttled that.  And a forecast that the mercury would drop to zero did nothing for the motivation.  I was almost resolved to the torture of my own company when Joe (not Tony) threw me a lifeline on What's App.  A bunch of two is better than enduring self's serenity (or the racket of your own inner thoughts!) Circuit choice was limited to 5k from home so we reverted to our last lock-down lap of Verney, Ford, Wanganui, The Boulevard and Balaclava. An almost civilised 7am start treated us to daylight and swapping turns seemed the sensible thing to do (keeps the average up too)    Joe (not Tony) took on the first shift up to Ford Rd, my turn west to the highway seemed very shy of an equal effort so I stayed on for a more fair share.   

Was that a breeze behind?  The drive on Wanganui wasn't so taxing but it was pleasant to get back into Joe (not Tony's) draft for Rudd Rd and a little of the Boulevard.  Not measuring turns mind you, having another along to donate a draft at times is easier than doing it all yourself!  That breeze must have been imaginary, progress wasn't too bad east to Tarcoola.   A swing into Balaclava Rd presented a traffic light intermission (and it had one of those "special" sensors in the road ; the moment of un-clipping and putting a foot to the tarmac, the light changed green.  Don't you love that!)    Joe (not Tony) took on the chicanes of  the 26 man-hole covers along the Balaclava bike lane (how conveniently placed!)  to get us to Verney again but must have felt guilty 'cause he stayed on as captain to Ford Rd again (can't blame him really, it's a jolly nice stretch of hot-mix getting there)  

That sense of obligation hung over me to repeat my lap one shift to Mt. Wanganui, happy that the perceived breeze was making the drive feel easier (not a flicker from the leaves in Wanganui Rd's trees but I'll go with what the imagination said)   I reckon lap two felt easier still, engines were up to operating temperature and a degree warmer might have lifted the game.     Time (or the restrictions surrounding it) would make lap 3 the last and wouldn't you know it, shifts were a carbon copy of laps one and two.  Creatures of habit or what?  I swear I could smell coffee nearing lap three's end, the Milk Bar's brew drawing us to a short footpath session of sociology as is Saturday's want.  

31/5  The chill commitment.

The list of reasons grew longer.  Coffee and porridge warmed the inside as the outside temperature plummeted.  I'd been drawn into a comfortable coma of Strava scrolling through the rides of Takis, Guiseppe, Bjoern and Luiz (ahh, the warm scenes of Europe and Brazil!)  and that scourge of softness was suddenly felt sneaking in.  I was going to say carpe diem Foss!, but the term extractus digitus was more appropriate, I was close to being infected with BeerMat syndrome (a minute later and it would have been the more fatal Hollywooditis!)   With more layers than an onion, I braved a smaller loop of the Boulevard, Knight, Verney, Pine, Parkside and Ferguson, a 10k loop of the city streets for want of variety.    Out the front door and minus 2.4 bit hard, one cog lower used to warm the legs with a bit more spin.  I'll admit there was a fair amount of "where others fear to tread" motivating the ride - so it had better be worth it!  

I was quick to use the excuse of respiratory restriction to blame a lower speed, 32 was all the engine was happy to run at.  Strangely enough, there weren't a lot of people out walking.   The moment's pause at Wyndham St's lights almost felt warm, though I feared having a foot frozen to the tarmac if I stayed put too long.  Eyes were well open for Knight St's mass of markers, man-hole covers and tarmac blisters, Hawdon St felt like heaven in comparison, but another set of lights put another hold on progress.  That half minute halt recharged the battery to drive 1500 metres of Verney in search of Pine Rd.  The pressure was off without PistolPete's pace to match but something keeps the effort up, and it wasn't a rush to start another working week!  A couple of k's through the curves of Parkside and I'd returned to Ferguson to start all over again.  The second lap didn't get any warmer and the third grew a little lighter though the feels like minus 4.7 probably hurried lap four along.  I reckoned I'd thawed out by mid morning!

1/6  Mining motivation

You never really know what you've got till it's gone.  The motivation a bunch brings had all but vanished (thanks to Covid's constraints on numbers) and dragging yourself from a warm bed gets really tough when the temperature struggles to reach four, and there's nothing very inspiring about the course when you've ridden most of the tarmac within five k's from home already!  The regret of not riding was about all that got me layered ready to face the "feels like -0.6".  

With no route mentally mapped, I relied on "winging it" and see where it led me.  A pessimist could interpret an easterly in the face as a hint to stay in bed but that would be like BeerMat wouldn't it?  I could use that breeze as an excuse for the sluggish speed on New Dookie Rd but heading north on Grahamvale Rd didn't get much better.  It's just one of those days Foss!  The old engine was only running on three cylinders.  And revving it didn't fix it.  Heading to Congupna may have been to the last millimetres of Covid's five k leash, the draft donated by a pair of B doubles a brief boost to morale.  The highway back to town had little of the expected easterly assistance, the coarse 20mm stone in the tarmac acting like a handbrake.  Wanganui Rd's smoothness was welcomed but convincing the head a tailwind was with me made no improvement at all.  I could do with a bit of The Godfather's garble, Kel's cheeky grin, Emil's burst of enthusiasm (followed by Kreeky's restoration of rhythm), PistolPete's haute couture, Rocket's cackle, Tina's tenacity, that little shoulder thing Grumpy does, the chorus of two dozen carbon wheels performing a symphony on tarmac, or any of the little nuances the Couldabeens congregation brings.  (each bunch has it's own unique signature of course; we just underestimate the magnetic properties until solitary confinement puts it's value under the microscope)    Rudd Rd and the Boulevard has been traveled a thousand times, it's unique bumps, patches, narrowing sections and ridges could almost be navigated blind, but keeping a watch on the CatEye's beam wasn't a bad idea.  Lots of mice and the odd rabbit scuttled about in the dark.  The spin south aimed at circling the lake before heading homeward, enough k's clocked to justify all that lengthy preparation prior.  The average speed was nothing to brag about, but turning the legs over keeps them in the habit.

2/6 Boulevard boredom.

Mapping a course that was remotely inspiring was difficult ; seems I'd worn out most of the options within 5 k's of home already!  There's been a few who's boundaries have been questionable (to say the least) but I'll be a good boy and conform to the Covid constraints.  

The best I could come up with was a roundabout to roundabout hot-dog course on the Boulevard, 4.3 km between u-turns would need a few laps (small things amuse small minds as they say) but at least there's a few sweeping corners to amuse me ; another straight length of tarmac would send me around the bend!    Traffic's pretty thin at stupid o'clock and the first couple of k's to the town hall's roundabout was taken moderately. A hint of east northeaster favored the outbound leg though I wasn't about to burn all the biscuits this early, there was a few laps to do to justify getting out of bed.  Cemetery hill's towering 2.7 metres of elevation prompted a push to keep the tempo simmering, a brief half k to the roundabout then about face for a southeast passage back into town.  Yep, that breeze was obvious now.  Speed didn't suffer too much and that made Mr. Morale happy.  After yesterday's flogging of a dead horse, hopes were raised a little, enough to jack up the heart rate into zone 4 on the outbound again and try for a slightly swifter spin.  The Boulevard's half dozen big radius bends cleared the rust from the headstem bearings and wore a few mouldings off the sidewalls, about face and inbound again had me reconsider what might be left in the tank, so just a k was trimmed off the tempo as an insurance to get a few more laps in.  As always, time was the enemy, so too and fro Foss went till rounding off lap 5 before heading homeward.

4/6  Group therapy.

Being released from Covid's confinement was a new found freedom.  It felt like being excused from some freaky Pavlov mental experiment!  Bo, Tina, Emil, Kel, PistolPete and Greg (who just made the grid at the third stroke)  converged for the 5:40 flagfall but I'd expected a crowd after a week's worth of solitary.  Still, The Godfather's absence was easy on the ears!  (The shop squad chose to spin their separate course.  Solitary steam to blow off?)   No prizes for guessing who led us to Mitchell Rd, the half dozen others quickly getting into the slipstream for a free ride south.  Just a week riding bunch-less and I'm already rusty at sitting on a wheel.  The draft's nice though, the newfound speed a massage for the ego.  

Kel took us east on Mitchell to Central Kialla, an easterly (13-20 km/h) easing us into this pack performance from the sluggish solo's we'd nearly grown accustomed to (PistolPete the exception ; fast regardless)   Bo seemed to do the shift to River Rd under sufferance, dare I suggest his mojo is a no-go of late?  Tina was handed the reigns and tapped the 2 k's well to the bridge, Emil then taking charge and yeah, me on his wheel again!  Is it pure circumstance or has the La Pierre got special titanium magnets?   Emil delayed his standard demonstration of determination till Tina was comfortable in the caboose and for a moment I thought there'd be a full throttle thrash to Coach Rd, but fairness kept him under 40 (just!) to the white fence of the quarter horse stud.    I should count my blessings really, given a 2k turn at the front with a tailwind is nothing to grizzle about.   

Greg caught me napping as I rolled rearward in Coach Rd, his acceleration toward the Broken bridges had me chewing bar tape in an effort to connect as caboose.  Pity there weren't more along to share the load but that's reality in winter isn't it?  Greg didn't do his usual Channel Rd exit but stayed on to the highway, for a moment I thought he'd buckled to the bunch sociology to stay for a complete circuit but used Hosie Rd as his short-cut to town instead. Duty called.     PistolPete did the honors of towing us to Old Dookie Rd where the delights of a headwind awaited, Kel braving the torment toward School Rd but handed Bo the job a little shy of reaching it. A little Bo mojo had returned to do a decent drive to Central Ave, credit to Tina for facing the front for a shift to Dobson's.  Emil earned an elephant stamp squeezing the throttle slowly to the truck route, mid 30's was all that could be forced from me but cars and a red traffic light could be used as the reason for the sedate shift to SPC.  Great to get that fix of social stuff at The Butter Factory after enduring self (and instant coffee) for nearly a week.  Fingers crossed that lockdowns are now consigned to the history books.

This week 213km     YTD 6,153km