Going giddy.

 Post #608

17/7 Solo, slow and silent ; strange for a Saturday.

It wasn't quite forty days and forty nights but three days off the bike felt like it!  Almost at the end of a wet week a window of opportunity opened on Saturday to feed the craving, a west northwester blowing in the thirties as if to make up for lost labor.  And just to test tenacity, the state's sudden lock-down put up a Covid constraint of a five km leash from home.  The urge to break this sleeping-in indulgence was strong, and forecast showers from nine a.m. said seize the day!  A solo spin excused me from an early effort, I could slowly introduce rusty legs to labor.   A five km boundary leaves little choice in courses so what's become the default lock-down lap (Boulevard, Rudd, Wanganui, Verney and Knight) was chosen, clockwise.    Feels like 0.8 was hardly inspirational but it did feel good to be back on the bike, the satisfaction of self propulsion aboard  Macmillan's invention somewhat sublime.....till facing that wind fair in the face on the way to the golf course.  Just a subtle reminder of Rule #67.  

Endorphins flowed to sweeten the scenery of Wanganui's dull and dreary sky, wind up the derriere putting a positive in it too. (Stick that feeling in the bank Foss, those k's from SPC 'round to Wanganui again wouldn't be beer and skittles!)  Steering straight became the skill southbound on Verney, the wind trying to blow the bike into the gravel that seems to grow in the bike lane (seldom swept).   There's just two sets of traffic lights on this lap and wouldn't you know it, both went red against me.  An opportunity for oxygen intake before being wind whipped back to Rudd Rd.  Lap one done, repeat dosage as necessary says the pharmacist and for the sake of sanity, I'd take a few more.  Some sort of decent distance was needed to justify the laborious layering for the cold.   So, much like lap one, around we go again with little traffic to deal with but the wind continuing to wear away the will (and the watts with it!)   The third lap was close to inducing dizzy spells and pushing the boundaries of that forecast rain, so I called it quits at forty k's.  Strange to end Saturday's spin with silence and instant coffee at home.  

18/7  Tour'n on a tether. 

Solitary confinement and Covid's course constraints calls on a ton of mental motivation just to swing a leg over the bike ; I do bang on about the strain to keep up with the bunch but their fellowship and inspiration to ride becomes a value even more treasured at times like these.   Dreaming up a different circuit becomes a challenge too, something's needed to fire up the enthusiasm and there's only so many roads within five km of home.   Sunshine and sensible o'clock finally got the positives primed on Sunday, maybe an east and west journey to the southern limits would energize a little effort?   

A west southwesterly artificially inflated the ego, propelling me along Parkside Drive and up the highway to Radio Australia; there'd be work to do on the westbound zigs but things would be easy on the eastbound zags (almost like interval training).    South on Verney Rd got the first real measure of the labor ahead ; without a rise higher than an ant's nest in these parts the wind at least provides some work (otherwise we'd all be as tough as marshmallows!)   The first teeth-clencher was Ford Rd - that familiar heart-starter for the work on Wanganui of a Saturday- so two k's of it wouldn't use up too many jellybeans in the jar.    South into Numurkah Rd then east on Hawkins eased the load, giving enough time to prepare for the watts needed west on Pine. 

And so the to and fro went on Graham, Balaclava, Rae, Knight, Nixon, Fryers, High, Vaughan, Sobraon, Swallow, Hayes and finally MacIntosh, with squirts south in between (MacIntosh was probably at the five k limit but I didn't bring a tape measure).    Strava shows plenty that have ventured well beyond the Covid confines of home but they're hardly playing germ warfare with the public out in the back-blocks are they?   It had been a challenge to hold a respectable average with all the slows for corners and intersections and even if the overall distance was a little shy of the normal but it had ultimately satisfied the urge.  Just stoking up the enthusiasm to ride had been almost a morning's work.  Feeling a fraction of warmth from the sun homeward bound was a positive, hopes the lock-down would be lifted sooner rather than later would make it feel like Christmas. 

19/7  Circling for sanity?

There was a lot of dipping into the depths of the motivational barrel Monday, darkness and starting at stupid o'clock made it tougher than yesterday.  A different course again might just provide a few drips of determination to knock over a few k's.   Lock-down day four and already the signs of isolation were beginning to show.   Heaven save me from plummeting to the depths of Playstation with pedals!   Eight degrees wasn't quite the Costa del Sol but it was better than the minus stuff of a fortnight ago.  (Could those days now be behind us?)   Even the wind cut me some slack, a mediocre 12 km/h west northwester wasn't worth complaining about, particularly when sheltered by suburbia.  (that'll trim a few sentences off this garble!)  The circuit of choice was Batman, Balaclava, Numurkah Rd and Parkside, a length or two with a few bends in it and wouldn't that be a welcome change from the arrow-like roads normally ridden.  Might even wear a little off the Michelin's shoulders!  The lap measured a whisker over five k's so six circuits would be nigh on going giddy before 7:30 duty called at the coal face.  Without a bunch to raise the standards it's all too easy to slip into the comfort zone just below the aerobic limit (not the usual bouncing off the rev-limiter keeping up with PistolPete's pace!)  Self preservation I suppose.   By lap three the rectus femoris and satorius were protesting and breathing labored.  So began that juggling act between the limits of lungs, legs and cardiac complaints ; one, two or all eventually reach that hollering for a halt moment.   Oops! Zoned out and overshot Batman so I was forced to annoy the o.c.d. side and opt for a southbound diversion via Ferguson to get back on track.  (Back on course next lap)  There's not a lot of movement at stupid o'clock, aside from one car (minus headlights) charging around in the darkness (just your friendly neighborhood drug distributor I'm guessing), the odd house light coming on as alarms prompted movement, old mate walking the dog or the steam rising from the drain vents as the early risers showered.  A sort of suburban time lapse of the start of the working week grind. I'd managed to squeeze a lap into ten minutes, dependent on the solitary set of traffic lights, the lap times turning critical as 6:30 struck if I was to keep to the employers agenda.  Again, the distance a little shy of the usual but something's better than nothing for sanity's sake.  Rain was going to deny the pleasure Tuesday. 

21/7  A jaunt with Joe (not Tony)

Ooops! Spoke too soon! Wednesday's feels like minus three was a not-so-subtle reminder that Winter's still with us.  But I had some incentive to ride, Jo (not Tony) was keen to pair-up for a few k's ; I'd at last get a ride without listening to that old bloke complaining about the wind and how hard he worked into it!  We'd made the Verney Rd bus stop the starting grid, and agreeing on a course (Verney, Ford, Lemnos Nth and Old Dookie)   set wheels rolling north, trying to suppress the shivers as a west southwester cut straight through the multiple layers of insulation.  Who did which shift and for how long didn't need discussion, just go with the flow and hope your partner doesn't set the benchmark too high...or too long!  I'd volunteered to face the front first up to Ford Rd, so Joe (not Tony) did the eastward bit to the truck route.  No measuring of shifts needed, it was a good change to step above the solo standards and share the workload.  It's been a barren week without the pleasure of sitting in the slipstream.  Knowing there's some respite at the end of a turn does spur on the speed, something your head is reluctant to do in a solo status.  

That westerly made it's presence felt on the turn south into Lemnos North Rd, Joe hadn't left me a lot of shelter at the roads edge for a good draft but let's not get too picky Foss, I was well and truly over the solo alternative!  (Hey, the soup at Campbell's didn't smell that appetizing)  My turn again crossing New Dookie down to Old, mid thirties seeming to be the standard to be suffered (but I was lowering the expectations for the Old Dookie headwind back to town)  An elephant stamp for Joe (not Tony) for slogging out the 2800 metres to the truck route, the speed slowly sinking in the last (exposed) 1000.  I took sympathy on his suffering and did the drive to SPC, staying on to do Hawdon St back to the bus stop to start lap two.  Shifts could now be opposite to lap one.   Another circuit of the same tarmac now had a different perspective ; sightseeing this time the sections that were previously blurred by being in the drivers seat.   For a moment I pondered the pleasures of being blissfully cocooned in the warmth of bed.....but that would be getting close to what's considered sensible ; what an insult!  Roles had reversed for the work into Old Dookie Rd's wind so there was a fairness in the workload (it wasn't the usual torment of a turn with the Sanctuary squad's speed but there were a lot more shifts to do as compensation)  The usual enemy of time didn't allow a third lap but a shorter spin of Ford, Wanganui and The Boulevard satisfied the time and distance worthiness.       

22/7  At the risk of repeating myself.

I'd even succumbed to reset the alarm to sensible o'clock.  The feels like minus 2.6 factor made the warm bed Thursday's nirvana, but barely a minute later a nagging voice in the hollows of the head kept repeating Rule #9, Rule #9, Rule #9.   I knew I'd regret the sloth-like behavior of sleeping-in, besides Friday's forecast rain would grant me a decent exemption tomorrow.   So harden up Foss, the fog won't bite you!  I'd concocted a different circuit to inject some incentive, inspired by Wozza's ride yesterday "hot-dogging" Verney Rd.  Mine would be a "cold dog" of the Boulevard between Tarcoola and Canterbury roundabouts.   I wouldn't call the conditions a "pea-souper" 'cause plenty of metres were still visible ahead, though having the security of street lights lining most of the way was a comfort,  just in case that soup thickened.  It didn't take long to sense a breeze blowing behind en-route north east to Canterbury, although that contradicted the bureau's stats of a west southwester.  Up to Canterbury's roundabout , an about face then south west back to Tarcoola, checking the odometer at the end of lap one (3.8 km) satisfied the o.c.d. inside so I could at least put myself against the clock to target reasonable lap times.   The squillions of microscopic water drops in the Cat-Eye's beam dampened everything facing forward, to the extent of creating a drip irrigation system on the brow of the helmet.  Each lap seemed to gain an extra half kilo of damp as ballast!  Each Canterbury bound leg soon became the recovery and the Tarcoola way, the work, that worn-smooth tarmac at roundabouts taken at snail's pace to avoid a horizontal hurt.   And repeat, repeat, repeat.  I'd lost count of the laps after nearly an hour, maybe because recall was now refrigerated.  The continued effort to generate some warmth saw the Garmin numbers rise (though the speed stayed mostly stagnant) so with the clock numbers now ticking beyond 6:30, I finished one more lap before turning for home.  Total distance confirmed ten laps were done. Tenacity or lunacy?  

This week  190 km   YTD 7,727 km