Purging pessimism

 Post #609

24/7  Lock-down lake laps.

And so arrived another Saturday struggling to satisfy the social sustenance of pre lock-down days.  I could count myself lucky Joe (not Tony) was craving company too, if not just to swap a sentence or two but just to motivate him getting aboard the bike and drag himself out of the Covid gloom.  Almost everyone has been lapping the lakes lately, so with it yet to be ticked off the circuit list, the change of scenery might spark a bit of enthusiasm too.  6 am begged a beginning 'cause showers were forecast for 8:30.  To hell with a respectably clean bike, overnight rain had dampened all the circuits but the urge to clock ks was difficult to resist. (the force is strong with this one)   We's spun south to Kialla, it's lakes circled by snaking streets to tempt a circuit other than the usual dead straight stuff, though the protruding concrete structures (designed to hamper the hoons a little), traffic islands and off-camber roundabouts would need a keen eye, considering the glossy tarmac.  

Around Waranga Drive's southern lake then Gordon Drive's northern one made a suitable spin, the turns rolling at will (or whenever the wind wore away the determination).   Lap two provided some urge with two red led's appearing ahead to bait a chase, I wasn't expecting to find PistolPete and Bo in cruise mode but it turns out Bo's new diet has worn away the watts with the kilos.   With greeting swapped, Joe and I (not Tony) continued the circuitry, darkness slowly lifting to reveal a dull grey day.  The lust for latte finished our going 'round in circles by lap four's end, a bee line made for a Butter Factory brew.   There was a little social satisfaction finding Wozza, Lenny and BamBam berthed from their laps of the lake, the conversation (suitably distanced of course) on Everesting, inclines and the bike vs car relationship.  Maybe there'd be proper Saturday sociology next week?

26/7  Damp, slippery, windy and a puncture.......great ride!

The front veranda was as dry as a chip but all kitted up and at the end of the drive found the road was as wet as a shag!  No turning back now Foss, it's Rule #5 time!  (So much for spending an hour cleaning the bike yesterday)  Finding the fortitude to reach the golf course was an early ask, a west northwester was making the drive difficult.  This would be version 173 of a lap within Covid confines, an adaptation to the usual Wanagnui Rd loop to incite a little interest into the mundane, using a little of Ford Rd to get to Grahamvale Rd then south to join New Dookie Rd for a west way back to the Boulevard.  Mud had been dragged across Ford Rd from somebody's off road excursion, so the road bike now looked like a cyclo-cross contender.  Tyres squirming for traction through the mud made for an o.m.g. moment.  Oncoming trucks in Grahamvale Rd carried a curtain of spray behind them, a far cry from what my imagination had painted looking at that dry veranda!  

Still, there was the Rule #9 factor to lean back on.  Facing the wind in New Dookie Rd questioned my thinking, but should the lock-down lift and bunch riding return, I'll need to acquaint myself with extra effort.  I'll guarantee  PistolPete, Boof, Rocket, Wozza et al haven't slowed down!  Most of Balaclava Rd required full throttle to keep the speedo in the thirties , one of two sets of traffic lights turning red for twenty seconds to grant me a brief bout of oxygen intake.  Just that brief break recharged the battery to get to the Boulevard.  Houses gave a little shelter to Canterbury's roundabout but the exposed kilometre to get to Wanganui required some huff and puff.  I could sense a swing of the wind more northerly and that pegged back the pace on Wanganui and Ford, wised-up this time though to avoid the mud pie section by riding the centre line.  A lack-lustre tail-light glow was an aid memoire to charge it, so I felt a little vulnerable given the poor visibility through the road spray on Grahamvale Rd  (not a vehicle followed as it happened)  Second time around on New Dookie Rd wasn't any easier but the sixteen cog helped.   I guessed I could squeeze in a third lap  before time turned against me but a subtle sinking feeling was creeping in.   Telling myself the damp road was sending squishy signals didn't cut it, it was a puncture right at the end of lap two to halt progress.  By the time I fumbled in the dark and damp to extract the sliver of glass and replace the tube, time was now the enemy.  Being just a k from home cancelled plans for lap three, (sure as eggs there'd be another puncture and I wasn't so keen to patch a wet tube in the darkness) so was content instead to be two minutes from coffee and comfort with just thirty k covered.

29/7  Early morning four-play.

It wasn't like Kim and Emil to be missing from the early rendezvous but I owed them the courtesy of giving them a couple of minutes grace (I'd had a morning or two running behind agenda).  Three minutes passed and with no message received I was now on a mission to get to the grid on time, a therapeutic heart starter to re-aquaint with bunch riding, now that the lock-down had lifted.  Kel, Joe (not Tony) and Tina had converged at the shop, keen to shake off the solo stuff we've been confined to under Covid, and get back into the fellowship of a bunch.  This little squad of "squirrels" would be a comfortable stepping stone back toward the standards of Sanctuary squad speed.  I was elected to lead the line from town, so set a velocity considerate to the few rather rusty to the pace of a pack (me included!)   A subtle westerly helped me reach the truck route and Kel had no trouble with tempo to Orrvale Rd, Joe (not Tony) keeping the speed kind to the Kinder.  

Tina had doubts on her pace to the cypress trees, two weeks of solitary confinement can skew your perception of performance (doesn't the bunch tempo seem supersonic vs your solitary speed!)  Despite her concerns,Tina did well (and we said so, if only to purge the pessimism).  I'd set my aim at the S bend on turn two, that tail breeze making it easy, but there'd be an effort homeward bound.  It was great to be among a small group again, and wasn't it pleasant to peruse a posterior other than Joe (not Tony's) for a change!  There's that bonus of a longer sit at the back (than the last few weeks) with more to share the load.  Headed north on Boundary didn't have the drama of the westerly I'd expected but being in the tow can be way beyond the reality of the distress in the drivers seat can't it?  Tina handed over the lead role at the bridge and with the task at the front shy of the struggle I'd imagined, my aim extended to New Dookie.  A little game of condescending kudos with Kel had put a positive into pace, though I'm far from the standard of smoothness she sets.  Good to have a goal though isn't it?  Joe (not Tony) and Tina shared the 3100 metres to reach Lemnos North Rd so those first length of Ford was my forth feeling of playing a part in progress.   Given the lead role approaching the suburbs, Kel was the cork out of a bottle with an inspired drive of three and a half k's back into town via Verney.

30/7  A lap unlocked. Luxury!

There was no slow down from lock down, PistolPete had a long line silent (aside from the huffs and puffs) toward Mitchell Rd as the Sanctuary squad reconvened following the state unlocking restrictions.  It was great to be back in the bunch, being dragged along at a speed you could skite about - the downside was the expected contribution to that pace at the front!  Sitting in seventh wheel allowed a warm up before facing that reality.  

Boof did the towing to Central Kialla as the pack stacked across the tarmac in search of shelter from a northeaster that would keep us busy till reaching Old Dookie Rd.  Greg's drive north to River Rd stoked up some warmth in the legs for the "feels like 0.1" (will this winter ever take the hint and leave?), Kel continuing the cooking toward the River Rd bridge.  Pain at the pointy end was drawing near.  Bo's new aerodynamics served up the sting I was soon to feel, then handing the hurry to Emil at Laws Drive. (yep, I was on that wheel again!)  Shifts were a little shorter than usual so I was expecting the task in the drivers seat wasn't going to be much fun.  Emil's elbow introduced me to the toil at Trevaskis Rd and trying to maintain the pace, I took each set of white posts passed as a minor miracle.  Aiming further would have raised a white flag up the mast.  Enough! said the old engine at the quarter horse gates, Bruce could cope with the wind while I complained in the caboose.  Bruce, Joe (not Tony) Wozza, Rocket, PistolPete, Boof, Greg, Kel, Bo and Emil flew by while I retired ruined rearward, but the holler from Tina and The Godfather of their permanent residency in the caboose got me off the seat (and onto rubber legs) to join in eleventh wheel.  

Bruce bolted to Coach Rd while I waited for things to come back into focus.  Joe (not Tony) didn't stay long in the suffering seat, Wozza doing the driving north to the highway.  I could have sworn I heard Rocket chuckling as he opened the throttle to tow us all to Old Dookie Rd, there was a strange silence in the squad he seemed to be enjoying!  PistolPete had made his way back to the front, but the flurry of energy and enthusiasm with the wind now positioned at eleven o'clock had loosened the caboose from the back.  PistolPete obliged by disengaging the turbocharger, much to my legs and lungs relief by the way.  Once over Central Ave and restored to a rhythm, the pace of course ramped up again, so the clean cross of the truck route put Kel on a hot tin roof to reach SPC.  We were close to the coffee and banter that has been off the menu for a while. 

This week  168 km    YTD 7,897 km