Factional farnarkling.

Post #611

18/9  Just a few.....and a 'roo or two.

Your heart sinks as 6am is about to strike and just three others are on the starting grid.  Get ready for a sentence of hard labor Foss, none of this soft social Saturday stuff!  That would have to wait for an hour and twenty minutes; forty five k's worth of work was on the roster first. PistolPete and Emil would keep the pot boiling but I found some comfort with Lance as part of the quartet - he's my vintage.  Emil and I had heart rates well prepared from a close encounter with a kangaroo on the commute to Sanctuary Drive, though PistolPete always commences leg one to the truck route with compassion.  Mr Masochist is revealed on leg two to Mitchell Rd!   I'd scored Emil's wheel as the procession formed and Lance (by seniority?) chose the caboose.  

The northwester helped the journey to Mitchell Rd but PistolPete (possibly underwhelmed?) chose to stay on as captain to Central Kialla.....then added two more k's of tempo to River Rd.  ('Cause he can)   Emil's engine wasn't running on all cylinders today, I think last night's brewery session had flooded the carburettor!  He still managed to drive a four k shift in River Rd, but I wasn't bouncing off the rev limiter to hold his wheel for a change!  I could feel the breeze at the backside portside for the first half k when given the drivers seat, trees lining the left of the road to rooster corner seemed to cancel that effect though.  Three headlights had appeared in the distance to drive toward ; the shop squad had a poor showing too (the brewery to blame for that too!) so Bruce, Lenny and GiantAndy were our saviors to reduce the workload, but not reducing the speed.  

Apologies were delivered to Lance, handing him the headwind in Coach Rd wasn't showing much respect for your elders but it came down to luck of the draw I guess.  Lance labored to One Tree Dam under the strengthening northwester and elected Pistol back to the captaincy, the Indian filed line of seven forging on toward the highway.  My mental calculations were well underway ;  Emil would probably drive on to Old Dookie Rd and I could make use of a bit of that wind behind along Old Dookie, I'd retreat to the caboose with some sense of teamwork done and be towed by six others for a fair way back toward town in shelter from the wind.  (Thinking this way too much Foss!)  Emil's body language spoke of struggle at Boundary Rd's fig farm, beer and that breeze at the brow taking the edge of his usual energy, though to his credit, determination and a good measure of pig-headedness kept the throttle wide open to reach Old Dookie Rd.  Saved me the hurt of the headwind - cheque's in the mail Emil!  

The luck of getting two turns with prevailing winds said I should do a decent drive in compensation, so set my target at the Toaster 3 k ahead.  Forty was feasible given the circumstances but experience told me I'd be out of steam by the pork palace at that pace, so sticking to high thirties might get me to the aim without throwing a conrod. That short and oh-so-subtle rise with 500 metres to go had the engine at the red-line.  The drive to Lemnos-Cosgrove Rd was like falling off a log for Lenny, 700 km a week might have something to do with it!  It became GiantAndy's job to take us west and the relentless wind had no effect on that engine, so lots of happy souls tucked into the draft as he turned up the torque toward Boundary Rd.   Three k's worth of work was a bit lack-lustre for the lad (thirty years my junior) so he continued the shift another three k's to Lemnos North Rd.  

Equally energetic, Bruce was the driver in Ford Rd but my sympathies went out to Lance hanging on to the speed ; the likelihood of being toasted by tempo multiplies rapidly in second wheel.  I'm sure Bruce was just making a decent contribution and his fair share to Numurkah Rd but Lance stayed stuck to his wheel when Bruce retired rearward at Wanganui Rd.  PistolPete's turn again and that wind wasn't letting up.  It must have been strong 'cause Pistol had called it quits at DECA's test track (Quit is rarely in his dictionary)   Emil rose to the occasion to tow us to Rudd Rd (to hell with the hangover!) and I'd won wind assistance yet again for a southern spin to Canterbury roundabout.  Third time lucky!

It felt almost illegal to sit at the Butter Factory for breakfast after weeks of car-park conversation ; talk on Garmin complexities and motorbike madness had entertainment thrown in from Hoges when he dropped by for a latte 'traveller'

21/9  An ice-cream headache, without the ice-cream :(

Two lights on the Boulevard meant it was squirrel day (a secret spin, slightly slower than Sanctuary speed with Emil and Kim) or maybe I was seeing double?  The lack of temperature may have frozen the retinas!  Something somewhat sedate would suit today, softness had taken hold after a sleep-in Monday (rain) so a gentle introduction to the week suited well.  It was Kim and Emil, not my old eyes playing tricks.  The standard squirrel circuit applied (Channel, Boundary, Lemnos-Cosgrove, Ford and Verney) and that would give us heaven on the way out and hurt on the way back in, twenty k's worth of westerly was there not just to help and hinder but to cool our heels (and other body parts) at feels like minus two point six.  

Setting the tempo was my task taking the first shift in Channel Rd ; too slow and there'd be snoring, too fast and there'd be that "hell hath no fury" thing .....something in the order of winning friends and influencing people would do.  I took a guess at thirty four to the truck route and crossed my fingers.  It scored a "nice one" from Emil and a grin from Kim.  And so the shifts swapped east toward Boundary Rd, sublimely helped by the westerly, while the hardening-up process got underway for the return.  

Kim's shifts are steadily strengthening and lengthening, dedication during lock-down is paying her back. I was handed the reigns again at the cypress trees but felt a little greedy commanding the lead to the end of Channel but I doubt Emil's engine would suffer bearing north.  He drove the distance to a bit beyond Old Dookie and convinced Kim to continue to New.  My turn up to Lemnos-Cosgrove scored a bit of shelter from the elements, Emil settling in for the long haul west and with Kim on his wheel it would be a long one....if he remembered which side his bread was buttered!  He's either in the bad books or just loves butter ; to Lemnos North Rd wasn't enough, the drive went on to Grahamvale and beyond.  Verney Rd would be more than enough Emil, but all the way into town was in his sights too.   No argument from me, I'll take the tow when it's free.

22/9  Two tribes.

As we rolled away from the Sanctuary start line I was all psyched up to do my pace-line bit through Central Kialla (wasn't I brave sitting in third wheel behind Emil) but an advance line formed beside me.  Oh, it's social Wednesday isn't it! Rocket, Boof, Wozza, Bruce and Lenny had joined with PistolPete, Greg, Bo, Kel, Joe (not Tony), Kreeky, The Godfather and Emil to combine Couldabeens tribes.  What was going to be swift and single file turned to two rows to tattle.  Stress and sweat swapped for for social sentences.  Aren't we lucky to have different tribes of tempo within the clan that remain as one socially.  None of that factional farnarkling in this family! (Go on, Google it!  update your Aussie cultural education)  

With my mindset off the rivet and into relaxation, Rocket and Bruce kept the pace capped in the mid thirties.  The post mortem of Tuesday's chase was detailed by The Godfather, ti bikes was the banter with Bo and holidays was the yarn with Kreeky.  A cursory glance at the Garmin confirmed the ceiling of thirty five was being stuck to.  This riding in daylight caper is rather infectious, it only seems like last week when we were charging around in the dark and daylight arrived somewhere about mid-morning.  Rooster corner was silent again and I was now in the advance line, Boof ahead and Emil behind (sandwiched by speed) but there was no stress, the social standards would be upheld.  Wouldn't they?  Bo and Kel paired to the highway and Boof advanced in Boundary, Kel alongside to the bridge.  

Pace had crept up a bit beyond the standard, though there wasn't a wind to wear away the wattage.  Matching Boof's wheel became a task toward the fig farm and I shouldn't have let the eyes wander to the speedo, thirty eights made it a mental mountain to get over and I hoped Emil wasn't expecting more of the same. Weird isn't it? Just two or three k's quicker than the comfort zone and toil becomes all enveloping.  Predicting imminent implosion, I called an early roll to Boof and dropped a hand to signal a slight slow, thankfully Emil obliged the mid week limit so I could survive to Old Dookie Rd.  Pleased that the slight violation in velocity had vanished, I was back in the slipstream for the way west to town.  A comfortable conclusion with the sun on our backs toward town was almost in the ranks of tropical (feels like 1.9).  

23/9  Ten for tempo.

Fog was the surprise guest for Thursday's ride, the usual legends fronting Sanctuary's starting grid. (Grumpy, Bo, PistolPete, Kreeky, Greg, Kel, BamBam, Joe (not Tony) and Emil)   Serenity signaled The Godfather's absence (gout's got him again).   My head was in the right space today, prepared for pace-line pain and placed perfectly in fifth wheel, eight k's before I needed to slice through the atmosphere myself (Time enough to h.t.f.u.)   Kel had rattled the routine by driving the second shift after Pistol's mandatory motion to Mitchell Rd, her smoothness sublime to Central Kialla where Bo was put in charge (that was likely to require a risk assessment!)  

The tempo was spot-on till a bit beyond the fire brigade but Bo being Bo had to turn the wick up to reach River Rd.  And that burned the tensor fasciae latae.  Emil took River Rd's first leg and I'd guessed he was toasted too, the signs of digging deep to get to the bridge most unlike his usual shifts. The slight downhill beyond the bridge was the saving grace for my turn toward the dip, just enough descent to offset the extra 15% effort out of the slipstream.  Despite the tank running low there was comfort knowing Joe (not Tony) wasn't going to cook me as he took the lead role.  Fog was patchy as Kreeky led us to Rooster-less corner, part-time Couldabeen (and part-time Wouldabeen) BamBam taking the reigns on Coach Rd till the jelly bean jar was empty.  Grumpy got the job to head us to the highway but his urge ran dry at Channel Rd (to much dirt and not enough tarmac Grumps?)   Greg had watts worthy of a decent drive to the highway with extra to continue to Boundary's bridge.  

All ten had now done their duty so PistolPete started round two and with no sign of his speed sinking ; heads went down for his drive to Old Dookie Rd.   Kel served the status quo toward School Rd then Bo delivered us Central Ave in his escalating effort (as we're accustomed to)  but Emil again showed signs of stress as early as Dobson's bridge.  I hadn't expected to be given the lead role till the truck route but a performance was required as Emil's elbow urged me forward.  It's a great feeling to get on top of the gear and into the groove with wheels hitting their sweet spot in the forties, the moment of the slightest dip below that, a car conveniently passed to loan a tow.  Why aren't all turns at the business end like this?  If they were, I'd be waking up and falling out of bed! Pleased as punch with that performance, I handed over to Joe (not Tony) for his spin to SPC and I'm sure the town slept in a little longer thanks to The Godfather's absence.

24/9  A quickie and a quiet one.

A public holiday begged a ride a little longer and a little later than usual, but a few had places to go and people to see....so the standard stupid o'clock at Sanctuary stuck.   Some of the faster faction had proposed a hundred k ride but at their pace it would be a rung too far up the ladder for me.  The familiar few fronted the roundabout (Emil, Boof, PistolPete, Kel and Bo), a swift single filed fling on the menu. With an appropriate fumble to clip-in as PistolPete kick started the line south, I'd conveniently fallen back to fifth wheel as my position in the procession, reasonable time to ready for the work at the front ; but being on Bo's wheel might not have been the best position.  (He'd caused havoc with hurry yesterday).  Stuck with it now Foss, go with the flow!  PistolPete had the auto-pilot on to take us south, the standard considered build up of speed to the truck route then on the gas for the two k's to Mitchell Rd.  Emil made tracks to Central Kialla, the lack of wind a bonus for all, but that guaranteed the pace would be high.  Boof's got the wattage to run rings 'round us all but kindly complied to the Sanctuary squad standards to River Rd. (i'd hoped he'd softened up Bo a bit though)   

Half way to the bridge and I reckoned all was going well, but the usual Bo trait of a spike in speed toward the end of his shift had legs and lungs smoldering.  That raised the bar for me to do a decent drive to the dip.  Thank heavens for the 0.0003% descent off the bridge! Kel offered little respite when she took aim at the quarter horse gates, PistolPete then driving on to rooster-less corner.  Again, a scenic sun-up distracted the gaze from the wheel ahead while Emil's energy towed us north toward the highway, the pot-holes at One Tree Dam needed some focus though if we were to make it though upright.  

Emil did well to drag us to the highway, a hint of a northerly now hampering progress.  That's no problem for Boof, his excessive energy got us to Old Dookie Rd post haste (he'd better had burned Bo a bit more this time!)  Down to business toward School Rd, Bo turned up the velocity west, but hang on, an early elbow signed his resignation at the bridge  (a "half turn Friday" excuse)    I shouldn't complain about being called to work for an early shift (I was preparing to do my bit beyond Central Ave), there was only 1800 metres of hurt to get to that intersection.  It felt a lot longer.  Long shadows of the crew behind lay ahead while I tried to focus on a relaxed perch and just let the legs labor. Easier said than done with the heart ready to leap out of my chest (or explode within it!)  

I wanted to ask Kel to be gentle with me when she took over at Central Ave but I was a bit preoccupied with oxygen intake at the time.  She was kind, so I could catch the caboose and prepare for PistolPete's swansong to the truck route.  Emil's swift shift to SPC put the sting in the tail.  The search was on in town for a cafe open on a public holiday (penalty rates put the brakes on that) so we settled to sit in the car park of the Scottish restaurant and chat.  Post latte, there was still time to kill, so a quiet lap with Joe (not Tony) and his pair of pals (John and Simon), just out of winter hibernation, would be a fitting finale to follow the earlier effort.  It would rattle the ritual of the standard 45k too.  Verney, Lemnos-Cosgrove, Pine Lodge, Old Dookie, Boundary and Channel was the lap of choice, and like in Rome, it would be done as the Roman's do. Slow and steady.  With a substantial slant on social.  

Turns swapped about a bit till settling for Joe and I at the front with Simon and John (rare to riding in winter and somewhat aerodynamically challenged) satisfied and silent at the back.  A north westerly was steadily brewing en-route to Pine Lodge so the order swapped about a bit when noses aimed south to the Toaster, the speed still simmered around thirty but in view of the earlier velocity, I had no complaints.  Time in the saddle was now the test.  With reasonable shelter along Channel Rd, Simon and Joe (not Tony) showed interest in a squirt of speed on the ChaCha but the foray into the forties was brief, the slow substantial for John to rejoin.  (His puncture on last leg of Channel got his oxygen back).  A chin wag at Friars seated sipping coffee in the morning sun rounded the week off nicely.

This week  282km   YTD 9,846km        

                      

Performance anxiety?

 Post #610

11/9 Social sustenance.

To hell with fast average speeds and producing lots of watts (no chance of that happening!), this Saturday was going to be a tame tap, particularly as there wasn't a bunch standard to live up to.  A stress free speed so legs would stop hating me for a change.  Mounting the bike at six seemed sublime, a breeze assisted roll south to Mitchell Rd was the whim, wondering if the old farmhouse still stood (excavators had trenched nearby but had yet to deliver the final blow)   The rising sun at my back on Mitchell didn't make "feels like six" any better and I was guessing the route via Raftery Rd to town was going to hand-braked by the wind but there was nobody to keep up with or time clocks to honor and there's certainly no trophies at the finish of Conrod straight. 

So maybe it was the shame of seeing twenties on the Garmin screen that poked some pace into me?  Ah, the standards we impose on ourselves! (we're our own worst enemies sometimes)  A whack on the helmet from the Mazda magpie (a close cousin to the Peppermill pie?) in Melbourne Rd was my memo Spring had sprung, but I was on a direct course to the Butter Factory to rendevous with the Weapon for a slice of social sustenance and a steady spin.  Released for a couple of hours from stay at home standards for freedom on the bike has many of us seeking something social and I've far exceeded the recommended dosage of this solo stuff  (the side effects of answering your own questions are beginning to show, a signal of chronic infection?)   

The saving grace of digital face-to-face kick-started the chat, self policing some form of fitness during lock-down and keeping the creative fires burning consumed the k's of the Boulevard, Rudd, Wanganui and Verney, the delights of riding in daylight still treasured with memories of winters' darkness still fresh in the pre-frontal cortex (give it a few weeks and there'll be grizzles about the heat!  Hard to please us humans)  Threading through Hawdon, Railway Pde and Archer, the magnetism of lapping Kialla Lakes drew us to Waranga Drive.  Maybe peak hour had passed?  Not a bike to be seen.  A check of the time revealed it was well beyond coffee o'clock so the beacon became the Butter Factory (of course)   PistolPete and The Godfather were headed homeward as we put noses north (Mazda magpie strike two) and arrived to swap a sentence or three with Bruce and Lenny, Emil and Bo, Wendy and Jase, paired in chat out front.  Sitting on the footpath with the warmth of the sun on the outside and the warmth of caffeine on the inside ranked as a simple yet sublime pleasure of Spring. 

13/9  Creaky and Kreeky. 

Like a rusty old hinge, something was creaking metronome-like on an eastern path of New Dookie Rd.  It was becoming rhythmically annoying.  I'd lubed the chain last Thursday and Darren's ti crafted masterpiece is as quiet as a church mouse, maybe the Craftworx hoops have finally decided to complain after  46,000 km?)   Hang on, it's probably that rusty old engine making it's Monday groans!  Yet another different course was set to lift some enthusiasm, though steering south into Central Ave tested the spirits facing a 20 km/h south southwester.  

The way home would have a tail-wind though.....I hope.  First light made the mood better and the course west on Channel Rd made mid thirties possible without blowing a gasket.  Skippy's round one with a B double ended badly at the truck route ;  I give way to them 'cause they're bigger!    I'm a sucker for circling Kialla Lakes, hardly a straight road to numb the senses and a head-wind only lasts a minute or two.  Besides, you don't feel so silly riding at stupid o'clock when others are found doing it!  PistolPete and The Godfather, Lenny and Bruce are full time employees in these parts during lock-down. I'd almost resigned to riding solo when Kreeky appeared in Waranga Drive so some social k's ensued.   

With the problems of the world solved (predicting PistolPete's pace and how we'd survive the speed of a bunch), we put a few variations into the lap ;  A southern extension from Sevens Creek onto Egret and added an extra to Sanctuary Drive via Marlboro and Kerang (not even on Google maps yet!) to put some new tarmac under the wheels  (that earlier creak was now inaudible, so was struck off the worry list). Inevitably, time became the enemy for me to head homeward, with the treat of that tail-wind to get me there.  Off the seat when the traffic light changed green, and that creak came back.  Now that daylight had arrived to assist, a closer look found the front quick release wasn't quite locked tight. Easier to fix than a suspected hip replacement!

14/9  Hey! Shut the fridge door!

And here's me thinking winter had been well and truly been put o.t.a!  Wishful thinking Foss, the cold came back to bite!  Just as well Joe (not Tony) had put his hand up to ride, I'd have softened faster than a Wouldabeen and stay in bed if he hadn't.  Circuit possibilities pondered, I'd convinced Joe (not Tony) to lap the Channel, Boundary and Lemnos-Cosgrove course and let time dictate the way home when we got back to town.  2.4 degrees took some effort to get the circulation going, so a push south to Channel Rd into a light south southwest breeze warmed the legs up.  

Joe (not Tony) could do the leg to the truck route as pink tinted the horizon.  And so the shifts were shared in more or less of equal effort, at one point in Boundary Rd I thought I'd missed the message from Joe's elbow to take the lead role but he was keen to forge on to the fig farm.  A kangaroo kept pace alongside in a field as we neared Lemnos-Cosgrove Rd and unsure of Skippy's flight path, we applied a little caution at the intersection (over the fence and bounding Boundary Rd in the blink of an eye     I'd imaged that south southwester would work against us toward town but in fact it seemed easier working west.  I wasn't about to question the science of it, just sit back and enjoy the moment 'cause I knew it wouldn't last  (could someone forward me the recipe so I can cook it up again at will!)  Time was kind reaching Grahamvale Rd fror us to continue on Wanganui Rd, the sun rising behind us of little benefit to warm us, just cast long shadows ahead. 

15/9  Patriot games.

Without a clue on a different course, I braved a circuit based on an idea; anything in the pursuit of variety to keep interest alive!  A few images had flickered in the skull and by chance, they had a recurring Australian theme.  At opposite ends of the town, this would guide Wednesday's course (if I could trust that whim in the frontal lobe)  Armed with camera (in phone), my task was to capture a few and maybe discover some others on the way.  The lack of a kangaroo on a pole at the northern end was my first fail but the way back via Verney found a fine first light at the Channel to capture.  

Minus point four bit at the shutter finger but the view was worth it.  The southbound search for a 'roo road sign failed to find one, but the rusty old tractor (as garden art) caught my eye on Archer Rd.  By pure luck the old Howard was Australian built (1922-1985)  

Couldabeens (Bruce, Grumpy, Lenny and Boof) came out of Sanctuary appropriately distanced (to the last centimetre), Bo and Kel a k behind as I set sights west toward Raftery.  I'd forgotten about Emerald Bank's windmill,  a worthy Aussie image silhouetted at sun-up, but Raftery's 'roo sign was the pursued pic and arriving there someone had prized it already!  

 One was definitely standing on the Midland Highway so I steered that way now that time was turning against me but made a brief halt for the bonza bottlebrush  (Myrtoideae) flashing it's red stop light on the way.  

It had taken most of the k's to finally capture the kangaroo pic then I recalled Tank's aussie flagged cow at Monash Park on the way home. This theme may not ever end!

 

Of course the final patriotic pic was that of Mr. Baum's under me, 81,000 k's and good as the day it was crafted in Geelong, it's just the engine that's worn out now!

16/9  The bunch baptism.

The lock-down leash had finally loosened (a little) to allow a bunch (up to ten) the freedom to congregate and soak up the social stuff we'd all craved for weeks. I'll admit to suffering a bit of performance anxiety on the commute to Sanctuary's roundabout with Emil, barely breaking 32 km/h and Scotty was already hollering "I'm givin' her all she's got Capt'n!"  How I'd live up to the bunch pace was the $64,000 question.   Kel, PistolPete, Emil, Joe (not Tony), Kreeky, Bo, The Godfather and Greg gathered like kids at a lolly shop for the 5:40 flagfall, PistolPete (indubitably) leading the re-united clan south considerately light on the throttle (for those of us that were stressing over a speed swifter than solo).  Third wheel was a suitable sit, fingers crossed that Emil wasn't in mass murder mood when he took on the second shift to Central Kialla (maybe he felt the 0.1 degrees too?)   

I'd survived his draft without losing the will to live, now to deliver a drive worthy of the squads standards myself!  Two k's north to River Rd seemed to last far longer than 3 minutes 10, leaving a little in the tank to catch the last wheel when Bo took over was hard when the gauge read empty 300 metres shy.  Bo had the tempo nudging forty to the bridge, Joe (not Tony) slipping from third wheel to the safety of the caboose to survive.  

Kel put pace back into the realms of sensible and Kreeky eased the pain a little more, but that only baited The Godfather to show off his velocity.  If you look up quick in the dictionary, you'll find a picture of PistolPete ; several weeks of lock-down limits and he comes back as fast as ever.  And doing the distance doesn't bother him either (all the way to the highway before he relinquished the drivers seat to Emil) Would Emil mimick the master?  I'd be in trouble if he did.  Emil had the wheels humming almost to the fig farm where his head dropped a little and that tell-tale grab for a lower gear happened ; get ready for your second shift Foss, you're about to be shown an elbow. I wasn't quite ready for the reality of 15% more drag out of the draft, I too dropped the head (and a gear) to keep that tempo smooth for the benefit of those behind.  I'd thought about doing a bit of Old Dookie Rd as an extra but then common sense quickly took hold, I was more than happy to hand over to Joe (not Tony) for his contribution toward School Rd. All that was left for me to do was hang on and be towed to town, the joy of being back in a bunch!

17/9  What's that Skip?  You won the sprint stage to Mitchell Rd?

The same squad fronted Sanctuary Drive Friday, uniformed resplendently in Couldabeens kit, the same silly concerns cramming my cranium about surviving the speed  (possibly a post-lockdown phobia?)   I captained the caboose to play it safe and buy maximum preparation time as PistolPete slowly brought the pot to the boil.  A holler of Slow! had brakes working overtime as a 'roo tried to join the paceline, Skippy was keen to win the stage but couldn't decide which side of the road to use  (may have been trained by The Godfather?)  The 'roo finally vaulted the fence and Emil made haste toward Central Kialla, despite the head-on easterly.  

The Godfather made the 2 k drive to River Rd look easy but Greg felt the wrath of the wind to River Rd's bridge.  He wasn't saying much when he retired from duty ;  and here's me at forth last wheel hoping I'd be spared the headwind!  Joe (not Tony) took the lead to take us to the dip (bless him, we could soak up a bit more oxygen for a minute or two) but the extra oxygen only built up extra watts in Kreeky then Bo on their mission to make haste to Coach Rd.  (wonder why the rooster has been quiet of late? Barbequed?)   Lucky me had the smoothness of Kel's wheel to follow north toward the Broken, the variations in velocity only detectable in .01's......and that made sitting in second wheel sweet. Was she going for the long drive to the highway?  Her elbow said otherwise at the Broken's second bridge so  2 k's worth of work to the highway was a fair trade-off for being towed the other 26 km.  

PistolPete took on Boundary Rd with a conservative start, by the bridge all heads were down and heart-rates up to stay in his draft.  Greg extended his stay on the circuit today and donated his second drive in Old Dookie Rd, but took his leave via School Rd to exit homeward.  Bo completed the charge to Central Ave.  The Godfather flexed his new-found fitness at Dobson's estate, those few weeks of lock-down at Pistol's pace have moved him up a rung or three but it was nice to do the final leg below the rev-limiter thanks to Joe (not Tony's) sensible speed into the suburbs.  

This week 269 km    YTD 9,563 km           

        

          

The satisfaction of (silently) sniggering

 Post #609

5/9  Sunday sinners.

Sunday's are normally sacred, but I'd softened to Saturday's forecast of a damp morning and succumbed to a sleep-in instead (don't tell anyone, but it was nice!) so the cravings to turn the wheels 'round were strong on Sunday and Joe (not Tony) was suffering the same.  How civilized we were to make it a 9am start (ensuring the early showers had passed).   It wasn't all beer and skittles though, the downside was a south southwester blowing up to 50 k's an hour!  A few lap options were bandied about but ultimately it was going to hurt in one or two directions.  A north and east then a south and west plan reached agreement and Joe (not Tony) jumped at the chance to do first shift.  A tail-wind probably made the decision easy.  A whisker of westerly in the wind helped my turn to Grahamvale Rd, the trees ling the 2800 metre leg to Lemnos North Rd helping to shield Joe from the southerly.  

I was about to swing south toward the soup tin when Joe (not Tony) called the intention to head to Pine Lodge  (a bit beyond our Covid tether of 5k from home but we were hardly sneezing all over the masses out here)  The sin was the distance, the penance was the wind!   I'd braved short knicks today, figuring cadence into the wind would warm the old engine in feels like four, Joe (not Tony) clad in the conservative couture of winter woolens.  The turn south toward the church into the wind had all the appeal of an appointment with a ham-fisted proctologist, but we'd enjoyed a holiday out to here, now it was time to go to work!  High twenties was about as good as it was going to get and it took the eighteen sprocket (or bigger) to do it!  A long heroic turn at the front?  Yeah, as if!  Reality kept ego's shy and time in the drivers seat short.  I'd hoped the westward way would be better but low thirties was the truth about Old Dookie Rd.  The bonus of trees sheltering a fair amount of Boundary Rd helped Joe (not Tony) front to the highway, Channel Rd offering a little cover too for my shift to the cypress trees.  

Gusts to the port-side bow put steering into the "drunk in charge" proportions so the usual half metre gap to the wheel ahead was quickly doubled.  Joe (not Tony) handed me the task to drive to town at Orrvale Rd and (strangely enough) had little enthusiasm to take on an extra spin south to Mitchell Rd as an encore, the temptation of caffeine in a cardboard cup won the vote, bolstered by the tail-wind to the Butter Factory to boot!  All consuming consumerism, business ethics and reading the wind made for an extended social session after. 

6/9  City limits.

Circling the city struck me as a different route.  Anything to keep that tiny flame of inspiration flickering!  A boundary rider of sorts.  Monday presented a west southwester as something to complain about so the clockwise start on Boundary, Rudd and Wanganui kept the hopes up, the tax of toil would be paid south and west.  Grahamvale Rd was a slog headed south, an eye and ear kept open for the truck traffic but come to think of it, they're the professionals ; it's the amateurs you need to keep clear of!  The smooth stretch of tarmac and a metre or more of dedicated space made it better than most roads to ride 'round here, and for all the concerns this truck route brings there were just two (professionally distanced three metres away. Won't catch Covid from these chaps!)   

West into Channel Rd and exposed to the elements was a sentence of hard labor but the scenic spin south to Sanctuary soon erased the hurt......till turning west again!  (You'd think I'd have learned by now!)  No point thinking there'd be shelter among the rapidly multiplying houses, that wind just funneled between them to stoke up the suffer score.   A couple of k's worth was hardly the struggle of a lifetime.  I almost stopped to clear the specs arriving at Melbourne Rd but I wasn't imagining it, Ralphy was actually on a bike under BamBam's guidance.  Will wonders never cease!  This could trigger the reformation of the Wouldabeens......well, maybe in a month or so.  North and homeward bound on Melbourne Rd found Wozza working south, circling the city had clocked 34 k's but that was enough under solitary confinement.

7/9  Distancing doldrums.

I should have ordered the family sized bucket of motivation.  Up-sizing the single serve is barely enough to haul me onto the bike when it's yet another solo and the bureau brags "feels like minus 0.1".  I needed to nag myself about the post ride euphoria, otherwise Mr. Sloth would put his feet up and doze post breakfast.  I reckoned I broke the Virgo obsession of having a route planned prior, I was out the door and rolling the wheels without a care on the course before the doldrums dominated the day.  Ultimately comfort comes in familiar roads, so it was no surprise to find me heading south, driven in part to see some scenic first light in Mitchell or Archer Rd.  I'd made myself a special sprint stage nearing Raftery Rd, remembering the Peppermill pie has been striking lately.  (no need for the effort, his night navigation equipment must be busted)   Lumens were raised for 'roos in Raftery but fog was the only (patchy) thing seen, and beyond the lights of Galbraith's gate I could point toward nature's first light and have that west southwester blowing at the back door.  

The cold was biting at the extremities but the regret of not riding would wreck me if I'd been drawn into that post-breakfast doze.  The river was well up, light reflecting it's level at Dave's dip (hey, that was five years ago if you want to feel a bit older!)   Without the constraint of being in a bunch I could pause for a pic.   Time was still ticking a minute later so wheels got rolling again to Archer, a little more light at the old farmhouse forced another pause.  (refer to the prior sentence)  It appears we might soon lose the old landmark, a pair of excavators parked nearby looking fairly keen to flatten it.  Enough of the photographic diversions, off again north to chew up a quarter hour lapping the lakes of Kialla.  The Godfather and PistolPete had partnered to circle clockwise (here's me against the grain again!) but a lap was about my limit before the bell tolled at the salt mine.

8/9  Factoring fog.

Sick of my own company (so much grizzling about the wind and the weather!), I'd conned Joe (not Tony) to front Wednesday's fog and share the toil of a lap.  It was Joe's choice of circuit today and the Lemnos-Cosgrove, Pine Lodge, Boundary and Channel circuit was it.  A fair stretch of the distance limits, but an excuse could be the very isolated area. (Joe made me do it Your Honor!)     The usual shifts swapped on the eastern drive to Pine Lodge and only on the change of direction toward the church did I realise the wind was on holidays.  Is it me or does the push through fog feel like the handbrake has been left on a notch or two?  (I'll take it as a concession on speed, feeling that drag through the soup-like atmosphere)   

Keeping a view on the road's edge needed a wipe of the specs on a minute by minute basis, there'd be a bit of embarrassment leading Joe (not Tony) into a gravel stage!  This old engine had finally warmed up reaching the Midland highway so put in a decent shift to Channel Road's cypress trees (where we found Greg making his way home from a more stupider o'clock circuit than ours!) Standard shifts got us back to the suburbs, feeling fairly dampened by the fog factor. 

9/9  Seeking sun-up.

Courting company for a lap of the lake (or three), BamBam answered my request to ride as a Thursday therapy. He must have been keen, stupid o'clock suited him.  The variation of a ten k loop (adding Sevens Creek Ave to the Kialla circuit) threw in some new scenery, albeit yet more repetitious real estate (oh so subtle variations to the same old, same old)    

Due diligence to keeping up the k's through winter has fostered some fitness in BamBam, so he'll score the satisfaction of (silently) sniggering at those who emerge from hibernation.  Speed was set so that sentences were possible , the social stuff just as important these days as doing the distance.  A few fellow addicts were found paired plying the tarmac, PistolPete and The Godfather, Rocket and Wozza, Bo and Kel, circling about though Bruce and Kreeky were stand-outs solo.  Just a smidgeon of wind (that's 2.7 poofteenths in metric) made it's presence felt from the northeast, enough to bump me into zone four and shorten the sentences.  West on Sanctuary and north on Wendouree was the worst of it, rejoining Waranga Drive to find PistolPete and The Godfather circling again.   Laps were repeated as necessary.  A rather scenic scarlet sky went on show on lap two but lasted barely five minutes before turning to a standard sun-up.  It seems it's always the other guy setting the tempo 'cause I was getting little respite riding alongside BamBam (or maybe I've softened doing all this drafting stuff while Indian filed in pairs), funnily enough the pace wasn't a lot faster than a solo effort.  Too much talk was to blame maybe?  Time was up at lap three's end, so we parted ways at Kialla Lakes Drive to earn the day's pay. 

10/9  The Emil effervescence.

Long time Couldabeens commuting cohort Emil extended the invitation of a pairing to roll a few k's Friday (beyond 10k this year for him while I dragged the chain 700k behind), "just a casual cruise" according to Emil ; the translation from Flemish being 100+ suffer score for me!   Kialla lakes are the laps of choice of late and the chance to greet (or sledge) other team members was too hard to resist.  A lap this way then that kept the scenery interesting as going looney in lockdown and Ralphy's running consumed conversation (on the northbound legs anyway, southbound I became pre-occupied with oxygen intake facing the south southwester)    A little pink painted the sky but it was a poor imitation of yesterday's show, grey became the colour to start Friday.   

Kel was noticed infringing Friday's dress code (out of uniform) with Bo in Sevens Creek Drive, PistolPete and The Godfather (in standard sledging mode) on Waranga, but Wozza, Bruce and Boof were all on solo missions.  Won't there be a packed peloton when lock-down regulations are relaxed!  How we'll deal with the claustrophobic confines of a bunch and being swamped by it's social stuff, I don't know (but I'm keen to try!)   Into Waranga Drive a pair of red led's ahead turned Emil effervescent to chase, and how quickly I tucked into the draft, less I be left solitary!  (How I'll deal with that bunch pace from the snail-like solo's of late I'll tackle another time)  There was little traffic to restrict the ride homeward (though it bordered on grid-lock at the drive-thru coffee shop), ending a week well with varied company rather than those sanity sapping solo's.

This week 245 km    YTD 9,294 km