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