The reason to ride.

 Post #616

24/10  Sunday in solitary.

I'm sure I'll get over the Robinson Crusoe syndrome.  4mm of rain had scuttled Saturday's ride so the nervous twitch, red rash and impeding sense of despair (bike junkie or what?!) was taking it's toll by Saturday evening.  The trouble was that laying a bait of a Sunday social spin on What's App didn't even get a nibble! (seems Sundays are for that dirty MTB habit)  It'd be a solo spin Foss.  The thought of another sumptuous sleep-in had crossed my mind but who posts a ride and then doesn't front?!  (Oh, there are a few aren't there!)   It was most likely a lost cause but I worked the west southwester down to Sanctuary Drive for the suggested 7am start anyway.  I'd have never lived it down should someone have shown up to an empty grid.   An empty Sanctuary Drive was there to greet me, so I was Robinson Crusoe for the circuit, but there wouldn't be a punishing pace to hang onto, just the standard that self sets (and Strava's data that bares all to inspire something above snail's pace)   Three more k's south to Mitchell Rd and the wind would help instead of hurt, though there'd be no records set to scorch River or even Coach Rd, the headwind home would burn most of the reserves I could hold onto getting to Old Dookie Rd.   

Mitchell, Kialla Central and most of River Rd was as barren as Boof's head till Blackie was found battling west at the quarter horse gates; not a car, truck, rabbit or 'roo was up and about, and that said something about this habit we've got.  I had a newfound appreciation for any building, fence or tree on Coach and Boundary Rd that offered a little shelter from the west southwester but that only dialed up the dread of what toil lay ahead in wait to wear me down on the westward leg back home.  At least I could set my own speed and bank all the biscuits I could.   Head down and on the drops, my speed wasn't so embarrassing on Old Dookie toward Central Ave, though the heart rate was on an escalator with effort.  The temperature was nearly at double figures (but feels like 4) so the sun on my back was probably the only good feeling en-route to town, promising myself a coffee as reward for effort spiked up the speed to the Butter Factory.  Sitting solo over a hot flat white contemplated Crusoe again.  I'll take it up with my therapist!

25/10  Monday menagerie. 

Young Didak had returned to the fold on Monday, keen for the Couldabeens company and clocking up the k's seeing he's taken the plunge into the under 19's state titles.  Talk about diving in the deep end!  Lenny, PistolPete, Rocket, Bruce, Wozza, Bo. The Godfather, Joe (not Tony), Kel, Didak and Greg braved the feels like 1.7 degrees on the Sanctuary grid.  Berthing at second wheel behind PistolPete seemed like a bold move till a second row formed nearing the truck route and that relegated me down the order to last shift and likely to face the headwind on the homeward leg.  I should have employed Bo's tactics to position for a tailwind!  The Godfather provided the free entertainment (and ear splitting brake squeal) while Chris A joined in at Kialla Central.  Bo and The Godfather took out a monopoly on the tailwind while the standard social stuff went on behind them for half of River Rd.  Emil arrived from the east to join in as Bruce and Rocket kept the tarmac blurring under 28 wheels.   

Those predictable shifts already spelled out my turn would fall due in Old Dookie, and with Emil ahead and PistolPete behind I was in the perfect position to be toasted!   Greg's in fine form the day after a windy Sunday spin of 160 km and Joe (not Tony) is coming to grips with the importance of preserving pace and the benefits of a back-light on the speedo.  Kel was stuck on the swift setting toward Old Dookie, relinquished the lead shortly after the turn west.   I'd fallen into the trap of  keeping-up-with-the-quick-guy thing instead of setting some sort of sustainable speed myself, so amid the gasps for oxygen, a sky-rocketing heartbeat and screams of Stop! from the legs, thoughts of being way out of my depth filled the pre-frontal cortex.  This would be an embarrassingly short shift (maybe it's the company I keep?)  Better than confining myself to the caboose I suppose.    As usual, all the stress of that moment is ancient history a minute or three later, back into the draft and being towed home, not much matters anymore! I ignored Bo's objection to my short shift - it only meant he'd have work to do into the wind too.

26/10  I'll have what PistolPete had for breakfast.

The head was shoved into a different gear.  The squirrel spin was off Tuesday's agenda and focus was fixed on a single filed suffering with the Sanctuary squad instead.  About time to transfer all that chit chat stuff to the Butter Factory and get down to bike business first!  Joe (not Tony), Emil, Grumpy, Didak, Kel, The Godfather and PistolPete rolled to the start line for 5:40 action and of course, PistolPete introduced us to the invigoration of speed to Mitchell Rd.   Emil in second wheel and me behind him was the familiar format.  I'd got all psyched up ready to lead the charge through Kialla Central as captain, but that was a bit presumptuous, PistolPete did an encore on Mitchell Rd to Kialla Central, like it so much and drove on to River Rd as well! Something special was in Pistol's porridge today, enough to drive him for a 6 km opening act.  Trouble was, it was bound to bait Emil.  (I reckon I saw him swallow the bait). Well, baste me in garlic butter, I was about to be cooked in second wheel!  Emil wasn't letting go of the reigns at the River Rd bridge, or at the dip, we were beyond Trevaskis Rd and the quarter horse fence blurred by before I got the promotional elbow to lead.  I wasn't quite cooked, more like medium rare!  

Stubborn set the target to reach Rooster corner and standards of smoothness would be scrutinized by Kel on my wheel, so I applied a senior citizens discount of 1 km/h off the pace to get that distance done.  It worked.  Kel kindly kept off the boost button till I caught the caboose into Coach Rd, building the speed toward the Broken bridges.  Joe (not Tony) had the "climb" to Channel Rd to contend with and drove it well, but faced a fading tempo for the 500 metres to the highway as a consequence.  Grumpy was elected to tow to Old Dookie Rd but the variables gave a few of us at the back a task till it settled to something smoother by the fig farm.  Didak was full of enthusiasm to head the hurry west but that long lay-off had eroded the endurance.  To be fair, the west southwester was against him and feels like -0.9 was hardly the right recipe.  The Godfather stepped into the drivers seat to tow us to Central Ave.  The shop squad had set their sights on chasing today, almost licking their lips as they passed, but PistolPete kept the Sanctuary seven together with considerate use of the accelerator.  Emil's enthusiasm to speed to SPC turned my legs jelly-like but someone took pity and changed the traffic lights to red for respite before we reached it.

27/10  A populated peloton.

Wednesday catered for a wider range of watts with a crew of Boof, PistolPete, Wozza, The Godfather, Kreeky, Emil, Kel, Kim, Bo, Wendy, Rocket, Lenny, Trav, Bruce and GiantAndy assembling at Sanctuary Drive, so prudent use of the accelerator and keeping to a social speed would win friends and suppress divorce proceedings.  I delivered an aide de memoire to GiantAndy and Pistol as they built up to cruising speed toward Mitchell Rd.  A few midfield acted as shock absorbers for some at the rear struggling with the speed out of corners, so bits didn't break off the back to Central Kialla or north toward River Rd.  There was a noticeable ripple effect in the long line of seventeen.  Lance joined the pack from a short-cut via the truck route, conversation now in full swing said all had climatised.  Bo and I took time  turning up the speed toward the bridge, but the call for Wendy's puncture ground the pack to a halt before we got there.  Kel's eagle eye found the tiny chip of glass and Lenny muscled the Vittoria (almost like fitting a 650 tyre onto a 700 rim!) into place once re-tubed.  Plenty of patience to get the bunch back in motion prevented any o.t.a.'s, the reshuffle of the order cancelled some conversations but opened different ones with others.   The Godfather's squeal of brakes at Rooster corner silenced all.  

We had a hint of a south southeaster along Coach Rd but a not so subtle hint of the temperature at feels like minus 0.7.  Speed was still stuck on social along Boundary Rd  so when my second shift came due in Old Dookie Rd, I could easily manage a pairing with Kreeky to School Rd and keep pace with Emil to Central Ave.  (Just a couple of k's off Tuesday's single-filed speed made all the difference)   Trav capped the tradition to storm the second last leg to the truck route, Kim and Wendy (wisely) seeking shelter in the left line before being promoted to the front.  A long table of talk at the Butter Factory recalled days of old, those solitary lock-down rides and sipping coffee in a cold car park now (hopefully) ancient history.

28/10  Doc's 5.

Knee niggles forced a morning off Thursday.  Tina's recent a.c.l. drama has turned me cautious, this old engine needed time in the pits.  Perhaps a cruise with Doc's crew in the arvo would be good therapy?  Feeling naked in short knicks and sleeves, a slow roll 'round the golf course loop kept the knock in the knee quiet though a less than friendly northeaster (22-35 km/h) required fair pressure on the pedals to keep thirty on the speedo (knee not so happy now).   Chilly, DeepFry, Doc and young Brian had gathered in Matilda Drive for the civilised 2pm start and DeepFry did the honors of first shift. He set the bar high, staying at the business end in Ford Rd till Lemnos North Rd.  (Puts the pressure on to duplicate the drive a bit!)   I set the original target to reach the main channel but that felt a bit shy arriving there, so stayed on to reach Boundary Rd (with a little more noise from that niggling knee).   It shut up when I got back to the caboose.  

Chilly took over the tempo and tapped out a shift stronger than last week's effort (he must have had less adventure this week?) Young Brian was full of beans to start his turn but that wind eroded the enthusiasm before long.  Doc seemed stoked to be towed to Pine Lodge North Rd without facing the wind. Christmas had arrived turning south toward the Toaster, the wind now favoring the next 25 k's, helping to haul the average speed into something respectable.  Tactics became the focus as we honed in on the highway from Dave's dip, who would do what turn (and for how long?) would play a part in who got the short straw of Conrod straight's head-wind.   DeepFry fronted the four to Galbraith's gate and continued toward Arcadia Downs, his elbow stayed frozen but I rolled to the front anyway to tow the team to the kink into Conrod (that way I'd get a minute of oxygen overload while someone else faced the kilometre of cruelty to the finish line).  Chilly braved the first 400 into the dip and out of it, handing DeepFry the reigns for the difficult drive toward the finish.  A glance behind noted the absence of Doc and young Brian, with Chilly disconnecting the caboose.  Tucked into the box seat, it was a short wait in DeepFry's draft before a brief blast on the last 200.  The chocolates was just like taking candy. 

29/10  A wee waft of wind!

When every forth rubbish bin has been tipped over in the street and the mailbox lid has been blown open by a savage wind, Rule #9 is about the only bait to get you ready to ride.  Maybe no-one would turn up? Yeah, as if! (PistolPete rides in any weather!)  56 km/h worth of west northwester had strewn the road with small branches and household rubbish (it was bin day in my neck of the woods) and sure as eggs, Emil was waiting at Tarcoola. I was committed.  (No backing out now Foss!) We'd see what legends / lunatics were at Sanctuary Drive and judge what circuit to tackle from there - River Rd was likely to have big branches down.  Rocket circled the showgrounds roundabout tentative about turning for home till we arrived, so we all now had the excuse of "he made me do it!"  to justify the reason to ride.  Single filed down to Sanctuary (wind gusts made a dog's breakfast of riding a straight line) the surprise at the grid was PistolPete's absence!  Bruce turned up though.  5:40 struck so consensus (and commonsense) set a few circles of Kialla Lakes as the circuit ; the safety of steering the suburbs beat the risk of River Rd.  Work into the head wind would be brief, but often.   

It didn't take long for pins and needles to set in gripping the bars (as if you were clutching onto a cliff face) 'cause staying upright depended on it!  A frown was cast into the brow as Bruce set a determined pace on Marlboro Drive and I'd positioned behind Rocket ; he's a little higher than my handlebars but being fourth wheel was definitely the longest straw!  Emil was eventually given the lead, so moving up a rung turned the hurt up a bit more.  Across to Sevens Creeks Drive Rocket took the reigns when Emil almost overshot the runway on Raftery, the turn south suddenly serene now that the gale force wind wasn't whistling between my ears.  An unexpected gust from the starboard side hurled the front wheel a metre sideways (cue sudden sphincter spasm!) but turning east on Cormorant made us all heroes (just for one way!).  I spent the distance on Sanctuary banking a few watts in readiness for the struggle north and west to come.  Second wheel would be work for this old engine.  Rocket kindly dragged me round the lakes (Emil bidding an early adieu to head to work) and across to Sevens Creek Drive again, kindly handing me the reigns with a tailwind to enjoy.  Sanctuary was spent banking again but there were few watts left to tackle Marlboro Drive in the lead role.  Barely a k done and I was cooked! Bruce resumed the captaincy and dragged us back round the lakes, time turning us toward the Butter Factory for coffee as compensation for the cruelty. 

This week 292 km        YTD 11,233km