A blessed baptism

 Post #649

15/6  Tour de turtle

Ten days off two wheels would mean a tough return to reality.  Aside from a slow-to-recover back injury, I'd almost lost the habit of getting up at "sparrows flatulence" and the 'feels like freezing' temperatures would need serious contemplation of Rule #5.  A short and slow baptism back on the bike was figured to be a sensible re-introduction.  Swinging the leg over the saddle took a degree of care and once wheels got turning it took a while to climatise to the steering and seat height, happy to have hands on hoods rather than stretch to be down on the drops.  Speed was of no importance, an icy northeaster would punish pace anyway. (Do we really ride in this sort of stuff?  How soon it's erased from the memory banks!)  A short loop of the towns north would be enough to gauge to roadworthiness for today, though it's funny how seeing a snail-like speed soon gets some urge into the legs.  It was probably a good thing that the wind was fair in the face along Wanganui Rd 'cause it handbraked any hope of hurry ; the sting in the erector spinae was the reminder that I needed a carefully considered plan to get back to pace.  A tail wind down Verney Rd eased a lot of the effort and lengthy delays at the traffic lights lightened the load too so with barely 20 km covered a latte and laughter with the crew at the Butter Factory became the essential medicine to conclude.  Maybe something a little longer tomorrow?

16/6 (Frustratingly) fractionally faster.

Getting back into the cycle of stupid o'clock starts takes some effort, a similar effort applied to getting ready to ride in minimum light with minimum noise (don't wake the minister for home affairs if you know what's good for you!).  My top priority was not to confuse the Deep Heat used for the crook back for the chamois cream!   Not yet brave enough to join the bunch, a solo roll 'round the golf course loop got some warmth in the legs and a little confidence in the head when the northwester helped the path along Wanganui Rd.  The search was on for squirrels somewhere on Ford Rd to hitch a ride back to town, just to bring back briefly some sense of bunch riding (proverbially sticking a toe in the shallow end, but hey,  it's a start)   

With enough overnight damp to force a bit of puddle dodging, I'd barely got across Grahamvale Rd when three lights appeared on Ford Rd's horizon.   Half a k on, a u-turn got the northwester in the face while the head readied for speed something above my snail-like solo standard.  Only Emil, Tina and Jen had embraced Rule #9 and getting into the draft of three was a little like Christmas (just as well Emil's tempo was set at tame)  That short spin to Verney Rd in the mid 30's was a very short and subtle introduction to the work needed for a return to form.  I hoped for a bit more work to test the form but a bit's better than nothing.  Hardly earning the easier roll to Balaclava Rd, the brief shower that sullied the kit and got the bike filthy may have been the payback.  

17/6  Back to bunch business.

....."a carefully considered plan to get back on pace".  Yeah right! (just dive into the deep end Foss and get back to bunch business ; what could go wrong? (o.t.a. and a dented ego?)   The lure of a lap with the pack forced a fair bit of h.t.f.u. for Friday, besides I was already tiring of my own company sulking around on slow solo's.  So I braved the stupid o'clock start at Tarcoola's roundabout and intercepted Emil's commute to Sanctuary to join the clan for the compulsory kit day celebrations.  A rather wet Thursday night left the legacy of a damp tarmac so all all the effort of cleaning the bike yesterday came undone just a k south from home. A decent crowd of Bo, Grumpy, Kreeky, Emil, Greg, Wozza, Bruce, Kel, The Godfather, PistolPete, the 5ft Ninja, Liam, Boof and Trav converged on the roundabout for the 5:40 flagfall and of course PistolPete set the course south into Archer Rd's darkness.  

Cautious (chicken?) me tucked into 4th wheel (left line) while the brave formed the right row for the advance.  In the draft of three ahead had fringe benefits sheltered from the south southwester.  Feels like 2.5 had a good effect of numbing any back pain but most of my concerns were on how I might fair at the front.  Plenty of chat with those advancing for duty told me I wasn't running the old engine on the red-line so the more like social speed was a blessed baptism back into bunch standards.  Grumpy questioned the sanity of riding in less than ordinary conditions but being a fair weather rider doesn't fair well in the big picture does it?   Trav quite rightly questioned riding on the rivet all the time ; the pure pleasure of riding for the joy of it has it's place in anybody's schedule (unless you're a masochist!)  

Reaching the rear in River Rd had a moment of hesitation to join the advance but Kreeky ahead and the Ninja behind wasn't a bad berth at all, there was just the challenge of a decent view as specs fogged on the inside and were spotted on the outside from rooster tails of water sprayed from  wheels ahead  (here's mud in your eye without them!) Liam and Trav drove the path north to the Broken bridges, Kel and The Godfather introducing us to Boundary Rd (while just a solitary Cat rolled south) and when Zig and Zag, or is it Abbott and Costello? (Bo and The Godfather) paired to tow us to Old Dookie Rd, I suspected mischief.  Strangely, they were on good behavior!  Bo and Kreeky were in charge of the west way toward town so when Kreeky rolled across at School Rd I scored the SSW'er to suffer.  (Pessimism aside, I wasn't going too bad)   

Kreeky seemed to be running out of steam nearing Central Ave and I'd planned to roll across there anyway, I was certain the Ninja wouldn't crucify me for part two of the shift.  But the Ninja failed to front!   Emil was my new co-pilot and I quickly called Dobson's bridge as my limit.  The engine wasn't quite valve bouncing getting there but the relief in the draft was heaven sent. (Just the job of hanging on now for 3 k's to town)  With no pause at the truck route for traffic, the momentum helped to stay aboard for the squirt to SPC, the satisfaction of being within the bunch at the finish (and not o.t.a. in cloud of scattered feathers) was a confidence boosting conclusion to a short week.

This week 90km   YTD 6,137km

And that possessed Irishman still rolls along on his mission to lap Australia in record time.  10,532km in just 30 days is capital D for determination! Check out Bryan Taaffe on Strava in his effort to lap Australia (unsupported) in less than 48 days and 22 hours.