Lowered heads and heightened heart-rates

Post #654

16/7  The sting in Saturday.

So close to picking up the phone and messaging "I'm out" of the Saturday ride, that little voice in the back of the skull reminded me of the regret I'd suffer later.  I'd had a very average night so enthusiasm was at a trickle at stupid o'clock and excuses were multiplying rapidly.  Couldabeens camaraderie to the rescue!  Four degrees was bordering on civilized considering the week just passed and a northeaster (11-20 km/h) made the spin to Sanctuary sublime, particularly when Emil and I had caught Boof, Rocket and Wozz at Archer St's lights and scored their slipstream to the start line.  

Numbers at the grid were thin though (add PistolPete, Bo, Greg, Grumpy and Bruce to the recipe), that feeling of being a pop-gun among the cannons was hard to get out of the head as the clock ticked toward six.  The Godfather arrived to join the ranks Indian filed to the truck route and that painted a picture of punishment for this old pop-gun.  To Mitchell Rd and the easy stuff was done, now to face that wind for the next twenty k's.  Luck had me on the sheltered side at the back when two lines eventually formed, though Grumpy's wheel was a hard act to follow (sitting well off the wheel ahead locked into some sort of conversation with anyone alongside)    A sense of being second wheel, but at the back.  Well, that was my reckoning of being on the rivet but a long way from serving a shift.   

Bo pulled the handbrake on hurry half way into River Rd so I made the most of overdosing on oxygen.  (Maybe his Friday hydration of hops nobbled his tempo?  Not complaining, I was relishing the respite!)   TatPaul was caught beyond the dip while I calculated my time at the business end would be in Boundary so there was time for a bit of social stuff before the huff and puff at the helm.   Grumpy rolled across at the highway and that northeaster squashed speed immediately, those behind would have to tolerate something sluggish.  Reaching the bridge felt like a big achievement though the "downhill" was no reward.  Wozz kindly stayed level for part two of my punishment while I went to war with what the head wanted and what the legs and lungs wouldn't do.   Frustrating isn't it?  (Ferrari hopes - Festiva outcome)   

Enough was enough when the fig farm came into the headlights beam and trying to silence the gasps of recovery was nearly as hard as silencing Grumpy!  TatPaul did his standard exit to town when we swung east into Old Dookie, Bo's gillet becoming a spinnaker en route to the Toaster so sledges were served thick and fast when he called a halt to re-zip it  (now that's a good trick to recover lost oxygen come to think of it!)    Reaching Lemnos-Cosgrove Rd was like winning the lottery; that the northeaster now blowing at the right buttock, but naturally tempo was turned up accordingly.  I hesitated to join the advance again but playing a small part in the peloton is better than none isn't it?  Forties became de rigueur bound for Lemnos and the effort escalated on each promotion toward the front.  (What's the physics?  It's said a rider ahead reduces drag by 10% but 7% more speed needs 20% more power....... those factors meant my next shift would be short!)    It's very reassuring when the other guy calls "your speed", it's almost a "get out of jail free", but expectations of providing a pace something like respectable weigh heavily in the head (then that often drives you too hard)   Almost embarrassed to call half-time just half a k into the turn, my focus became narrow (and rather blurry) to get another half k out of the old engine beside Wozz. (Well, it was always going to be a small part to play......)   The consolation of being towed back to breakfast helped the recovery a bit, if  I'd cope with the now habitual hurry along the Boulevard was another matter!   

I didn't feel so spent when Bo burst a boiler at the front at DECA and retired to the rear ; seems I wasn't the only one running at the red line.  Just like lining up for a prostate exam, I gritted teeth along Rudd Rd in readiness for the bomb to go off in the Boulevard, how timely then for Grumpy to deliver a glowing testimonial that I'd survived the pace to date.  (Now I'd have to perform to the pedestal he put me on!)  Suffering turned single file as Rocket lit the afterburners at Canterbury's roundabout and luck had me 3rd last in the order, but the tank was almost bone dry a thousand metres later.  Last in line at Tarcoola's roundabout, I hesitated for a moment as a car approached.....and that dropped me ten metres off the back in a blink (and didn't that raise the white flag in the head)  PistolPete easing off the gas was my saving grace, I could catch the ranks of the rearmost to be towed back into a feeling of belonging to a bunch.   T de F scenery, winter insulation and Didi's use-by date was babbled through breakfast and even with legs like jelly, I was glad I'd ignored those early excuses. 

18/7  Trial by temperature (or the lack of it!)

If 1.4 degrees wasn't cold enough, a west northwester sprang up to chill the bones on Monday, good preparation for colder stuff to come if the forecast was to be believed.  Lenny had emerged from hibernation to blow some cobwebs off the old Cannondale (and probably blow some cobwebs out of Lenny too!), otherwise it was just the few winter soldiers left  (PistolPete, Emil, Bruce, Bo, Kel, Rocket, Wozza and The Godfather) that formed up to charge around a chilled circuit.   Naturally PistolPete got wheels turning south, Emil enthused to pair for the 3km to Mitchell Rd.  Even though you brace for the real chill at speed, the reality of that icy atmosphere gets you every time. And doesn't it get the adrenaline production into double time!   But all is well after a minute or so.....everything goes numb.  A few were calculating the forecast days ahead might just cross their comfort zone so the mid-week numbers might be counted on one hand.  With River Rd almost in view, Lenny was questioning his comeback timing.   The weekend's activities, The Godfather's garble and "Bling's" beaut stage 14 win occupied the conversation and became some sort of distraction from the cold. The disintegrating tarmac at the quarter horse gates seems to be accelerating, a wheel could be lost in the pot-holes in a week or two.    

Bo's short shift toward rooster corner drew some flak, though my contribution would probably be shorter, so Kel saved Bo's bacon and took charge in Coach Rd.  It's not like Kel to call it quits shy of One Tree Dam so I assumed the lead of the left line and The Godfather took the right.  I could understand Kel's shortfall now as that west northwester whittled away the watts and chilled the lungs that drive them.  So I called it quits too at the bridges for The Godfather's charity of a slipstream (where he gets his horsepower from I'm not sure, but there was enough to drive to Old Dookie Rd in the 36's  with Emil.) From there, other big engines took on the west way back home though Kel and I played our cards carefully in the caboose, rather than be drawn to the front again.  The young lads did the driving into the headwind like it was downhill, so maybe I should find a Spanish doctor to do something about my speed? 

19/7  You don't have to be mad.......but it helps!

Maybe I'm growing accustomed to the cold?  The atmosphere didn't bite when I opened the door, despite the bureau saying zero.   Every parked car's windscreen was a crusty white in the headlights beam on the roll to the crescent's end and being layered like an onion helped the old engine warm a bit..........till applying tempo!  (Yep, it's winter alright!)  The value of others riding in conditions like this can't be underestimated ; would anyone tackle this temperature solo? (if so, have them committed!)   So it was pleasing to find Wendy, Kim and Emil at Tarcoola for the squirrel spin, and Jen had dragged herself back from holiday to join the crew.  The 5ft one endured the 11 km commute in the cold to the Archer St shop though BamBam's intention to come may have been over-ruled by a warm bed.  So at 5:30,  Rule #87 applied  (no exceptions!) and Emil commenced proceedings east into Channel Rd showing a little sympathy on speed under the refrigerated conditions.  I had no qualms conforming to that speed when given the shift to Orrvale Rd (lungs weren't letting a lot of that icy stuff in!), Kim making a brief appearance at the front (a fractious foot an a week off two wheels was reason enough) before relinquishing the lead to Wendy to drive us to the Kinder.   

Jen had done the leg to the cypress trees and the Ninja had head down and tail up toward the S bend when the holler went out for a large Skippy and it's family of three parked in the Hanlon Rd intersection.  Six headlights sent them packing north but the Ninja resumed with a wide open throttle to distance Kim, Jen and Wendy off the back.  Courtesy told me tow truck duties were in order to get the squad back in line and that worked to the S bend but had cooked Kim in the process.  Standards were reset to 31's so squirrels didn't scatter (start as a team, finish the same)  A bit off the tempo was actually a bonus, I didn't need full throttle to hold Emil's wheel north in Boundary Rd so I could serve something decent when given the lead role at Boundary's bridge.  And so the turns rolled ; Wendy up to Lemnos-Cosgrove, Kim braved a short one west, Jen nearly got to Lemnos and the Ninja did extra into Ford Rd.  So when Emil got to the front with 7 k's till reaching town, I knew I wouldn't get in the drivers seat again.  Back into suburbia and seeking some warmth, the rumor of the Butter Factory not being open got caffeine cravings satisfied at Stellar. 

20/7  Combined clans in the cold.

If I didn't look at the Bureau's statistics I'd say Wednesday was cold......like most of the week had been.  The temperature's just a number that you're better off not knowing, but I looked anyway!  Mmmm......minus three wasn't worth knowing (and I didn't dare look at the "feels like"!)  Wendy had concrete for breakfast and fronted a frosty Tarcoola roundabout, joining Emil and I for the commute south to see what other hard-core starters there'd be.  Kreeky, Bo, PistolPete, Rocket, Boof, Kel and Greg was more than I'd expected and quite a contingent of Wouldabeens (Crossy, Joe (not Tony) and Jase) had joined too.  Maybe they'd tired of just four or five working their winter circuit?    

The Godfather arrived late at the truck route as Emil and PistolPete set the speed south, Woulda's were all in row ready to join the advance.  The social speed standard had returned for this Wednesday, probably as a courtesy to guests, though any sort of pace in the minuses was an effort.   Weapon had missed the 5:40 launch but used the short cut to get aboard in River Rd, so when I joined the advance I was in the Weapon / Wendy sandwich.  

Funny how you climatise to the regular riders habits and what each wheel is like to follow, the moment there's someone else in the pack it really rattles routine! I'd noticed a random 'clunk' kept repeating nearing rooster corner and it took a few moments to decipher ; someone was doing a spasmodic split-second freewheel, and didn't it ruin the rhythm!  (no pointing of fingers though, it's origin was a mystery)   Tempo tamed and turns at the front shortened in Coach Rd as Crossy, Jase, Joe (not Tony) and Weapon did their shifts, so I kept a keen eye on keeping wheels level with the visitors (a bit of respect goes a long way)   

Rocket and PistolPete were promoted to the front when Wendy called enough at Channel Rd, their pace preserved as sociable to the highway and carefully turned back up to the higher thirties toward Old Dookie Rd.   (to hell with the social stuff!)   With Boof, Greg and Emil lined up to serve at the front, there were a few sighs of relief at the back of escaping another turn at the business end. All survived the temperature and the tempo back to the Butter Factory, the warmth of coffee at the conclusion a particular pleasure (especially when you don't pay!)

21/7  The faster faction.

Squirrels had gone soft!  Emil and I toured to the Archer St starting grid minus Kim and Jen (an excessive hydration issue apparently had ruled them out) so with Liam and Lili yet to toughen up to the temperature (I told them holidays in the heat are no good for you!), Tina about to apply for Queensland citizenship, Wendy's want to work with the Woulda's and Molly missing (still), only the 5 ft Ninja was at the shop.  (Harden up Foss, that means we'd swap a slim squirrel squad for a swift Sanctuary session instead!  and here's me hoping for a semi-social sort of spin!)  Greg, Wozza, Boof, Kreeky, Bo, PistolPete, Kel, Rocket and The Godfather assembled in the minute before 5:40, Emil inheriting the first shift when PistolPete was beaten to the number one spot.  Single filed suffering is on the Tuesday / Thursday menu, so I was happy slotting into fifth wheel behind The Godfather when the pecking order got sorted exiting the roundabout (There'd be a bit of time to toughen up for the tempo)    Emil's been educated well; not too sluggish and not too supersonic to the truck route then slowly stoking the boiler to Mitchell Rd.  Airways weren't icing over today, 1.3 degrees was far less brutal on the respiratory system than yesterday's "feels like minus five".  PistolPete did the two and a bit k's to Central Kialla and Greg put plenty of progress into the path to River Rd.  Kreeky was wanting for watts and found the caboose the best place to search for them, so Emil carried the news forward to The Godfather to go a little easier on the effort.  (Phew!  I'd been saved!  Thanks Kreeky, I'll pay by the months end ;-)     Just those couple of clicks off the tempo meant I could manage the shift from the bridge to the dip (lucky it's one of the shortest expected drives on the circuit) so I preserved some standards rather than earn the badge of handbrake.  

The Ninja had legs and lungs working overtime too, keeping the kettle boiling to the quarter-horse stud where Wozza lowered heads and heightened heart rates to rooster corner to show us what wattage can do. (Get used to it Foss, Rocket was up next!)  Wind played little part on pace today, a west southwester was barely worth mentioning, but Rocket's rapid regardless of what the wind does.  Boof had Boundary Rd's leg to Old Dookie Rd so legs and lungs certainly got consistency for several k's.  Bo had found form to drive east beyond School Rd touching the forties, Kel completing the drive to Central Ave for Emil to take over.  Ah, not long now till the warmth of coffee would cure the "feels like" minus three.  (But would it cure jellied legs?!)  PistolPete preserved the protocol of a swift shift to SPC, even the commute was quick via the streets, intersections, curves and railway crossings to the elixir of life found in a mug.

This week 259 km   YTD 7,402 km