Similarly senseless?

 Post #704

3/7 The flog in the fog.

All the excuses to shy from a shift filled the head; the rust from two days off, a dose of Monday-itis and sandwiched between Rocket and PistolPete made the soft option of sitting-on a rather attractive alternative. (But where does that get you Foss? Nowhere fast!) BamBam had braved the front with Bruce (and naturally incurred The Godfather's holler of "Full Blocks!" when he shortened his shift) so why shouldn't I have a go?  Feels like 1.6 wasn't so inviting but there wasn't a breeze blowing and I was fairly confident that Rocket or Pistol wouldn't rip my legs off.   

Wozza, Emil and PistolPete had done their driving deeds to Central Kialla where Grumpy, nearest the start-line but last to arrive (via the truck route) joined in (wearing short knicks).  Kel had separated the diabolical duo (you know who) so the path to rooster corner was well controlled.  Eyes attempted to pierce the fog on skippy straight, an oncoming car lending a little reassurance of light at the roadside for wildlife.  Doing the distance to Old Dookie from the highway is the stuff of dreams for me so aiming at the bridge for part one might be my best bet.....and hope might get me to the fig farm for part two.   Rocket obliged my battle to the bridge and Pistol was patient beyond, but I was at a serious want for watts well short of the fig farm's fence. 

(What the head wants and the legs deliver is often at odds).  Pete put me out of my misery supplying a draft while I gagged the gasps to Old Dookie Rd.  Getting the scenery back into focus and a breath to spare would have to wait while Emil and Wozz kept 37's going to Central Ave.  From there, an extra wheel or two ahead sped my recovery toward the truck route.  The clear path through the roundabout helped to hold 40's for that cruel k to Mitchell Rd though fogged specs challenged the navigation to the Butter Factory. (nostrils led the way to caffeine) 

5/7 Moist masochism.

Collecting dead worms and frogs isn't a hobby of mine but it comes a standard when riding in the depths of winter.  A sensible person would sleeping-in at 5am on a damp Wednesday morning........but who said I was sensible?  It meant that Troy, PistolPete, Rocket, Bruce, Emil, Wozza, Boof and The Godfather were similarly senseless, lining up on a moist Sanctuary Drive.  There was a moment of relief when Indian file formed on the exit of the roundabout, I was well down the rungs of the horsepower ladder of this lot (alongside any of them would have me struggling while they would struggle to stay awake!)  Wozza led on Archer Rd's centre so all had some shelter from the west northwester, PistolPete cementing the speed sensibly in the 37's given the slick tarmac to ride on.  That second hobby of collecting dead worms was certainly successful.  

A rabbits' random path made a cautious start to River Rd but the tempo soon turned up to toast me.  Bruce kindly slipped behind so I'd get a chance of a tail wind turn somewhere before rooster corner, though labouring lungs weren't going to make my shift a swift one.  PistolPete's puncture was timely to get several breaths back during the repairs (no sermon on tubeless from Emil but the timely reminders from The Godfather were guaranteed)  Troy took sympathy on the poor old pensioner on the re-start, handing me the reigns for the last k of River Rd but then kept me at the top end of zone four holding on to his hurry to the highway.  (Getting a lap done in proper Rule #9 weather when others had failed to front gives a warped sort of satisfaction when the speed begins to sting)   

Bruce kept the hurt happening north to Old Dookie Rd.  The fluctuating pace west on Old Dookie is The Godfather's signature and that got me closer to zone five despite the draft at seventh wheel.  I wasn't finding much pleasure in this masochism (though it's meant to make you stronger isn't it?)  Boof's drive into the wind from Central Ave was smooth but swift (and faster than my slack shift with the breeze up my bum!) so something was extracted from within to keep up.  Grip at second last wheel was slipping as velocity entered the 40's on the last leg to Mitchell Rd but I'll blame Emil's energy for that.

6/7 Racing the rain.

Three spits from the sky as I stepped out the door put a dry forecast in doubt, but then most days in July have that risk of rain.  I ran the risk in the hope the forecast was right.  A small squad of squirrels took the risk too, the Jenerator, Kim, Emil and Wendy sharing my faith to roll to the shop with the north northeaster's blessing.  (We could all share the punishment pushing into it till the last 3k's of Verney Rd).   Convinced I'd have some watts to spend on the Doyles to Orrvale thing, the surprise was reasonable progress, despite the wind at the left brow.  "Spent from skiing" Wendy said but her velocity to the Kinder said otherwise, Julz' early arrival at Prentice Rd saying she'd missed the therapy after a week of nursing duties.  

The Jenerator's charge had ended at Beckhams bend so Emil was elected early for a second term.  He'd finished the eastern effort to Coach Rd and martyrdom was on the menu to tow us north (not that there was anyone else keen to face the wind).  Sitting second wheel to New Dookie Rd was starting to spend some watts so the lead role to Lemnos-Cosgrove nearly emptied my tank. Off the saddle to stir some speed, Julz got the back-markers busy to hang onto her hurry to the main channel.  The labour to Lemnos North Rd continued with Wendy keen to impress.  The Jenerator settled into a steady rhythm to cover Ford Rd's first 3 k's, the somewhat shorter shift from Grahamvale Rd to Verney kept swift by Kim.  Into his standard southerly spin to Balaclava Rd, Emil was reasonably restrained till the last half k's quickness cooked Julz, but that usual red traffic light got her breaths back.

This week 148km 

YTD 7,019km