An insurance against softening?

Post #545
2/5  Doin' Dookie's damp.

Negatives were niggling Saturday morning, a west northwester played woe on the windchimes, the bed was warm, bunch riding was still taboo and had rain really been rid from the radar?  With those thoughts festering I was ready to throw in the towel so threw off the doona instead.  It can't be that bad, can it?  Coffee and a banana on toast lifted the spirits and kitting up committed me to turn the wheels, so out the door you go old boy and make the most of it!   I'd mentally mapped an HTFU circuit (tailwind out and a headwind home) with an escape route if needed, so set forth on an eastward exit of town.

  And didn't that 30 km/h tailwind enlarge the ego!  A 5th overall on the 'outbound Midland Highway dash' didn't take a lot of effort (hey, I'll take what's on offer) and with just 3 passing cars to deal with in 20 k's made it an easy entrée. Let's not get too comfortable, there'd be plenty of work to come.  An internal argument broke out as Caniambo-Cosgrove Rd neared (my escape route), should I / shouldn't I waged war for a minute but an extra 20k wouldn't kill me would it? (Hang on,  there'd be 10 more k's into the headwind. Oh, get over it Foss! Harden up!)

Further out the highway the gentle rise nearing Nalinga took the slack out of the gastrochnemius, the all-too-short downhill toward Dookie College feeling the wrath of that westerly on the port side.  A low grey curtain of cloud swept across the Stewarton plains, damp tarmac and a few spits from the sky setting a scene of struggle to follow.  Kookaburra's cackled for my 3k crawl up the 'Dookie wookie leg stretcher', determined as I was to honour Rule #90 with allegiance to the 53 ring.

Passing Gentle Annie's scenic outlook and over the cemetery's bump, what should have been the delight of a downhill had the handbrake of a headwind into Dookie, all the expense of the climb with no payback on the descent? It ain't fair Mum!  Dookie was deserted as a fine mist glossed the road, so much for the hour spent bathing the bike last night!  Why I'd set an expected speed into the wind I don't know (was it an insurance against softening?) but exceeding it to Cosgrove put the headspace in a happy place.  Now to grind out another 16 k's back to town.  Ignoring the speed and cadence, I made the H.R. my God to serve, in and out of the occasional shelter of trees and the gradual rises and falls, just hold that heart rate at 155.  On and on the grey stuff stretches to the horizon and on and on the wind blows, should I take a brief southbound reprieve on Pine Lodge Nth Rd?  Nah, push on to Boundary Rd ya softie! When Boundary finally appeared the focus shifted to reach Central Ave, protests from legs eventually turning me south there.

The final push to town on Old Dookie Rd needed the 17 sprocket as salvation, legs were just not complying with the head's demands to get to the warmth of breakfast asap.  The city's streets were vacant of vehicles, how are we going to cope when a post-pandemic "normal" returns?  Ah, but how sweet the social stimulation to be back in the pack!  The last 20 k's caffeine craving was calmed at the Lemontree, by chance to chat with Rocket (at a dutiful distance) just consuming his post 100k coffee.  Strava convinced me to correct the 1685 calorie deficit (and slake a 397 suffer score) via a brekkie burger upload (in just a few bytes), a fitting reward for the victory over those earlier niggling negatives.

4/5  Left right left right.

Another random route was required for Monday's spin.  This solitary confinement thing has me constructing courses to spark just a hint of enthusiasm.  With winter weather already at us (a month early) something's needed to muster motivation. Oh great! An icy south wester was brewing to chill the bones too!  Great comfort was found in Pedal Mafia's new knicks (blatant brand endorsement for no financial gain) and great comfort was found with the breeze at the back for the opening salvo on Pine Rd, Verney and Ford.  Beyond the city's limits the darkness was all enveloping, the glow from the street lights slowly fading behind.  South on Grahamvale felt the freshness of that wind, the old engine going ok given the wind's want to blow me backward.  East on New Dookie and south on Central was a left right left right variant on the traditional lap, so I continued (small things amuse small minds) steering east into Old Dookie south on School and east on Hosie to add alternative scenery.  Boundary Rd was back onto the regular route, a few bike lights northbound giving credence to my cause.  (The set of three lights together must have been related?)  Channel Rd had the full measure of headwind on my course back to town, a quick glance rearward (to check for cars sneaking up to surprise) was timed rather poorly.  No sooner than returning eyes forward, a 'roo shot out of the tabledrain's darkness across my path from the 4 o'clock position.  The front tyre rubbed on it's bounding tail for a moment, I blurted a primal exclamation and it sped stage left into the orchard. That got me into zone 5 pronto!  (What's that Skip? Bloody bike riders should pay rego?)  Counting my upright blessings, a moment of soft pedalling brought me back to earth, then resumed a steady tap to the S bend with eyes freshly peeled for wandering wildlife.  Under the cypress trees and north into Jameson Rd, a split second decision decided on the Channel Rd dog-leg rather than the ritual route to reach the Kinder.  North on Central then west on Poplar had me scribbling on Strava, north on Orrvale then west on the Midland making a proper job of it.  A drive on Doyles Rd returned me to Old Dookie Rd, enough of the different directions for now, time had me tied to a direct way home.

5/5  Cold comfort.

'Twas time to tap traditional trails if I was to remember the regular routes post lockdown.  Besides, developing different directions was difficult, I was running out of roads to ride!  Wintery weather got an extra base layer and knee warmers out of hibernation, 4 degrees was hardly a motivational beginning. (and won't that delight those who've used the Covid 19 isolation as a reason to to take a break from the bike)  It's only going to get colder folks!  South to the (empty) starting grid suggested a southwester was preventing pace, and rather than being drawn into the tail-light time-trail underway in Archer Rd, I pointed east into Channel.  Power to propel a pleasing pace was severely questioned for the 8k to Boundary Rd, maybe a headwind was holding me back (not a whisker of movement in the trees blew that theory) 'cause it was like pushing through treacle.  A soft tyre? Nope. Either the dew point was the drag or I needed a new set of spark plugs.  It had better get easier northbound!

A couple of k's added to the per hour calmed concerns of turning turtle, up to the Pub a little happier with my haste.  Across the highway the silence was deafening, I could go a bit of Bo's banter, Bruce's wise words, Rocket's speed standard, PistolPete's class composure, a Col cackle, a Tina grin, even a bit of The Godfather's garble would be a prescription for that peculiar peace that's haunted us for 6 weeks. Crikey, I could even pick the pitch difference as tyres went from coarse, not-so-coarse, smooth and super-smooth on Boundary's tarmac. A solo bike or two soldiered south as the sun slowly painted subtle changes of colour in Tuesday's sky, a pleasing distraction to the chill as galah's screeched overhead, frogs croaked their call and nostrils were filled with eucalypt under the trees nearing Lemnos-Cosgrove Rd.  (download that on Zwift!)   I took the west way back to town, speed still satisfying despite the bureau reckoning I was against a south west breeze. Not concentrating on the length of Ford Rd shortened the journey back to town with enough up the sleeves to finish the lap along Wanganui and The Boulevard before the employer expected me to clock on.

6/5  Meteors missed.
Lusting a longer lap (frequent forties won't teach the legs new tricks) had me out the door at stupid o'clock, overly optimistic in short knicks (believing the bureau was bold!).  6 degrees enthused the legs to labour, the slightest suggestion of a northeast breeze bumping me into zone 4 without much ado.  Into the darkness that enveloped Lemnos-Cosgrove Rd, eyes scanned the heavens for a show of Swan comet or Aquarids meteor shower but I'd missed it among 9,096 other lights in the sky (star-struck?)   Thoughts of the tailwind to come kept the effort up to Pine Lodge North Rd though the reward was a little shy on speed for the spin south to the Toaster.

The real relief came on the westward leg of Old Dookie Rd.  Lots of  'relatives' were riding close again, a pair headed west and another couple bearing south on Boundary (how convenient they're exempt from the two metre distancing thing)   I'd slipped into a reasonable rhythm (for an ageing engine) south toward the pub, the pair of 'related' riders ahead to chase but the feeling of being followed haunted the head.  Or was it a distant car or motorbike?  That temperature taunted my decision to dress light, to One Tree Dam where a peek rearward confirmed I had picked up a distant tail, so that dialled up a bit more pace.  The tail-light time-trial was on again eastward in River Rd, hard to make out the faces when a few hundred lumens cuts through the darkness into your face but the "Hoy!" and "G'day!" came from familiar voices.  That light was still behind and so were the signs of another scenic sun-up, but I fixed focus to finish off River Rd and get on with the rest of the lap.  The red horizon became a real distraction headed through Central Kialla, by Mitchell Rd it had halted me for a photo op. My tail discovered as being two Cats (obviously related too).  I resumed the route (suitably distanced 500 metres) feeling the freshness of the dawn, time now setting the pace to tempo into town.  The habit of switching the headlight to pulse when amongst the city's traffic has become automatic, there's more comfort among cars to be noticed, particularly at my favourite intersection (no inattentive van or distracted car today).

8/5  Yabba (dabba-do!)

"Because it's there" said George Mallory about Mt. Everest and that's about the only reason I set off to Yabba on Friday.  Yet another rostered day off presented time to tap a longer lap and this was about the last direction I hadn't explored in the confines of the Covid 19 solo's over the past 7 weeks.  The early exit of town via Ford Rd by happy chance found Kylie, Scott and Fee rolling out some early k's too, but my direction was to drive on Lemnos North Rd to find Jubilee Rd somewhere in the dark. Discovered 5k further north, I turned east in earnest, thank heavens there's a few slight changes in direction on that 20k to Yabba North 'cause a straight road would have me in a straight jacket over that distance.  
Passing field after field veering a little left then a little right, the old silo eventually came into view, at least giving some perspective on progress.  The turn south toward Dookie felt the west northwest breeze that had been at my back until now, and a rare chance to have an unobstructed view of both a moon set on the right and a sun rise on the left.  I could get used to this riding in the daylight stuff, stopping to snap the scenery at my whim.  Now, to get paid doing it!

Saddleback Hill appeared ahead, it's gentle ascent slowing me to take in the Dookie scenery.  Well, that was this flat-lander's excuse for the sluggish speed!  9 degrees chilled on the downhill past the church, enthusing legs to spin to regain some warmth, mandatory for the turn west into the breeze to maintain a modicum of momentum.  Now for the 26k back to town (isn't there always a head-wind home from Dookie?)  The somewhat psychological warmth from the sun on my back put a pinch more pace into the effort to Cosgrove, nothing to skite about on Strava but satisfying the average so far.
This Cosgrove to Shepp bit was faced only 6 days ago, the wind was a similar battle but today's sun made the world of difference over last Saturday's damp. Courtesy from the few passing cars and trucks was appreciated but gusts blown from the oncoming ones could go to hell, legs a little lame now from a distance I don't often do. The long stretch of tarmac past the tennis courts, the Pine Lodge church, Boundary then Central Ave was driven by the lust for coffee (and a rest for the rump after 2:44 on the Fizik.)





This week  291km  YTD 3,155 km



     

Mates maketh the memories.

Post #544
25/4  Kool Karramomus.
Still starved of the social stuff that satisfies a Saturday spin makes the reason to ride harder each week.  That tap with the team and babble with buddies soars above sliced bread!  So yet another different circuit was created in the cranium to motivate me out of bed and face 7 degrees.  A comfortable new kit made good bait to board the bike too.

The start was solemn seeing many at their driveways standing silent in salute to ANZAC day, rather eerie when I took a moment in contemplation at the town's war memorial with just 4 others there (how nice to find a dozen uniformed officers at attention out front of the police station as their mark of respect)

Mine was a standard southerly start in Archer Rd but today facing a fog, speed was well short of the Saturday specs but then I didn't have the draft of twenty others to boost my average artificially.  Windscreen wipers on the specs would have been handy.  Across to Central Kialla, I steered toward Meipol for a spin south.     A single northbound car broke the silence and the aroma of dead 'roo assaulted the nostrils. 7 k's of tarmac stretched almost monotonously into the darkness, hey this was once the standard Saturday circuit (yikes! that was 9 years ago!)  Other than a paddock of curious cows and stunned sheep, I was the only living thing in Karramomus Rd, the surface Roubaix-like as many D roads are in these parts.  Past the hall and tennis court (the only evidence of Karramomus) the road thins to a 3 metre wide strip, marking just a few k's to reach Euroa Rd.

My distraction from the cold became the rising sun, quite scenic as it struggled to poke through the fog, gold underlining the clouds to light up Saturday's solitude while the chill lapped at the legs and condensation dripped from the helmet's brow.  (I suppose Zwift has a digital version of this?)  Keep your riding real folks! 8 k's seemed short reaching the main eastern channel, Coach Rd's smoothness adding a couple of k's to the pace and a bit more chill to the skin.  The coffee craving kicked in.
The flouro figure of CatRuss appeared through the Broken bridges fog vindicating my doubts to be clocking k's in this stuff, my aim already set on an Old Dookie Rd bearing toward breakfast.  The bureau said calm but I could bet a breeze was blowing at my back, maybe the thought of hot caffeine injection turbo boosted my tempo?

The safety police have struck at Central Ave's intersection (among others of late) with a mass of rumble strips that could loosen fillings in your teeth, won't that cause a moment when bunch riding is off the forbidden list? Back into town and almost tasting the toast, Snow and Jan were just launching their lap east, my bee line was to the Lemontree for solitary sustenance.


27/4  Serve chilled.
The bureau confirmed the cold.  Excuses were quickly erased and an extra base layer applied.  And knee-warmers.  Long gloves too.  4 degrees bit hard when I opened the door, but there'd be tougher mornings to come when winter strikes.

 I spared a thought for those softening in their warm beds and pointed the Baum east onto Ford Rd, there was yet another different course to crank.  The speedo spasmed for a moment (47 was a bit much for my early effort) but soon settled like me into a steady spin.  Struggling to identify an oncoming bike, my headlight briefly caught the familiar curls of Tina tapping west, no doubt doing "a little bit more", distancing limiting our greeting to a passing g'day.   My destination was Pine Lodge North Rd, so settled in for the 15 min spin, mentally mapping an alternative return (for the want of variety).  Steering north toward 5 Ways the slightest suggestion of colour on the horizon forecast a super sunrise (I'll take anything resembling a positive to start the day).

I'd aimed to take Tank Corner East Rd back but found it to be gravel on arrival.  I haven't switched to the dark side of cycling and gravel rash isn't on my bucket list!  A string of farmhouse lights lit up Congupna East Rd as a more civilised alternative homeward, my Michelins+  making music across the well worn tarmac.  Light started to fill the sky, cows were up and about and a few "essential" workers began their commute.  The Col de Channel bridge ascent (a 75cm climb over 4.5 metres) was bravely tackled on the big ring, Congupna's skyline visible from it's dizzying heights.  Arriving at Lemnos North Rd I swung south, keen to try Knights Rd as a road rarely ridden.  Grahamvale Rd was filling with commuters, Ford Rd vacant of vehicles in comparison.  Timing was impeccable arriving home at 7, just in time to spend 8 hours at the coal face. (+Michelin is not an affiliate partner. Foss is not paid endorsements either financial, ex gratia, contractual or in kind by commercial parties...though I wish!)

28/4 Memory lane.
Does absence really make the heart grow fonder? There'd been many moons since I'd made a mark on the ubiquitous Channel-Coach-River-Mitchell-Raftery circuit so off into Tuesday's 4 degree darkness I went in search of the answer.  The opening metres of Channel Rd (once the starting grid in the early days of the bunch) are now layered in super smooth hot mix, so that put the head in a happy place (till Kensington's roundabout where the regular roughness resumed).  Out of the town's shelter the elements are at you and I could swear an east northeaster was brewing to bust me.  Crossing the truck route was clear and usually at this point you'd wonder where the wattage would come from to keep pace with Boof, Rocket, Wozza or their ilk but today it was only me to contend with.

To Orrvale Rd's left / right and another smooth stretch lulled me into a false sense of comfort, reverting to a rough stretch beyond Prentice Rd with gravel thrown in for added aggravation.  Kinder corner sometimes springs a car out of nowhere but today Central Ave was deserted.  At the point of accelerating to stay with the bunch Bruce'd be on for a chat while I be gasping for oxygen!  South to Jameson Rd (often into a southerly) and east to the left hander at the cypress trees (remember the pear pulp spill at the corner that turned Nev horizontal?)  that breeze had built to a wind.  Along the infamous 'rabbit row (did PistolPete arrange their deportation?) and across to the S bend that wind was wearing me down to slowcoach specs.  The halt for a car at Coach Rd detected not a puff, of course!

Bound for the Broken bridges usually has the protests of pace chirped from the rear ranks (no names to avoid litigation) so the silence spinning solo was overwhelming.  The lights of the tail-light time trial were clear as crystal along River Rd, crossing paths with Boof, The Godfather, PistolPete, Kel, Bo and Tina as I faced the west way back homeward.  River Rd recalls many an o.t.a. occurrence (and horizontal hurt if you're Coggo or KillkennyPaul) but it's a calmer karma on a solo spin.  The wind (that wasn't) was certainly helping my path toward Central Kialla and along Mitchell Rd, Blacky and Craig Lotsalumens expending their energy east.  Down through Dave's dip (hey, that was nearly five years ago!) where tactical thoughts brew about who'll be doing turns into Conrod straight, across the highway (usually gritting teeth for the tempo of Raftery Rd) and into Roubaix corner. Yep, it's still rough as hessian undies!  Those 3 k's to the finish line can be heaven or hell, either hanging on for all you're worth to avoid the shame of ota or the joy of a rare win (when I'm mixed with a lower division!)  There's the 'roo incident memory too, firmly embedded in the heads of Wozza, PistolPete, Bo and Kel.  It's a whole different finish solo, not gasping for oxygen while coasting to punch-up bridge, but then suffering the silence on the roll through town without the bunch babble.  Absence from the circuit is neither here or there, it's mates that maketh the memories.

1/5  Bit breezy!

The wind whistled in from the west (26-41 km/h) and common sense said a conservative course would be best (roads certainly soaked from 2 days of rain) but taking the orthodox option is so ho-hum! Something was needed to shake off the defeatist voices in the head.   Seeing the temperature on a phone screen doesn't feel too bad but it bites hard in reality, 7 degrees stirring up a spin to keep warm on the Midland across to Mooroopna for yet another route less ridden.  The odd passing car donated fine mist to my head-wind battle, but the craving to get back aboard the Baum after two days off counteracted that.

Headed south on Turnbull Rd got me out of that wind for a while and away from traffic into the bargain, the fire of resolve needing a fair stoke to face Ferguson Rd's 8k stretch of tarmac to Tat.  Ignoring a lack-lustre speed and keeping tabs on preserving a rhythm seemed to work, careful not to get too carried away in the shelter of a line of trees 'cause the open fields afterward delivered a swift slap of reality.  Just 2 Taturians were up and about as I battled the main street, focus set further west on Baldwin Rd in search of a northern tap along Donaldson Rd.

Concentrating on that rhythm worked well if I ignored the sluggish 28 km/h, 6 k's of suffering ending when the tarmac ended and gravel began.  And drenched gravel wasn't on my menu. About faced and relishing the tailwind, I took Winter Rd for a northern alternative to the A300.  The tempo was treated to that tail-wind up to Undera Rd for an Ardmona alternative back home (time wasn't my enemy with an ADO).  Wind whipped at the wheels till the turn east toward Ardmona, the chain dropping down the cassette as the speedo climbed the 30's.  Orchards have assumed the autumn aura and cows chomped the cool cud, not long and I was back into Mooroopna thinking how a hot coffee would hit the spot.  Back to town via the shared pathway but I'd picked up a hitch-hiker with 3k to go, a bindii making a marshmallow ride of the rear tyre. (how lucky to reach my driveway with just 30psi left)

This week  209km     YTD 2864km  

Fearless or fairweather?

Post #543
19/4  Bell's Rd boredom.

Throwing the doona off was the hard part.  Breakfast and kitting up to roll out some k's was the easy bit, but the warmth in bed when it was 6 outside made that first step a struggle.  Move it Foss, the regret not riding will ruin your day!  Opening the front door chilled the bones in an instant, cadence would have to be the heater as I'd defiantly dressed in short knicks (no sense, no feel?)  The suggestion of a westerly breeze behind satisfied the speed standards early, my path out New Dookie Rd totally deserted, the silence slightly scary.  Almost a post-apocalyptic atmosphere? I wasn't breaking any records but the landmarks appeared sooner than expected, beyond the Pine Lodge church the sun showing it's colour to start Sunday (and provide a psychological warmth).   I forked off (to coin a phrase) on Kellows Rd headed for the camel farm, up close and personal to Mt. Major before steering south onto Cosgrove-Caniambo Rd.

The sun threw long shadows west to paint light across the paddocks, the hint of an incline at Dookie College Rd taking the slack out of my legs (unaccustomed as I am to hills), the slackening of enthusiasm yet to come.  Over the highway and to the fringe of Caniambo, I turned west onto that long thin goat track called Bells / Armstrong Rd, stretching into the distant horizon.

Like brussels sprouts amongst the roast dinner, you've got to endure the hard stuff to reach the desert. In the hapless hunt for H2O, the roadside gum trees had reached their roots under the coarse tarmac, replicating a Roubaix-like roughness, to the delight of my derriere!  That grey ribbon of road went on and on, and with a southwester fighting my pace, maintaining low 30's was crushing confidence for 12 cruel k's.  The suffering subsided as the roughness relented nearing the main eastern channel, so Coach Rd's billiard table smoothness was just bliss.  
The option of which way west was won by Channel Rd, it's few orchards left hoped to shelter me from the bracing breeze back toward town.  Tempo turned trance-like closer to civilisation, focus fixed on coffee and the Lemontree menu to get me to the end. (how different the mindset is to manage more than the usual 45 k's)  Back to base camp, the surroundings were silent and sparse (but at least familiar), so I imagined the bunch babble and camaraderie sitting solo and let breakfast reward my effort

21/4  Being bait.
A local lap was likely to lay eyes on another lad (or lass) on a bike, this confinement (courtesy of Covid 19) has me cookoo with cabin fever already!  Bare arms and mild mornings have been hurled into the history books, another 6 degree start to the day smells like winter is about to strike (that'll divide riders into the fearless and the fairweathers!) How many will become extinct this year?

Into the darkness of Raftery Rd, I set sights on an anti-clockwise tour around town, a breezeless morning (well, so far) allowing a pleasing pace.  Down to Mitchell Rd and through Dave's dip, the road was all mine with not a light in sight.  Surprisingly, Archer Rd was empty too.  Speed still satisfied through Central Kialla though legs began to labour facing River Rd.  That 6th sense of wind direction (it's finely honed not long after we take up this bicycle business) detected a southwester trying it's best to shatter the self esteem, digging the depth of determination just to keep 30's on the Garmin.  Motivation came to the fore when bike lights were spotted a distance behind, the competition compartment in the cranium lit up, stirring up the speed.  I'd become the bait.  Pace perked up with the breeze behind in Coach Rd but those lights loomed larger behind (two against one ain't fair Mum!)  I had a fair idea it'd be Couldabeens chasing each others tail-lights and sure enough, over the highway, PistolPete and Boof hollered their hello's and passed with pace.  That wasn't too demoralising, they weren't specs on the horizon in an instant.  Barely a k passed under the wheels when another pair of lights zoomed in, Bruce and The Godfather delivering greetings on their mission to catch the others.  Joining in was appealing though the distancing thing played on my conscience, so  I set a course to New Dookie Rd to deliver me from temptation.  9 k's back to town had a little help from the southwester, surfaces ranging from coarse stone to heavenly hot mix varying velocity back to home.

22/4  Lappin' local.
Different sights and sounds on a course contrary to regular routes was the inspiration to face Wednesday, yet another solo spin needed something to stimulate the senses in this Corona confinement.  Well, that was the plan.   That bane to bicyclists, the bindii delayed my launch with a flat front tyre, and with many minutes now missing, I chose to lap local on a familiar track to keep sweet with the employer's clock.

That well worn path of Old Dookie Rd, Boundary and River Rd's would satisfy the craving for k's even though it had all the appeal of parliament's question time (without a bunch).  There was nobody to speak to (but the silence was golden), no pressure on the length of the turn (there was one big shift at the front though) and no pressure on pace (just one's self to satisfy).  A distant tail-light in Boundary Rd said I wasn't the only crazy one out, the slow rise of the sun throwing light on the familiar features ;  The Pine Lodge Pub (that still isn't a pub), River Rd's rooster hollering it's hello to Wednesday and bindii are still rampant at the roadside.   Couldabeens presented as a disjointed string of headlights in River Rd as I pressed on westward, the hum of the wheels and purr of the chain my motivational music to the bridge.  I crossed solo paths with Snow in the last k of River Rd, and took a Central Kialla course to Mitchel Rd where time told me the Archer Rd exit would get me back to base on time.

23/4  The Tat lap
There's a great sense of freedom with an empty, open road in the headlight's beam, freedom too spinning solo in self propulsion as the world's worries are erased from your head.  But there's that sense of what the hell are you doing? while most sane people are tucked up in bed at 5:30am!

A sense of urgency drove me south on Toolamba Rd, the distance of this different course (the one I'd planned but abandoned yesterday) was vague and my mortal enemy time was ticking.  That'll push me out of my comfort zone.  6 degrees was a bit below that zone too and it kept the cadence keen toward Toolamba.  Over the railway line and turning west, the Rushworth-Toolamba Rd offered up it's coarse course toward Dhurringile, the channel bridges (mini mountains to me!) marking the efforts and ease to keep a steady speed.  Hardly interval training though.  Far from suburbia, the all enveloping darkness made aim at the intersection a bit blind, thankfully the distant glow of Tat's town lights made my bearings believable.   
Speed seemed strangely sublime, or was a breeze in my favour and about to punish my progress northbound?   The turn into Dhurringile Rd would tell all.  Have a little faith Foss!  A slow return to rhythm resumed the prior pace and kept a cap on the heart-rate (coping with the acceleration in a post lockdown bunch will take some getting used to!)   The k's back to Tat was better to be ignored, focus fixed on the few metres ahead instead of kilometres.  To keep a positive on progress, don't count the k's, count telephone poles instead an old Sun Tour winner once told me (you'll know you're cooked when you start counting fence posts!)

Tatura turned up ahead of expectation, the front wheel pointed east along Ferguson Rd confirmed a wind-less day.  Relish it Foss, there's all that bone chilling southerly stuff in the months to come! Traffic was flowing with 7am starters so I escaped up Craven Rd (the thinning Ferguson Rd minus the comfort of an emergency lane), the scent of apples and pears to enjoy rather than eau de carbon monoxide.  A diversion via Simpson and Downer Rd joined me to the A300 for the 8k back to town with the exclusive use of the stopping lane, the occasional snap crackle and pop of loose gravel as an acoustic accompaniment.  I chanced upon Kreeky commencing a Toaster lap, so the 1 social minute (suitably distanced) made up for the prior peaceful 90.

24/4  Ay Kaarimba!

Blessed with a day off work and a mild morning (14 degrees) I could feed the hunger for a different circuit without the constraint of time.  A 17km stretch on the Shepp-Barmah Rd had some subtle undulations (rare in this neck of the woods) and a north western breeze to battle, but I was counting on help homeward.  Traffic was sparse in the wee small hours (don't you love it when the oncoming vehicle flicks back to high beam the moment they realise it's only a bike facing them!), Bunbartha seemingly a world away in the dark, but the less you think about distance the sooner it arrives.  I was on the search for Walsh's Bridge Rd when a truck behind and a car ahead threatened to squeeze me thin so the truck courteously slowing to spare me some pace showed a ton of professionalism.  There was a 7k hunt northbound for Kaarimba (more of an intersection than a place) on unchartered ground, a few more undulations mocking my hopes of holding a steady speed.  The sun struggled to pierce the clouds and I nearly missed the east turn into Kaarimba Rd.

Thinner than thought (barely 3 metres wide)  but surprisingly smooth, the asphalt stretched in 10k's of emptiness to Wunghnu, that breeze almost behind lifting the mood and lowering the heart rate so up went the speed and down went the effort.  What luck to feel the wind slowly shift to a northerly, my plan to weave the way back via Zeerust was dropped for a straight spin via the highway.  The #stayathome workers lightened the load of commuting traffic, a wide and smooth stopping lane just for me making life easy yet a glance at the Garmin showed I was well into Zone 4.  Tell me it's a competitive spirit and not some manic masochism! Gust from the oncoming vehicles were countered by the draft from ones passing, back into hometown a dreary overcast day had begun and a decent ride had finished, covering territory rarely ridden.


This week  268km    YTD 2,654                  

The Corona compliance.

Post #542
12/4  Serene Sunday.

It's so easy to be selective when there's no bunch to set times and routes to ride, ditching a windy Saturday to choose a more serene Sunday is sort of straying to softness but I drew the line at a 50 km/h westerly, opting for the calmer Sunday.  I set a course via North Mooroopna, Lancaster, Merrigum and Byrneside, the payback being a westerly to fight for the first 30k.  (15 km/h gusts were better than 50)  Great expectations were soon evaporated by the effort needed to keep a respectable speed, up Echuca Rd with the wind at the left flank to take on the west stretch of Lancaster-Mooroopna Rd.  The headwind hurt as a scenic sunrise behind beckoned me to throw in the towel and turn tail as the easy way out, thankfully stubbornness drove this old bloke to persevere the pain to reach Lancaster, a long 13 k's west into the wind.
Silence was golden steering south toward Merrigum, past the charming "Karlsruhe" (built for Baron Von Swaine in 1893) and the apple filled orchards while 10 degrees chilled the air. My real focus was fixed on that tail-wind home, but that wouldn't come till reaching Byrneside.  Shifting between the 16 and 15 cog balanced burning legs vs high heart-rate (anyone got a fifteen and a half tooth sprocket I could use?)  The smooth stretch of hot-mix to Byrneside reminisced thoughts back to Beach Road, but we'd all have an arse like marshmallow riding smooth stuff all the time.  Wouldn't we all soften without the wind?  And our commitment  may collapse without the cold?

Onto the Midland highway and that wind went weak (just my luck) so working worn legs had little success with speed.  The highway was eerily empty for the 20k back to base, with just 3 cars passing a draft was a rare reward.  Twas timely that breeze turned up to treat the last 5k's to Mooroopna, and with traffic taking over the tarmac of the Causeway, I chose the shared path to tap to town (sticks, glass and a wandering dog challenged that choice).  The weekend fix of the Lemontree's coffee and breakfast was a fitting finale to 70k, a puncture as a post script (that glass on the shared path) took the shine off though.


14/4  Dodging drizzles.

Regrets were still fresh on Tuesday morning, I'd succumbed to a sleep-in on Monday so the urge to ride was strong 24 hrs later, shame the speed was so tame.  A clean bike is meant to add 10% to tempo isn't it?  Creative courses had caved in to ritual rides, out toward the Big Ring and let time dictate the direction home.   8 degrees had me dig the knee warmers, an extra base layer and winter gloves out of hibernation, feeling a little like Bibendum (Google it!) with these extra insulating layers.  Get over it Foss, there's lots of these months to come!

Kamikaze moths targeted the headlight as a red glow underlit the horizon's clouds, setting up a scenic start to the day.  Right into Pine Lodge Nth Rd and right at the Toaster and that headwind seemed to follow me 'round, a moment to check a tyre wasn't deflating proved it was the old engine that prevented a decent pace. Time, or the lack of it, dictated a direct line home via Old Dookie Rd, a surprise sighting of Baz and Deb  (unaccustomed as they are to regular riding) eastbound as I worked west.  Snow was spotted as I neared the city's lights, my halt in town spying a spread out squad of Boof, PistolPete, The Godfather, Tina, Bo and Kel chasing each others tail-lights into the suburbs.  Seems Corona compliance can't constrain competition. I'd been lucky to dodge the drizzle till now, the dampened streets undoing my contentment aboard a clean bike.

15/4  Finding Five Ways.
Riding a dark, cold and empty road at stupid o'clock has all the appeal of an appointment with a ham-fisted proctologist, it's now in this isolation imposition the real value of bike buddies is realised (not just for a draft or someone to sledge!)    Something stirred me to saddle up, perhaps plotting a course rarely ridden is the incentive?  The sloth that was sneaking into the skull needed stopping.

9 degrees got legs spinning to Congupna (I'd hardened up in short knicks today after cooking in knee warmers yesterday), the long dark strip of Katamatite Rd was spent searching for Jubilee Rd (finally found to bear east)  It's been ages since riding this route (a Fruitloop from years ago) and distances were blurred by the blackness of the surrounds so I was hoping the intersecting 3 roads at Five Ways would be obvious.  Speed had settled into satisfying considering there was a breeze at the brow, a bunny or three making random dashes across the tarmac keeping senses sharp.  I found Five Ways by Labuan Rd's reflective sign and steered south, the sun barely outlining Mt. Major way off on the port side.  A solitary tractor worked the paddock as I worked the 10 k toward Lemnos-Cosgrove Rd, the struggle subsiding now the breeze was out of my face.  The west way home did wonders for the spirits, ain't nothin' like a breeze up the bum to boost the ego!  Light filled Ford Rd and the clock was kind to my schedule, even got a greeting with a grin from Laura as our paths crossed at the town's edge.  Home with 5 minutes to spare and half chuffed I'd squashed the sloth.

17/4  Freestyle Friday.
Social distancing at least gives me the freedom to choose course and time, the rain during Thursday's breakfast had robbed me of a ride so Friday's forecast was fortuitous. Plans to ply a path out Raftery Rd were changed in the blink of a tail-light, old mate Archer Rd chosen when time dictated a shorter course.  Sensing a breeze from the west, the only real work would be homeward so I enjoyed the slow motion sunrise and the way south, east and north and left the worry of working west for later.

The bite of 7 degrees kept the chain in company with the 17 cog to spin some warmth into bare legs, the course through Central Kialla and along River Rd void of vehicles (and the bunch, the chat, the sledges, the draft, the hum of thirty plus wheels, the cackle, the hard work on the front, the mateship, a cracking average speed et al).  All being well, those days will return.   River Rd's rooster greeted the day as I steered north into Coach Rd, a couple of bikes southbound (no doubt on a mission of mental therapy to avoid the cabin fever of isolation)   With several options for my route home, New Dookie Rd was the less ordinary option, besides it prolonged facing that breeze in the face back to town. The reality of the ride west wasn't so bad after all, above the speed I'd aimed at even before getting there! Why do I do that? The curse of competition?  Thanks to a couple of Tina's trucks tootling into town, there was a tow or two to pick-up my pace (and the average speed), home on time to face the joy of the working day (when I'd rather be riding in sunshine).

This week 192km        2,386 YTD  

           

If my legs would let me.

Post #541
5/4  Sun day

It's normally treated as sabbath, but Saturday's saturation turned the regular rest day into a ride one.  The craving was keen after one day off.  A change to eastern standard time had gifted earlier daylight so I slackened the standard six am start time to lap up the lumens.  Reversing Saturday's circuit was an easy decision, not just for the different direction but because the northerly (18-30 km/h) would murder me tackling it anti-clockwise.  The intro to the headwind out to the golf course wasn't so bad so the east drive on Ford and Lemnos-Cosgrove Rd's put comfort in the cranium.  The hard stuff would be the 10 k's home.  The sun was up early to show scenery long forgotten, haven't we been kept in the dark of a morning for the last couple of months! A house or two with a new coat of paint, a missing orchard, a fence burnt here and a car wreck there.....some on the improve and others sliding backward.  I found myself in that comfort zone of zone 3 (144-156 for me), maybe it's a self preservation thing to go the distance?  The sun was giving only psychological warmth in 9 degrees yet I'd stuck to short knicks and fingerless gloves, as if to lengthen summer? With the wind behind the spin south to the Toaster was silent, a fight to steer a straight line in Old Dookie Rd then more serenity along Boundary and Coach Rd to psych up some steam for River Rd.

The willow still clings to One Tree Dam's island, there's a new house being built to the east and the Rooster strutted his stuff as I slowed for the west work in River Rd.  Distant bike headlights gave some credence to cranking k's in the cold, a little closer and the familiar faces of Bo and Kel came into view (a couple of weeks socially separated from bike buddies seems an eternity).  Delivered at a distance the greet was brief, focus shifting to the short spin through Central Kialla before the chore north in Archer Rd.  There was a brief g'day to Axel rolling out on his solo spin, Mitchell Rd soaked in thought therapy to conquer Archer Rd's aggravation.  Speed was of little consequence, it was finding the best gear to cope with that wind that mattered, spinning at 90 rpm seemed to stop the legs burning and make the effort easier.  The promised Lemontree breakfast (albeit take-away) kept the urge on the boil back to town, the wind all the while trying to blow me backward.  Again, the eerie emptiness of the cafe's footpath highlighted the strange state we're in, the comfort of a long black and a brekkie wrap dissolving all dramas.

6/4  Suffering soliloquy.
A little course creativity put inspiration into Monday morning.  With bunches still banned I'd need something to entertain enthusiasm. West was the way to keep Foss amused although the southwester wasn't so welcome, McIssac Rd toward Ardmona was at least a different stretch of tarmac to tap.

The Ardmona-Merrigum Rd stretched to the horizon, my decision on direction weighing heavily on my heart rate as the wind whipped between the orchards to squash the speed (saying to self ; it had better swing to a westerly for the way back home).   They say the first sign of madness is talking to yourself , but who cares with not a soul in earshot!  (is that why the cows look at me strange?) As pre-dawn light hit the horizon, a feeling of running late kept my cadence keen as I searched for the Tatura-Undera Rd by the reflection of it's intersection sign.  South toward the lights of Tatura and the wind did it's best to break me, thank my lucky legs there was only 5 k's of cruelty to reach the highway.  Adrenalin fuelled the 10 k's of tempo back to Mooroopna, mixing it with the commuters while eyes were peeled for the roadside garbage kept senses sharpened. The snap, crackle and pop of gravel over the emergency lane (scattered from the traffic's tyres), then a satisfying hum on the hotmix closer to town while vacuumed along in the draft of the occasional truck (professionally passing).  A pleasant end to the effort earlier. And a variety to the usual views.

7/4  Soak'n up serenity and sunrises, socially separated.
Motivation must be as rare as a Trump truth when Strava's starved of your mates usual posts.  Or have most resorted to secret training? Nah, sorry, Zwift doesn't count (reality rules ok?)  Creating courses has been the bait to get me out of bed at stupid o'clock lately, Tuesday's plan to plot a path to the quarry and back.  I even changed the first leg to head out via Kittles Rd, that golf course opening salvo has become blase'.   I settled into a rhythm on Ford Rd, missing the bunch banter but soaking up the serenity was sweet.  There were thoughts of nana saying 'count your blessings' as the sky set up a super sunrise, being allowed outdoors in these pandemic times was a blessing in itself.
 Hey, that eerie silence (without The Godfather's garble) was worth bottling!  I'd aimed at 45 minutes out and 45 back to stay employed, guessing I'd reach the quarry by 6:10 if my legs would let me.  The guesswork was good rolling past Boral's hole in the Cosgrove ground, enough gravel on the tarmac to tighten the sphincter as an aid to staying upright.  That fraction of westerly in the south southwester made work for the way home though the smoothness of the C364 offered little resistance to rolling.  (now I've praised that section of road they'll probably reseal it tomorrow in coarse stone!)The sky lit up behind to make the work worthwhile (how's the texture in those clouds) but being starved of social sentences is starting to take it's toll. Time took sympathy on my speed arriving at Lemnos on schedule, a couple of tows from passing trucks getting me home at 7 sharp.


8/4  The tap to Tally.

Victoria Rd was hidden somewhere along here.  Finding it was the challenge in the dark.  And that's what puts spice into a solo spin.  It's hardly the stuff of Burke and Wills, Lawson or Wentworth, but without the bunch to buoy the mood, at least a mystery tour gets you out of bed.  The southerly had propelled 10k's of the Katamatite Rd and finally the Cat-eye illuminated the east west strip of Victoria Rd, it was time to harden up and face the wind after 15k's of cruising.  A big yellow moon hung just above the trees, it's light showing the puzzled stares from resting cows while I aimed at the Tallygaroopna metropolis.  Some of it's 579 inhabitants were up and about but the reality of the headwind home and it's labour on lungs and legs was now my focus.  A couple of southbound trucks dragged me into the low 30's for a moment but the disappointment of high 20's soon returned as their tail-lights drew into the distance.  At last I'd made it to Zeerust Rd (my escape for a few minutes of recovery facing west), though the 5k's hurt of the headwind south on the Shepp Rd lay ahead.  The price you pay for creative courses!   What the head wanted and what the legs would deliver became a widening divide after a 4 k's, the last time labouring this length of tarmac was in 34 degrees (the Cider Ride 6 weeks ago), quite the contrast!  With velocity vanishing rapidly, reaching Nathalia Rd was a relief, back to the highway fifteen minutes ahead of schedule allowed a Wanganui Rd leg home.  I'd found JB lapping the Boulevard so it was great to chat a minute alongside, 2 metres distant of course. So why did I feel like a corona criminal?

9/4  Riding random routes.
Mapping a different daily course has become a challenge (something's needed to spike the enthusiasm in these testing times), there's plenty of roads to ride but time is my ever present enemy.  Isn't it criminal when work gets in the way of a decent lap!

 A dash across the causeway shook the metabolism into motion, my course set for Ardmona today in the desire for a different direction.  Between wire rope barrier and tactile edge-lining, I threaded the needle along the Midland highway, all quite comfortable with barely a handful of cars passing.  Ardmona Rd was found to be peaceful and deserted, and propelled by a breeze up the bum bearing north.  Fruity fragrances of apple, pear and peach in these parts certainly beats the bunch smell of sweaty armpits (and other bodily functions better left unsaid!), though I could do with a whiff of the peloton's conversation and camaraderie to lift the spirits (and my average average speed!)  Daybreak seemed sluggish glancing to the east, not even a week into eastern standard time and the darkness is closing in already (9 minutes of light lost in just 5 days!), the sun seemingly slipping into self isolation too.  North Mooroopna seemed a long time coming, eventually lights of the little school showing the turn for home was close.  Effort escalated on Echuca Rd, self strangely satisfied there was work to do, stops that softening starting.  A very subtle sunrise was a disappointment (spoilt by Tuesday's spectacular?), the rough edge of the road smoothing to hotmix to hurry me into Mooroopna.  With light filling the sky, the empty shared path back to Shepp was judged a safer bet, at least wildlife could be seen beyond the length of the headlights' beam.

10/4  Obeying obsessions.

The forecast wasn't flash but Friday's reality said ride, a dull grey day with damp on the track wasn't going to obstruct my obsession.  Local tracks were back on the menu to cure the craving for k's and tick Strava's 100,000km box.  (let's not ponder the 130,000 pre Strava k's shall we?)  Only one car was using my Knight St exit of town (even then he couldn't keep his big fat 4x4 rear view mirror out of the bike lane), otherwise Old Dookie Rd had only mist (from last nights 1.4mm)  to contend with.  Oh, and my lack lustre speed!  How we are humbled away from the draft of a bunch!  (Blaming that damp air as a handbrake is in chapter 16 in the Book of Excuses).   Refer Rule #5.   With one big turn at the front ahead, speed settled into survival mode to Boundary Rd, finding one sole headlight northbound fixed that feeling I was Robinson Crusoe.

With only the odd snail and worm (fractionally slower than me) as competition south of the Pub, I could claim tete de la course, hearing the familiar 'cock-a-doodle' turning west into River Rd I found another empty length of tarmac to tap.  Frogs croaked their good mornings and a Kookaburra cackled (at my speed?), this isolation thing is slowly testing what sanity's left!   River Rd finished faster than expected, Central Kialla asleep, the west way on Mitchell pondering the path home.    With just two missions (clocking the 100,000 and the lust for a long black as a reward) I turned for town up Archer Rd, I'd pulled the short straw for work today but 10 minutes spare allowed a caffeine fix.

This week 270km        YTD 2,194km.

             

Drowning in darkness.

Post #540
28/3  Strange Saturday, sans sociology.

Being in a bunch was banned but the standard Saturday ritual to ride wasn't to be missed (obeying an obsession if you like).  The ritual route was chosen, a few halts happening through an empty town with traffic lights frozen for want of traffic to direct.  Passing the empty carpark was weird bound for Mitchell Rd, a not-so-subtle east northeaster (24 km/h) guaranteed me work for most of the circuit, the saving grace being a tailwind home.  A bit of banked wattage was quickly worn on the push east to Central Kialla, those few minutes of respite headed north to River Rd hardly enough for the cruel 6 k's to follow.  Eyes were off the sluggish speed, focus glued on cadence instead to keep the spirits up and the effort down.  A glass half full philosophy said most of the hard yards were done by the Angora farm but that wily wind had swung to become a northeaster, extending the effort in Coach and Boundary Rd's.  Breakfast was going to be well earned today.   A few rows of trees offered shelter and comfort to laboured legs, those wide open fields giving no mercy where wind whittled down the average.  The end was nigh in Old Dookie Rd, just an obstinate spin to the Toaster where the northbound leg to Lemnos-Cosgrove Rd seemed easy.  Was that LegalSteve and Ed Dookie bound as I turned west toward breakfast?

At last, the tranquillity of the wind (almost) behind me instead of whistling between my ears, the ego massaged managing high thirties with little labour and just for good measure, a red led ahead (entering from Boundary Rd) to chase.   Gains were gradual and distancing needed careful consideration, so the overtake was planned for maximum separation.  Getting closer, that ride style was familiar and the stature was the give-away, MyRideTrev was passed with greetings given many metres apart. Feels so anti-social!
A collection of Cats, daftly defying distancing, crossed Grahamvale Rd while I headed for suburbia, any Wanganui worries evaporating realising there was only me to keep up with.  Hey,  I'd even manage a podium position!   Up Mt.Wanganui lapping up the last of the tailwind, the turn to Rudd Rd and on to the Boulevard was reality slapping me in the face, back into that wind again!   A craving for caffeine powered the push back to the Lemontree, an empty footpath where the long table once sat felt foreign but their coffee cured that.  TatPaul happened to front as I tucked into a take-away breakfast so we deliberated (at a distance) on how wearing the wind was, metal detecting and worthy wheels.

30/3  Tour de Tally.

Those miserable excuses to lay in bed grew longer, the need to snap out of the slumber becoming more urgent less I succumb to softness.  Mapping a lap less travelled over breakfast injected some inspiration but urging lethargic legs up to speed along the highway burned most of it up.  I'd set sights on Zeerust though a fog hung low on the tarmac from yesterday's rain, the dew point matching the 13 degree temperature fogging the view.  Several k's north and I finally found Zeerust church, the fog clearing to show a sky full of stars to guide my way to Bowey Rd.  Morning Col!  Farmhouse lights bordered the tarmac to Tallygaroopna, a westbound truck the first sign of life I'd crossed paths with.  Tally's half dozen lights dazzled after 19k's surrounded by darkness and time had ticked away reaching the highway so the planned course via Victoria and Katamatite Rd's was ditched for a swifter spin on the A39.  Many may rant the risks of riding a highway but a smooth 2 metres worth of emergency lane to yourself beats a narrow rough edged B road in my book.  There was just a handful of (courteous) cars to deal with anyway.  A breeze from the east wafted the fragrance of wattle and gum trees across the nostrils (how's that eau de body odour, sweaty Zwifter's?) as the k's clicked away toward Congupna, the feint glow of a sluggish sun in the Dookie distance about to herald another Monday.  Looking forward to next week's return to eastern standard time, I might enjoy a ride in daylight for a for change! For a week or two. Verney Rd was my way back to town, 80 minutes in Zone 4 a worthy workout to start the week.

31/3  Tour de Tat.

An enthusiasm to explore got me aboard the Baum on Tuesday, something was needed to stir the senses now that bunches are banned, and with no constraints on a course, the call from the creative corner of the cranium was "Go west young man!"   With worries about wildlife along the bike path I made tracks along the Midland (reasons explained yesterday) to Mooroopna.  Working west, those wire rope safety barriers were a little daunting but the tactile edge-lining is a good repellent for cars (shame  the emergency lane is rarely swept).  Traffic was rare as I settled into a spin toward Tatura, a little uncertain on distance but the clock ruled my turn-around time. On schedule at the Tatura-Undera Rd roundabout, I steered south to Tat, the fire siren sounded but few plied the streets.  I struggled with speed to escape the township, the promised breeze from the west of little help with my hurry.  The slightest suggestion of a downhill got me on top of the gear, Ferguson Rd feeling somewhat thinner than the tarmac previously tapped.  Not keen to thread the thinner Toolamba Rd home (competing with commuting traffic, building for the 7am starters), I chose Craven Rd for a quieter car-free course, but being alone with my thoughts was a high risk activity!  Despite increasing cars on the highway, the 2 metre wide emergency lane was vacant, so 12k's was spun safe and satisfied back to base, just a shame that eight hours of work now interrupted the day.

1/4  Tour de T'lamba.

Toolamba was my "Tour de" target on Wednesday, 9 degrees providing a nip in the air to keep cadence cooking toward Mooroopna.  The southwest strip of the C369 is skinny, with a rugged edge and patches on the patches to test your steering stamina.  Darkness swamped the surroundings and the k's seemed to crawl in search of the railway line that marked the imminent turn to Toolamba.  Only when bearing east did that hint of southerly strike me as the source of slowness, so the velocity was on the improve toward the township of 772, all but one of them asleep.  I wondered if  the Goulburn bridge was passable (and had a u-turn option if it wasn't), 5,600 new bolts have uprated the 100 year old structure to take 9 tons, but those old red gum boards still have gaps that would swallow a wheel whole, so walking it was the best bet.  A minute on foot was just the medicine for moaning muscles, the spin to the highway feeling rested and revitalised.

Just as well, Union Rd's roughness was to come.
VicRoads took a tired old goat track, sprayed it with tar then sprinkled 20mm stone on top, replicating a Roubaix-like roughness for all to enjoy. Thank my tormented toosh there was only 4k's of it to get to Central Kialla Rd.  The budget was better on this one, smooth hot-mix the reward though there was a sense of drowning in darkness with not a light in sight.  Welcome to the brave new world of social distancing Foss!  Aldous Huxley's dystopian society edges a little closer?  Mitchell Rd was back on familiar ground, the glow from distant city lights a reassurance and with time on my side I chose the Raftery Rd route back to town, eyes peeled for wandering wildlife.

3/4  Tour de Toaster.
The trouble with this social separation stuff is the sudden loss of schedule, there's no start times to motivate you morning, so left to your own devices the saddle-up time gets slack.  A 5:40 start was 20 minutes later than my ride ritual so a short course was created in the cranial cavity to get me home on time and preserve employment.

A hint of a northwest breeze blew me out Ford Rd, settling into that circadian rhythm a 15 year habit has permanently marked into my mornings.  The pace was pleasing (for this ageing engine) in Lemnos-Cosgrove Rd, mellowing the madness of the pandemic planet with a little Michelin music (played on the Craftworx turntables) refining the minds' metronome.  History filled the head en-route to the Big Ring, that day Killer came to blows with Ivan the World Champion, and the evening I glanced off the side of a startled cow that charged across the road. I won't begin to calculate the times I've tapped this stretch of tarmac. The reality might make this obsession a bit frightening.

South to the Church and that breeze wasn't so bad, down to the Toaster (needs some work on it's list to starboard) and pointed back to town the predicted push wasn't so punishing.  I'd ummed and ah'd on taking a Channel Rd route back but that enemy of time ticked a toll of 'late to work'.  A pair of led's flashed ahead in Old Dookie Rd but the challenge to chase was dampened by social distancing laws (the sheer lack of horsepower was the real reason!)  It was pleasing to finish a slightly shorter lap with a few minutes to spare, now to dredge the depths of motivation to inspire more solo spins for the weeks (dare I say months?) to come. What's that commandment?  Thou shalt not soften!

This week: 232 km      YTD:  1.923 km