It was catch up conversation with Wozza on Saturday morning, the last months news relayed in the commute to the car park for Saturdays social. Our early arrival saw the bunch filter in, Jase, AvantiChris, Cougar, Shorty, Pistol, Rudy, Shazza, Trav, Dion and yet another come-back from Whispering Jack. A six-pack of 51's/ Mexicans had filtered quietly into Channel Rd as our grid formed, big bait to lure our Channel Rd effort. Wozz drove the first leg but felt the pain of 4 weeks off, a little SSW breeze aiding us breaking the speed limit once set, but now forgotten? To the end of Channel and up to the Pub, 51 & co (on a quiet pre race cruise?) were caught and passed, attaching to our rear for a tow. A scenic sunrise to view in Old Dookie Rd, sunrays piercing the horizons clouds to start the weekend on a positive, good to see all having a dip at the front, in form or out of it. Nath's flouro shoes stood out near the kennels in Lemnos-Cosgrove Rd, joining in to make us a bakers dozen, quite a few advance parties to the Cats (heads down or cruising) before the feline flotilla crossed our path at the channel. Wozza and Rudy were short in shift duty on Ford Rd, Shorty's lack of k's (work getting in the way of riding) inciting the noddies nearing the end of his turn. Close to DECA, the pace was unusually restrianed, Nath was boxed in, Dion at the back, Whispering Jack winding up the tempo on the front was all the ingredients I needed. Off the Fizik and flogging the chain on the 14, I attacked Wanganui hill at 50, finding a bit more urge when Rudy's wheel crept under my right arm, climbing the big ascent (must be at least 4 metres) as KOM for the day (albeit 29th overall). A fairly quick Saturday lap judging by the Strava trophy handouts studied at the Lemontree, the T.D.U., scooter spills and bike racks occupied the chat with breakfast consumed between sentences. Another early Goat get away, AvantiTrev (with wrecked wrist) arriving for social and stomach sustinance.
To cure the k cravings and Wozza's wanton withdrawals, a reverse lap of Saturdays' circuit unwound the scenery on Sunday. Abilities may have been gilded by the WNW guidance to the Emu, chewing over January's news for the jet setting Wozz to re find his legs. A muscular forecast of heavy toil was felt from the west as we turned toward the toaster, thighs tightened and lungs laboured in Old Dookie Rd, the slightest incline altering the climb catagory and only a 20 metre long rest on the descent from the channel bridge. Boundary Road was welcomed, easing the throttle a whisker in readiness for the Channel Rd headwind assult, but a bindii halted Wozza's wheel just short of the esses. Engulfed in a puncture perspiration pressure cooker but soon air conditioned by the breeze when underway a few minutes later, we ground away Channels k's, the wind relentless. Wozza's soft Continental (a very short valve wouldn't let the pump seal properly) had become a handbrake on his effort in the last leg, so I loaned a tow to bring forward our caffine infusion at the Lemontree, the perfect tonic to cure jellied legs.
On the border for the holiday Monday prompted a lap with the Cobram crew, meeting at Thompsons beach for a ride east. Over the river with Ray, Christian, Travis, Sharen, John, Frank and Pommy (and hoping to collect a few more), we hit the Mulwala Rd, up and over the Col du Boomanoomana (smashed by spring chicken Sharen), an undulating panorama of vineyards over the sandhills to take in. A clockwise echelon was eventually organised to make the best of the south southwesterly, the Yarrawonga lads arriving from the east in scattered numbers to fill our ranks to 16. Rotations halted at times for Ray, Christian and Travis chat sessions, several chosing to sit on the back rather than face the breeze. After an hours tap, we'd reached Mulwala in good time, a pit stop for coffee and usual bike talk by the lake. Only eight chose to return west, Pommy leading us on a scenic route home via the goat track,(Sloane Siding Rd- Draytons Rd-Carramar Rd) a carbon copy of Bells Armstrong but with patches on the patches and weeds growing from the crown of the road. The thin strip of tarmac snaked through the parched paddocks with a rise or two over little hills to pick up the heartrate. Finally to the Barooga back Rd I was on familiar ground, east on Coldwells Rd for a flog over Spud hill then on to Berrigan Rd., a chalked outline of a body on the tarmac a comical sledge to a recent racing spill. A southbound grind at the helm with Travis into the headwind back to Barooga capped off 83k.
Another headwind workout to the Couldabeens start on Tuesday (who needs hills with this wind!), Wozza, Rudy, Pistol, Shane, Kenworth and Rocket the only punters post holiday weekend. I'd opted to lead for leg one with Wozza then leg two with Rudy, the southerly (17-24 km/h) only a minor hinderance. A charging pooch at the kinder scattered two straight lines but we reformed unscathed, then played spot-the-tractor (defying death driving in the dark) at the pine trees, thankfully without contact. I'd played my rotation cards right, just avoiding the headwind on Boundary Rd, who better than Pistol & Rocket to take it for the team? In River rd, Rudy was shortening turns, Wozz paying the price of four weeks overseas and Shane suffering the effects of horizontal folk dancing the night before (nice excuse if you can get it) loaded the effort on a few, Rocket and Pistol having no trouble supplying the wattage to central Kialla. Kenworth then Shane dipped out on duty by Roubaix, Wozza packed it in at the horse stud, silly me took pity on Pistol shouldering the load at Arcadia Downs and went forward again for a contribution, the reality of slicing the air at the front draining the drive in mere metres. Rocket saved my skin taking the drivers seat into the Conrod dipper, all my watts were invested into hanging on (for grim death) at second wheel. Seventy seconds on the redline (186 bpm) wishing the finish would appear sooner (and wondering if Rocket has sugar on his breakfast nitrous oxide), Kenworth sneakily sprung from behind to peck for the podium pickings, snatching second by millimetres.
Off to the library Tuesday evening, the first chance in ages to re-aquaint with the Renegades, some guessing if guns would gather to thrash us, but a swift (35-48 km/h) southerly was the bigger threat. SpecialisedTony, Argon Dave, Karl, MeridaAndy, Oz, Luke, Paul and Ben opened the clockwise Toaster account, Andy & I taking the easy first leg, picking up LegalSteve at the golf course. An echelon was essential for the easterly leg to the Emu, speed up and down like a yoyo till survival sense took over. Nath joined in Ford Rd, Paul is out of character with just a few rides this year, ArgonDave freshly worn by TDU hills and foreigner (well, from Numurkah) Ben on a retro steel Paconi to make my old steed look new. Turning south at the Emu was as welcome as an coronary, the headwind crushing speed, hopes and legs, the gusts tossing wheels aside and scarring souls. Holding 30 + at the front was only for Nath and Luke, instantly installed as windbreaks to the Toaster. Fighting the side wind in Old Dookie to get the best draft put several wheels a bit close for comfort, happier to be straight into the headwind again on Boundary. The solitary (and suffering) figure of Axel was caught just before our swing into River Rd, no doubt our draft was as good as tattslotto for him. Another fight to keep straight in River Rd and avoid the flying tree debris tested the nerves, but I'd found a small second wind to maintain speed and composure. Plenty of relief rounding Roubaix and feeling the wind at our backs, up wound the knots with Luke and Nath raising the standards. The majority had strung out single file by Arcadia Downs, I just ground along steady midfield on the 13 to wait for the cadence chaos in Conrod. Punters advanced then retreated, engines expired and ratios were exhausted, I found third place open for the taking (the best I'd hope for) to finish a windswept lap happy.
A slower idle and a richer mixture (stronger coffee) saved a worn engine from a bent valve Wednesday morning, feeling a bit battered by the constant wind. The slow start built to moderate motoring with Wozz, but the Jase chase (distant lure of a tailight ahead) urged a push of pursuit, catching him just in time to halt for a red light repose. Mental scarring from last nights wind begged a midfield position for the Couldabeens, delighted to see Choppy and Tucks take the first leg honours of leading in Archer Rd, then enjoy the (mostly) tailbreeze of the anticlockwise loop. Whispering Jack came up to pair with me in River Rd, half a bike ahead his regular position. AvantiChris had Rocket to match but was kindly allowed a shorter turn, a rapid rate of knots taking it's toll on many. PistolPete and Shane declared a jihad in Boundary Rd, mid 40's keeping most speechless. Rocket led the charge of the bike brigade in Channel Rd, Whispering Jack added to the pace at the esses, so I took a half bike revenge on him to the pine trees (our oncoming black BMW villan minus headlights but at least in the correct lane today) Rotationally relegated to the rear as we hit the Cha Cha, I missed the sprint train and its carriages (Shane, Pistol, Rocket et al) so donated towing services to those dislodged from contention. The tailwind home gave a time bonus to enjoy extra calories of breakfast before work beckoned.
An almost full set of Goats departed Friars Thursday, snaking the streets to SPC and up to speed in Old Dookie Rd lured by Cat tail-lights ahead. Punctured Sully and Pitstop Keeno played traffic police at Central Ave, the Goat train driven smoothly at the front, but rubber banded at the back by sheer numbers. The southerly made little difference to progress in Boundary Rd with the load shared, a handbrake of compassion applied in River Rd for the rear gunners to re-attach, then resuming rotation nudging 40 for the 5k leg west. BigPaul controlled the front in Central Kialla for a recovery session, but it was back on the gas in Mitchell Rd, Belly slowing with a broke spoke split the bunch into time starved and time surplussed. I joined Tina, AvantiLeigh, Tum, Wozza, MrMagnet, Heady and Principal Skinner in the aforementioned bunch, driving on an agenda, MrMagnet stretching the pack (and the friendship) up Mt.Nicolaci. Through Roubaix and up to the horse stud visits to the pointy end increased as several sat back. Swinging into Conrod straight (Stress St, BallBuster Boulevard, Hernia Highway, call it as you will) Wozza wisely wound up the watts, Tina nearly chopped in half by an over enthused MrMagnet trying to get my wheel. I put in a big dip at the front as a pace payment for AvantiLeigh, a lead-out to render his account from last week, Leigh paid in full, taking the chocolates at the line.
WhatsApp pinged a Goat gathering again Friday, Coggo, LegalAndy, RetiredDave, Heady and Bickers making up a six pack to take on yet another unforgiving southerly. Out to Doyles Rd the indian file option was taken, Coggo taking the drivers seat and setting the standard. Sitting in the smooth wake of RetiredDave to Central Ave readied me for a long drive to Boundary, but shortened my turn a whisker for Bickers to escape a head wind turn in Boundary Rd. Coggo faced the music with gusto, Heady, LegalAndy then RetiredDave to Channel Rd for my turn down to One Tree dam, adding a wave (couldn't spare the oxygen) to the northbound Couldabeens. Bickers had gone a.w.o.l. when I tagged onto the rear, to River Rd the quinella continued, the breeze more bearable now from the side. Coggo hit the boost button in the last k, slower through "wait-for-Dave" corner to recouperate, the southerly seeming to have settled. Another turn from Archer Rd to the highway put me in the hot seat for Mt.Nicolaci (the worlds worst climber needs a polka Not jersey) , glad to get a pause at Melbourne Rd and partake of a large serve of oxygen. Shorter turns got us to the horse stud post haste and, yet again, I'd inherited the lead at Conrod's dipper. Sight of the blonde jogger quickly inspired Coggo's cadence, powering past to take line honours with ease while I wheezed.
Week 5 : 416 km YTD 1,217 km
Rider of the Week (remains unsolved, still with a two prized reward to the first correct answer)
Hint: the fairer sex
Friday, January 30, 2015
Tuesday, January 27, 2015
Week 4 : Testing time trials and Wobblitis returns!
A daily double was planned Saturday, touring the side streets to soak up time en route to the Couldabeens start. A dozen in the congregation included Breakaways Shazz and Jen, but minus the regular Rocket, resting for the evening Criteium. Underway at 6, we'd gained quickly on a cruising quadrella of Simon, Bo, Kel and Ron, adding to a long train at the kinder for the lap. I'd scored a pairing with Pistol again, no hope of a cruisy turn at the helm. Tucks, Temple, Shorty, Nick, Cougar, Jase, Shane and FeltMat all put in the wattage to keep the bunch mobile, Jen and Shazz are the Cheshire cats stepping up several rungs from their regular ride (how soon we forget our early days of achievement , pumped surviving a circuit with a faster bunch). The early mornings cool 13 degrees distracted thoughts of recent 37 degree afternoons, but a strengthening southwesterly made work for the long leg home in Lemnos-Cosgrove Rd. We finally found Rocket quietly idling along Ford Rd, tacking onto the rear of the bunch for a tow home. Another thrash up Wanganui hill by the eager stretched out the pack, but it reformed quickly in Rudd Rd to return to the Lemontree base camp. No time for coffee, the Goats had launched early from Friars (escaping an influx of uninvited apprentices), southbound to Raftery for a reverse of the usual week day Goat lap. Longer turns allowed sentences rather than words with Dipper, Hommy, Bazz, Sandy, LegalAndy, Deb, Tonksy, SpecialisedTony and MeridaAndy, but only minimal words with WobblyTrev to avoid distracting his line. River Rd was easy with the winds help, at the helm up to the end with Dipper then MeridaAndy, skirting around the ripple strips nearing Boundary Rd. (but this slight deviation unfocussed WobblyTrev, suddenly BMXing through the tabledrain...incredibly, upright) At Old Dookie Rd factions split. some westward home to coffee, others keen (so it seemed) to tour to the toaster. Only MeridaAndy, Dipper, Specialised Tony and I had taken the eastward option, the mathematics of few doing plenty changed hearts quickly, the vote was to chase the westward bunch (now a k ahead) home. Unplanned and unspoken, a single file formed intuitavely in pursuit, into zone 5 rapidly for a kilometre, I was greatful for Andy taking the drivers seat after my contribution. We reeled in Tonksy by Central Ave, and rejoined the others by Doyles, after some determined driving, coffee and convivial conversation continued at Friars.
Manged a peek at the Shepp Criterium on Saturday, Dion, Rocket, Nath, Robbo, Nev and other assorted top guns putting on a top show of rapid riding in A&B grades (photos to head this and forthcoming blogs)
A rare slice of normal life taken Sunday and Monday, the bike gathering cobwebs as legs regained feeling.
Weaved my way through a flotilla of early morning garbage trucks (and the awakening aroma) to Friars on Tuesday, ten Goats assembled for the usual 30k, Coggo back from holiday to lead the train out of town. JB and Tina were collected in the first leg to Doyles Rd, decent progress made east considering the northeasterly hinderance. I'd scored a good sandwich between smooth Principal Skinner and smoother Tina, new face Anton showing early signs of an engine misfire. The turn into Boundary Rd was Christmas on a stick, but the oncoming black car beyond the pub was saving energy without headlights (and intelligence?) We'd caught a wandering LegalAndy south of the bridges, Anton now joining the reartiring at the back of the bunch. The River Rd leg took a little time to get organised but soon was spearing west without sparing the horses, a bit difficult to keep the drivers up the road to echelon some ease to those behind. A little calm was restored in Central Kialla, Snow soon winding up the wattage to Mitchell (unwittingly splitting the bunch). Eight resumed the rotation in Mitchell to power to the highway, JB's astute call for traffic saving much bacon. The wind wore down many in just 2 k's, it was left to just JB and I pointing into Conrod, out of dipper and facing 20 km/h of headwind to wear down the enthusiasm. Belly emerged from the back with Snow in tow, thrashing out the last 200 for glory.
A rare easterly blew on Wednesday, at least it signalled a tail wind home on the Wednesday/Friday reverse Couldabeens circuit. Rocket, Tucks, Pistol, SuperMario, Nick, AvantiChris, Rudy, Chops, Cougar and Shane filled the roundabout path, enough attending to make light work of the task to Boundary Rd. Genesis, an OTA Ron, the Breakaways and a big Cat pack filled River Rd, me lucky to have put a turn in before the headwind leg. Six Goats plied south at the bridges on Boundary, I pondered the pace with our pack primed by the tailwind homeward. As is customary, the Cha Cha got the troops excited, SuperMario launching an all out effort, only to be swamped by Rocket, Shane and Rudy for Strava supremacy. Calm reigned till Kensington, just couldn't help myself to have a brief dip to the bus stop to clear the cobwebs.
Started Thursday with a puncture repair, waking to a flat craved conversation with the imbeciles impoverished of i q who decorated the street with smashed stubbies. The commute to the Couldabeens was spent investigating the wind direction, a promised northeaster had evolved into an eastsoutheast. Only Shane and recent inductee Rudy were at the car park, Pistol then Trav the only other starters arriving. My vote for a team time trail was accepted unanimously, Shanes' 38 km/h ammendment was tabled for leg one and two, but then defeated in the senate for leg 3 (figured I could manage 41 km/h to the kinder without passing out). Trav and Pete drove to Boundary Rd, Rudy to the Broken bridges where I was handed the reigns again. The wind added a couple of clicks to the cruising speed in River Road (my h.r. in neutral at 85 bpm with the heart rate strap drowned in sweat), Pistol firing strongly to the channel bridge, crossing paths with a handful of early risen Muppets. Rudy has quickly fitted in with turns strong and steady, the smooth and straight recipe easily digested when you're just a few centimetres off the wheel ahead in the 40's. I began to feel the wear and tear at Archer Rd, leaving a little in reserve to jump aboard the rear of the little train as the four passed with the cue from my elbow. Down to walking pace at the highway for traffic, Pistol considerately and gently dialling up the heat to Roubaix. Shane's call for rapid roll overs lasted just seconds, back to track turns and mid fourties by the horse stud. I was handed the lead at Conrod's dipper (again, of course!), the longest 700 metres ever measured, but just couldn't latch onto Shane & Rudy in the last 200 for glory. A solid workout at a 38.8 km/h average for just five.
A soft option sleep-in on Freaky Friday finalised the week.
Week 4 220 km YTD 801 km
Rider of the week
(no bites on last weeks puzzle, clues too cryptic it seems to identify AvantiLeigh. Two prizes await this weeks first correct answer.)
Former petrol station attendant, lover of lasagne, a one eyed helmet needing renewal, blue & black bike.
Manged a peek at the Shepp Criterium on Saturday, Dion, Rocket, Nath, Robbo, Nev and other assorted top guns putting on a top show of rapid riding in A&B grades (photos to head this and forthcoming blogs)
A rare slice of normal life taken Sunday and Monday, the bike gathering cobwebs as legs regained feeling.
Weaved my way through a flotilla of early morning garbage trucks (and the awakening aroma) to Friars on Tuesday, ten Goats assembled for the usual 30k, Coggo back from holiday to lead the train out of town. JB and Tina were collected in the first leg to Doyles Rd, decent progress made east considering the northeasterly hinderance. I'd scored a good sandwich between smooth Principal Skinner and smoother Tina, new face Anton showing early signs of an engine misfire. The turn into Boundary Rd was Christmas on a stick, but the oncoming black car beyond the pub was saving energy without headlights (and intelligence?) We'd caught a wandering LegalAndy south of the bridges, Anton now joining the reartiring at the back of the bunch. The River Rd leg took a little time to get organised but soon was spearing west without sparing the horses, a bit difficult to keep the drivers up the road to echelon some ease to those behind. A little calm was restored in Central Kialla, Snow soon winding up the wattage to Mitchell (unwittingly splitting the bunch). Eight resumed the rotation in Mitchell to power to the highway, JB's astute call for traffic saving much bacon. The wind wore down many in just 2 k's, it was left to just JB and I pointing into Conrod, out of dipper and facing 20 km/h of headwind to wear down the enthusiasm. Belly emerged from the back with Snow in tow, thrashing out the last 200 for glory.
A rare easterly blew on Wednesday, at least it signalled a tail wind home on the Wednesday/Friday reverse Couldabeens circuit. Rocket, Tucks, Pistol, SuperMario, Nick, AvantiChris, Rudy, Chops, Cougar and Shane filled the roundabout path, enough attending to make light work of the task to Boundary Rd. Genesis, an OTA Ron, the Breakaways and a big Cat pack filled River Rd, me lucky to have put a turn in before the headwind leg. Six Goats plied south at the bridges on Boundary, I pondered the pace with our pack primed by the tailwind homeward. As is customary, the Cha Cha got the troops excited, SuperMario launching an all out effort, only to be swamped by Rocket, Shane and Rudy for Strava supremacy. Calm reigned till Kensington, just couldn't help myself to have a brief dip to the bus stop to clear the cobwebs.
Started Thursday with a puncture repair, waking to a flat craved conversation with the imbeciles impoverished of i q who decorated the street with smashed stubbies. The commute to the Couldabeens was spent investigating the wind direction, a promised northeaster had evolved into an eastsoutheast. Only Shane and recent inductee Rudy were at the car park, Pistol then Trav the only other starters arriving. My vote for a team time trail was accepted unanimously, Shanes' 38 km/h ammendment was tabled for leg one and two, but then defeated in the senate for leg 3 (figured I could manage 41 km/h to the kinder without passing out). Trav and Pete drove to Boundary Rd, Rudy to the Broken bridges where I was handed the reigns again. The wind added a couple of clicks to the cruising speed in River Road (my h.r. in neutral at 85 bpm with the heart rate strap drowned in sweat), Pistol firing strongly to the channel bridge, crossing paths with a handful of early risen Muppets. Rudy has quickly fitted in with turns strong and steady, the smooth and straight recipe easily digested when you're just a few centimetres off the wheel ahead in the 40's. I began to feel the wear and tear at Archer Rd, leaving a little in reserve to jump aboard the rear of the little train as the four passed with the cue from my elbow. Down to walking pace at the highway for traffic, Pistol considerately and gently dialling up the heat to Roubaix. Shane's call for rapid roll overs lasted just seconds, back to track turns and mid fourties by the horse stud. I was handed the lead at Conrod's dipper (again, of course!), the longest 700 metres ever measured, but just couldn't latch onto Shane & Rudy in the last 200 for glory. A solid workout at a 38.8 km/h average for just five.
A soft option sleep-in on Freaky Friday finalised the week.
Week 4 220 km YTD 801 km
Rider of the week
(no bites on last weeks puzzle, clues too cryptic it seems to identify AvantiLeigh. Two prizes await this weeks first correct answer.)
Former petrol station attendant, lover of lasagne, a one eyed helmet needing renewal, blue & black bike.
Friday, January 16, 2015
Week 3 ; Exercise to exorcise
Saturdays pre dawn rain wrecked regular religious riding rituals, renedered ruinous regretably, reclining restitution reinstated resolutely, reaping restful relaxation & rectal recovery (really!) relished, not till Monday did the opportunity present to ride. Fronted to SPC's roundabout where the only punters were Meags and Princess, a smooth, calm and collected start to the week a fitting formula for me. Princess had hauled the TT Felt out from mothballs, the 80mm Sram's hollow howl humming a happy tune. Pistol was seen warming up his week northbound at the Broken bridges, not till River roads' end did the Cat squad reel us in (restfectfully), suprised to see flouro Matho and G off the back by 50 metres. Mo, Furph and another were another 100 behind, climatising to life back aboard two wheels. By Mitchell, Furph had resigned to join our quiet tap, the first ride in ages i'd kept below anaerobic.
Negatives had the upper hand over positives on Monday arvo, a stiff NE wind with 34 degrees adding to the grief, but a deep desire to clock some k's before Tuesdays forecast drowned us. Hanging on to the puny positives, I set forth on the Boulevard with a longer lap aim, slicing through the headwind in Wanganui playing mental mind games of abandonment, stubborness setting an easterly quarry goal, 20k away. Thoughts of a Dookie target was dumped in a nanosecond feeling the wind at my back at Cosgrove's hole in the ground, a Camel lap a better alternative. There was a mobile sheep chicane at the Camel farm (hoo roo ewe, running at 34km/h) before the turn south on Cosgrove-Caniambo, Michelins hissing a long note on the soft and sticky tarmac, a 10k tailwind reprieve for recovery. Managed a reasonable rate of knots on the seemingly endless strip of skinny tarmac that is Bells-Armstrong Rd, but emerging from a short tree lined shelter was a touch testy with the wind now northerly. The course stone and sealed-over bumps wore at the wrists and sit site (the downside of a stiff alloy frame), dead snakes and windswept bark made for challenging deciphering for 12 long k's. The old stomping ground of Mitchell Rd (untouched for six months) began to toll on the cruising speed, slowly whittling away as muscles complained and determination wained, a distant bike at the Kialla Central intersection the only bait to bouy the battle on. Rounding Roubaix emptied the resoluteness tank, pressed the belief button for a short lived burst, then relied on the angry tank, just to hold an ordinary speed in Conrod. With legs limp, lungs lame and heartrate hysterical, there was an agonising 7k crawl up the main drag to home, 1,442 calories spent on 70 k's, just to gloat on a 232 Strava sufferfest and grin in guiltfree gastronomy.
I'd almost committed to a sleep-in Tuesday, forecast showers at 5am failed to front, so swung a creaking leg over the bike to cruise to the Couldabeens, a strong northeaster spelling a fast lap (not the ideal antidote for last nights' dip). A garrison of Genesis guns (Nev, Ron, Kel & Bo) had joined the Couldabeens contingent, Chris A, Cougar, Temple, BigMat, Rocket, Kenworth, Pistol, Chops and Trav, FeltMat arriving at Kensington (taking SuperMario's tail-light role). The nasty northeaster taxed us in Channel, me the lucky one with a Kenworth tow after front-of-house duty. Bliss in Boundary but work to do in River with Rocket, Nev and Temple driving in the 40's. BigMat pulled the pin on the driving duty with Bo, leaving me the task to match him in Central Kialla Rd, word of a bunch split wasn't delivered to the front till the turn into Mitchell, so a calmer cadence got the group back together. By Archer the pace was back on the boil, I was blessing the 56 ring even without little cotton socks. By Roubaix my legs had lost the will to live, so hitched a tow behind Ron, only Rocket, Nev, ChrisA and Pistol keeping the motion up as the pack stretched single file into Conrod, finishing fifth fortunate in such company . Paused at the Raftery bridge, not to swing punches but to wait a few seconds for the tailenders (those who give 100% for the whole lap), solidarity for the roll through town an important conclusion (wish others would do likewise)
A pair of Pro 4's and a chain put new life into the old steed Wednesday (too wet to head out for me but not for some die hards) 5,700 k's with just one puncture not a bad run. Thursday's fourteen degrees drew the arm warmers out of mothballs to group with the Goats, Hommy handing out hugs as the grid gathered. A cool cruise through town gathered the faithful to get the rotation happening in Old Dookie Rd, Big Paul's gargantuan gap to AvantiLeigh, Sandy, Leon, Dipper, Bazza, Deb, Tum, Kate, Principal Skinner (back aboard the restored Trek #1), Heady and Snow. All calm and collected to Boundary Rd and for the drive south into the breeze, ripping into River with the heartrate ticking over at 140 felt easy, hitting the front at 40+ should be this easy always (but sadly it aint). BigPaul was preaching the peleton protocols to Leon in Central Kialla, BigBen was found cruising at Archer. There were slim sprint pickings at Arcadia Downs with just a handful in contention into Conrod, AvantiLeigh at the helm, Dipper as second fiddle with Tum headed toward the front (his intention was for the afirmative but lax legs won the argument for negative) quickly tucking in for a tow in the gap I left. In a perfect spot at 4th wheel, I pounced with 200 metres left, the new chain hopping on the 12 so spun the 13 to take the chocolates.
Soaking up the sublime serenity on an early mission to the Emu on Friday, there was just one car and one rabbit to share the tarmac with. It was great to tune the little grey cells to tapping out a few k's rather than the worry of work or life's little niggles. Essential escapism, esoteric enlightenment, excercise to exorcise. A cool 10 degrees and yippee! windfree westward from the toaster at zone 4 back toward town, finding a balooning bunch of Breakaways (but brandishing a bloke?) departing suburbia, Cats commencing a freaky Friday fracas a k behind. I'd located Meags and Princess at SPC, Fee chiming in a text of mechanical apology (an unchained melody?) so a menagerie a trois took a short lap of Old Dookie-Boundary-Channel to polish off the week the way it started.
Week 3 261km YTD 581km
Rider of the Week
(dialling up the difficulty now, Kenworth quickly identifying Pistol Pete as last weeks man of mystery)
Blue/white bike, Giro hat, loves ravioli, worked on Heathrow's T5
Negatives had the upper hand over positives on Monday arvo, a stiff NE wind with 34 degrees adding to the grief, but a deep desire to clock some k's before Tuesdays forecast drowned us. Hanging on to the puny positives, I set forth on the Boulevard with a longer lap aim, slicing through the headwind in Wanganui playing mental mind games of abandonment, stubborness setting an easterly quarry goal, 20k away. Thoughts of a Dookie target was dumped in a nanosecond feeling the wind at my back at Cosgrove's hole in the ground, a Camel lap a better alternative. There was a mobile sheep chicane at the Camel farm (hoo roo ewe, running at 34km/h) before the turn south on Cosgrove-Caniambo, Michelins hissing a long note on the soft and sticky tarmac, a 10k tailwind reprieve for recovery. Managed a reasonable rate of knots on the seemingly endless strip of skinny tarmac that is Bells-Armstrong Rd, but emerging from a short tree lined shelter was a touch testy with the wind now northerly. The course stone and sealed-over bumps wore at the wrists and sit site (the downside of a stiff alloy frame), dead snakes and windswept bark made for challenging deciphering for 12 long k's. The old stomping ground of Mitchell Rd (untouched for six months) began to toll on the cruising speed, slowly whittling away as muscles complained and determination wained, a distant bike at the Kialla Central intersection the only bait to bouy the battle on. Rounding Roubaix emptied the resoluteness tank, pressed the belief button for a short lived burst, then relied on the angry tank, just to hold an ordinary speed in Conrod. With legs limp, lungs lame and heartrate hysterical, there was an agonising 7k crawl up the main drag to home, 1,442 calories spent on 70 k's, just to gloat on a 232 Strava sufferfest and grin in guiltfree gastronomy.
I'd almost committed to a sleep-in Tuesday, forecast showers at 5am failed to front, so swung a creaking leg over the bike to cruise to the Couldabeens, a strong northeaster spelling a fast lap (not the ideal antidote for last nights' dip). A garrison of Genesis guns (Nev, Ron, Kel & Bo) had joined the Couldabeens contingent, Chris A, Cougar, Temple, BigMat, Rocket, Kenworth, Pistol, Chops and Trav, FeltMat arriving at Kensington (taking SuperMario's tail-light role). The nasty northeaster taxed us in Channel, me the lucky one with a Kenworth tow after front-of-house duty. Bliss in Boundary but work to do in River with Rocket, Nev and Temple driving in the 40's. BigMat pulled the pin on the driving duty with Bo, leaving me the task to match him in Central Kialla Rd, word of a bunch split wasn't delivered to the front till the turn into Mitchell, so a calmer cadence got the group back together. By Archer the pace was back on the boil, I was blessing the 56 ring even without little cotton socks. By Roubaix my legs had lost the will to live, so hitched a tow behind Ron, only Rocket, Nev, ChrisA and Pistol keeping the motion up as the pack stretched single file into Conrod, finishing fifth fortunate in such company . Paused at the Raftery bridge, not to swing punches but to wait a few seconds for the tailenders (those who give 100% for the whole lap), solidarity for the roll through town an important conclusion (wish others would do likewise)
A pair of Pro 4's and a chain put new life into the old steed Wednesday (too wet to head out for me but not for some die hards) 5,700 k's with just one puncture not a bad run. Thursday's fourteen degrees drew the arm warmers out of mothballs to group with the Goats, Hommy handing out hugs as the grid gathered. A cool cruise through town gathered the faithful to get the rotation happening in Old Dookie Rd, Big Paul's gargantuan gap to AvantiLeigh, Sandy, Leon, Dipper, Bazza, Deb, Tum, Kate, Principal Skinner (back aboard the restored Trek #1), Heady and Snow. All calm and collected to Boundary Rd and for the drive south into the breeze, ripping into River with the heartrate ticking over at 140 felt easy, hitting the front at 40+ should be this easy always (but sadly it aint). BigPaul was preaching the peleton protocols to Leon in Central Kialla, BigBen was found cruising at Archer. There were slim sprint pickings at Arcadia Downs with just a handful in contention into Conrod, AvantiLeigh at the helm, Dipper as second fiddle with Tum headed toward the front (his intention was for the afirmative but lax legs won the argument for negative) quickly tucking in for a tow in the gap I left. In a perfect spot at 4th wheel, I pounced with 200 metres left, the new chain hopping on the 12 so spun the 13 to take the chocolates.
Soaking up the sublime serenity on an early mission to the Emu on Friday, there was just one car and one rabbit to share the tarmac with. It was great to tune the little grey cells to tapping out a few k's rather than the worry of work or life's little niggles. Essential escapism, esoteric enlightenment, excercise to exorcise. A cool 10 degrees and yippee! windfree westward from the toaster at zone 4 back toward town, finding a balooning bunch of Breakaways (but brandishing a bloke?) departing suburbia, Cats commencing a freaky Friday fracas a k behind. I'd located Meags and Princess at SPC, Fee chiming in a text of mechanical apology (an unchained melody?) so a menagerie a trois took a short lap of Old Dookie-Boundary-Channel to polish off the week the way it started.
Week 3 261km YTD 581km
Rider of the Week
(dialling up the difficulty now, Kenworth quickly identifying Pistol Pete as last weeks man of mystery)
Blue/white bike, Giro hat, loves ravioli, worked on Heathrow's T5
Friday, January 9, 2015
Week 2 Soon striving Strava starved?
Found BigMat then Weapon en-route to Saturdays lap, cool commuting company on a balmy 23 degree morning. Breakaways Shazza and Jen had taken tenacity to join with Cougar, Jase, Trav, Rocket, Whispering Jack and Nick (returning from holiday hiatus) Dion, Shorty, PistolPete, Tucks (tuckered out from New Years extremism), AvantiTrev and SuperMario (last of course) for a windy (20+km/h northerly) slog out Channel Road. Good to have four lasses tame the testosterone in a swollen Saturday bunch, Nath taking the population to 18 at the fig farm. Shazza tried to wriggle out with an Old Dookie road retreat back home, but sledging threats and a measure of mental motivation convinced her to stay aboard. AvantiTrev short shifted a turn, Nath and Pistol compared cadence on the toil to the toaster. I went easy on the throttle with Pistol to the church but word was slow to reach us that a few had detached. Dion took the church-to-channel Strava stage while I hung back to group the tailenders back on board, peristroika prevailed at the Emu with the bunch bonded, the speed slowly wound up for the tailwind treck back home. Tapping along at 40 was good for the ego (no AvantiTrev complaints), Cats having a hard drive east against our westerly windfall. Goats and Muppets were killing k's easterly and early to beat the heat, Nath, Dion, Rocket, BigMat and Pistol pouring on the power at DECA in the struggle for Strava supremacy on the Wanganui hill. Calm descended in Rudd road for a collective cruise to coffee, scuttlebutt on prangs, bogans and k.o.m.'s filled the ears while breakfast filled stomachs.
A southerly cranked up the cardiac cadenza for a late called Couldabeens circuit on Monday. Only Rocket, Pistol, Jase, Temple and FeltMat at the carpark, I'd tucked neatly between Temple (on a Port Mac road trip recovery) and FeltMat (suffering a severe bout of post coastal holiday) with Rocket, Pistol and Jase towing us gradually up to speed for an eased intro to the working week. FeltMat and I paid the headwind price of leading from the kinder, pleased that Temples turn didn't blow my head gasket up to the S bend. Boundary road and southbound, FeltMat retired from service at the bridges, handing me Pistols' pacy wheel to match for River Rd. the northbound Shazza and Cougar the only Breakaways brave enough to battle the anti-clockwise lap. 1600 metres matching Pete and ignoring the pleas of legs and lungs to give up, my mental motivation was just about empty when Pete thankfully called a roll over. Temple did a short shift, Jase and Rocket continued at warp speed, the last k of River Rd almost endless at 174bpm beside Pistol again. The 1.8 k's beside Jase wore down the resolve, Rocket calling an indian file as we turned into Mitchell. I gave another brief burst from the highway to Roubaix, flicked an elbow then spent a lot of steam into staying aboard as the five passed by. Rocket lit the afterburners at Arcadia Downs forcing all heads down, Temple and FeltMat soon gapped, I sank all into survival behind Pete to finish, pooped but pleased.
The forecast for the weeks end looked bleak so switched the routine to gallivant with Goats on Tuesday, and there were Goats galore gathering at Friars. Heard Heady's happy holiday hyperbole on the roll toward Old Dookie as two dozen formed up two lines to do battle. Muppet Matt, Joe and MeridaAndy were new faces to the midweek Goat train, ironfolk Stace, Sootie and Comet got the rotations organised by Dobsons estate, despite the yawning abyss left by BigPaul's hangback. Deb performed the perfect roll call at the back as the bunch wound up the knots in Boundary Rd. A four word sentence was just possible on the River Rd roll as the rear stalls slowly filled with expirees, plenty of elation in rotation dictation as the 26 speared west. Predicting my possible Conrod position while driving out of Roubaix was being constantly readjusted as more retreated to hang on at the back, there were only about 10 left with legs to drive at the front as we descended the dipper in the closing k. With Coggo, Andy and Tina ahead, thoughts of Hommy looming large behind fuzzied my focus, Andy bolted with 500 to go! I kicked the Mavics like a mule to shake Hommy from my draft and set about the chase to young Andy (with a 30 year advantage, no respect for his elders), regretting my Garmin glance (189bpm @ 54km/h) that threw doubt on a success. Andy, suddenly afflicted with the noddies at 100 metres to go was the silver lining, slipped into his draft for a moment to draw a short breath, then power past to cross a rather blurry edged finish first, speechless till the bridge.
There were tropical temperatures to start Wednesday, streaks of orange light pierced the eastern horizon to post a picturesque prologue for the Kialla Couldabeens ride. I joined the grid with 2 minutes to spare but lined up as the masochist meat in a Rocket and Pistol sandwich of speed, SuperMario's arrival on the death knock of 6 saved me (positioned as the salad in that sandwich) FeltMat and Trav took the leading role to River Rd, my cranial calculations put me with Pete battling the Kialla Central northeast breeze, not so bad with plenty of tree shelter as it happened, but Pete still managed to put half a bike on me (Daniel lives on in another form!) Feeling fried by River Roads channel bridge, SuperMario likewise with plenty of huff and puff on the roll over. Everyone who owned a bike was on it westbound on River Rd this morning (the Breakaway bunch blossoming to 11), must have seen Thursday's forecast rain coming? We barrelled into Boundary, more bikes bunched large and small oncoming, and up to Channel Road for a favourable leg back to town. Second last wheel at the kinder, a speed lead to the Cha Cha by Shorty and Trav, and a bonus breeze behind was just too tempting, my squirt of speed at Prentice road lit up the wheels to 54 but the inspired intensity imploded with Rockets' sizzling slingshot past, delivering a lethal dose of reality to put me back in the slow box. Couldabeens congealed to tap the last leg back to Archer, many with the luxury of time to add a coffee stop before home.
There was little life left in the self motivation battery Thursday morning, but a damp forecast for the weeks end inspired a few amperes to arise at 4.45. Copious Kellogs Cadnium Crispies consumed to harden up for a toaster lap, bunch banter socially satisfies but solo slogs strengthen (maybe mentally maims?). The eternal drag out to the Emu facing the northeaster had me trawling the depths of effort, craving the tailwind reward, spinning dervishly on the 17 tooth sprocket at 80 rpm. Twas vunderbah heading south, a crimson sunrise south of Mt Major a sign of inclemency to come? A duo of DuraAce clicks put the chain onto old faithful 14 to grind west from the Toaster, a breakfast sonata of squealing pigs drowning out my Cosmic chorus. I wondered if my timing would intercept the Couldabeens at Channel Rd but 6.05 was a bit ahead of schedule. I detect sweat spots on specs in River road, but it was the heavens slowly opening to deliver bike and I a decent drench, the rooster tail of wheel water prompting my phone to be shifted to a drier spot. Almost refreshed and certainly cooled at the dipper, I had a blow dry from the breeze (now more northerly) by Rivers' end. With wattage waining I eased off the throttle to Mitchell Rd, saving something for Conrod's headwind. A few peeks behind saw a track devoid of Couldabeens, Cats or Goats, it was the turkeys driving without headlights that was the oncoming worry. Emptying the last drops of energy in Conrod, I soaked up Strava's generous January 2015 trophies (worth the 162 suffer score?) but wonder what anguish if February sees us striving Strava starved?
Suprised by a dry Friday morning, an opportunity to squeeze a lap in begged. My heartrate had vanished from the Garmin screen (checked I wasn't dead) but soon realised the sensor was upside down Miss Jane. Righted and re-instated, I cranked east in Knight Street (freaky feline free) and through the SPC roundabout into Old Dookie, desolate and devoid of Hurt Locker or Breakaways. Damn wind (ENE) hindered a decent speed till Boundary, by the Pub it had swung SSE. There were a few puddles to avoid (to keep the posterior powder dry), at least comfort has been found on the Fizik after months of being a pain in the......... A very grey start to the day and not a bike to be seen till two neat lines of Couldabeens were found eastward in River Rd. On course for an early finish, I was suprised to find a bit left in the tank for a 40+ push in Conrod, a swansong for a rain ruined weekend?
Week 2 : 277km YTD 320km
Rider of the Week : more cryptic this week after the clever Cougar solved last weeks [Weapon] within hours.
174cm tall, black bike, Louis Garneau shoes, once worked at Vic Roads.
A southerly cranked up the cardiac cadenza for a late called Couldabeens circuit on Monday. Only Rocket, Pistol, Jase, Temple and FeltMat at the carpark, I'd tucked neatly between Temple (on a Port Mac road trip recovery) and FeltMat (suffering a severe bout of post coastal holiday) with Rocket, Pistol and Jase towing us gradually up to speed for an eased intro to the working week. FeltMat and I paid the headwind price of leading from the kinder, pleased that Temples turn didn't blow my head gasket up to the S bend. Boundary road and southbound, FeltMat retired from service at the bridges, handing me Pistols' pacy wheel to match for River Rd. the northbound Shazza and Cougar the only Breakaways brave enough to battle the anti-clockwise lap. 1600 metres matching Pete and ignoring the pleas of legs and lungs to give up, my mental motivation was just about empty when Pete thankfully called a roll over. Temple did a short shift, Jase and Rocket continued at warp speed, the last k of River Rd almost endless at 174bpm beside Pistol again. The 1.8 k's beside Jase wore down the resolve, Rocket calling an indian file as we turned into Mitchell. I gave another brief burst from the highway to Roubaix, flicked an elbow then spent a lot of steam into staying aboard as the five passed by. Rocket lit the afterburners at Arcadia Downs forcing all heads down, Temple and FeltMat soon gapped, I sank all into survival behind Pete to finish, pooped but pleased.
The forecast for the weeks end looked bleak so switched the routine to gallivant with Goats on Tuesday, and there were Goats galore gathering at Friars. Heard Heady's happy holiday hyperbole on the roll toward Old Dookie as two dozen formed up two lines to do battle. Muppet Matt, Joe and MeridaAndy were new faces to the midweek Goat train, ironfolk Stace, Sootie and Comet got the rotations organised by Dobsons estate, despite the yawning abyss left by BigPaul's hangback. Deb performed the perfect roll call at the back as the bunch wound up the knots in Boundary Rd. A four word sentence was just possible on the River Rd roll as the rear stalls slowly filled with expirees, plenty of elation in rotation dictation as the 26 speared west. Predicting my possible Conrod position while driving out of Roubaix was being constantly readjusted as more retreated to hang on at the back, there were only about 10 left with legs to drive at the front as we descended the dipper in the closing k. With Coggo, Andy and Tina ahead, thoughts of Hommy looming large behind fuzzied my focus, Andy bolted with 500 to go! I kicked the Mavics like a mule to shake Hommy from my draft and set about the chase to young Andy (with a 30 year advantage, no respect for his elders), regretting my Garmin glance (189bpm @ 54km/h) that threw doubt on a success. Andy, suddenly afflicted with the noddies at 100 metres to go was the silver lining, slipped into his draft for a moment to draw a short breath, then power past to cross a rather blurry edged finish first, speechless till the bridge.
There were tropical temperatures to start Wednesday, streaks of orange light pierced the eastern horizon to post a picturesque prologue for the Kialla Couldabeens ride. I joined the grid with 2 minutes to spare but lined up as the masochist meat in a Rocket and Pistol sandwich of speed, SuperMario's arrival on the death knock of 6 saved me (positioned as the salad in that sandwich) FeltMat and Trav took the leading role to River Rd, my cranial calculations put me with Pete battling the Kialla Central northeast breeze, not so bad with plenty of tree shelter as it happened, but Pete still managed to put half a bike on me (Daniel lives on in another form!) Feeling fried by River Roads channel bridge, SuperMario likewise with plenty of huff and puff on the roll over. Everyone who owned a bike was on it westbound on River Rd this morning (the Breakaway bunch blossoming to 11), must have seen Thursday's forecast rain coming? We barrelled into Boundary, more bikes bunched large and small oncoming, and up to Channel Road for a favourable leg back to town. Second last wheel at the kinder, a speed lead to the Cha Cha by Shorty and Trav, and a bonus breeze behind was just too tempting, my squirt of speed at Prentice road lit up the wheels to 54 but the inspired intensity imploded with Rockets' sizzling slingshot past, delivering a lethal dose of reality to put me back in the slow box. Couldabeens congealed to tap the last leg back to Archer, many with the luxury of time to add a coffee stop before home.
There was little life left in the self motivation battery Thursday morning, but a damp forecast for the weeks end inspired a few amperes to arise at 4.45. Copious Kellogs Cadnium Crispies consumed to harden up for a toaster lap, bunch banter socially satisfies but solo slogs strengthen (maybe mentally maims?). The eternal drag out to the Emu facing the northeaster had me trawling the depths of effort, craving the tailwind reward, spinning dervishly on the 17 tooth sprocket at 80 rpm. Twas vunderbah heading south, a crimson sunrise south of Mt Major a sign of inclemency to come? A duo of DuraAce clicks put the chain onto old faithful 14 to grind west from the Toaster, a breakfast sonata of squealing pigs drowning out my Cosmic chorus. I wondered if my timing would intercept the Couldabeens at Channel Rd but 6.05 was a bit ahead of schedule. I detect sweat spots on specs in River road, but it was the heavens slowly opening to deliver bike and I a decent drench, the rooster tail of wheel water prompting my phone to be shifted to a drier spot. Almost refreshed and certainly cooled at the dipper, I had a blow dry from the breeze (now more northerly) by Rivers' end. With wattage waining I eased off the throttle to Mitchell Rd, saving something for Conrod's headwind. A few peeks behind saw a track devoid of Couldabeens, Cats or Goats, it was the turkeys driving without headlights that was the oncoming worry. Emptying the last drops of energy in Conrod, I soaked up Strava's generous January 2015 trophies (worth the 162 suffer score?) but wonder what anguish if February sees us striving Strava starved?
Suprised by a dry Friday morning, an opportunity to squeeze a lap in begged. My heartrate had vanished from the Garmin screen (checked I wasn't dead) but soon realised the sensor was upside down Miss Jane. Righted and re-instated, I cranked east in Knight Street (freaky feline free) and through the SPC roundabout into Old Dookie, desolate and devoid of Hurt Locker or Breakaways. Damn wind (ENE) hindered a decent speed till Boundary, by the Pub it had swung SSE. There were a few puddles to avoid (to keep the posterior powder dry), at least comfort has been found on the Fizik after months of being a pain in the......... A very grey start to the day and not a bike to be seen till two neat lines of Couldabeens were found eastward in River Rd. On course for an early finish, I was suprised to find a bit left in the tank for a 40+ push in Conrod, a swansong for a rain ruined weekend?
Week 2 : 277km YTD 320km
Rider of the Week : more cryptic this week after the clever Cougar solved last weeks [Weapon] within hours.
174cm tall, black bike, Louis Garneau shoes, once worked at Vic Roads.
Friday, January 2, 2015
Week 1 : Tarmac tinsel and peculiar proctologists
With a few festive days away, I congregated with the Titaniums Sunday, Giff, Grant, Jarrod, Ray, John and seven others (names lost to my poor recall) for an interstate lap. There's not many protocols or organisation on bunch roles or positions, but I winged the pecking order on the border crossing and north out of Barooga, Berrigan bound. A strengthening northeaster ramped up the effort to maintain speed to Lalalty (a bustling metropolis of one farmhouse), finding myself on the front with Ray (aka Mr Mullet) for the drive on Coldwells road to Spud hill (only a few hundred metres long but a peaky little sandhill that saps speed swiftly). Over the top in 5th spot (on the big ring of course!), happy to record a PB but happier to compose the cardiac calamity and slow to regroup the stretched bunch. Southbound on the Barooga back Rd was heavensent, helped by a tailwind, a chin wag with newbie Jarrod (2 months pedalling two wheels) relived much of my early days. Local landmark ostriches stood out on the dry-as-a-chip farmland, John the Pom keen to power up the Mulwala-Barooga Rd hill (a double humper not unlike Dookie's), me pleased (as a fossilized flatlander) to be fourth at the top. The narrow Angle road sprint was shut down with oncoming traffic, or was it a velied excuse for Christmas pudding overload? Bike bunch comparisons conversed with Giff and Westy back at the cafe, a handy little 40k to wear off recently collected calories.
I took an honoured invite to join the ten Plastics (slightly softer than Sundays Titaniums) in Cobram on Monday, a short lap to keep the legs vocation of rotation on vacation. Twas a humid roll down Campbells Rd assisted by a strong NNE (15-28km/h), flying blind on a course at the mercy of local knowledge had caution to the fore. 9k's down to Parnell Road passed fast, I was put to work at the front to earn my keep and invitation. An urge to donate a draft for the 7k's north back to town kept me at the front, four progressively pairing with me as my heart rate brewed to 180. (felt good though, fuelled by copious Christmas calories?) Back into town, many peeled off to head to work, an espresso and raisin toast was my only workload.
Back on home soil Tuesday, the Goat population had thinned, holidays and imminent new year reducing the bunch to 14. Phil and I took the suburbs lead-out, many resisting the usual speed out Old Dookie Rd, despite the breeze behind. JB and Tina boarded at the Doyles roundabout , Santa blessing Tina with shiny new Bont's. BigPaul had corralled the cadence into Boundary Rd as we reeled in Sosso on a solitary spin, most warming up in 11 degrees by River Rd to pick up the pace, my concentration honed in on a smooth tempo while pondering the state of BigPauls Colnago (all the cleanliness of a cyclo-cross champ). A canine caused chicane of rubbish strewn across the tarmac at Rivers' end, a calm called at Central Kialla but back on the gas in Mitchell kept up the variety, sticks aplenty to dodge in Raftery road just for good measure. Driver numbers were down to five by Arcadia Downs, finding myself at the pointy end (again!) in Conrod's dip, so spent all my pennies in the mid 40's to tow JB and Dipper into a one-two in the closing metres. A fair bit of tarmac tinsel (broken glass) to avoid in the bike lane through town, but a mid week dose of coffee and conversation was a holiday treat.
Wednesday was a cool close to 2014, resisting the early peep at the bureau stats for fear of not making it past the front door. Better to gloat at what's achieved than grizzle at what's to endure (10 feels like 7, seen later). Five had single filed behind Cougar this time at the roundabout, thumbing through the encyclopaedia of excuses to avoid a turn at the front? Pistol and I took the lead duties for the 4 k's of Archer, just my luck there was a SSW'er to endure. How quickly we grump when the temperature drops to bring armwarmers out of hibernation, memories of the minus twos in mid July have faded fast! A lot of chat on the festive digestive elective, time to pick up the pace to whittle away the waistline of recent gluttony. Minto was solo in River Rd, a full flock of felines flew west with the blossoming bunch of Breakaways (9) behind. My second shift at the front was a long drive with Pete, bike bait ahead seeded the need for speed, the tailbreeze utopia with SuperMario in Boundary road was a more kindly part two. There was a calmer cha cha karma toward home on Channel Rd many still in holiday mode, the post ride tattle at Ronald's most relaxing with no work agenda to keep.
A resolve to ride new years day was quickly quashed by neighbourhood fireworks and frivolity till 4am, sleep was far more appealing. Fed the bike addiction Friday though, an early squirt with the Kialla contingent of Couldabeens the sensible option before the heat (42) rolled in. Just Pistol, Cougar, Shorty, Rocket, AvantiTrev, Jase and Kenworth lined up with lesser daylight now noticable post equinox, happy to be a few wheels back in the bunch in Archer Rd to ease early efforts. I pondered the posture of the peleton perplexed, possibly perceiving a population of peculiar proctologists, poised pedalling peering at posteriors? Nobody talked of new years resolutions, it was either late night festivities or early evening retirement that polarised the peleton. An east northeaster propelled the 51 squad way ahead of persuing pussycats in River Rd, I had a dream sit being towed along east, Rocket and Pistol providing the wattage. The scenery blurred by with thoughts only on a caffine fix, the wind behind in Channel road emphasised effort for the Cha Cha sprint. AvantiTrev ran out of urge as Pistol, Rocket and Kenworth bolted for glory, but a throttle off to the school regrouped the bunch. A final fling at the Mexican Bonanza was more contained, then a chatty cruise to hit coffee capped the week, a feast of new years Strava trophies inciting incentives.
Week 1 (plus three days of last year) :192 km
With Fossilisms all but exhausted, I'll try Rider of the Week, a quiz of rider identity, but more an insight into the persona sometimes veiled by lycra. Get to know your fellow bike addict, the answer next week, but a small prize to the first who identifies the rider beforehand.
Rider of the Week
176cm tall. Green eyes. Bell Helmet. Artist. DuraAce wheels. Former newspaper writer. Viola player.
I took an honoured invite to join the ten Plastics (slightly softer than Sundays Titaniums) in Cobram on Monday, a short lap to keep the legs vocation of rotation on vacation. Twas a humid roll down Campbells Rd assisted by a strong NNE (15-28km/h), flying blind on a course at the mercy of local knowledge had caution to the fore. 9k's down to Parnell Road passed fast, I was put to work at the front to earn my keep and invitation. An urge to donate a draft for the 7k's north back to town kept me at the front, four progressively pairing with me as my heart rate brewed to 180. (felt good though, fuelled by copious Christmas calories?) Back into town, many peeled off to head to work, an espresso and raisin toast was my only workload.
Back on home soil Tuesday, the Goat population had thinned, holidays and imminent new year reducing the bunch to 14. Phil and I took the suburbs lead-out, many resisting the usual speed out Old Dookie Rd, despite the breeze behind. JB and Tina boarded at the Doyles roundabout , Santa blessing Tina with shiny new Bont's. BigPaul had corralled the cadence into Boundary Rd as we reeled in Sosso on a solitary spin, most warming up in 11 degrees by River Rd to pick up the pace, my concentration honed in on a smooth tempo while pondering the state of BigPauls Colnago (all the cleanliness of a cyclo-cross champ). A canine caused chicane of rubbish strewn across the tarmac at Rivers' end, a calm called at Central Kialla but back on the gas in Mitchell kept up the variety, sticks aplenty to dodge in Raftery road just for good measure. Driver numbers were down to five by Arcadia Downs, finding myself at the pointy end (again!) in Conrod's dip, so spent all my pennies in the mid 40's to tow JB and Dipper into a one-two in the closing metres. A fair bit of tarmac tinsel (broken glass) to avoid in the bike lane through town, but a mid week dose of coffee and conversation was a holiday treat.
Wednesday was a cool close to 2014, resisting the early peep at the bureau stats for fear of not making it past the front door. Better to gloat at what's achieved than grizzle at what's to endure (10 feels like 7, seen later). Five had single filed behind Cougar this time at the roundabout, thumbing through the encyclopaedia of excuses to avoid a turn at the front? Pistol and I took the lead duties for the 4 k's of Archer, just my luck there was a SSW'er to endure. How quickly we grump when the temperature drops to bring armwarmers out of hibernation, memories of the minus twos in mid July have faded fast! A lot of chat on the festive digestive elective, time to pick up the pace to whittle away the waistline of recent gluttony. Minto was solo in River Rd, a full flock of felines flew west with the blossoming bunch of Breakaways (9) behind. My second shift at the front was a long drive with Pete, bike bait ahead seeded the need for speed, the tailbreeze utopia with SuperMario in Boundary road was a more kindly part two. There was a calmer cha cha karma toward home on Channel Rd many still in holiday mode, the post ride tattle at Ronald's most relaxing with no work agenda to keep.
A resolve to ride new years day was quickly quashed by neighbourhood fireworks and frivolity till 4am, sleep was far more appealing. Fed the bike addiction Friday though, an early squirt with the Kialla contingent of Couldabeens the sensible option before the heat (42) rolled in. Just Pistol, Cougar, Shorty, Rocket, AvantiTrev, Jase and Kenworth lined up with lesser daylight now noticable post equinox, happy to be a few wheels back in the bunch in Archer Rd to ease early efforts. I pondered the posture of the peleton perplexed, possibly perceiving a population of peculiar proctologists, poised pedalling peering at posteriors? Nobody talked of new years resolutions, it was either late night festivities or early evening retirement that polarised the peleton. An east northeaster propelled the 51 squad way ahead of persuing pussycats in River Rd, I had a dream sit being towed along east, Rocket and Pistol providing the wattage. The scenery blurred by with thoughts only on a caffine fix, the wind behind in Channel road emphasised effort for the Cha Cha sprint. AvantiTrev ran out of urge as Pistol, Rocket and Kenworth bolted for glory, but a throttle off to the school regrouped the bunch. A final fling at the Mexican Bonanza was more contained, then a chatty cruise to hit coffee capped the week, a feast of new years Strava trophies inciting incentives.
Week 1 (plus three days of last year) :192 km
With Fossilisms all but exhausted, I'll try Rider of the Week, a quiz of rider identity, but more an insight into the persona sometimes veiled by lycra. Get to know your fellow bike addict, the answer next week, but a small prize to the first who identifies the rider beforehand.
Rider of the Week
176cm tall. Green eyes. Bell Helmet. Artist. DuraAce wheels. Former newspaper writer. Viola player.
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