Yet another cool start in the dark, no show by Wozza (suffering snooze button-itis) so it was a sprint to the Saturday grid, arriving to get a rare sighting of SuperMario, rumours of his wild card entry into basket weaving have been exagerated! The usual contenders lined up ; Jase, Shorty, AvantiTrev, AvantiChris, PistolPete, Cougar, Trav, Jen (resplendant in Couldabeens kit) Rocket and Ron (rainbowed in Genesis gear). I was the wilted lettuce leaf placed in the Rocket/Pistol sandwich (again!), our progress east on Channel Rd collecting Ange, Linda, Bo and Kel at the school, the short-cutting Wozza arriving at the S bend. Almost half the bunch were sitting on, double shifts for the eight driving the tempo will only widen the gap between pacers and puffers. A chilled southerly assisted the passage to the Emu, lights went out for Jen and Cougar on the westward leg home. I scored a super smooth tow from Rocket in Ford Rd, the reality of matching him at the front, not so super. The sprint for Wanganui hill honours fragmented the pack behind Pistol and Rocket, Bo kaboomed in the attempt to stay with them, I towed Wozz to the base camp where wattage won him bronze, content was I with 4th, attempting to regain composure in Rudd Rd. Ange, Ron, Bo and Linda vied for a special Lemontree sprint stage, a race for the warm seats and first rights to place a breakfast order? Conversation on Marz, mullets, Le Tour and swingers proved verbal variety.
Saturday nights innaugural Goat Ball was a hoot, many of the gathered Goats in fine fettle, the green jacket presentation (principal Skinner), Goat of the Year (the tenacious Tina) , Heady's ditty o' diatribe, an unveiling of the Head Goat mayoral chain, all washed down with copious grape hydration amounted to a sweet Sunday slumber (but a gastric eruption for some) .
The prologue habit was easy to break on Monday with a minus 3 forecast so it was a lazy roll to Friars in search of any Antarctic explorers. Only Coggo, Carl, Tum and Belly were in a fit state at 6 bells, so a frosty five found Old Dookie Rd to single file an effort east. Behind Coggo's smooth drive to Central Ave, I had a dip to School Rd, Tum took a tamer tempo that all could manage to Boundary Rd. Carl cranked a fluctuating shift, twas an effort to stay aboard tucking in after I'd flattened my batteries from a long go at the front. Belly took a short turn (hindered by the handbrake of Goat Ball hydration?) and so the turns alternated. The oncoming Craig "lotsalumens" roasted the retinas as we speared toward the Broken bridges, the miniscule rise from one tree dam to River Rd threatening the thighs. My go again when we steered into River Rd, concentration on a smooth speed and shifting the goal posts to "one more white post" driving a 3400 metre turn. Ready to peel off the front when a call of "car back" put me on hold, 170 bpm and waiting for the overtake took an eternity. I emptied the driving drawer catching the last wheel, great to get into the draft but muscles mimicked meltdown. There was just enough time in the tow to recover for the next shift starting at Mt. Nicolaci, an interruption for the traffic peak (5 cars) at the highway and on to the horse stud. Tum took the reigns as we swung into Conrod, he put in a mighty turn till the noddies told the end was nigh, but I couldn't take the candy from the baby, letting him enjoy the well earned chocolates.
I was almost charged with aggrevated assault on the snooze button Tuesday morning, dredging the depths of disdain to overcome winters apathy. A northeaster blew (13-20 km/h) to torment the trip to the Emu, watching the heart rate climb from 119 to 160 but ignoring the speed (may have shattered a fragile ego). Guessing I'd be suffering the k cravings if Wednesday's forecast came true drove me on, the turn south was bliss, the Toaster turn even better. Approaching Boundary, a Cat pack of l.e.d.'s were oncoming, steering south shifting my focus on being pursued. (or is pursuing better?) Distance is hard to define in the dark, seemed to be holding the gap heading south but the lights loomed closer in River Rd. Cate and Cougar braved the eastbound leg as I attempted some form of progress west, the glance back becoming a ritual by Central Kialla. Fleeing became futile as I turned into Mitchell Rd, lights even closer as I crawled up Mt. Nicolaci (but I held a little gap with a clean cross of the highway) Reaching the horse stud the Cat collective of 16 passed, so I took advantage of a free tow in Conrod witha a g'day to G and BassoDave as they sorted their pecking order to the finish line.
Wednesday's thunderstorm forecast came true (slumber training a rare treat), weird weather arrived Thursday, a mild 9.5 degrees, foggy, with a light northeaster blowing, an unusual combo for mid winter. Intercepting Wozza on the main drag to spin south to the Couldabeens, winter without ice prompted proper population (Tuesdays turbo tempo tests 'tendance) of Rocket, Cougar, ChrisA, AvantiChris, PistolPete, SpinDoctor, Jase, Trav, FeltMat, Temple and AvantiTrev. The first leg to Doyles Rd on the front with Wozz was an exercise in eternity, emptying energy early, elongating effort, essentially eroding ego's engine. Finally tucked into the delicious draft of recovery on leg two, others ventured forward for a dip at the deep end, inspiring to see Temple taking a turn but AvantiTrev, Cougar and FeltMat were luxuriating in the co-efficient of drag. SpinDoctor divulged he's been pushing the bigger gears out front ; still appears dervishly dizzy to me! Our flight south and west was bouyed by breeze north and east, River Rd's normally labourious length covered quickly and comfortably. It was a rare appearance for AvantiChris on a Thursday, Jase on a cold come-back but there's still many regulars missing. Exiting Roubaix and convincing the cranial critics to crack another turn at the business end, Pistol, SpinDoctor, Rocket, ChrisA and Wozz (line astern) bumped up the pace as the end drew nigh, evaporating enthusiasm and vapourising vim for me to sit back in the survival seat. Like lambs to the slaughter, Conrod crucified Pistol and SpinDoctor, Wozza and Rocket relegating all others to B graders, electing me as their tortured tow truck for the last 300 metres. The fog morphed to mist to saturate the slog home.
The slim window of hope was left ajar on Friday's radar, a gap to squeeze a lap in, prior to precipitation. Graham-Verney-Ford-Wanganui and Rudd was the warm up course, soaking up the northeaster was a soft serve start (not as soft as Hollywood's porridge though). Back into town for a little interval training (traffic lights) then south on Conrod straight pondering a Couldabeens intercept. The radical action of changing gear had to happen facing Mitchell Rd, 24km/h gusts were taking up the slack. Climbing Mt Nicolaci (and predicting Pistol's pace) the Couldabeens collaboration was cancelled, chasing the tail-light ahead seemed an easier option. A trip down memory lane (eastward along the length of Mitchell) caught and passed Craig, setting about growing the gap in spite of the wind hinderance. A lengthy string of Cat l.e.d.'s swung west into River Rd as I plotted a Boundary-Old Dookie course home, crossing tracks with Goats Heady, Coggo and Belly southbound at the Pub. A luxury leg home blown west along Old Dookie, back up the driveway just as the first spits of rain fell, heavens opening as the bike was parked, <yr.no> praised for it's accuracy.
Week 30 248 km YTD 8,881
Pleasing to get page views from China, USA and Oman, some of your weather would be welcome!
Saturday, July 25, 2015
Friday, July 17, 2015
Week 29 ; Pickle my pulminary's, a Pistol in my back!
A bleak Sunday morning had plenty pulling the pin on a spin, I got to Friars at 7.30 to find all had abandoned ship, so a solo ride it was. Pointed east on Old Dookie Rd after tip-toeing the greasy corners in town, a cloud parked on the paddocks made a misty trail to Boundary Rd. Cranking through pea soup speckled specs, vignetting the view. A pair of damp devotees northbound near the pub deserved a salute (justified my insanity too) just one other spotted eastbound on River Rd. (cloaked from Strava Flyby's) The sun finally pierced through the gloom at Central Kialla, vivid colours against the dark blue-grey clouds hanging low in the south. Well dampened by Roubaix corner, I activated the clothes drier of high thirties for Conrod straight to finish, did nothing but make me soggier.
I took the soft option of an anticlockwise lap Monday with a forecast southwester, keeping the breeze at my back for at least half the circuit. 77 rpm seemed to be the groove to sit in, Raftery Rd a chore till turning west into Mitchell. A howler helped along River Rd, superfluous sticks to swerve, Rocket, Ron and co heads down westbound. Wind whipped at the wheels, all fell silent when it swung directly behind, save for the Mavic music. Coggo, Carl and Tum were slogging south at the Broken bridges, I was bathed in bliss for Boundary, blown by the breeze behind, but the honeymoon soon ended turning to town on New Dookie Rd. (just for the change in scenery), the wicked wind had swung westsouthwest to make it masochist Monday. Suprised to make reasonable progress (77 rpm), just maintaining it was the big challenge, focussing a few metres ahead rather than the distant target, a pleasure to end the hurt arriving back in town.
Speared the Cygo into Ford Rd's darkness at 5.05 Tuesday, a tailwind to artificially inflate the ability, a headwind back to deflate and destroy. Out of the dark treetops swept a great egret with the wingspan of an
A-380, banking just above my helmet to scare the sh.....imano out of me, an adrenelin addition to the average. Felt the westerly's wrath at the wheels southbound, partaking the parfum de piggy (a nasal anemometer) at the Toaster, but felt suprisingly good into the headwind home, atop the 17 at 77 rpm seemed to be the cog of choice. Back to the metropolis, all the way back to Friars a minute before Goat flagfall for quick quips with Coggo, Kate, Phil, Sandy, Joe, Hommy Heady and Belly. The team toured east exiting town, regular rollover rituals on Old Dookie sandwiched between Phil and Heady. Once the echelon ettiquette was established, Boundary Rd progress was better than expected, Sandy taking a back seat with convalescent Kate. Into the nitty gritty of River Rd's headwind, we'd just got into a rhythm when Heady hollered a puncture. Time out of my favour, I tendered my apologies and continued solo, a slog along the alternate truck route (a welcomed brief tow from two B doubles and a semi, line astern) then the h.r. escalation on Archer for the drive home by 7.
Keeping condition and counting k's caused an early Old Dookie-Boundary-Channel Rd lap Wednesday (reminiscing the original Cat laps 7 years ago) , odd patches of mist from last nights rain but an eye on the clock to keep a 6am Couldabeens appointment. Concerns were cancelled arriving 7 minutes early, a roll to the bridge and back to prevent rigor mortis, then greet AvantiChris, Pistol Pete, Spin Doctor, Shorty, Hollywood, Cougar and Tucks, assembled for the usual 28k reverse lap. Off at 6 for a gradual dial up of tempo to reach cruising speed, on Hollywoods wheel with a Pistol pointing in my back. Calm was called on the turn into Mitchell (thank heaven after being cooked by Pete) but Hollywood punctured in Central Kialla, performing a pitstop pantomime in tiresome tyre tardiness, assisted of course by lavish servings of inuendo, hyperbole and sarcasm. Back underway just before someone called for coffee to be delivered, the bunch cranked into River Rd, Cougar with another loss of lumens. I had a second basting from Pistol on the Boundary Rd leg, 2800 metres of marinading in a spicy pace to pickle my pulminary's. We settled into Channel Rd bound for home, some champing at the Cha Cha as the mercury settled to zero, my legs fit for the fourties, while others fried in the fifties. An epilogue of a pacy push home making ammends from Hollywood's intermission.
All the signs said "Bail Out" Thursday, a stiff southerly (20-33 km/h), spits of rain multiplying and loss of satellite on the Garmin. Pessimism in the prefrontal spelt doom, defeat and doona. (but a feint call within the cranial cavity cried carpe diem). Waiting at the start (hoping nobody arrived?) it was just Rocket who turned up, a Ferrari fronting a formula Ford Fiesta race! Temple arrived and promptly turned tail for home as we layed tracks in a lightly glossed Channel Rd, bragging rights over the doona divers was the only driving force with the heart rate already at 160. A word or two with Rocket only added more, Rocket delivering unbroken paragraphs while my sentences were fragmented by oxygen intermissions. Rocket's compassion for the frail and aged kindly loaned me a tow when we steered south, a delight to be dragged in the drivers draft along Boundary. I'd zoned in on effort but out on location, arriving at River Rd sooner suprised. I tried the ride beside but lungs denied, legs fried and spirits died, back into the tow again. Two bikes bearing east (determined/ delerious, committed/certified, dedicated/deluded, strike out that which does not apply) were follwed by one a k in arrears, u-turning as we slogged the south leg of Central Kialla Rd, curiousity calling a calming of cadence in Mitchell Rd to identify the pursuer. LateLeigh arrived breathless (funny, he'd missed the Cat lap start), Rocket resumed his tow truck services, out of Roubaix in the fourties, nudging fifties in Conrod, enjoying a hard earned tailwind home.
A prologue of Ford, Lemnos North and Old Dookie roads was a warm up (?, 6 degrees) to the Friars frier, trying to keep below 138 bpm to preserve pace for later. Coggo and Tum were on the Friars grid, a lightweight Heady arriving at the last minute, with appropriate headwear. The quartet filed out of town, Heady handing me the reigns for the heart starter to Dobsons bridge. Tum's typical tempo tested us, good to be in Coggo's smooth tow till the breeze in Boundary needed cutting. (happy to be able to drive at 165 bpm for 2.1 k). The eastbound Couldabeens train was easily spotted eastbound on River Rd, a slow for traffic and their intersection arrival gave us a moment to top up the oxygen. Heady was suffering the speed as I peeled off the front, Tum took the lions share of River Rd from the dip to the end. Coggo dragged us to Mitchell, my go to Archer showed the strain, delighted to duck into the draft till my next shift in Conrod. I'd burnt all the beans by the last dip, handing Heady the chocolates, a quick quadrella quashed queries on quickness but quietly questioned qualm.
Week 29 312 km YTD 8,633
I took the soft option of an anticlockwise lap Monday with a forecast southwester, keeping the breeze at my back for at least half the circuit. 77 rpm seemed to be the groove to sit in, Raftery Rd a chore till turning west into Mitchell. A howler helped along River Rd, superfluous sticks to swerve, Rocket, Ron and co heads down westbound. Wind whipped at the wheels, all fell silent when it swung directly behind, save for the Mavic music. Coggo, Carl and Tum were slogging south at the Broken bridges, I was bathed in bliss for Boundary, blown by the breeze behind, but the honeymoon soon ended turning to town on New Dookie Rd. (just for the change in scenery), the wicked wind had swung westsouthwest to make it masochist Monday. Suprised to make reasonable progress (77 rpm), just maintaining it was the big challenge, focussing a few metres ahead rather than the distant target, a pleasure to end the hurt arriving back in town.
Speared the Cygo into Ford Rd's darkness at 5.05 Tuesday, a tailwind to artificially inflate the ability, a headwind back to deflate and destroy. Out of the dark treetops swept a great egret with the wingspan of an
A-380, banking just above my helmet to scare the sh.....imano out of me, an adrenelin addition to the average. Felt the westerly's wrath at the wheels southbound, partaking the parfum de piggy (a nasal anemometer) at the Toaster, but felt suprisingly good into the headwind home, atop the 17 at 77 rpm seemed to be the cog of choice. Back to the metropolis, all the way back to Friars a minute before Goat flagfall for quick quips with Coggo, Kate, Phil, Sandy, Joe, Hommy Heady and Belly. The team toured east exiting town, regular rollover rituals on Old Dookie sandwiched between Phil and Heady. Once the echelon ettiquette was established, Boundary Rd progress was better than expected, Sandy taking a back seat with convalescent Kate. Into the nitty gritty of River Rd's headwind, we'd just got into a rhythm when Heady hollered a puncture. Time out of my favour, I tendered my apologies and continued solo, a slog along the alternate truck route (a welcomed brief tow from two B doubles and a semi, line astern) then the h.r. escalation on Archer for the drive home by 7.
Keeping condition and counting k's caused an early Old Dookie-Boundary-Channel Rd lap Wednesday (reminiscing the original Cat laps 7 years ago) , odd patches of mist from last nights rain but an eye on the clock to keep a 6am Couldabeens appointment. Concerns were cancelled arriving 7 minutes early, a roll to the bridge and back to prevent rigor mortis, then greet AvantiChris, Pistol Pete, Spin Doctor, Shorty, Hollywood, Cougar and Tucks, assembled for the usual 28k reverse lap. Off at 6 for a gradual dial up of tempo to reach cruising speed, on Hollywoods wheel with a Pistol pointing in my back. Calm was called on the turn into Mitchell (thank heaven after being cooked by Pete) but Hollywood punctured in Central Kialla, performing a pitstop pantomime in tiresome tyre tardiness, assisted of course by lavish servings of inuendo, hyperbole and sarcasm. Back underway just before someone called for coffee to be delivered, the bunch cranked into River Rd, Cougar with another loss of lumens. I had a second basting from Pistol on the Boundary Rd leg, 2800 metres of marinading in a spicy pace to pickle my pulminary's. We settled into Channel Rd bound for home, some champing at the Cha Cha as the mercury settled to zero, my legs fit for the fourties, while others fried in the fifties. An epilogue of a pacy push home making ammends from Hollywood's intermission.
All the signs said "Bail Out" Thursday, a stiff southerly (20-33 km/h), spits of rain multiplying and loss of satellite on the Garmin. Pessimism in the prefrontal spelt doom, defeat and doona. (but a feint call within the cranial cavity cried carpe diem). Waiting at the start (hoping nobody arrived?) it was just Rocket who turned up, a Ferrari fronting a formula Ford Fiesta race! Temple arrived and promptly turned tail for home as we layed tracks in a lightly glossed Channel Rd, bragging rights over the doona divers was the only driving force with the heart rate already at 160. A word or two with Rocket only added more, Rocket delivering unbroken paragraphs while my sentences were fragmented by oxygen intermissions. Rocket's compassion for the frail and aged kindly loaned me a tow when we steered south, a delight to be dragged in the drivers draft along Boundary. I'd zoned in on effort but out on location, arriving at River Rd sooner suprised. I tried the ride beside but lungs denied, legs fried and spirits died, back into the tow again. Two bikes bearing east (determined/ delerious, committed/certified, dedicated/deluded, strike out that which does not apply) were follwed by one a k in arrears, u-turning as we slogged the south leg of Central Kialla Rd, curiousity calling a calming of cadence in Mitchell Rd to identify the pursuer. LateLeigh arrived breathless (funny, he'd missed the Cat lap start), Rocket resumed his tow truck services, out of Roubaix in the fourties, nudging fifties in Conrod, enjoying a hard earned tailwind home.
A prologue of Ford, Lemnos North and Old Dookie roads was a warm up (?, 6 degrees) to the Friars frier, trying to keep below 138 bpm to preserve pace for later. Coggo and Tum were on the Friars grid, a lightweight Heady arriving at the last minute, with appropriate headwear. The quartet filed out of town, Heady handing me the reigns for the heart starter to Dobsons bridge. Tum's typical tempo tested us, good to be in Coggo's smooth tow till the breeze in Boundary needed cutting. (happy to be able to drive at 165 bpm for 2.1 k). The eastbound Couldabeens train was easily spotted eastbound on River Rd, a slow for traffic and their intersection arrival gave us a moment to top up the oxygen. Heady was suffering the speed as I peeled off the front, Tum took the lions share of River Rd from the dip to the end. Coggo dragged us to Mitchell, my go to Archer showed the strain, delighted to duck into the draft till my next shift in Conrod. I'd burnt all the beans by the last dip, handing Heady the chocolates, a quick quadrella quashed queries on quickness but quietly questioned qualm.
Week 29 312 km YTD 8,633
Saturday, July 11, 2015
Week 28 : A winter investment
No takers beyond Wozz and I for a Saturday prologue, the committed (or should be committed) set a southerly sail on a reverse Tuesday/Thursday circuit, finding just the tap to Raftery Rd a workout, climbing Steptoe's hill near Conrod's finish line felt like a life's acheivement. There was a whole lot of soft suffering going on barely into the thirties, out of the seat to cross the highway felt like i'd loaned my legs as Hunter Sam's punching bags. On the 17 spin again to keep the momentum and warmth balance, River roads' seemingly endless length stretched ahead to torment us, yearning the arrival of those fourteen white dashes on the tarmac that signal it's end. North to Channel Rd and west back to town on the favoured fifteen put pleasure into the prefrontal, delighted to finally u-turn at the school and join the fifteen Couldabeens/Genesis brigade for a timely tow. A consolatory cruise allowed the social chat to the Emu, the bar raised a little westward to town but no complaints received. No chance of a sprint placement finding myself beside Nev approaching DECA, the tank well emptied before the Wanganui hill (but plucked off a few hopefuls out of stubborn minded achievement anyway). Rounding Rudd, I dropped back for a trailing light 50 metres in arrears, a tow for Linda back to the pack for the recovery roll to the Lemontree. Chat on chickens feet, BMI and French chateau's, Ange and MasiMario deep in philisophical fellowship. .
Put out an APB for motivation Monday, almost sucummed to the temptation of the doona till thoughts of contracting BigMat-itis put enthusiasm into gear. Grizzled my way east to the Emu at 5, the slightest hint of a northeaster (7 km/h) labouring the legs and putting pain before pleasure. Snuck the chain onto the fifteen heading to the Toaster, relief for the rector femoris with higher hopes heading west in Old Dookie Rd. Fortunately fortuitous finding the fourteen fine Boundary bound, steering into the smooth tarmac compressed by years of truck travel, just to make the most of it. Two bikes northbound in Boundary (pidgeons in search of Cats to be amongst?) a soloist Mexican south of the highway, three Breakaways in River Rd and Craig "lotsalumens" in Mitchell Rd the only oncomings. (thanks to Strava's "flybys") Mt Nicolaci emptied the energy (like the Mur de Huy for me), the last three k's of Raftery driven by pondering what form the calories would take in the post ride refuel.
What creatures of habit we are, dug up the enthusiasm to crawl out of a warm bed on Tuesday, finding myself Emu bound on the 17 cog, struggling for speed again.....some never learn! It was Groundhog day at the Toaster, pushing the 15 yeilded better momentum, back to town ahead of my e.t.a., making it to SPC's roundabout to join the Goats exiting suburbia. Belly, Coggo, Hommy, Phil, Heady, Principal Skinner Joe, Sandy, Kate and foreigner ArgonDave (no late shift for the Cats) now aboard a slick Scott (vale Argon, a crash crunched and crucified carbon last week). A svelte and organised rotation got rolling eastward to Boundary, I made a dud call at the highway for a car appearing suddenly, warranted a yell of stop but complacency called car left. Safely through though, the rotational roster resumed, Kate and Sandy as tail-light twins. A decent roll west to Central Kialla where time forced me to abandon for a short cut home (pondering the intelligence of those in black cars who can't use headlights half an hour before sun up.
Sanity was seriously questioned facing minus 1.4 degrees from a cosy bed, but then I should question Wozza's agreement to an early 30k prologue to Wednesday's Couldabeens habit. (I guess more than one riding in such temperature voids the insanity?) New Dookie Rd east, Boundary south and Channel Rd west, trying to warm from winters' woes, What's App pinging a flood of Goat apologies abandoning their ride, CerveloJohn the sole soldier. Wozz and I wheeled our way on Channel Rd, hoping the serious investment of winter k's will pay decent dividends in Spring. Early back to town, a casual cruise of Kialla Lakes metered the minutes till the carpark flagfall, just AvantiTrev, Cougar, Cate, Chops, Trav and Pistol ready for an Antarctic mission. A cruisy lap with most on a survival-circumventing-speed agenda, Cougar and Chops chatty in the rear stalls, Pistol somewhat sprint starved till the Cha Cha helped the hunger. Sensations lost in fingers and toes by the time we'd reached town but some warmth gained in the achievement over others who feared to tread.
Chewed the Tour fat with Wozz at 5.30 en-route to Thursday's Couldabeens, the small gathering of SpinDoctor, Temple, ChrisA, Cougar, Trav and Pistol a recipe for a relaxed ride. Ron and Nev rolled into Channel Rd just as Wozz and I led the petite peleton from the startline. (made sense for us to roll up behind and sit on) A calm and cruisy first two legs set a mellow mood, a salve of salvation from winters testing tempo of late. By the time i'd revisited the pointy end, Pistol had percolated the pace, slicing into a northeaster adding a little spice. I survived the next turn with Ron till Brokens bridges, time in the tow for respiratory recovery as Nev, Wozz, SpinDoctor, ChrisA, Trav and Pistol cranked their contributions. An easterly eased the effort in River Rd, 6 k's passing quickly to conscript me to the front again for the Kialla Central stage with Pistol. Ron rolled reaching Archer, almost euphoric tucked into his generous draft. Nev sweetly syncronised the highway crossing betwixt the B doubles, I was lamenting the length the legs would last as we rounded Roubaix, up to the drivers seat again at the horse stud calling a short shift to Pistol and a rapid Ron rollover. With the horsepower of ChrisA, Wozz and Nev advancing through the ranks motivation had resigned faster than a Greek finance minister, I took timely retirement just as Trav and Ron clocked out of sprintention. SpinDoctor hit his rev limiter with 150 left of Conrod, I sneakily snared 4th with Trav in tow. Paused at punch-up bridge for Conrod's outcasts, then a smooth roll through town enjoying the (finally) swept bike lane. (elephant stamp to Wozz for an e-ffective e-mail to the street sweep peeps)
Facing kilometre deprivation from a fickle forecast Saturday drove me to an early start Friday, Boulevard bound at 5 with a damp track to tap to. Bike was grubby anyway. What's become a tried and travelled Toaster track, Lemnos-Cosgrove Rd was populated with puddles to ply, there's nothing quite like the thrill of chilled water up the inside leg! HR at 158 all the way to the Emu, a small NNE'r making a big difference southbound to the Toaster. On top of the 15 back to town reached the weighbridge by 6 but it was only Phil and Heady who had the testicular toughness to turn up. Happy to be the first volunteer, I drove the first leg to Central Ave, then in Heady's draft and on Phil's wheel, being spotted from the Vittoria's rooster tail, for a smooth but damp tow. To the fig farm from Phil, it was my drive to the pub (bit early for drinks), a moments halt for traffic. Heady and Phil shared the duty to River Rd, I was handed the reigns in River, so pushed the personal target to the bridge (4.5 k) as an internal measure. Funny how performance peaks in company but sags solo. Unfortunately, employment gets in the way of a good ride (just when we were all guaranteed a podium finish!) I retired reluctantly stage right at Rivers' end and pressed on via the truck route, Archer and northward home, scheduled to the minute to end the week.
Week 28 361 km YTD 8,321 km
Put out an APB for motivation Monday, almost sucummed to the temptation of the doona till thoughts of contracting BigMat-itis put enthusiasm into gear. Grizzled my way east to the Emu at 5, the slightest hint of a northeaster (7 km/h) labouring the legs and putting pain before pleasure. Snuck the chain onto the fifteen heading to the Toaster, relief for the rector femoris with higher hopes heading west in Old Dookie Rd. Fortunately fortuitous finding the fourteen fine Boundary bound, steering into the smooth tarmac compressed by years of truck travel, just to make the most of it. Two bikes northbound in Boundary (pidgeons in search of Cats to be amongst?) a soloist Mexican south of the highway, three Breakaways in River Rd and Craig "lotsalumens" in Mitchell Rd the only oncomings. (thanks to Strava's "flybys") Mt Nicolaci emptied the energy (like the Mur de Huy for me), the last three k's of Raftery driven by pondering what form the calories would take in the post ride refuel.
What creatures of habit we are, dug up the enthusiasm to crawl out of a warm bed on Tuesday, finding myself Emu bound on the 17 cog, struggling for speed again.....some never learn! It was Groundhog day at the Toaster, pushing the 15 yeilded better momentum, back to town ahead of my e.t.a., making it to SPC's roundabout to join the Goats exiting suburbia. Belly, Coggo, Hommy, Phil, Heady, Principal Skinner Joe, Sandy, Kate and foreigner ArgonDave (no late shift for the Cats) now aboard a slick Scott (vale Argon, a crash crunched and crucified carbon last week). A svelte and organised rotation got rolling eastward to Boundary, I made a dud call at the highway for a car appearing suddenly, warranted a yell of stop but complacency called car left. Safely through though, the rotational roster resumed, Kate and Sandy as tail-light twins. A decent roll west to Central Kialla where time forced me to abandon for a short cut home (pondering the intelligence of those in black cars who can't use headlights half an hour before sun up.
Sanity was seriously questioned facing minus 1.4 degrees from a cosy bed, but then I should question Wozza's agreement to an early 30k prologue to Wednesday's Couldabeens habit. (I guess more than one riding in such temperature voids the insanity?) New Dookie Rd east, Boundary south and Channel Rd west, trying to warm from winters' woes, What's App pinging a flood of Goat apologies abandoning their ride, CerveloJohn the sole soldier. Wozz and I wheeled our way on Channel Rd, hoping the serious investment of winter k's will pay decent dividends in Spring. Early back to town, a casual cruise of Kialla Lakes metered the minutes till the carpark flagfall, just AvantiTrev, Cougar, Cate, Chops, Trav and Pistol ready for an Antarctic mission. A cruisy lap with most on a survival-circumventing-speed agenda, Cougar and Chops chatty in the rear stalls, Pistol somewhat sprint starved till the Cha Cha helped the hunger. Sensations lost in fingers and toes by the time we'd reached town but some warmth gained in the achievement over others who feared to tread.
Chewed the Tour fat with Wozz at 5.30 en-route to Thursday's Couldabeens, the small gathering of SpinDoctor, Temple, ChrisA, Cougar, Trav and Pistol a recipe for a relaxed ride. Ron and Nev rolled into Channel Rd just as Wozz and I led the petite peleton from the startline. (made sense for us to roll up behind and sit on) A calm and cruisy first two legs set a mellow mood, a salve of salvation from winters testing tempo of late. By the time i'd revisited the pointy end, Pistol had percolated the pace, slicing into a northeaster adding a little spice. I survived the next turn with Ron till Brokens bridges, time in the tow for respiratory recovery as Nev, Wozz, SpinDoctor, ChrisA, Trav and Pistol cranked their contributions. An easterly eased the effort in River Rd, 6 k's passing quickly to conscript me to the front again for the Kialla Central stage with Pistol. Ron rolled reaching Archer, almost euphoric tucked into his generous draft. Nev sweetly syncronised the highway crossing betwixt the B doubles, I was lamenting the length the legs would last as we rounded Roubaix, up to the drivers seat again at the horse stud calling a short shift to Pistol and a rapid Ron rollover. With the horsepower of ChrisA, Wozz and Nev advancing through the ranks motivation had resigned faster than a Greek finance minister, I took timely retirement just as Trav and Ron clocked out of sprintention. SpinDoctor hit his rev limiter with 150 left of Conrod, I sneakily snared 4th with Trav in tow. Paused at punch-up bridge for Conrod's outcasts, then a smooth roll through town enjoying the (finally) swept bike lane. (elephant stamp to Wozz for an e-ffective e-mail to the street sweep peeps)
Facing kilometre deprivation from a fickle forecast Saturday drove me to an early start Friday, Boulevard bound at 5 with a damp track to tap to. Bike was grubby anyway. What's become a tried and travelled Toaster track, Lemnos-Cosgrove Rd was populated with puddles to ply, there's nothing quite like the thrill of chilled water up the inside leg! HR at 158 all the way to the Emu, a small NNE'r making a big difference southbound to the Toaster. On top of the 15 back to town reached the weighbridge by 6 but it was only Phil and Heady who had the testicular toughness to turn up. Happy to be the first volunteer, I drove the first leg to Central Ave, then in Heady's draft and on Phil's wheel, being spotted from the Vittoria's rooster tail, for a smooth but damp tow. To the fig farm from Phil, it was my drive to the pub (bit early for drinks), a moments halt for traffic. Heady and Phil shared the duty to River Rd, I was handed the reigns in River, so pushed the personal target to the bridge (4.5 k) as an internal measure. Funny how performance peaks in company but sags solo. Unfortunately, employment gets in the way of a good ride (just when we were all guaranteed a podium finish!) I retired reluctantly stage right at Rivers' end and pressed on via the truck route, Archer and northward home, scheduled to the minute to end the week.
Week 28 361 km YTD 8,321 km
Friday, July 3, 2015
Week 27 Ice addiction and epilepsy
The automatic eye opener activated at 4.30am Saturday, no alternative but to climb aboard the bike at 5 and spin (76 rpm) out to the golf course and west along Wanganui Rd to soak up the time before the usual 6am bunch departed. Not a puff of wind, content to roll along in the low 30's, luxuriating in the new stretch of Verney Road (as smooth as Hollywood's head), but $2.1m only buys you 750 metres of comfort, back to the original torture track of posterior pounding before I knew it. Navigated a magical mystery tour of the suburbs (main drag, Kialla Lakes Dr, out Archer to the roundabout then back to the carpark) to arrive at the Saturday launch pad with 3 minutes to spare, Pistol, Shorty, Trav, Ron, Kel, Nev, Rocket, AvantiChris, AvantiTrev, Jen, Cougar, Cate, Nick, Ange, Linda, Temple and MasiMario making up the mob. A calm cruise control was set east, post-op Nev back aboard, Temple finally flu-less (but Rocket in-flu-enced), Kel and Ron in bold new Genesis kit, Ange as subtle as ever, AvantiTrev negative on turns at the front but Linda all positive. All were upbeat on the mild morning (5 degrees), cloud cover sheilded the chill but put on a dull start to the day. Cougar went lumenless again, an eagerness for breakfast cranking up the pace on the westward return to town (crossing paths with a small catpack near the kennels) The bunch split at Numurkah Rd, an amble with Jen (waiting for those dropped at the intersection) reflected on the cosmopolitan composition of characters in the bunch. The sprinters and sprintenders getting itchy at the whiff of Wanganui hill, the plodders, the boysterous and restrained, labourers and professionals, old hands and new. A varied little slice of society but all with the common addiction / affliction. Grouped with the backmarkers, we steamed steadily toward the peak, plucking off the sprint-spent to reach the 2.8 metre summit, rounded Rudd and rejoined those silenced by exertion.
As a change from usual Saturday protocols, I did a dismount at Friars to await the Goat gathering, Sandy, Merida Andy (with visitor Phil) Dazza, Coggo, and Hommy (happily bearhugging all who arrived). It was a bracing half k climatisation to the cold from the coffee and cafe warmth, a clockwise toaster lap called by headgoat Belly ( an asumed role with Phillo's absence?) Nine toured the Boulevard out of town (now with Sharky aboard) slowly buiding momentum (till squeaks of protest were heard?) Sharky appeared spent before he'd made an investment, Sydneysider Phil struggling with the pace (not au fait with the flatlands?), i caught up with the bike news from Coggo, Dazza and the legend that is Belly, and tapped to the Emu with the mercury struggling to get above seven. MeridaAndy and Phil continued homeward on Old Dookie Rd as we speared south on Boundary, Sharky shattered by Channel Rd, who exited stage right. Sandy cemented her spot as rear gunner as the knots gained to River Rd (37+ eroding the energy) thankfully settling for our wheel westward. By Roubaix I took the towed option, bowing out of the rotation, A Coggo vs Hommy display for sprint honours was witnessed but the stomach was set on scrambled eggs and coffee to refuel the 2,406 calories spent from 116 k's.
Monday needed wipers to clear the fog, visibility down to the next white post on an anti-clockwise solo Toaster lap, finding the dips and rises by feel on the southbound leg of Raftery Rd. I was relying on the centre white line to navigate the corners, no mistaking Roubaix's feel. The illiopsoas psoas major was working overtime at 78 rpm, craving the 15 tooth gear but I'd put that on hold till River roads' end. The fog had cleared for the headlight to highlight the dips and bumps, it was a long 6 k to Boundary Rd and the bliss of a bigger gear. Happier at 67 rpm but the gastrochnemius filed an official complaint, at least pace was inflated by 10%. I pondered a possible pussycat intervention at Old Dookie Rd (6.10) but I was well ahead of their timetable, a hint of parfum de piggy on Old Dookie Rd well before the hog Hilton confirmed a southeaster was at work. Relief to point homeward at the Emu with the puff of wind a hint of help, a little light in the sky illuminating the crisp and crusty roadside. It was a crawl up Wanganui hill with jellied legs but I was bouyed by the current state of health and the palliated posterior, 56k before 7am regarded as a sufferfest by Strava.
Aprehension filled the void between the ears on Tuesday, it's been five weeks since facing the turbo team on torment Tuesday. Fears were compunded finding just Hollywood, Pistol and Rocket on the grid, it meant tough toil till the arrival of Trav, Spin Doctor and Nick promised the load would be better shared, I still took the soft option of left hand side second wheel to delay my duty. Wozz and Pistol drove a hard bargain for the first leg, settling a little on Nick and Trav's turn thankfully, the specs pocketted for the fog (or the heavy breathing?). Spin Doctor, Pistol and Wozz bolted in Boundary Rd, Nick then Trav retiring to the rear paired me with Rocket for River road. It may have been a psychological step too steep to satisfy standards (speed set at suffering suckertash!) so I gave a short turn at the hyperventilating end, then all stops out to hang onto Hollywoods' Syncro as he rolled ahead. Turns were shortening with speed in the 40's at Rivers' end, the metamorphosis to single file had Rocket driving the Kialla Central leg. I'd resigned to the gatekeepers role approaching Archer Rd, sitting on Spin Doctors wheel when he dropped the bidon, all appreciating the holiday for heart rates as he turned back to retrieve it. The train of eight (with five functional engines) was soon back underway, steaming to Raftery with the wattage of Wozz, Hollywood, Pistol, Rocket and the Doc towing the refugees, Rocket victorius with Wozz a super second. A bit of Zen and the art of bicycle maintenance Tuesday night, a new chain, change a slow leaking tube and fit new brake blocks freshened up the old beast for a 189,000k service.
Another foggy start Wednesday, a 10 k warm-up (minus 1.5) prior to the cursory Couldabeens circuit. Verney-Ford-Wanganui-Rudd and the Boulevard got the heart rate up to speed, Wozz emerged from the fog on highway 31 to carve our way south, Jase on a chase latching on with a k to go. There was just AvantiChris, Cate and Cougar waiting in the soup at the carpark, Pistol and Spin Doctor making up an octette for the antarctic trek to Mitchell Rd, Cate's mechanical malfunction halting proceedings in leg 2. I shared the front with Pistol for central Kialla and Jase to River roads bridge, nice to be in the fractionally warmer draft to recover as we passed Mexican Anthony. My DuraAce went on a (cold) snap strike refusing to swap cogs till the shifter was freed of ice, legs got a thawing with another shift beside Pistol at the pointy end up to Channel Rd. A call of easy rounding the bend, then west to the Cha Cha, Wozza in the box seat to take the chocolates in fine form while I struggled to hold second last . A wipe of the damp nose suddenly hurt, a good crust of ice on the gloves acted as sandpaper. Under the streetlights back in town, many found a frosting on boots, helmets, handlebars and certain sensitive parts as a badge of tenacity.
I hoisted the flag of optimism in the face of a few spits of rain Thursday morning, thoughts of an unwanted long hard road back from hibernation driving me onward. I was blown to the Emu by a strong northwester, thinking it like polishing the prize before paying the price, wondering what wattage would be warranted working (wearily) westward back to town. I got on top of the 17cog to get into the groove of 72 rpm, grinding into the now WNW, a distant tail-light pursued, finally found to be Tina en route to the Goat gathering. Heady, Tum, Kate, Coggo, Phil, Belly, Joe, Baz, Hommy and Cervelo John had set sail from the suburbs, the religious rites of ride rotation regulated respiratory requirements on Old Dookie Road, a swap of social sledges with the perspicacious population of the peleton then knuckled into the chore of Boundary Rd's side wind. Baz, Kate and Tina reargunners. The rhythm was ramshackled in River road, a headwind havoc till Coggo took the drivers seat (worthy of an HG nomination). I tendered my apologies at River road's end to keep a timeclock appointment, a misting of rain on the alternate route and Archer Rd dampening the enthusiasm.
Friday found five frisky fellows fit for a Friars fryer, Tum, Coggo, Heady and Cervelo John the only ones fronting (Belly bowed out.....again!). Exiting town, I ran the gap at the Doyles roundabout but the others baulked, a few moments wait then climb aboard the indian filed torture train. Tum got the boiler up to steam, I was on Cervelo John's wheel with his tail-light unfortunately angled at my eye, earning an eerie epileptic episode I was elated to escape. Heady's calmer cruise control was heavensent, a chance to catch breath before Tum's turbo tormented us. Peeling off the front almost spent, then the desperated dig to the depths to catch the draft from the last wheel is always an effort. Feeling fairly fresh for my next turn, we flew into River Rd (a flyby to eight Couldabeens eastbound), well worn though after a 2k dip at the drivers seat. Tum and Coggo drove hard to the bridge, another breather while Heady headed us homeward. A pause at Mitchell road for traffic then back on the gas to Raftery (avoiding the gaze into Cervelo John's hypnotic tail-light) passing a punctured Ange, just as my cadence battery quit. We all had another go at the front, I got the honours of last shift to the finish line, a solid lap in just under 50 min.
Week 27 382 km YTD 7,960 km
As a change from usual Saturday protocols, I did a dismount at Friars to await the Goat gathering, Sandy, Merida Andy (with visitor Phil) Dazza, Coggo, and Hommy (happily bearhugging all who arrived). It was a bracing half k climatisation to the cold from the coffee and cafe warmth, a clockwise toaster lap called by headgoat Belly ( an asumed role with Phillo's absence?) Nine toured the Boulevard out of town (now with Sharky aboard) slowly buiding momentum (till squeaks of protest were heard?) Sharky appeared spent before he'd made an investment, Sydneysider Phil struggling with the pace (not au fait with the flatlands?), i caught up with the bike news from Coggo, Dazza and the legend that is Belly, and tapped to the Emu with the mercury struggling to get above seven. MeridaAndy and Phil continued homeward on Old Dookie Rd as we speared south on Boundary, Sharky shattered by Channel Rd, who exited stage right. Sandy cemented her spot as rear gunner as the knots gained to River Rd (37+ eroding the energy) thankfully settling for our wheel westward. By Roubaix I took the towed option, bowing out of the rotation, A Coggo vs Hommy display for sprint honours was witnessed but the stomach was set on scrambled eggs and coffee to refuel the 2,406 calories spent from 116 k's.
Monday needed wipers to clear the fog, visibility down to the next white post on an anti-clockwise solo Toaster lap, finding the dips and rises by feel on the southbound leg of Raftery Rd. I was relying on the centre white line to navigate the corners, no mistaking Roubaix's feel. The illiopsoas psoas major was working overtime at 78 rpm, craving the 15 tooth gear but I'd put that on hold till River roads' end. The fog had cleared for the headlight to highlight the dips and bumps, it was a long 6 k to Boundary Rd and the bliss of a bigger gear. Happier at 67 rpm but the gastrochnemius filed an official complaint, at least pace was inflated by 10%. I pondered a possible pussycat intervention at Old Dookie Rd (6.10) but I was well ahead of their timetable, a hint of parfum de piggy on Old Dookie Rd well before the hog Hilton confirmed a southeaster was at work. Relief to point homeward at the Emu with the puff of wind a hint of help, a little light in the sky illuminating the crisp and crusty roadside. It was a crawl up Wanganui hill with jellied legs but I was bouyed by the current state of health and the palliated posterior, 56k before 7am regarded as a sufferfest by Strava.
Aprehension filled the void between the ears on Tuesday, it's been five weeks since facing the turbo team on torment Tuesday. Fears were compunded finding just Hollywood, Pistol and Rocket on the grid, it meant tough toil till the arrival of Trav, Spin Doctor and Nick promised the load would be better shared, I still took the soft option of left hand side second wheel to delay my duty. Wozz and Pistol drove a hard bargain for the first leg, settling a little on Nick and Trav's turn thankfully, the specs pocketted for the fog (or the heavy breathing?). Spin Doctor, Pistol and Wozz bolted in Boundary Rd, Nick then Trav retiring to the rear paired me with Rocket for River road. It may have been a psychological step too steep to satisfy standards (speed set at suffering suckertash!) so I gave a short turn at the hyperventilating end, then all stops out to hang onto Hollywoods' Syncro as he rolled ahead. Turns were shortening with speed in the 40's at Rivers' end, the metamorphosis to single file had Rocket driving the Kialla Central leg. I'd resigned to the gatekeepers role approaching Archer Rd, sitting on Spin Doctors wheel when he dropped the bidon, all appreciating the holiday for heart rates as he turned back to retrieve it. The train of eight (with five functional engines) was soon back underway, steaming to Raftery with the wattage of Wozz, Hollywood, Pistol, Rocket and the Doc towing the refugees, Rocket victorius with Wozz a super second. A bit of Zen and the art of bicycle maintenance Tuesday night, a new chain, change a slow leaking tube and fit new brake blocks freshened up the old beast for a 189,000k service.
Another foggy start Wednesday, a 10 k warm-up (minus 1.5) prior to the cursory Couldabeens circuit. Verney-Ford-Wanganui-Rudd and the Boulevard got the heart rate up to speed, Wozz emerged from the fog on highway 31 to carve our way south, Jase on a chase latching on with a k to go. There was just AvantiChris, Cate and Cougar waiting in the soup at the carpark, Pistol and Spin Doctor making up an octette for the antarctic trek to Mitchell Rd, Cate's mechanical malfunction halting proceedings in leg 2. I shared the front with Pistol for central Kialla and Jase to River roads bridge, nice to be in the fractionally warmer draft to recover as we passed Mexican Anthony. My DuraAce went on a (cold) snap strike refusing to swap cogs till the shifter was freed of ice, legs got a thawing with another shift beside Pistol at the pointy end up to Channel Rd. A call of easy rounding the bend, then west to the Cha Cha, Wozza in the box seat to take the chocolates in fine form while I struggled to hold second last . A wipe of the damp nose suddenly hurt, a good crust of ice on the gloves acted as sandpaper. Under the streetlights back in town, many found a frosting on boots, helmets, handlebars and certain sensitive parts as a badge of tenacity.
I hoisted the flag of optimism in the face of a few spits of rain Thursday morning, thoughts of an unwanted long hard road back from hibernation driving me onward. I was blown to the Emu by a strong northwester, thinking it like polishing the prize before paying the price, wondering what wattage would be warranted working (wearily) westward back to town. I got on top of the 17cog to get into the groove of 72 rpm, grinding into the now WNW, a distant tail-light pursued, finally found to be Tina en route to the Goat gathering. Heady, Tum, Kate, Coggo, Phil, Belly, Joe, Baz, Hommy and Cervelo John had set sail from the suburbs, the religious rites of ride rotation regulated respiratory requirements on Old Dookie Road, a swap of social sledges with the perspicacious population of the peleton then knuckled into the chore of Boundary Rd's side wind. Baz, Kate and Tina reargunners. The rhythm was ramshackled in River road, a headwind havoc till Coggo took the drivers seat (worthy of an HG nomination). I tendered my apologies at River road's end to keep a timeclock appointment, a misting of rain on the alternate route and Archer Rd dampening the enthusiasm.
Friday found five frisky fellows fit for a Friars fryer, Tum, Coggo, Heady and Cervelo John the only ones fronting (Belly bowed out.....again!). Exiting town, I ran the gap at the Doyles roundabout but the others baulked, a few moments wait then climb aboard the indian filed torture train. Tum got the boiler up to steam, I was on Cervelo John's wheel with his tail-light unfortunately angled at my eye, earning an eerie epileptic episode I was elated to escape. Heady's calmer cruise control was heavensent, a chance to catch breath before Tum's turbo tormented us. Peeling off the front almost spent, then the desperated dig to the depths to catch the draft from the last wheel is always an effort. Feeling fairly fresh for my next turn, we flew into River Rd (a flyby to eight Couldabeens eastbound), well worn though after a 2k dip at the drivers seat. Tum and Coggo drove hard to the bridge, another breather while Heady headed us homeward. A pause at Mitchell road for traffic then back on the gas to Raftery (avoiding the gaze into Cervelo John's hypnotic tail-light) passing a punctured Ange, just as my cadence battery quit. We all had another go at the front, I got the honours of last shift to the finish line, a solid lap in just under 50 min.
Week 27 382 km YTD 7,960 km
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