Week 26. Feeding a distance hunger

Post 351

Saturday 25th June

Just a little breathtaking in the first few k's of Saturday's precursor lap, setting off on a Grand Fondo obsession in the wee small hours at -0.8 degrees had knobs on it!  Trying to relax the internal speed goal and roll with what the legs and lungs could tolerate for a 28k solo was part one of a testing trilogy to satisfy Strava's target (and the OCD in me).   Out New Dookie Rd to the church, and back via the Toaster, Boundary and Channel Rd, I was almost back to Kensington when a string of 13 Couldabeens LEDs appeared, u-turning to join Trav, Nev, Pistol, Wozz, Cate, Jase, Bruce, Cougar, TatPaul, Ange, Boof, Temple and Tina (on a diplomatic departure from the Goats) for Part 2.  Coping with the front-of-house duties was better than expected, I paired with Ange and Pistol (playing fairly on the accelerator) though my lungs were in the vice like grip of the chilled air.  I'd almost completed a social round of Couldabeens conversation when TatPaul's puncture prompted a halt beyond the church, the urge for Nev to use tyre levers instead of fingers sped the fix but didn't lessen the sledges.  The resumption had remixed the rotation, I'd berthed between Ange and Wozz to witness Cate's long and strong turn to Lemnos Rd as a poorly populated Pussycat peloton perambulated past eastbound.  Shorty-come-lately arrived, the bunch mostly silent now as sprint business loomed for Wanganui Rd.  With a further 60k left to reach my goal, I bowed out of another term at the front, lending a tow to the tail-enders to keep in touch with the masses was just as satisfying as the sprint. A social roll along the Boulevard barely substituted for missing the Lemontree chat, pit-stopping instead at Friars for a fast caffeine in the tank as Belly, Brendan, Sandy, Manny, Carl and Snow arrived.  Part 3 was yet another breathtaking start for the Toasters first clockwise k's, Manny's smooth spin was quite a contrast to Wayne's cataclysmic cadence last week.  Snow and Brendan took short shifts (paying the tax of laxness), Sandy finding her bike legs at the back (a far better effort than Hommy's hibernation under the doona).  Quite the chill taking an H2O swig, iced capped puddles in Boundary Rd's tabledrain driving winters reality home.  The weird matchbox sized black box on Manny's seat post was the new Garmin Varia radar,  a brilliant bit of bike bling, a saviour for the soloist.  Winters speed speed standards were yarned with Belly, any average in the low 30's reckoned to be a solid solo effort at this time of year (how the tides will turn in Spring!)  The light northwester turned west and blew Snow and Brendan's turns shorter, the tell tale signs of wear showing (a wandering line, dropped shoulders and a nodding head). Belly implemented Indian file in Mitchell Rd, I'd just finished a go on the front when given another shift from Archer to the highway.  Manny, Carl and Belly shared the load, Carl's long haul to Conrod's 500 metre marker was a gift for Belly's line honours, Snow suddenly found the go but the engine only gave him third. A cruise to Mandy's allowed Brendan and Sandy to rejoin, the banana & walnut toast (mentally savoured since the 5am start) was a tasty trophy for 120 k's clocked.  Goat gassbagging on windtrainers, Hommy's half-biking and the test of temperature bounced around the table. 

Sunday 26th June

A lazy afternoon aboard the Baum feeding the distance hunger, a quiet circuit mostly in Zone 2 and 3 in a cool 7 degrees (about as good as it got all day).  Ford and Boundary roads were deserted, 75rpm enough without frightening legs, a moment taken to pause to reboot a frozen Garmin.  Mitchell Rd toured instead of the oft ridden River, a memory lane of many laps past.  An evening chill had arrived hours early, a north northeaster cutting its way through the winter layers.  Back onto the familiar circuit at Kialla Central, over the highway, round Roubaix and back to town , June's target just a little closer.

Monday 27th June 

Doonitis symptoms were strong Monday morning, heavy eyelids, mentally thumbing through Bo's encyclopaedia of excuses, little strength to throw off the covers......was I turning into Hollywood curled up in his cosy crib?  Leaping from my bed at the thought, I put porridge in the tank and saddled up for a preliminary lap to the Goat peace train.  Ignoring the 3 degrees and patchy fog, I hovered in the low 30's out Channel Rd and up Boundary, only to have a moronic mushroom (big head, little stalk) take delight at honking me occupying the left 600mm of tarmac.  Almost back to Friars, I found Tum, MeridaJohn, Sandy, Belly and Principal Skinner underway, the half dozen merging Indian file the moment we reached city limits. Sandy and Principal Skinner sat back cringing at the cold (at least they were outdoors taking in a cool serve of concrete), the captaincy shared between Belly, Tum, MeridaJohn and I.  Somewhat anti-social single filed, it was a steady tap down Boundary and along River, time (or the lack of it) took me via the truck route and Archer to home, the coal face to face yet again.

Tuesday 28th June

A Toaster lap chosen for my insatiable Strava quest Tuesday, but it was pea soup for breakfast on the road with a thick fog hanging about. A slow dripping shower started off the front of the helmet, the outbound streetlights just a glow in a cloud.  Needing landmarks put my position in perspective, the further east the thicker the fog, quickly pocketing the specs when my wheel found the roads edge.  Slowing to a crawl to find Emu corner, the kit (and the mood) were weighed heavy with the damp, time starved to intercept with the Goats meant a solo mission mindset, better for the current state of speed (or lack of it!)  Some security felt when a solitary passing car gave a wide berth, the tail-light (the only rearward lifeline) obviously doing its job. My trek south seemed sluggish, westbound on River better, or was it just the smoother tarmac? Made it home with what felt like a kilo of water as passenger and satisfaction at surviving the elements.

Wednesday 29th June

A damp road dampened enthusiasm to the golf course and northern suburbs, but the mood brightened finding Wozz, Mel and Cate on the Couldabeens commute. (something reassuring finding like minded cyclusts about).  Carpark conversation as Boof, BamBam, AvantiTrev, Pistol, Shorty, Rocket, Bruce, Tina and ChrisA converged, the 6am flag summoning us south on Archers damp distance, AvantiTrev baptising me with all the puddles he could steer through. River Rd's pot hole had been mercifully filled, hard going beside Shorty (plenty of wattage for one who only gets out to play a few times a week), my chain groaning and squeaking from the damp and grit of a wet week. Softa arrived from the south in Boundary Rd as we turned north into it, seems an early arrival was treated to solo punishment. It felt like the handbrake was released on the turn into Channel Rd, the NNE'er off the brow inspired another turn at the rushin' front (previously off my menu).  Soon in at the deep end of the ChaCha swinging into Kinder corner, the bolt to Hopeful corner with Shorty and a dozen behind me asked the question "What to do?"  The role of sacrificial lamb was mine, full steam ahead at 48 (187 bpm) to lead out Wozza to Prentice Rd.  Wozza too was sprint fodder for the prime movers, starved of oxygen I was swamped by all, so cruised to Orrvale Rd with AvantiTrev and Cate to rejoin the clan on the roll back to town. Excitement on the return home with Boof, Softa, Cate and Mel, passing trucks on the damp Archer Rd, squeezing through the lane narrowed by a traffic island, suddenly skidding beside us to avoid a motoring malpractice ahead, the burning rubber a bilious breakfast.

Thursday 30th June

A summer's wind (NE at 24km/h) on a winter's day (7 degrees) propelled Wozz and I south to Thursday's Couldabeens, silence with the breeze behind and peace from the chain, finally well oiled. Trav, Bruce, Hoges, Rocket, Pistol, Kel, Bo, Boof and Nev fronted, all relishing a rare dry track.  Rocket launched off the start line and caught me napping, a full steam sprint to finally catch onto the draft at Kensington put me in the mental back seat from the beginning, only considering a turn (like Trav) with the wind assistance in Boundary Rd.  Pistol, Nev, Bruce and co piled on the pace southbound so the previous thought was dissolved, hang on for dear life the only option.  Turns went short and clockwise against the NNE on River Rd, I'd inherited the gatekeeper role, and trying to hold a reasonable line as the wind threw the wheels about wasn't a great help for Kel and Trav in the back seats, Hoges then Boof joining as speed spent 'em.  Full bore to Mitchell Rd, even Bruce called it a day, halting for traffic at the highway a godsend for recovery.  Rockets puncture seconds later was respiratory relief, the new tube's rupture lengthening the pit stop for Pussycats to pass.  Hoping for a quiet roll back to town was dashed, a dash to Conrod's finish line deemed duty, the sideshow of a Falcon nose first into a tree highlighting the tarmac's slipability. 

Friday July 1

Roads deemed too damp Friday (keen to keep bike and chain clean), besides, Strava satisfied achieving the monthly challenge (just!)

Week 26.      373km.       YTD 8,041km.

Week 25: Now is the winter of our discontent

Post 350

Only a couple of nibbles at the What'sApp invite for an early Saturday prologue but the reality of grey morning after a damp night left only Wozz and I at A Mart.   Southbound on Conrod straight dialled up the heartrate to 174 by Arcadia Downs, speed was nothing to brag about, I put it down to the push-through-porridge atmosphere.  I accepted Wozza's charitable tow in Mitchell Rd to calm the cardiac convulsions, the 3 k's respite a timely tonic preventing explosion (back to 150 bpm)    Paired again in Central Kialla eyes were this time averted from the Garmin gaze, setting a target at River Rd's dip to take tow two.  Reaching it, little cranial voices cried "HTFU", so pushed on to see where my limit lay. Almost ready to chuck in the towel when the hallowed centre white line appeared, heralding the rumble strips and Boundary Rd's intersection.  Into Wozza's tow for Boundary Rd harnessed the heartrate again, a Channel Rd pairing was buoyed by keeping to the agenda of a Couldabeens intercept at the carpark.  A frozen week had made way for 8 mild degrees, but the gloomy sky had made the kit-up an each way bet (Cate gloveless, BigRon jettisoned the jacket, Car+Mel legs exposed :) and a ménage of 3/4 knicks, booties and multiple layers were on show, whilst I mopped the brow from the prologues pace.  Pistol, Cougar, Kel, Ange, Rocket, Bo, Boof, Car+Mel, Shorty, Cate, Temple, HBK, Nev, Jase, NewbieRob, BigRon and AvantiMat crammed into the rear half of the grid, the 'doonitis' epidemic not as widespread as previously thought.  NewbieRob imploded reaching second wheel on leg 3, the following masses swamping his position to put him into the reality of rear-tirement. There was potent porky pungency in Old Dookie Rd, 99% humidity hurrying ham off the breakfast menu, HBK was hammered by Cate, Car+Mel, a long way off his form of umpteen months ago. Mine was a steady grind beside Bo to the Lemnos-Cosgrove kennels, pussycat population was poor crossing paths at the main channel, Ange then Wozz and Nev taking us in their tow to Grahamvale Rd where spice was added to the speed.  NewbieRob and Cougar bailed out via Verney for the pick of Lemontree seats, I'd again scored the backmarkers spot as we worked into Wanganui.  Cate braved the business end as the pace percolated at DECA, capable crankers BigRon, Nev, Boof, Wozz et al., relegated most others to 'also rode' in the Wanganui hill honours.  The weekends treat of post ride breakfast and banter absorbed with the warmth of the Lemontree heaters and friendships, but it ends all too soon with tasks beckoning at home.

Clutching at k's Tuesday (after Monday's rain ruined riding) feeling Strava's June challenge slipping from the grip, so I suffered the Boulevards headwind till reaching the well worn track of Wanganui, Ford and Lemnos-Cosgrove Rd's, glued to the 17 for some spin therapy (preparation for the westward slog back to town) on the 30k solo.  Winter had whittled numbers down to only dedicated Goats exiting the suburbs, Coggo, Sandy, Belly, Tina and Hommy, with foreigner Wayne into the rotation.  Hommy had the turbo turned up for his first tap at the front (boosted by the tailwind), I wonder how often that effort would be repeated?  Tina, Coggo and Belly's consistent crank was in stark contrast to Wayne's cataclysmic cadence, permanent residency in the little chainring a legacy of living in Bright?  The small bunch fractured in River Rd, Sandy, Hommy and Wayne OTA caused a calm to regroup, the accelerator squeezed gently to a revised tempo with Belly then a long grind to River's end beside Tina stopped the jaws flapping.  Wayne took to the front again in Central Kialla, the spin causing a snake like trajectory (tempting to throw in some egg whites and watch fluffy white peaks form!)   Another grind west in Mitchell Rd, the hard yards capably captained by Coggo, Belly and Tina, but the wind wore down resolves to Raftery Rd.  Left to lead into Conrod straight, I turned up the huff and puff till the 400 marker, handing the washing up to Coggo and Belly.

In the depths of winter Wednesday, a damp road, gloomy sky, fine misty moments of rain, a howler 20-37 km/h west-northwester, puddles to dodge (the delight of cold water up the inside leg when you don't!) was all just so inspiring! Now is the winter of our discontent. My prologue propelled east on New Dookie Rd but battled Ford Rd back, heartfelt thoughts were with those who's mojo had gone missing, seeking solace under their doona's warmth till it returns from oblivion.  Collecting Jase and Cate in the main drag, we teamed with Rocket, Boof, Bruce, Pistol, Shorty, Temple, Gazzagrasshopper, BamBam and HBK in the Couldabeens carpark, all engrossed in Boof's protracted puncture repair.  The flag finally dropped a little after 6, I took the reigns for leg one, controlling the acceleration more for my benefit than anyone else (the pairing with Pistol was payback for perambulating).  Heading east set a few records for most, the driving duty had come full circle for me to take on the last k of River and the first of Boundary, bearing the brunt of the breeze to the Broken bridges.  Plenty o' puddles and more misty rain put bike cleaning on everyone's "to do" list, winters damp dampening sprint interest for me and many, the decision to sit-out the ChaCha an easy one.  Ducking and diving to avoid the rooster tails of water, I had a spotty view of Boof, Rocket and Bruce disappearing toward the horizon, summoning up 40+ against a 26 km/h winter wind drew on reserves thought lost. 

Optimism returned Thursday, a dry track and moderate northerly prompted a prologue anticlockwise on the Thursday circuit to apprehend the clockwise Couldabeens and see if I could hold on.   9 k's of holiday before the headwind hurt in Central Kialla, using the rarely soiled 18 cog to make some sort of progress.  Pushed and shoved by the northerly on River Rd, I just got relaxed on the bars when I struck the new pot-hole (just west of the dip), a super sphincter pucker as one hand was jettisoned.  Trepidation arrived reaching River's end, a headwind again up to Channel Rd but there was wattage to preserve for the Couldabeens arrival. Just beyond Channels' cypress trees a string of LEDs approached, my u-turn to climb aboard with Wozz, Nev, Hoges, Pistol, Kel, Trav, Bo and Temple.  The pace wasn't too tortuous tucked in behind Hoges, and with Pistol on my tail, I rolled up the right line to put in a contribution.  Bearable in Boundary with the breeze behind, slicing virgin atmosphere with Hoges from the bridges to River, the art of levelling with your co-cranker seems lost with Hoges (ah but the apprenticeship is still in its early days).  Kel, containing cardiac crucifixion, sat on the back, others rolled through with the speed rising as Nev, Bo and Wozz rose to the top, the pace never really calmed thereafter.  My withdrawal from duty in Mitchell Rd coincided with Trav and Temple, Hoges just kept going back for more torture (though needed to call a roll with a little left in his tank rather than empty) My Garmin stopped conversation with the satellites at Roubaix corner, all turned Indian file at Galbraiths gate in preparation for Conrod's cruelty.  I kept a close wheel on gatekeeper Trav as the machines of Nev, Wozz and Pistol kept up the hurt, so pleased to see the 60 sign at Steptoe's and take aboard much craved oxygen.

Friday's 5am misty rain shut down my weeks effort, a clean Baum with a freshly lubed chain sat ready for Saturday (though Rocket, Ron and Pistol braved Antarctic conditions.....determined or delirious?)

Week 25:     261km.       YTD 7,668 km

Week 24 Speed chills!

Post 349

Fighting BigMat motivation (the lack of it) Saturday morning, the head in first gear but the rest of me in neutral at 4am, so the standard 5:45 Wozz rendezvous stood.  Snap, crackle and pop went my rice bubble limbs in the 'feels like four' atmosphere, peloton population predictions poor on a Queens birthday long weekend but surprised as the carpark filled with Boof, Bruce, Car+Mel, Cate, Shorty, AvantiTrev, Trav, Ange, Temple, ChrisA, Pistol, Cougar, AvantiMat, Jase, Kel and Bo.  Chocks away at six for twenty, the first and second legs seemed longer than its 3600 metres (the toil toll at the front with Jase then Boof eroded my effort), 162 bpm was well below the redline but the legs refused to give more.  In the tow at second wheel then at third began the transformation of wrung-out-wreck to human, a chat with AvantiTrev and Trav, and captivated by Kel's eyes (both sets) to Boundary Rd.   Line astern, the tenacious trio of Cate, Car+Mel moved up the right line, Boof battling the beginnings of man-flu, Temple talking the benefits of ride day, rest day, ride day, rest day while AvantiMat and Bo reclined in the back seats for the tow.  With Jase again (church to the Emu) then Boof (to the kennels), I got a feel of the light NW headwind, but with energy evaporating I set my lung busting limit at Woolshed Rd, ah the joy when Boof called an earlier roll!  The Wozza and Ange torque towed us west, Temple lined up the puddles spotting Kel and Cougar (so much for keeping a bike clean) and Nev arrived northbound on Grahamvale.  At the back of the bunch as it entered Wanganui, I had Cate itching for a sprint on my wheel, by the test track I'd been rapidly promoted to the front (Q: How to hold 45? A: a draft from Nev rolling across soon after!) as Wozza, Boof, ChrisA, Bruce and cohorts bolted up the hill.   Lemontree lingo on hipster coffee, beards, star signs and sayings, hot coffee and toast sustained as the social cup overflowed, draining the will to leave the warmed seats for a chilled ride home.

Overthinking a different course on the Queens birthday, work beckoned but a later start allowed extra k's.   Saddled up on a deserted road at 5:20, an instant ice-cream headache (without the ice-cream!), the gauge frozen on zero, pointed anticlockwise on a Toaster lap and "will I, won't I?" thoughts about an extension bouncing around the brain in Mitchell Rd.  'Carpe Diem' won, a long slog south on Central Kialla Rd in search of Karramomus Rd in the fog.  8k's down I finally found it, the narrowing 6k track east was as rough as hessian undies.  I found the Shepp-Euroa Rd sooner than expected, thoughts of headlight failure in the wild black yonder fading as light slowly filled the sky.  8k's dragged like an election campaign reaching the East Goulburn main channel, finding my second wind crossing the Midland 5k later, a spell on the 15 rich reward from the incessant 17 spin.  East to the Toaster and north to the Emu, ahead the westerly drive home, behind an orange dawn, Caribou's "Sun" setting a trippy musical metronome.  Time off the Fizik was becoming essential to keep the speed inspired but rubber legs lagged to make repeating step 1 necessary.  A decomposing Mazda (progressively picked of parts) sat sparkling with an iced cap in Ford Rd, the endorphins of achievement slowly flooding the head numbed the grizzles of the gastrocnemius, the 6 k's of Wanganui, Rudd and the Boulevard ticked off 70.

It was chin on the headstem behind Rocket, but I was placed in the prime position (2nd wheel, left line) 

for a draft to the Channel Rd S bends till duty called.  Tuesday's Couldabeens were driven quickly by Rocket and Wozz, Chops and Pistol, Nev and Trav, my turn with Bruce at the S bend to Boundary then to the Broken bridges with Rocket had me spent of speed, was it ruined by rapidity or Rocket reputation?  Pistol, Rocket, Wozz and Nev took the reigns to River Rd, the reality sitting Chops, Trav and I swiftly in the survival seats, heart-rate still on the boil 3 k's later ended my contributions for the morning.   River Rd finished, Central Kialla gone in a blink, the Mitchell Rd masochism had me off the Fizik climbing Dave's dip just to keep in touch.  Pack cracks appeared over Melbourne Rd as Bruce buckled, viewing valiant attempts by Trav to reach the front told me to sit back, shut-up and hang on!   Nev and Rocket drawing away in Conrod and the rare sight of Pistol pooped (albeit with just 500 metres left) told me I was swimming in the wrong gene pool, all my Jellybeans were spent into holding onto second last place. 

My OCD (obsessive cycling disorder) kicked in Wednesday despite less than zero showing on the thermometer, a short 11k warm up (ha ha!) on the golf course loop a form of preparation for the Couldabeens.    Temperature didn't deter Wozz, Cate, Mel (-Car), Ric, Cougar, Boof, Choppy, Nev, Bruce, Trav, Temple, Weapon, HBK, BamBam, AvantiTrev and Jase fronting the carpark.  The launch at 6 had no volunteers to pair with Wozz towing the team solo, eventually Bruce, Chops and Nev stepped up, my glance back saw a long thin line of trailing disciples, so I braved the up line with Nev to join the party faithful. Pleased to measure up to the Nev standards in Mitchell Rd and matched the Boof specifications in Central Kialla Rd, the bunch bore into River Rd, but an oncoming car veered into our eastbound lane causing a cardiac convulsion.  I'd hoped it was an unintended lapse of concentration (a foggy screen maybe?), at worst preoccupied with texting?, surely not a deliberate swerve-and-scare tactic?   A calm of nerves with no casualties (Trav ready to purchase a lottery ticket) the wheels of rotation resumed,  Ric (now dubbed "Softa") emerging from a work blamed ride relapse, Mel proving the cool climate was kitted in longs :(  and Weapon, tempered temperature tough from a Cairns 70.3 Ironman (5hrs.17) at a tropical 27, braved the Couldabeens cold at -0.4 three days later.  I'd gradually been rotationally relegated to the rear, the caboose KPI being a lookout behind found us enveloped in a wall of black, not a star to guide our passed / past perspective. By the northern trek light had shed a view of fog at one tree dam, Wozz and Nev leading the sixteen swiftly to Channel Rd.  Stones at Sellmans were flicked from under tyres to ping the corrugated iron fence, no reply from Darth Vader though, curled up warm in the dog house no doubt.  Choppy charged Channels' ChaCha chasing championship choice, cheekily challenging chosen chasers (HBK jumped in pursuit but had a Hiroshima moment soon after), the real movers, Wozz, Nev and Bruce streaking into the distance as I snuggled into the Indian filed line of survivors to hang onto the draft to finish. 

A promised 4 degrees didn't arrive Thursday, I suppose 1 degree was twice as hot as Wednesday but it did little for motivation (better than Oymyakon in Russia averaging 50 below!)   Coggo, Manny, Tina, PrincipalSkinner, MeridaJohn, Sandy, Belly and a helmet-less Hommy (numb skull?) fronted Friars at 6 keen to keep moving, Carl joining in at SPC.  MeridaJohn and I cut through the iced atmosphere on Old Dookie Rd, the effort delivering 10-15% less than usual pace, Manny and Sandy taking permanent rear residence.  Speed settled a little lower beyond Dobsons, the standard set at survival rather than speed.  There's rather skewed thermal physics of going faster to warm up, speed chills and so it snowballs.   Coggo had back tracked to collect struggling Sandy (OTA), PrincipalSkinner  gave one more turn before rear-tirement elevating some hope to my own state of fitness.   As fingers and toes numbed, I pondered why are we doing this? Keeping in tune? (earning the rites to thrash emerging hibernators in Spring), Sympathy and support for similarly suffering cyclists?,  A refrigerated religious ritual?, Some kinky voyeuristic frozen flagellation?,  Climatising for Oymyakon?     A lost light lit Boundary Rd northbound then u-turned to join, Gazzagrasshopper had apparently missed the Couldabeens and found Goats gracious with an inclusion.   At the helm, MeridaJohn's peripheral vision didn't include Belly, a bike in arrears, he seemed content to head the herd solo while Belly mused the lost art of teamwork.  Hats off to Gazzagrasshopper on a fair pair with Belly to River's end, my adieu's bid for the shortcut home as the enemy of time tolled. 

All kitted up and raising the front Michelin to 125 when the heavens opened Friday morning, no filthy bike and dried worms for me, leave it to the ducks to play in water, June's Strava challenge is on target.  

Week 24.     241km.         YTD 7,407km

Week 23: Disciples decimated!

Post 348

Starved of k's from two days of rain, the addiction was finally fed Monday, a longer lap as a k catch-up, clicking over 10,000k's on the Baum (235 days old).  A solo start to the week, no draft to delight but then no set speed to sustain, feeling comfort considering time off the perineum.  An extension made to the usual track, out to the Cosgrove quarry to add 14 clicks and a change of scenery, albeit in headlight rather than daylight, distant farmhouse globes glowed, the quarry lights sillhouetting Boral's basalt mountains of gravel.  Enveloped by darkness in a car-free stretch of New Dookie Rd, a little westerly (4-9 km/h) was of little consequence on the little 17 cog.  Reaching the church at 6 and rolling fume free in Old Dookie past Porky's palace, I pondered a Goat intercept at Boundary Rd (but not a led was seen).  South in Boundary and across the Midland, lights way behind now followed as I crossed the Broken bridges.  Up a cog in River Rd to set a Goat goal going, it was head down for the six k grind, an east bound Roscoe (all of 2k from home) u-turned but my course was the truck route home, no scenic sunrises today, just dismal grey skies to welcome a working week.

Why am I eating breakfast at 4:40, kitted for 7 degrees and preparing to be punished by the winter wind? Riding over-ridden by obsession?  New Dookie, Boundary and Old Dookie was selected to spin a prologue prior to a grind with Goats, 20km/h blown up the behind inflated the ego to Boundary Rd, common sense asking "What have I done?" turning west into the headwind.   That careful blend of frustration, purpose, stubbornness (and a dash of angry) cooked up a cadence to get back to town, helped by using 17 teeth on the back wheel.  A deserted Friars at 5:58 suggested a solo would continue, but at the third stroke, Belly, Coggo and MeridaJohn saved the day.  (how a few dull days decimate the disciples!)   An unspoken but understood formation to single file out of town was tempo'd by the tailwind, Coggo carrying the quadrella to Dobsons bridge for me to tow to Central.  Pain train in formation, speed was solid rather than scintillating, MeridaJohn keen to crank up a couple of k's, Belly setting a pace for the long run.  Coggo's big turn to the bridge in Boundary inspired me to drive to Channel Rd, hoping MeridaJohn didn't hit the boost button when he sniffed the front. Belly braved the breeze on the brow in River Rd, Roscoe (arriving eastbound) hitching a ride in the rear seat when he u-turned near the dip.  MeridaJohn poured on the purpose in Central Kialla, unhitching Roscoe rapidly, back the original quadrella to finish.  A damp tarmac grimed the bike, the sandpaper scraping on the wheels was like fingernails down the blackboard squeezing the brakes at the highway.   Raftery Rd's three k's rotated the foursome to hand me the Conrod conclusion, MeridaJohn with the wattage in the last 200 metres to take the chocolates.

Out on the early trail again Wednesday, the road glossed from overnight rain to gild the bike with mud and worms, just a quiet loop of the north of town then the pleasure of Mel and Cate company for the Couldabeens commute.  (Bruce, Choppy, Boof, Pistol, Rocket, Shorty, AvantiTrev, Cougar, Temple and HBK represented the die hards at the carpark).  In a deliberate positioning midfield, I avoided an early shift, Boof, Bruce, Rocket and Pistol admirably driving the dozen south to Mitchell Rd.  HBK, on his once a week pilgrimage was swiftly shattered by Shorty, my turn at the business end was with care from Cate but rotisseried by Rocket (déjà vu from last week), as the NNE perplexed my performance and projected Poppa's preamble from passing pussycats.  Temple wound up the knots toward Channel, the hint of a northerly softening me but had no effect on Rocket.  I'd decided by the cypress trees in Channel Rd to sit out the sprint, it was down to Bruce, Pistol, Chops, Boof and Shorty to drive to the Cha Cha, by Hopeful corner Rocket had kicked open a gap from them to the "also rode's".  I'd become the B team tow truck at Kinder corner, Temple moving up to offer a brief respite at Prentice Rd with Cate and Mel nipping at our heels, the cheek of HBK emerging from a long draft to amble by for a minor placing!  Temple and Cate collected those dropped, all reforming at Archer for the verbal post mortem homeward. 

I succumbed to a damp and dreary Thursday morning, a prologue swiftly struck off the duty roster, opting for a lazy 5am breakfast and relaxed kit-up instead, Belly's What'sApp invite scoring few takers.  It was a tour of trepidation to Friars, the wait on a deserted grid till 5:57 was ominous, had most turned to marshmallow? Belly and Tina were the only ones with fortitude to front, it was chocks away at six with a single filed, long shifted attack, my turn to Central Ave, Tina to Boundary and Belly to the highway and repeat the dose as necessary (till cured). I scored the blessed leg to River Rd (tailwind),  tenacious Tina bore into 3 k's of River Rd, Belly the remainder, mine another wind assisted stretch to Mitchell. Tina's determined drive to Melbourne Rd left me feeling I'd made an ordinary contribution, Belly's effort to Arcadia Downs reinforcing the thought. After the holiday in Belly's draft, I opened the throttle to Conrod's end, an elbow for Tina to take the chocolates was taken by Belly. Consensus reached that a solid lap by just a few was better medicine than being dragged around by a bigger (and sometimes erratic) bunch. 

Would a clean bike stay that way? Friday's warm up found the track dry, this old engine running like a spark plug lead was off, but it's a therapist needed rather than a mechanic in the clutches of winters lethargy and performance appraisal.  A Wozz and Cate rendezvous lifted the spirits, Bruce, Chops, HBK, Nick, Shorty, Rocket, Boof, Pistol, AvantiTrev, Nev, Jase and Trav at the Couldabeens carpark congregated, comparing cleaning cycles. Away at six, we were barely a k south when an intermission was called for a PistolPete puncture.  The restart shuffled the pack, an overtaking semi squeezed in ahead of us at the Sanctuary roundabout, the impatient Toyota behind finding us fifteen first in doesn't fit a car too.  Berthed between Shorty (3 rides in 1 week) and Nick (3 rides in 3 weeks), I cherished the chinwag on the way to the hyperventilating end, arriving at the front full of beans beside Shorty till a k took its toll, then almost hitting the "disTNTance" beside Nick when he saved the day with a timely roll. A decent recovery for the rest of River Rd, North on Boundary then west on Channel, rising through the ranks in the right line put me at the pointy end nearing the Kinder (Nick now awol), Jase to match as the Garmin read 40 (grateful he rolled over headed to Hoepful corner).  Wozza was the sprint sacrifice again, swamped by Pistol, Bruce, Boof and co, meanwhile in the cheap seats, I left the gate open for Cate (hung out drying in the right lane), a few of us mere mortals plucking off the pickled protagonists of pace as Orrvale Rd loomed close, the Cha Cha puddles undoing last nights bike bath.    The calm crank homeward contemplated how lucky we are to relish a ride, when so many have been struck down by that dastardly disease of doonitis.

Week 23.   252km.          YTD 7,166km