Week 34 : Expectation, castigation or flagellation?

Post 409
19/8  Swallowing the chill pill.

Cadence was the heater for Saturday's commute to the Couldabeens carpark, at last the wind was manageable (a southwester at 9-13 km/h) but the temperature tested at 2 degrees.  Boof, SuperMario, AvantiTrev, Merida-not-AvantiJohn, AvantiAndy, Tina, Jen, Shorty, PistolPete, BigLen, Rocket, Troy, Wozza, TatMat, TatPaul, BassoDan, HBK, Bruce, KillkennyPaual and Temple shunned the wet week for some Saturday sociology, Wozza setting the southern speed on Archer Rd as The Godfather, Kel and Bo joined to make it two dozen.  There were several on a come back as weekend warriors,

AvantiTrev back from Broome, BigLen back from a woebegone winter, SuperMario hibernating with hockey, BassoDan shaking off shiftwork and others just hardening up!  There was a yo-yo of tempo as the fit and the fuzzy fronted the bunch, KillkennyPaul a bit short on the roll-over chopped off Bo, but crisis was avoided with some skill spread around. The southwester kept the speed sizzling up Boundary but Merida-not-AvantiJohn had punctured at Channel Rd.  Half halted at the pub, some heckled at the pitstop (Merida-not-AvantiJohn caught without levers, pump and tube....the Avanti had the advantage of the kit) but HBK, Temple and SuperMario chose to be the reconnaissance riders rolling off ahead.  Finally fixed and fairly freezing, the bunch shivered their way back up to speed, prolific pot-holes a legacy of a wet winter and VicRoads' scrooge on sealing (speed restrictions instead of repairs soon?)

An over populated caboose made less do more on the westward workout to breakfast, many now paying the lax tax keeping up with those dedicated.  Well placed on Ford Rd, I had my shift with Tina and Bo up to Grahamvale Rd and took delight in the draft as Wanganui Rd loomed, Temple and HBK were caught (SuperMario sidetracked swiftly via Verney) while the sprint shuffle started as we slowed for Numurkah Rd.  The Godfather scurried for cover at the transfer station setting off a single file scenario, Merida-not-AvantiJohn hung out to dry on the front as the hopefuls hustled a hiding place.

I'd won the lottery of TatMat's wheel as many turned to toast and popped off the front, Troy and Wozza opening up a gap ahead as I crested Mt Wanganui's summit. The question of pre-ride feed or fast, energy bars and pacing nutrition, the lost art of budgeting and the wet week that was soaked up the sentences over the sustenance, the Lemontree's dark rye a menu mainstream for 20 on the long table.

20/8  Crispy Castlemaine
A weekend escape to central Victoria took in the attractions of Castlemaine by Baum, up hill and down dale in a welcoming minus 3!  7k's of incline was a heart starter to Harcourt, hope on the horizon as light lit the bunnies bounding in the frosted fields.

North on the old Calder highway labored my lungs, froze fingers and aggravated the abnominals for 8k's uphill to Harcourt North, the grape vines and apple groves carpeted in fog as the sun peeked from behind Mt. Alexander.  The reward of a 1k descent to the M79 was a challenging chill, slicing the icy atmosphere at 56 clicks was a bit beyond bracing!  I swung south toward Elphingstone, 4 lanes of M79 a little smoother in the rise and fall, but I was somewhat spooked by guttural groans and gasps on the 3k ascent at Faraday......crikey! it was only flatlander Foss f#&%ed from floggin' uphill!

The chain was clearing the cobwebs off the 23 but the little ring remained unblemished (Rule #90 folks!)  Eventually to the top, there was a frosty frolic down to the Elphingstone exit then a swing north west onto the Pyrenees highway for yet another climb, but ahead was the big prize of 6k's twisting downhill to Chewton to bump up the average.  Numb fingers struggled to shift the cogs and ice was pulling at the whiskers with any grimace, but coffee and toast at Saffs spurred the speed past the old miners cottages, crispy lawns and crusty white cars, the suns' psychological warmth some consolation from the cold.  There was a struggle removing gloves and releasing the helmet catch without the sensation of touch, but a long black and raisin toast thawed things quickly.  

22/8  The rise of the machines
It's the mad mateship and Tuesday's thrash therapy that gets you out of the cot when it's just 1 degree.....is this winter ever going to stop?  Collecting great mate Cate on the commute, we found a good turn-out of Pelly, Temple, Tina, BamBam, Hoges, AvantiTrev and even ChrisA assembled for action at the Archer St launch pad.  Whether it's expectation, castigation or flagellation, I took the first shift to Doyles Rd with a stab in the dark on speed (but I guess there'd be a squeak if it was wrong), spent and speechless by the truck route, I rolled to the rear to draft the derriere of BamBam.  Cate and Tina tore into their turns to Orrvale Rd, AvantiTrev had a crack but was buggered (by beer and Broome?) to join the caboose with Hoges and CatCol (collected at the school).

Temple and Pelly powered east to the S bend where ChrisA towed us to Boundary (months off the bike and bounces back in top form!) BamBam drove to the Broken Bridges where I excavated the energy to reach River Rd, arriving wrung out but hopeful a tow would restore some composure.  Catching the tail, I noticed the caboose was awol, only seven now to slog out the remaining 17 k's and hopefully hold off the Hares.  I dips me helmet to Cate ripping into River Rd after a week off the bike and Tina's 400 a week habit paying dividends in her driving.  Pelly added 10% to the tempo, Temple and BamBam polishing off River Rd which handed me the southern strip at Kialla Central to crank.  A ripper rhythm blurred Mitchell Rd by, and a well timed cross of Melbourne Rd put Pelly in the drivers seat to Roubaix, but Temple elected to be caboose captain leaving BamBam to drag us to Galbriath's gate (but I got the elbow 200 meters early).   Almost ready to finish my shift at Arcadia Downs, ChrisA came up to offer a tow, I just managed to find the spin (86 rpm) to hold his wheel.  Chris was toast as we crested the Conrod dip, my turn again (driven by kudos from the crew) provided the boost till Pelly (Captain Competitive) pounced at the 200 meter mark for the win.  With laboring lungs we were suddenly joined by Hares huffing, we'd pipped them at the post by a poofteenth!  

23/8  Sublimely sexigesimal

Day 21,915 on the planet felt no different, though it's a long way from the 102 kg smoker of 35 a day I remember in the mirror about 12 years ago.  Wednesday's get together had dragged out the historic hibernators WhisperingJack, Nick, Jase and SuperMario along with the dedicated Wozza, Rocket, Mel, Cate, Nev, Trav, Boof, Kel, Bo, The Godfather, Shorty, Troy, PistolPete, AvantiTrev and CatCol filling the carpark.  Weapon attached to a capacity caboose as the long train speared south, with a shielded shoulder Nev braved turns aboard the MTB, Mel did her bit despite time off two wheels, CatCol keeps cranking and even AvantiTrev worked the wheezy end (after an OTA yesterday) but WhisperingJack, Trav, Nick and SuperMario were taxed to the max from adherent absence. I'd found myself between AvantiTrev and Bo to get my first turn done by River Rd's dip, a view of grey clouds and a pinch of pink in the sky as first light teased Springs' arrival. 4 degrees felt mild (my, how winter has toughened us) and calm conditions were as rare as a sighting of Hollywood, I spied a small gaggle of Goats southbound in Boundary as we journeyed north.  Plenty were parking posteriors in the rear seats on Channel Rd, only 7 now swapping turns from the S bend.  Still Nev monstered the MTB and CatCol kept up the cadence, hats off to Shorty at the pointy end as we closed in on the Kinder.  The bunch front turned skinny as we veered into Hopeful corner, Nev, unable to coax more from the dirt beast, tucked in behind CatCol.  I waited till Prentice Rd before hitting the accelerator, pouring all into the pace (I thought for a moment this was a birthday treat) till Boof, Troy and Pistol powered past with a 100 to go.  Humbled but happy, the roll home turned to toil with Pistol's power unabated.

24/8  Hare conditioner
Shunning the cranial pessimists in Thursdays' early hours, I fueled the tank and layered the lycra for 3 degrees and a hare-raising average speed, this oughta condition Foss's foolish feelings of fitness and flippancy!  A sizeable turn-up (Wozza, Boof, Bruce, Cate, Rocket, CatCol, Kel, Bo, Tina, Trav, AvantiTrev, Pelly, KillkennyPaul and Softa) promised plenty of recovery between turns, the 'ol grid position shuffle happening as some chose their wheel of choice in the countdown to blast off.  Bruce and I found ourselves fronting the bunch into Channel Rd, Bruce suggesting 34 would preserve some decorum (but he added an undisclosed GST to tax me).  Into rehab as Wozz, Boof and Rocket stepped up to suffer, I threaded the thin line between the ChaCha puddles in recovery, but KillkennyPaul called me across at the Kinder to serve another shift.  So it was 5 engines pulling 10 carriages as I paired with Rocket (formidable but fair) at the cypress trees till my coronary claxton called a shorter shift, Bo then breaking the bonds of the caboose to finally crank contributions at the rushin' front.  With the wind at the starboard side, Boof and Rocket attacked Boundary Rd, but 3 oncoming trucks and their draft blustered us backwards at the bridges.  It was the straw that broke this camels' back, mentally mortified and resigned to retreat from driving duties after one last turn to One Tree Dam.  Wozz, Rocket, Boof, Bruce and Bo threw themselves at a sacrificial speed into River Rd's headwind as silence (and suffering) gripped all the freeloaders behind, Softa and I acting as gatekeepers (though he left little room for the roll-over).   Wozza wisely called Indian file at the dip, a shuffle in the order thinned the pack to minimise the damage.  With a k left of River Rd, Softa had unwittingly joined the drivers, his promotion forward was like watching a fuse burn till the bang as we accelerated into Central Kialla.  Rocket and I picked up the bits broken off the back and gradually stuck it back on the train, full steam down to Mitchell then into the wind again at a punishing pace. My heart rate and lungs had finally dropped below the red line but the legs would give no more, just hang on and don't let the line fracture, the reliance of 9 behind weighing heavily.  A slow for the highway traffic and a ramp up to Roubaix sent Softa OTA, but on and on the fearless five flogged out turns of torture till Bruce threw in the towel with 500 left of Conrod.  Rocket had the most to the post, all now delighted to slow and lap up the 38 average.

25/8  The Friday friendly
It was a refreshing change to berth midfield for the Friday friendly as Jen, Merida-not-AvantiJohn, PistolPete, Boof, Shorty, Kenworth, AvantiTrev, Mel, Cate, Ralphy, BamBam, Bruce and Weapon congregated for the Couldabeens cruise.  Merida-not-AvantiJohn tore into Archer Rd like it was thrash Thursday, prompting many to sit back in social mode, reluctant to form the up line.

Bruce, Boof and Cate broke the  3 degree ice (almost literally) to get the turns rolling, that horizon hope of daylight inspiring others to join in.  A slight southwester chilled the bones but heated the tempo as we swung north from Mitchell Rd, another UFO whacking wheels at Central Kialla.
Weapon was the days victim, all pausing for a puncture pitstop in River Rd, AvantiTrev assuming his role of team mechanic to fasten the fix.  Resuming the ride with CatCol now abaord, Merida-not-AvantiJohn resumed his rate of knots and paired with PistolPete, kept heads down and tails up toward Boundary Rd, but there'd be a majority to calm the cadence as others took turns.  Another scenic sun up blessed Boundary Rd, Mel aboard a new Avanti (birthday bike) soaking up the smoothness.  The never ending winter is suppressing sprint stimulation, many long time addicts now electing to sit out the speed splurge (but we'll see an epidemic I'll bet when the warmth, sun and the hibernators make an appearance again.)

The pace gradually grew and the turns shortened as we whistled past the cypress trees, by the Kinder it was rolling turns as the sentences stopped and gasps grew.  The bunch front slimmed at Hopeful corner and body languages spoke of impending implosion at Prentice Rd, chosing which wheel to follow a skill of translating which bubble's 'bout to burst.  Boof of course was victorious, leading a line of exhausted expirees through the left right at Orrvale Rd, a chatty tap back to town with the delight of quaffing coffee with the ladies of the peloton mine to savour.

Week 34       248 km                    YTD  8,509 km

Week 33 : Alleviating anaerobic anxiety

Post 408
12/8  Saturday satisfaction.

It was a quiet commute solo to Saturday's social spin, soaking up the sublime Cosmic carbonaria and a mild (9 degrees) morning.  The Godfather, TatPaul, Softa, TatMat, ScottMatt, Jen, PistolPete, Wozza, Bruce, Shorty, Troy, Kel, AvantiAndy, Boof, Rocket, KillkennyPaul, Jase, Lucy, Temple, Lenny, Bo and Merida-not-AvantiJohn crammed the carpark, ScottMatt and I paying the price of early arrival with the first shift. A moment of mist from above sent a shiver of showers through the bunch but the clouds weren't so threatening through my specs (rose coloured?).  Time off the bike has tamed ScottMatt to make my first 3k cruisy, but it was cruel for the next 1700 meters beside TatMat.   Troy, Boof and Bruce kept the effort elevated for Mitchell Rd and Central Kialla, a blanket of baulk thrown over the bunch as some less swift got to the drivers seat at the River Rd bridge. A social sentence later we were back to work (some set the standard and others follow.....under expectation or perspiration?)

The WNW'er caressed the ego if only to crush it for our return to town, sheltered in the up-line on the push up Boundary Rd hid the horsepower needed to keep tempo at the front.  TatPaul's turn was brief and breathless, TatMat's long and strong as I shared the pairing from the pig pen to Old Dookie Rd.
Several were missing in action (seeking solace in the rear seats) as we skirted the railway ripple strips and up to Lemnos-Cosgrove Rd to work west 12k back to breakfast. I could sense a mushiness in my Michelin as wheels whacked a UFO (Unidentified F#&%'n 'Ole), press on Foss till a rim on road forces a halt.  Predictions of peloton placement were already being calculated for the sprint, promoted further forward as the length of Ford faded.

It was TatMat and I who scored the workload as we entered Wanganui Rd for a blast up to 40 when thankfully the turns rolled quickly.  I'd almost reached the rear by DECA when ushered to rejoin the advancing troops, The Godfather in the lead role of lead-out as many hopefuls were being ejected off the back.  Luck and placement had me catching the draft up the hill for a top 6 finish, several in my tow appreciative.

Breakfast babble (and a sense of secret scrutiny?) aplenty at the Lemontree on Mark Beaumont, wind (the weather type), remembering names, plans for a Tour de Pub, doors that close and the doors that open after, retro bikes and a second order of Couldabeens kits. (I was just up my driveway when the front tube let the last of the air go.......what timing!)

14/8  What light through yonder horizon breaks?
Around the golf course loop and with Monday morning time up my armwarmer, I bit the bait of the road less traveled northeast (into the headwind) to Radio Australia then south on Verney to board the Goat peace train.  Sly's tech tattle drowned my ears as Jen, AvantiAndy, Heady, Tina and AvantiCraig rolled into the roundabout for the 6am off, a mild morning and a northeaster a welcome break from the recent chilly southerlies.  Tina's tuned from a Buffalo-in-the-snow weekend, AvantiAndy's been secret squirrel training, even AvantiCraig has squeezed 4 rides into a fortnight, but Heady's hammered from hibernation. (and there's a whole lot of hurt awaiting the gaggle of Goats still to shake off their doonas)

East to Boundary and south to River, seven took their turns till Heady herniated beyond the pub.  Comfort was on holiday for me today as the Fizik felt fickle (or was it the sit site softening from Sundays slumber?), Sly putting peace to bed for a solid slog along River Rd. My enemy of time turned me along the truck route and Archer toward home, enthused by an earlier sun rise suggesting spring is almost with us.  

15/8        #5 & #9
A glimmer of hope filtered through Tuesday's radar as the abandons pinged on What'sApp in the early hours, Rule #5 and Rule #9 resonated to ride!  The dull damp from earlier showers kissed goodbye to an unblemished Baum, the 5k soggy slog to the carpark would sort the hard from the soft.  As suspected, the grid was empty, only ramping up my resolve to do a lap that others didn't, so I set forth east with a sense of urgency (to outrun the rain?) against a northeaster (13-20 km/h) that took the slack out of the illiopsoas and pectineus.  The orchards, twists and turns of Channel Rd gave some recovery from the wind (the bark in the dark from Darth Vader pushed the h.r. over 170 bpm) so it was bonus reaching Boundary to deal with the breeze only blowing at the portside. With enough light in the sky to see the clouds had little threat, River Rd was almost enjoyable (aside from the rooster tails of water up the nose) as the wind swung ENE, but pace needed rationing without the bonus of a bunch or buddy to draft.  Time too was ticking without a bunch average, so the usual shortcut via the truck route and Archer would get me home back on agenda.  An unseen inch of roadside gravel grabbed the front wheel as a B double passed (spiking the heart rate), back to town feeling like a wet rag (but chuffed), a road hungry half-wit crowded me to the gutter as I rode the empty car parks (for want of a bike lane) home.

16/8   The hardcore four
Doubts were high that few would front the windy (24-46 km/h) Wednesday with roads still saturated from yesterday's soaking (21mm) but PistolPete (convalescing from a cold) escaped his sick bed, Tina and CatCol the only others tough enough to endure the elements.  I didn't mind doing the first shift with a northwest assistance to the Sanctuary roundabout, PistolPete sympathetic to the speed of us humble B graders down to Mitchell Rd where Tina tempo'd us to Central Kialla.  CatCol had a spirited spin up to River Rd, handing me another wind assisted turn to the River Rd bridge.  I wondered if PistolPete would take the helm for the rest of River but he fairly shared the breeze at the back door, handing over to Tina at the kennels.  Pace had pickled CatCol who struggled to keep Tina's tempo, a gap needed filling as Col's tank emptied. I went ahead to loan him a draft, and with Pistol we reformed the quartet just as my turn for torture turned up in Boundary Rd.

Keeping smooth and straight was asking a lot as winds whipped at the wheels, a small comfort came in the shelter of the Broken river trees so I stretched my turn on reaching Channel which almost bent a valve.  Legs went like Gumby's to catch Tina's wheel as Pistol powered possessed into the headwind for home, by the S bend CatCol was in tempo trouble again so I repeated the draft donation to keep the team together (Pistol soon saw the strife and adjusted his pace so we all might survive)  An anger brewed inside as the relentless wind blew at the brow, legs and lungs were unable to match what the will wanted (my contribution from Jameson Rd to the Kinder made harder when I caught sight of 183 bpm).   Pistol again saved the day bearing the brunt to Doyles Rd, all putting in one last stand to finally reach town.

17/8  Thuffering Thursday
Within milliseconds of pulling the pin, h.t.f.u. won the battle in the brain to face a dark, damp and windy Thursday, after all, there was mud, worms and water to soil a sparkling bike and kit!  I'd almost committed to a solitary slog when PistolPete, Rocket, Boof and Bruce rolled in to grid, but Boof had punctured (just for our entertainment?) harnessing the launch.  Repaired and rolling, Rocket took the reigns for leg one, this is doable me thinks till the tempo kept climbing beyond 40 beyond Kensington (oh stop sooking and suck it up Foss! You're amongst allies) Bruce headed the 1400 meter leg 2 as I squashed the sceptics in my skull in preparation to lead leg 3.  The pressure to perform eased with a Garmin glimpse (41 clicks) as I threaded the thin line between the ChaCha puddles, ignoring the heart rate would alleviate anaerobic anxiety.  Reaching the Kinder was the end of my rope, there was just enough jellybeans in the jar to catch Bruce's wheel as Pistol shot off to the cypress trees.

There was a swift stop at Boundary Rd for two untimely trucks, then Bruce bolted to the Broken bridges for my second shift to start.  Maybe the constant consumption of concrete of late has tuned up the old engine, as it was running well enough at One Tree Dam (where Hoges joined in) to push on to reach River (or was the NNW'er giving a false sense of speed security?) Almost to the point of percolation, Hoges saved me calling "puncture" at Disco Steve's.  The pause to pitstop was a holiday for the heart, Hoges' repair was the comic intermission till toil tolled again.  Expertly echeloned across River Rd, the five helped me find a second wind, enthused enough to take on a third shift for the last k of River.  Gasping to grab the draft of the last wheel signed me off any further contributions, it would take several k's before I could perform this pace again.  A feeling of inadequacy faded as other shifts shortened, the wind was wearing away the wattage as our six pack hurtled toward the highway.  Boof called it quits at Galbraiths gate and reserved a seat in the caboose, I was struggling for spare wattage as we swung into Conrod straight with 1200 meters of muscle masochism to go.  Rocket martyred a 500 meter drive to hand Bruce the final 200, but Hoges' appetite for chocolates was stronger (just to finish was reward enough for me).

18/8  Windecent exposure
With more wind than a dozen dim sims, Friday tested those already craving to crank after a wet week.  At least the wind (22 to 41 km/h) had dried the roads!  Wozza, Troy, Bruce, PistolPete, Pelly, Kel, BamBam, Boof and Bo arrived with a grimace for the wind but a grin with ten to share the load.  Happily hurtling south with the breeze at the backside, the hurt (and hernias?) heading home was furthest from our thoughts with Strava trophies to score eastbound.

Hats off to BamBam (rarely riding) and Kel ploughing into the northern leg of Central Kialla 'cause I had the easier effort of River Rd (bridge to the dip) though the speed was taking its toll.  Priming my resolve in Boundary Rd, I paired with Bruce at the Broken bridges but I needed a therapist for the headwind in Channel Rd.  Pelly had disappeared from duty, Troy graciously leveling with me (hope I didn't wear out your brakes mate!) till my legs and lungs could give no more at Sellmans.  Bo then Wozza were promoted to the pain at the S bend, Wozz calling single file at the cypress trees to minimise the damage.  Hanging on in quiet desperation as Bo then Bruce cranked to the Kinder, I'd hoped Bruce was going all the way till his elbow said "no way" at Hopeful corner.  With chin on the headstem and all stops out, I survived a few hundred meters till imploding into a gasping wreck, unable to catch the last wheel till the nine slowed for Orrvale Rd.  PistolPete, Boof and Troy kept up the cruelty back to town, BamBam unhitching in the last 2 k's (but Troy slowed to tow Pinocchio)

Week 33     250 km               YTD 8,261

Week 32 : In preparation for palpitation

Post 407
5/8  Flat, chat, flat chat.

Sodden roads and a vigorous wind brought a wry grin to my morning, there'd be no Saturday specialists today, just the hard core.  Wozza, Rocket, Bruce, Bo, Cate, Kel, PistolPete, Manny, Carl, The Godfather and Boof had cast off their doonas and batlled the WNW'er (24-38 km/h) to congregate for the Saturday spin.  Manny and Carl steered the bunch out of the carpark but had a navigational faux pas choosing Channel Rd, that put me on the front to skip town southbound and, just to keep it consistent, pairing with Wozz to the roundabout.  We'd just crossed the truck route when Rocket hollered a puncture, so it was stop and sledge time while the wind whistled around our nether regions (no pressure Rocket!)  His fix was fast, so we were soon speeding south to Mitchell, but Carls' clicking was concerning.  A pause shed little light on the nuisance noise, so we steamed onward enjoying the wind up the wastgate.  Troy was lurking ahead as Pistol fired the tempo through Central Kialla, the puddles, worms and mud immaterial with the wind whipping us from the portside.  Into River Rd, Carls' click was now a puncture, so stop #3 started the sledging again, a hissing from my front tyre spelling double deflation.

Eagle eyed Kel found the sliver of glass that injected my Michelin, a hurried re-tube and glove fumble later had the dozen back driving east. There was no chat but flat chat with tempo into the forties, big rings and little sprockets de rigeur as we bolted to Boundary.  Noses northbound found Troy remounting after his puncture pitstop (it's all the rage you know!), speed still sizzling over the Broken bridges and past Channel Rd.  (I'd quietly hoped for a short cut to breakfast but calories burned makes breakfast earned)  Positioned betwixt Rocket and Wozz set a swift standard, little left in my tank after a squirt from Fig Farm to Old Dookie Rd.   A few others had withdrawn from the fury at the front as the pace continued unabated on Lemnos-Cosgrove Rd, The Godfather and even Manny now spent by speed.

Mental memoirs of a few thrashes during the week had made up my mind to console in the caboose, crossing Grahamvale Rd  Bo had discovered that puncture No5 was his, albeit slow. (could it make it to the Lemontree without the hassle of a halt?)  Breakfast begged and all had wearied from the wind, a short cut taken via Verney (to avoid it being brunch), but Bo's deflation caused pit-stop #4 on the fringe of town.  Base camp was more inviting than ever, the mental mindset, rest days and Septembers' battle of the breeze kept tongues tattling between bites of breakfast, Weapon's addition adding a dessert discussion.

8/8  The benefits of concrete for dinner.
Rallying the Tuesday troops with a call to consume concrete seemed to work, Cate, KillkennyPaul, Temple, Softa, Pelly and HBK fronted to a fresh (2 degrees) carpark (better than last weeks mass of 2). Tethered by traffic for a bit, we were finally away, my mandatory sentence of the first shift went ok, so long as I didn't look at the heart rate.  A mystery voice from the caboose called me in after the turn as Temple then HBK took the reigns for leg 2 and 3, Softa (back from a broccoli break) braving the drive to the cypress trees.  Cate then KillkennyPaul steamed east to Darth Vaders' place where Pelly led the charge to Boundary.  Gentle on the accelerator in Boundary Rd to keep the carriages connected (and to stay on everyone's Christmas card list) I aimed for a Broken bridges handover.  The old engine was running ok so I set sights on One Tree Dam instead, "oh to hell with it!, harden up and ride to River" the competitive cranium called. I was a bit second hand reaching River, at least there were others to share the workload home. An almost full moon lit the fog at rest in the paddocks, hats off to all giving their best whether short, long or hanging onto the tail (the mystery man still just a headlight in the caboose) There was lots of kudos being spread about as each expired from duty, my turn again for the 2k southbound leg through Central Kialla.  Back in the tow for Mitchell Rd some were now shortening shifts, the Hares hammered by as we reached Archer but there was no intention (or propulsion) to to jump aboard as a gap opened up at Dave's dip.  There was a brief moment to grab more oxygen waiting for Melbourne Rd commuters, then ripped into Raftery for the final fling.  Pelly drove the train past Galbraiths' gate for my contribution to the Conrod kink, it was refreshing to be recovering at sixth wheel with a k to go and HBK to cook on the front. Pelly jumped nearing the last dip just as I'd risen for the occasion, so it was pleasing to get the chocolates by half a bike over the young fella. (the roll home discovered the mystery man was CatCol on a comeback)

9/8  Sighting the endangered species.

I'd hoped winter had given up the chill but Wednesday needed all those layers again to shield me from 2 degrees.  There was a surprising turn-up at the grid (safety in numbers?) KillkennyPaul, Softa, Kenworth, Mel, Wozza, Kel, Troy, Boof, Cate, Rocket, Pistol, Bo, The Godfather, MeridaDanny, Cat Col, Shorty, Tina, Weapon and Merida-not-AvantiJohn, whats' more the endangered wildlife of BeerMat, BamBam and Nick made a shock showing. Six bells tolled for Wozz to drive the train out of town, almost to Sanctuary's roundabout when Bo pouted a puncture.  There was chirpy chat while the fix dragged on (quicker with Kel as pit-stop crew!), eventually back aboard and running southbound in the hope of making up lost time. The rubber band effect was strong on the long line to River Rd, MeridaDanny (interesting kit) driving up the up-line (& out of his depth) setting off a ripple effect to the caboose.  I mused the encyclopedia of excuses with Cat Col, welcomed back Nick (cringing in the caboose) and suggested Softa's skid-lid seeks size sorting.

The quick chicks (Kel, Tina, Weapon, Cate and Mel) were line astern to brave the Boundary battle at the front, BamBam busting a gasket as he paired with me at the pointy end over the bridges.  The long lines threaded the lefts and rights of Channel Rd back to town, a few now happy to sit out the sprint as we swung into Central Ave.  MeridaDanny scurried for cover into the down line as the pace percolated at the Kinder (another shunting of slow domino'd down the bunch).

I was sitting third wheel in the up-line as Pistol (with Kel glued to his wheel) fired ahead early, so gave it full throttle to catch the draft (but quickly shot by).  Done for with Boof, Troy, Bo and co lurking behind, and with no hope of a placing, I emptied the tank to at least make them earn the chocolates.  The finish line was so near yet so far, swamped by several in the dying meters but some satisfaction to stretch the long line longer.

10/8  Hit me with your rhythm stick.
It felt like I was on another planet Thursday, 8 degrees and a stiff northeaster was out of this world! (after weeks of winters' woes)  Troy, BamBam, Ralphy, Bo, Wozza, Kel, Tina, Liam, Travis, Bruce, PistolPete, Rocket, Boof, KillkennyPaul, Cate, Temple, Lenny and CatCol had assembled for the tempo torment, 'gridphobia' gripping several to cower in the caboose (I subscribe to the Wozza theory ; procrastination is for pussies!  Do a turn early and then relish the draft)  The first turn earned an "ease up" for Wozz and I at the Kensington roundabout, fighting the northeaster (18-27 km/h) had un-hooked a few, only half the bunch were driving, the other half surviving, carving into Channel Rd.  (convincing my cranium to continue doing turns was the biggest battle) There was much relief reaching Boundary Rd to get the breeze behind, though that only spurred the speed to River Rd.  I'd scored a brief draft as the front 9 stacked across River Rd, managing to get my heart rate below 170 inspired another go. This was going to hurt,  but the kudos from Troy numbed my neural niggles, into the rhythm of 400 meters on the front at 42 soon switched my pre-frontal cortex from competition to crucifixion.  Hanging on at second wheel needed wattage I didn't think I had, Bo skipping a couple of places to distance himself from the Troy torture.  By Mitchell Rd I'd resigned from rotations to join the long line of hangers on, many way beyond their comfort zone, but at least they're trying!  The long wait at the the highway for a long line of traffic was some respiratory respite but holding that wheel ahead was an effort when the engines fired on all cylinders to Roubaix.  Fractures appeared as early as Galbraiths gate, I felt it my duty to tow the tormented (as I had nothing to contribute elsewhere) so sat back to pick up the pieces in Conrod straight.  It was a slog of survival to reach the finish line, Ralphy, KillkennyPaul and BamBam questioning why they came and Cat Col's heart rate like a Fukushima geiger counter, but there was pleasure from the pain in survival.

I got lucky (& privileged) to witness Mark Beaumont on his 'Around the world in 80 days' epic as he slogged through town on Thursday, half way around the globe and grinding out 350+ km a day is true grit.  Have a look at his challenge on  <artemisworldcycle.com>

11/8  A Friday floggin'
It's been longer than a PistolPete turn at the front since doing a Friday pain train, so scurried (in preparation for palpitation) to the Verney roundabout for the 5:50 express, finding a mix of gritty Goats (Carl, Manny, Coggo and Tum) and '51's (Eggy, lil'Tony, DocPete, Sherls, Trent and Trudy) assembling.  I took the helm for leg one (refer to the Wozza theory) to Grahamvale Rd then tucked in ahead of Tum (concreted in the caboose) for the real engines to rev eastward,  a WNW'er (13-24 km/h) pacing our progress.  Echeloned across Boundary Rd, I was on the fast yet useless wheel of lil'Tony (no higher than my handlebars), well out of my depth in the forties but Rule #5 suggested I get over it.  Handed the lead for a 400 meter drive to Old  Dookie Rd, two oncoming trucks and their gusts wrecking my reserves.  Back into the draft with Tum as backstop and wondering if recovery would arrive was quashing any cockiness I'd had in recent times (it's a bitter but better tonic to be put back in the box of average as others excel).   By the Broken bridges I'd reconciled to be toast, sit back and be humbled by horsepower as 8 now cranked clockwise to River Rd.  The turns rolled into River Rd and it's heartbreaking headwind, Trudy then Carl bowing out of driving duties while crossing paths with the Couldabeens.  Southbound to Mitchell didn't spare the wattage, a flattened bunny causing a hop under Trent's wheel.  Hammer and tongs into Mitchell I was convincing myself would do good, I'd finally got my heart rate managed but my legs were lodging protests. A slow for the highway traffic then back on the gas to Roubaix, Coggo was now sitting back while the 51's and the Manny machine seemed limitless.  Conrod straight was a sight for sore legs, just a k to hold on till the speed symptoms subsided (see your health care professional if pain persists?).  Several faded as the last dip drew near, crossing the line was reward enough for me, the Strava bonus a 40 km/h average for 32 k's.

Week 32     210 km            YTD 8,011 km        

Week 31 : Purpose to the pain

Post 406
29/7  A split infinitive.

 The social magnet of a team tap and tattle was stronger than the bureau's "feels like 1" on Saturday, Wozza, Boof, Mel, Cate, KillkennyPaul, Tina and Temple the only faces visible as lights filled the carpark darkness, the other cyclusts identity to come with rotations.  Plenty of northeaster (15-26 km/h) propelled the bunch out of town, I thought it timely to get a turn done before the headwind hurt.  My shift at the front finished just in time for Wozz and Rocket to power east on Mitchell Rd, it was tough enough to hang on in their draft at second wheel.  The headwind north through Central Kialla tamed the rush, but we were soon back into the groove turning east into River Rd, finding TatPaul, Kel, Shorty, TatMat, Bo, The Godfather (heard earlier but only just seen), Rocket, Manny, Merida-not-AvantiJohn and that endangered species BeerMat in the rotations, but we'd apparently lost Popgun and Cougar, tortured by tempo.  Chains climbed a few sprockets as the bunch collectively calmed, samaritans Rocket, Wozz and Bo eased back to collect those split.

The pack chat increased now that oxygen wasn't so precious, Nath entered the fold as the accelerator was gradually pressed.  There was a noticeable push into the wind when I'd arrived at the front for duty, stark contrast to the draft from a long bunch.  Out of River Rd and into Boundary, Wozza, Rocket and Bo had rejoined the circulating crew, several attempts to tow the offcast had been unsuccessful.  Carl climbed aboard nearing Channel Rd, the northeaster hammering those on the up-line after a shift of shelter in the down-line, should have rolled clockwise in the circumstances but anti is the Couldabeens constant (and safest, given the varied experience)   The west turn to town was relief from the 26 km/h gusts and a breeze up the bum got the bunch buoyed into the 40's, silencing many (but not silencing Manny!)

Big gaps opened crossing Lemnos North Rd and I felt the hopes of many behind that I'd drag them back up. It was half a k of tough toil to reach the drivers, then to share the front to Grahamvale Rd spent my reserves.  Several k's at a pronto pace had halved the bunch into drivers and survivors, by Ford Rd's end the caboose was crammed. Wozza, KillkennyPaul and I were quickly enlisted to tow others as we avoided the up-line, Wozza driving the lions' share past DECA as the bunch split from the sprinters.

As Wanganui hill drew near, several had been cast off the fast class, moving us up the rankings, the gasps soon subsiding to small talk as the bunch congregated to cruise the Boulevard to breakfast.
All but one joined in the social session of breakfast and babble, the art of staying smooth and straight, the nutritional benefits of smarties cookies and gran fondo preparations occupied conversation, special guest Nev (in shoulder re-co rehab) joining in.


31/7  The puncture train
With time up my armwarmers, a roll around the golf course loop would soak up the minutes before the peace train departure, promising myself a long, slow warm-up lasted a few seconds before the speed standard niggled at the ego.  Tina, Heady, Coggo, Jen, AvantiAndy, Carl and Sly were at the Goat station for a 6am departure, a far cry from the 18 keen to ride 6 months ago.  Sly seems CATarthic returning to two wheels (rueing the 'roo?) but eight got into rotational thing eastward on Lemnos-Cosgrove Rd.  There's calm and comfort in the consistency on Tina's wheel (and I feel less possessed alongside her 400k / week habit), the k's clicking by to Boundary Rd to start the spin south.  AvantiAndy is clutching the thin threads of winters' motivation, Heady was suitably inspired to do a turn, and when most Goats have gone into hibernation, Coggo's consistently cranking.  It was Carl's turn to do the double deflation as we turned into River Rd, forcing me to break ranks and slog solo for home if I was to remain employed.  For variety's sake, I steered north on Doyles Rd back to town, a change of scenery and a smooth wide emergency lane to use made a comfortable crank homeward.

1/8 Tenacious two (and a 'roo)
Hopes faded as Hares invaded the carpark Tuesday morning, it seems Temple, KillkennyPaul, HBK and Softa have turned to marshmallow from the 5:45ers.  So, sole soldiers Cate and I set off with a positive to the pursuit, Hares would inevitably catch us but we'd see just how long we could hold them off.  One degree restricted respiratories and there'd be pace to consider with just two doing turns, a reserve needed if we were to hang onto the Hares in a hurry as they passed.  Still no sign as we turned south into Boundary Rd Cate cranked a solid turn into the southerly (already taxed after a 27k run Sunday), without HBK to go halves, I'd committed to River Rd's length in the drivers seat.  Eagle eyed Cate called "Roo!" at the dip, so we slowed as Skippy bounded north to the paddock, then back into the rhythm to Rivers' end.  The Hares were homing in, just a minute later all reserves went into grabbing the draft as Troy, Pistol, Wozza, Rocket, Hoges, Bo, Kel and Avanti-not-MeridaJohn streaked by.  It was sit down, shut up and hang on as the princes of pace swapped shifts west toward Melbourne Rd, but Cate's Sunday run stung the legs out of Dave's dip.  The Hares hold up for highway traffic allowed us back on the caboose but the rate out of Roubaix for the Raftery rumba uncoupled Cate again.  Playing chaperone was the done thing (my legs concurred anyway) so we polished off the lap watching Hares hurry to the horizon (well, 400 meters ahead).

2/8  Zero tolerance
The time taken and the layers of insulation seems wasted when you open the door, the minus one chill grips you to question why ride through it at speed? I think Kel, The Godfather, Cate, Kenworth, Wozza, MeridaDanny, Boof, Bo, Troy and PistolPete questioned likewise, or do they brave the elements 'cause others do?  I questioned why I took the first shift again as I cranked up to speed on Archer, building to the bridges to be paired at the city limit (surprise, surprise....with Wozz!) when two lines formed.  It was a pleasant surprise to welcome Weapon aboard to join the frozen flock as we sliced through the chill, squinting into the infernal distance for the Sanctuary roundabout where roll-over and relief awaited me.  It takes a k or two for the heart rate to settle down from 170, second then third wheel easing the effort to become gradually social and utter more than three words without gasping.

Wordsmithing was the spoken subject with Weapon as I got to the rear, the engines ahead puffing through the light fog as MeridaDanny (interesting winter knicks) worked his way forward.  The Godfather co-captained his turn in the hot seat, but left him to cook a little too long. How rapidly the energy evaporates and the ego ebbs facing the front in your peloton apprenticeship.  (Ponder your past, there's purpose to pain)   So I contemplated that philosophy as I was promoted to the pointy end with the wizard of wattage (Wozza), but he's always the kind collaborator.  A pink tint to the horizon beautified Boundary Rd, Goats now the endangered species (conspicuous by their absence).  Darth Vader barked through the darkness in Channel Rd (too chilled to chase?), as I advanced through the ranks it appeared I'd be captain at the Kinder, but a few short shifted to put Wozz and Troy in the lead-out for the ChaCha.

4/8  The Friday Phew

Spooked by Thursday's radar (of rain that never came) I was keen as mustard to tap a Friday lap whatever the weather.  Troy, Boof, Bruce and PistolPete rolled in to grid, great! a group of Gallardo's and here's me, the Getz!  Second wheel to Boof out of town (plenty of cakes and pies would make him the dream draft) got up to pace, but winter's wet cursed his Continental with a puncture and pit-stop just shy of the roundabout.  A fast fix (despite the fickle fit) had us underway again, I was happy to take the reigns (easy on the uptake for Boof's benefit) but the real reason was to preserve the reserves. Bruce played captain to Mitchell Rd where Pistol fired to Central Kialla, I thought there'd be a repeat of his locked elbow syndrome, but Troy tore into the northbound leg to River Rd, unperturbed by the breeze (WNW at 13-20 km/h)   Even at third wheel the tempo was testing me, but the winds' push up the posterior in River Rd gave me the giddy-up to tackle the bridge to the dip.  Thanks to the quick company, I scored a PB (8:41) for River Rd's 6k, but then it was battle in Boundary Rd as the wind whipped at our push north.  Troy powered to One Tree Dam and Boof captained to the bridges, bless those who planted the trees up to Channel Rd, the shelter keeping my turn up to specification without scrubbing off too much speed.  I had a big dig to the depths to catch Boof's wheel as Bruce steamed into Channel Rd, keeping up with these Hares is food for the soul, puddle sprayed and spotted, and having a filthy bike (yet again) now somehow seemed insignificant. It looked like I'd have the short straw of the ChaCha as Boof drove the train into Kinder corner, his elbow beckoned me ahead at Prentice Rd just as Bruce and his competitive cravings bolted by, sparing me the suffering.

Week 31            210 km              YTD  7,801 km