Week 21 : A payback for past pleasures.

Post #449
19/5  A cool crew.
The social spin has become an infatuated institution, aboard the bike at 5:45 in 3 degrees for Saturday number 210, wondering who would make up the mixed menage of maniacs this time.

Wozza, Tina, MyRideTrev, Trav (not Travis, so I'll tag him Kreeky), Liam, Shorty, TatMat, Travis (not Kreeky), BigLen, TatPaul, Boof, Determined Dan, Mark, PistolPete, Sean, The Godfather, ScottMatt, TrekTrev and Trish surmounted the chill to congregate in the carpark.  Wozza captained the cool crew into the fog on Archer Rd, just two in the early edition (Rocket and CatCol) joining en-route to Mitchell Rd.  Tina was on the back of a Friday ton (nothing for the queen of k's), PistolPete personified panache with a new class kit ('bout time, reckon I've seen one of his outfits twice), TatMat still a little lax (too much walking, not enough riding), BigLen balaclava'd like a burglar, Travis salivating over a forthcoming Port Douglas escape and Determined Dan delighted to be on day shift.  But back to the business of bikes!  I'd progressed through the ranks of the social toward the pointy end, not till Boundary Rd's channel bridge did I pair with BigLen, then with Tina from the fig farm to slice the crisp virgin air (too much hot air back in the bunch?)  Loose stones at Old Dookie Rd made it caution corner, a bit tricky when most folks fingers (and toes) were now in numbness land.

My Michelin's (2,800 km) hummed, the groupset (8,700 km) purred and the Baum (38,000 km) rolled on reliably, shame the old engine (246,000 km) is so worn!  Turns swapped short and long (proportional to fitness) , speed see-sawing a bit to the frustration of some. A long line of felines was shy of the Big Ring as we pointed west toward breakfast, ScottMatt (with a lack of lumens) now had enough light to roll through, Trish now inspired for her maiden advance (Damn! She stole BigLen's draft from me!)  Rocket fought off hypnosis from Mark's dazzling tail-light (aimed high and bright), combined with a staccato cadence, he was a hard act to follow.    Fog had lifted in Ford Rd to clear a course to town, I was on the up line again predicting the predicament of pace for Wanganui Rd. 
Rocket's wattage drew the bunch into a file of Indians at the water treatment plant, me graciously squeezing into the draft of the left line as the right line disappeared. Rocket peeled off at DECA's gate, Mark inheriting the hurt with head down on the headstem.  It seemed only a second till his elbow sent the signal of 'stuffed' , my turn for the pain driving the train to the hill.  The old engines' energy evaporated at 45 with barely a 100 meters covered, a tidal wave of contenders hurrying by as I overdosed on oxygen.  Finding a handful of survivors tucked in behind to crest the hill put the pressure back on to catch the tail, burning my rubbery legs to reconnect in Rudd Rd.  Through the city streets, the race for the warm seats was on, but the pedestrians (Bo. Mrs.Pistol and Kel) had pounced prior.  A chilly chat on grocery costs, spoilt kids, toe temperature and the bliss of bread & butter dampened the rigor of the ride ('till standing half an hour later returned the memories)

21/5  The hurry and the headwind.

Hitching a ride on Monday's westerly (20-32 km/h) felt like forbidden fruit, but there'd be a price of pain to pay on the about face to home. Making the most of it, I aimed at a PB for the New Dookie Disco (no match and no want for Kel's well earned QOM) pushing harder and longer in search of the finish at Boundary Rd (are those signs really 6 k's away?)  That competitive craving crucified the calves to the college, thereafter the legs argued the case for the negative.  (all that effort and I was still 12 seconds short!)  Boundary Rd was spent in recovery, preparing for the hard yards home, the wind channelling into Channel Rd as a payback for past pleasures. My speed pleased at first, but lower and lower the chin sank to satisfy the standards as reality took hold, the short sections of shelter on the 9k's back to town a brief bonus from the blast. Standards had slipped under 30 in the final 2k, the only urge left was for coffee and toast, the win was wise words with Weapon for the weeks warm-up.

22/5  'Cause it's nice when you stop.
If only to confirm the craziness, I found myself eastbound in the early hours of Tuesday with a 20 km/h headwind home again, you'd think I'd remember yesterday's windswept workout! The original intention was to get to the Toaster and work my way back, but the lure of a shortcut via Boundary Rd was too great (3k's off the workload might be a sign of softening?)  I'd saved a little wattage for the return to town, assuming the aero position and settling into 85 rpm in Old Dookie Rd worked well against the 20k's worth of westerly, a few passing cars gave a moments reprieve but the oncoming ones blew me backwards.  20 solo k's done and back in suburbia, I found Heady, Sandy, Phil, Hommy, Dippa, Sootie and Belly at Friars ready to launch. 

Heady and Dippa led the crew calmly out of town, speed steadily rising with the breeze at our backs.  Pairing with Sootie at Central Ave for the drive to the bridge fizzled Foss's fuse, a break in Bali has boosted the boy!  The hard yards came in Boundary with the wind at the starboard bow, turns quickly shortening as intentions imploded reaching the front.  Most served several shifts to drag the pack to River Rd, the call for "single" as we steered west into the wind putting me in the drivers seat.  Careful not to bust any off the back, I'd reached the smooth tarmac to hand the reigns to Sootie, Sandy now in the survival seat of the caboose.  Through the dip and over the bridge, Hommy took the lead, but failing to signal the small branch had us all making kindling.  Belly's blood boiled and bolted for River's end, my job now to Band-Aid the busted bunch together for the last half k.  My usual exit to the truck route and Archer to home was a task without a draft, at least the pace was mine to make (although a time clock awaited to keep it keen).

23/5  Two tribes.

Special guest appearances by Car+Mel added to Wednesdays Couldabeens collection at the carpark, TrekTrev, Boof, SuperMario, Cate, Sean, PistolPete, Tina and Kreeky made a decent roll-up when weather normally trims the attendance.  Ladies led the lads out of town, the turns at the front rolling a little more regularly with the southwester wearing down the willpower.  Shorty blended in from his early escape, an expanded early edition (The Godfather, CatCol, Rocket, Wozza, BamBam and not-so-newAvantiJohn) integrating on leg 3 as I was promoted (presumptuously) to the pointy end for punishment. 
Respite in Mitchell Rd wasn't going to happen as TrekTrev kept me busy toward Central Kialla, the tow and the tailwind headed north, heaven sent.  A volley of velocity volunteers made life easier, Nev keeping a lid on speed at the front for the majority of River Rd.
I'd been demoted all the way to the back by the Broken bridges where the promotion forward began again, all very chatty till half way along Channel Rd where shifts shortened.   The ChaCha's short straw seemed less likely for me as I hit the business end with Kreeky at Jameson Rd, turns rolling in my favour as the bunch bolted toward the Kinder.  All the huffing and puffing was wasted to Prentice Rd as Nev launched a long lead-out for Rocket, Boof and the fast fellows following.  The Godfather kept the cadence cooking back to town, a rostered day off my chance for a rare midweek Scottish caffeine and chat.

I turned to tribe two at 8 fronting Adams Rd to re-unite with the ranks of the retirees.  Hoffy, Gawny, Chilly, The Pom, Wobbly Trev, Bazza, Jeff, Ron and DeepFry lined up, but I don't rank Tina in the aged section.  With lots of daylight but lots of traffic, the dozen aimed at Mitchell Rd Indian file, two lines pairing on the easterly assault, so  I teamed with Tina for a long haul as a fair share for the slightly senior strugglers.

Long-time-no-chat with Hoffy and Chilly, The Pom was on hie 6th ride in 3 months, Bazza super socked (to the knees), WobblyTrev not-so-wobbly and Gawny turning super septuagenarian.  Boundary Rd was beaut with the breeze behind so the tempo turned up but several shortened their shifts suffering the speed.
  Distance was now starting to punish my posterior (the legacy of constant weekday 30's and 40's) but I pushed on to Old Dookie Rd, the call of 'gravel' at the intersection testing a few on the turn (calls from the rear about traffic were non-existent)   Tina and I were quickly back to the front again as more joined the caboose, the westerly work on Lemnos-Cosgrove Rd made more so by the SSW'er.  The workload wound up with just six swapping turns in Ford Rd, the last k called single file for the kerb and drain works.  I got the heads up a few crafty codgers might stir for a sprint so let loose when Mt.Wanganui got close, but none responded so eased for the cruise to brunch.

24/5  Pussycat purrsuit.
Satisfied to set off solo on Thursday (hanging onto hurrying Hares without helping just doesn't cut it for me), the tail-light temptation took over in Old Dookie Rd, a purrsuit of pussycats presented a pleasant past-time.  A light southwester helped my hurry to make up a 500 meter deficit, joining in a steady mid 30's spin with Sherls, Keeno, AvantiCraig, Kelvin, Sully, Cobbles and a Giant guy (detection difficult in the dark).

A sneek peek at the pace set the standard to sit at (otherwise known as the f.i.f.o. principal), Keeno the benchmark of smooth, Sully sooking about a contribution at the front.  The breeze in Boundary Rd would sort the chuffed from the puffed, speed see-sawing relative to the fitness on the front.  Cobbles handed me the helm as we crossed the highway but even the gentlest use of the accelerator popped Sully, Kelvin and Keeno off the back (was I off their Christmas card list or was Channel Rd their preferred way home?)  Sherls, AvantiCraig, Giant guy and Cobbles were keen to continue, soldiering on south to River Rd, hoping for less west in the southwester.  Cobbles peeled off the front at the Angora farm to put me in the drivers seat, something switching in the skull to tear into a better-than-ordinary turn.  (Is it proving oneself?  Doing your fair share? Dishing out distress? Performance anxiety? Sorting out a primal pecking order?)  River Rd's bridge was factored as Foss's finish, recovery required if I was to do more turns.  So five had formed a reasonably rapid rapport to forge on through Central Kialla and toward the highway, but I wondered if some may be holding back for a fast finish at the city limits.  Contributions were equally shared on Raftery Rd and I'd done my bit from Arcadia Downs to Conrod, so sat back and enjoyed a sprintless finish.

25/5  In a Headless hurry.
Only Sootie, DocPete, Tum and Heady fronted for Fridays' fast foray, seems the cool cripples the numbers across all tribes.  Heady led our exit east, Tum taking the reigns as we cleared the truck route. It was a welcome change to be second wheel and take a few seconds to prepare for my first dip, Tum handing over at Dobsons where I put my head down to Central Ave.  Sootie took charge but our hurry was now headless,  our little thespian exiting stage rear and OTA.  Friday's free-for-all tempo meant four forged onward, Sootie, DocPete and Tum towing me to Boundary Rd's fig farm.  Cutting through a light fog I aimed at the channel bridge, but lungs were labouring shy of the mark.  Sootie shied at the highway as traffic approached, so we slowed to keep a driver now that contributors were critical. 

Tum supplied my tow to One Tree Dam where I pushed on to River Rd, just as a condensed Couldabeens clan arrived on their anti-clockwise course. And so we worked west taking turns at the toil, I got lucky beyond the Angora farm scoring the smooth surface so slogged on to reach the bridge.  Sootie seemed to be struggling when we'd reached Central Kialla but continued to contribute, no problems with DocPete and Tum's tempo tearing into Mitchell Rd. Cresting Dave's dip cooked Sootie (now in a 10 meter deficit) so we slowed to collect him (traffic was going to halt us at the highway anyway) for the return via Raftery.  Tum put in a big turn to Galbraiths gate and I got stuck in to get to Arcadia Downs, Sootie dug deep for his swansong to Conrod's dip but popped off the back when his turn was toast.  On the back for the last k was the perfect position to watch Tum and DocPete empty their tanks, a roll across the finish line, gather the group for a cruise through town and finish with breakfast at Mandy's.  The collective yarn with Sootie, DocPete,Tina, Goog's and Kelvin was a fitting finale to the week and a start to another rostered day off.

Week 21       304km            YTD 5,989km  

Week 20 : The carrot for cadence.

Post #448
12/5  The Thaturday thrash.

Wind had whipped the willpower of many on Saturday, a stiff southwester (22-43 km/h) confining all but a dozen to their doonas.  Boof, TatMat, Tina, Rocket, The Godfather,  Wozza, TrekTrev, Cate, PistolPete, TatPaul and Sean braved the breeze to converge on the carpark, I guess a dozen is par for this weather's course.  6am set chocks away, Rocket, Wozza and Pistol unaffected and undeterred by the headwind hurtling south as most struggled in silence slipstreaming behind. I'd put myself on The Godfather's wheel (hoping to hit the front when we were eastbound on Mitchell Rd) but his high jinks half biking Boof saw a turn trimmed and placed me at the pointy end for the last k of Archer (The Godfather graciously levelling with me).  TrekTrev plied to the pace paired in Mitchell, the masses mostly mute behind, save for The Godfather's guffaws. 

Speed mellowed a little in Central Kialla as a few calmed the cadence, sentences now swapping the rows as a dozen drove to River Rd.  Tempo turned up again when the protagonists of pace were promoted to the front (mind you the hearty tailwind was mostly to blame), some silent and suffering again. The Godfather dished out his devilish half-wheeling (whole biking more like it!) to Boof, but thankfully levelled with me as I took a turn to run us out of River Rd.  TrekTrev paired to the Broken Bridges but he was broken by then, Sean spent too, retiring to the caboose (where they hatched plans for a westerly escape on Old Dookie)  Ten turned toward the Toaster with the tempo still toasty, Boof  bullied again but I copped compliance, paired with TatMat bound to the church but Wozza called a halt to correct a calamity his Garmin had called.

I think everyone appreciated the oxygen opportunity. Into the headwind of Lemnos-Cosgrove Rd the bunch thinned to Indian file, Rocket tearing along the tarmac as most sought survival behind him.  I lined up to do my duty a the Main Eastern bridge (Wozza setting a shift that I couldn't match) but I held the pace till the legs gave no more then handed the hurt to Tina.  I sank all into catching TatPaul's wheel (last in the line) to recover, though it was probably better to be on the rivet swapping turns at the front than coping with the variables of velocity as the wind whipped at the wheels on the back.  Mental masochism was overpowering the burn in the vastus lateralis, maybe the sense of belonging (or was it the shame of dropping a wheel?) dredged the depths of determination, but all hung on as the energised engines of PistolPete, TatMat, Boof, Rocket, Wozz and The Godfather shared the grief of train driving.
  Into Wanganui Rd meant more pain, but this old engine delivered, the duty to hold the wheel (for those behind) driving me to Mt Wanganui, but the sight of those spent peeling off the front threw many into neutral, Wozza and Rocket still full of beans 30 meters ahead on the hill.   The cast-offs had just enough left to gather for the Boulevard bolt to breakfast, porridge back on the Lemontree menu and hot coffee my incentive to keep legs toasting into town.  Walkers (Bo, Leah, Kel, Temple, Mrs.Pistol and Bruce) almost outnumbered riders, and with KillkennyPaul, the babble business of GPS, bike insurance and coffee standards occupied an hour.

14/5  A fresh frontier.
Mustering the muscle to move Monday's doona was a struggle, the warmth and weight almost inciting a case of BeerMat syndrome.  With the biggest effort done (getting out of bed) the rest was easy, breakfast and the seemingly endless layers of insulation needed for 3 degrees.  Out the door to face the OMG factor, I set forth on a fresh frontier, to Congupna and beyond if only to rid the repetition of the same old circuits.  Blanketed by black that the Cat-Eye couldn't reach there was just two cars and a truck to keep clear of.  I was feeling a bit Bourke & Wills on unfamiliar ground, the lack of landmarks and light made the search for Lemnos North Rd a tricky one, but I eventually found it for the 16k haul through the fog. The pace was fairly ordinary but I was compensating for the cold, the lack of a bunch to draft lowered the expectations too. Eventually finding a landmark (Ford Rd) rekindled the cadence, pace got even perkier with a promised coffee and banana bread as the finishing trophy.

15/5  G'day Goats.
With the 5:45 fans all fizzled out, I chose my own fun Tuesday, back to old habits with a solo spin to the Toaster then back to town to say g'day to the Goats.  The long stretch of Wanganui, Ford and Lemnos-Cosgrove roads was spent consoling myself to the climate and justifying a 10% drop in pace for the temperature (feels like 1.3).  Again the solitude was serene, solving the world's problems while sniggering at those bludging under blankets.  Keeping a lid on the bpm meant minor management of speed, soon reaching the Big Ring to steer south to the Toaster.  A hint of a southwester wasn't too taxing for the Old Dookie course back into to town, finding Belly, Sandy, Heady, Principal Skinner,  Coggo, Hommy and Snow exiting the suburbs.  Single filed (sheltering / sharing the chill), mid 30's seemed to be the standard (suiting me to a tee) though Principal Skinner, Snow and Sandy were shortening shifts, Hommy hammering his turns (of course) till reality evaporated his efforts. I put in a turn at Boundary Rd to the bridge, mindful to keep the tempo tamed from a pain train, Principal Skinner sitting stuck in the rear seat. 

Over the highway he'd slipped off the back, Coggo retreating to assist (apparently a puncture kept secret)   So six soldiered on south, Snow opening the River Rd account for a k then handing the task to me to press on to the dip. Sandy had retired to the caboose as Belly bolted the last River Rd k, time forcing my exit to town via the truck route, a scenic sun-up sealing 61 k's.

16/5  The charge of the chilled.
A careful commute to the carpark berthed me at the back for Wednesday's whip-around, Sean, Not-so-newAvantiJohn, Cate, MyRideTrev, TrekTrev, Trav, Boof, Wozza, Rocket, The Godfather and SuperMario all lined up ahead for the 6am spin.  Sean and Cate almost performed a track stand on the launch to wriggle out of the first shift, Sean conceding to slog south till the reality of distance pickled him at the city limit.  Wozza and Rocket stepped up for the drive to the truck route, I got the guilties when most tucked in for a tow, so joined the up line on Rocket's wheel.  The early edition (Pistol, Mark, Nev and CatCol) filtered in on leg 3, I squeezed past Mark who'd taken up a big slice of the tarmac and paired with The Godfather to Mitchell Rd (arriving somewhat secondhand and ready for a tow).   Trish was found and rounded up in Mitchell Rd but her presence was short lived, and so began my recovery as others advanced to do their bit.  MyRideTrev progressed to the front (under sufferance) and turned down the tempo a touch, soon after Pistol was at the pointy end percolating the pace. 

We'd run out of River Rd and steered north into Boundary, the breeze at the backside boosting the bunch to the Broken bridges.  TrekTrev's recovered from Saturdays sluggishness, but Sean and MyRide Trev backed off the tempo as we turned into Channel Rd.   I'd been placed on Not-so-newAvantiJohn's wheel when Rocket and Wozz took up residence in the rear, a pairing with The Godfather from the cypress trees to Central Ave had almost emptied my tank, so recovery was put on fast forward as the turns rolled rapidly to the Kinder.  SuperMario had the short straw of the ChaCha charge, many expiring early as the 3 degree chill gripped the lungs.  CatCol had the position and the power at Prentice Rd, Nev driving diplomatically second and Cate uncatchable for third spot. The lengthy line of huffs and puffs soon condensed for cordial chat back to civilisation, but the toil of employment lay in wait to bring us all down to earth.



17/5 Catalysis.
Desperate for a dose of diversity, I rolled out Old Dookie Rd Thursday, content with my own company to crank the k's in contemplation.  The slightest of southwesters favoured my easterly travels but the wind would wear away the wattage for the rest of the loop.  Steering south into Boundary Rd the breeze made it's presence felt, down on the drops to diminish the draft helped, red leds way ahead energised some enthusiasm but the lights behind of chasing Cats was the carrot for cadence.  Past the pub and headed down to the bridges, my lure ahead had vanished down Channel Rd, leaving me to be the mouse in the Cats' game.  Lights behind appeared to be closing in on River Rd but it turned out to be a car, the chain purred and the Michelin's hummed onward, over the bridge and still the lads lagged behind.  Perhaps the pussycats would pounce in Central Kialla, but yet again, lights behind were attached to a car. Mitchell Rd was spent sneaking a peek rearward, half a dozen bikes gradually whittling down the deficit as I rose from Dave's dip.  What started as a steady tap had changed to a chase, the competitive in the cranium pushing my pace into Raftery.  Being caught seemed likely at Galbraiths gate, but I felt they needed to pace for that privilege, a squeeze of the accelerator opening a handy gap by Conrod's first dip.  Six against one soon favoured the felines, Phil, G and 4 others rounding me up with 350 left.

18/5  Friday frailty.
I've got this commute thing fine tuned and timed to arrive at the carpark and tuck into the tail of the bunch (as a lot of others have), Friday's fellowship only finding 9 starters (Boof, TrekTrev, Trav, Rocket, Shorty, not-so-NewAvantiJohn, The Godfather and PistolPete).   A dozen spits from the heavens as we left the city limits sank a few hearts, a predicted soaking averted when the clouds dried up.  After almost a week worth working the wheels, doing an early turn was about as appealing as a lap with the StravaStalker (or 5 minutes of the Royal wedding!), so I sat in line till duty called in Mitchell Rd (You bewdy! a tailwind and a stress-less shift with Shorty).  TrekTrev paired for the drive through Central Kialla where we caught CatCol (the sole earlybird) then Nev en-route to River Rd.

No sign of The Hurtlocker or Doc's collection of cruisers, even the Cats have curtailed as the cool climate culls numbers to the keen (Those in the digital dreamland of Zwift don't count!)  River Rd was pedalled post haste, finding only a pair plying the pain of the train of Goats in Boundary Rd; Coggo and Tum would earn their espresso back in town today!  Nev spun smooth to the Broken bridges but not-so-NewAvantiJohn looked to be bending the bars beside him.  I paired with The Godfather (Shorty opting for a tow home) to Channel Rd then with TrekTrev to the S bend, spent but safely ensconced in the slipstream well before the flurry of the finish.  A little gloss on the tarmac from an earlier shower put caution on the agenda, though nothing prepares you for that posterior puckering moment when the front tyre slips an inch leaning into the (Kinder) corner at 40.  Nev got the drivers seat and the ten behind him slipped swiftly into Indian file, I was content counting down the meters of masochism left when Rocket and Boof bolted at the 200 mark to make us all look lame.

Week 20      269km              YTD 5,685km

Hey, wrap your ears around "The Howie Games" podcast peeps, great interviews with Cadel Evans, Phil Liggett and Anna Meares among many others.    
 

Week 19 : More of the up stuff.

Post #447
5/5   Six split Saturday.

Take one day off two wheels and the craving soon sets in, so a little early loop prior to Saturday's lap satisfied the addiction.  I had the sounds of silence southbound on a barren street (apart from the nutter standing in the middle of the road talking to the tarmac), a 20k spin on the Raftery track using 1200 lumens to light up any roving 'roos.  Down to Mitchell and back up Archer looked like I'd grid too early, but the meander of the side streets still had me at the front at 5:57.  TrackStan, Sean, MyRideTrev, Cate, BigLen, Bruce, Boof, PistolPete, The Godfather, Nev, TatMat, Wozza, TatPaul, Rocket and Tum filtered in for the 6am launch. 

It was calm start to let the dawdlers get aboard, pairing with TrackStan to the roundabout (surprised the high 30's didn't turn me to toast) then coped with Pistol's pace to the truck route.  ScottMatt, Shorty and TrekTrev appeared in leg 3 (on an early roll out rather than what I'd guessed as an early loop), feels like 3 degrees was being sold short of the 8 degree forecast.  With oxygen stocked up from 4k at the front, I talked bakeries with TatMat, foggy vision with Nev, career changes with PistolPete, oldtimers tenacity with Sean, nicknames with Cate and Lutfiyes with Tum.  Eagle-eyed ScottMatt, confining himself to the caboose, spied a stick lodged in

Pistol's rear caliper, so the bunch backed off for Pete to perform a quick extraction. Resuming previous pace, the bunch bolted onto Boundary, my next go at the puffing position drawing near.  Beside TrackStan to the pub then with Tum to the channel bridge finished turn two, Rocket, Wozza, Bruce, Nev, PistolPete and Boof exiting stage left (on a foray to the footy) at Old Dookie Rd where we turned to the Toaster. A calm descended on the remaining ranks now that the tyrants of tempo had turned, speed settling to the olde days of the Saturday speed limit. 
Many anticipated the psychological warmth of the sun's arrival but it lags later each week, cadence being the substitute heater as we went west at the Big Ring, being behind TrackStan like watching a mixmaster at full spin on the little ring.  The Godfather chimed chirpy as always, calculations of peloton position and the sprint scenario already underway in Ford Rd with Wanganui still 5k away.  The tow from a turning truck tempted tempo over Grahamvale Rd, TrekTrev and Sean exiting via Verney for early engagements.  TrackStan fumbled the first 100 meters of Wanganui Rd but 11 soon energised for the effort to the hill, but by DECA many were missing from the rushin' front. I'd magically managed to score BigLen's wheel as the mount drew near, a launch from 6th wheel got 'round the handful huffing at the business end.  My hurry uphill went unchallenged, though inhaling the oxygen deficit was a challenge.  Back at base station the footy fanatics were departing and the joggers/walkers (AvantiAndy, Kel, Jen, Mrs.Pistol, Tina and Temple) talked injury recovery, insulation and watchable tv (or lack of it).

7/5 Crankin' the Kiewa.

A few days furlough in Yackandandah (Google it!) offered me fresh tracks to crank, a holiday from the forlorn flatlands of home if you will.  The climb from "The Yack" toward Mt. Murramurrangbong (no kidding!) got the legs and lungs warm in the 3 degree (feels like 1) temperature on the tarmac to Staghorn Flat, a few ups and downs felt like a different planet to my usual stomping ground.  I found Lindsay Rd and steered toward Allans Flat, across to the Wodonga-Mt. Beauty Rd and south pointed at the Kiewa valley.   Plenty of northbound commuters blew gusts of chilled atmosphere at me to question why I was doing this (better than laying on the couch eating Cheezels off my fingers!).
  The air turned foggy on the grind to Kergunyah, the chain dancing up and down the cassette on the rises and falls, gloved fingers frosting as the Autumn's sun struggled to pierce to mist.

  Wondering if I'd set a course too long on unchartered ground, Rule #5 bounced between the frozen ears to press on to Dederang Gap, a couple of k's gradually rising to get me less friendly with the Fizik.  Dederang-Yackandanda Rd soon appeared to guide me northwest, more of that gradual uphill to Glenn Creek but the scenery was worth the suffering.  Dodging an unfortunate and upside-down wombat at the Myrtleford Rd intersection, the road finally dipped down, 18k's of mostly downhill got me flat chat to The Yack to polish off 72k's and 864 meters of elevation.  (Strava reckons that relative of mine is putting in 384 worth of effort).



8/5  The track from The Yack & back.
A northern exit from Yackandandah  provided 6k's of uphill heating on Tuesday, facing a whole 4 degrees this time. 15:06 went slowly reaching the Beechworth-Wodonga Rd, but measured pace was the key on an untried course. 

Headed northeast handed out plenty of ups and downs, the Ewarts to Brewers incline incited use of the little ring if this old lump was going to crest it.  With the labor of an uphill comes the love of a downhill, but the chill at 50 km/h took some passion out of it. I didn't feel so weird finding two other bikes out and about in the cool, a few days of this solo stuff has me pining for a peloton. Many of the roads here aren't blessed with the 1.5 meter shoulder to ride on, makes it a bit up close and personal with passing traffic. 

Into Leneva (outer Wodonga) as the sun struggled to rise, onto the Baranduda Boulevard (how dare they call a segment of it Conrod straight!) and through the all new suburb as it woke.  Back on the track to The Yack, a long gradual incline whittled down the ego and the speed, the sun's rising making a world of difference to the mindset though.  A couple of sharp rises in the 13k's back (doin' the old 38 ring thing), riding through Staghorn then Allans Flat signalled coffee and raisin toast was nigh. It's always a bonus to get a downhill (or a tailwind) home, even better to defrost with caffeine and to toast oneself with the achievement.


9/5  To the Beech and back (to The Yack)

The forecast promised 8 degrees but reality gave me 3 on Wednesday, the climb outa Yack the warm up again for a tour to Beechworth.  Using the little ring this time handed me a PB, 30 seconds off and cooking the legs into the bargain. 
Through the new roundabout and its heavenly hotmix, I headed westward and upward toward Wooragee, roadworks donating dirt for a couple of k's (well compressed and minus the loose stuff at least).  The delight in a downhill didn't last, the long 8k 'Rising Sun' climb to Beechworth put the push into the bike.  It's one of those hills that keeps on giving, arriving at what looks like the crest then rounding the bend only reveals more of the up stuff.
I huffed and puffed into ye olde Beechworth and lapped the 1853 CBD as recovery, time prevented an attempt to Stanley so I turned tail to head back to The Yack.  The 'Rising Sun' descent put shiver in me timbers but the rising sun warmed the outlook on autumn approaching Wooragee. I'd almost reached the roadworks when the water truck came out ahead (spending a holiday cleaning the bike wasn't my idea of fun) but the thirsty ground soaked up the damp to minimise the mess. 6k's of gradual rise was driven by thoughts of anything warm at the end into Yackandandah, 6:33 to drop down 5k's of category 4 was an effortless end from the uphill upheaval at the start.

Rain stopped play Thursday and Friday, forcing respite but it only fuels the addiction.  Hey, thanks for all the blog attention, somewhat stunned at the interest each week.

 

Week 18 : Survival in the slipstream.

Post #446
28/4 Numbed numbers.

The clock ticks away layering all that autumn insulation, having heaps of time soon becomes a hurry to catch the 6am Saturday train. Numbers had numbed with the temperature, only Nev, Boof, Cate, Shorty, Goose, Gazza, Wozza, Rocket, PistolPete, TatMat, Bruce, MyRideTrev and TatPaul gridding for the anti-clockwise grind, Popgun and Cougar shying to the shorter Channel Rd option.  The first k at bunch velocity woke a few out of the weekends' meandering mindset, 6 degrees was an eye-opener after an unusually tropical start to the season.  An Otways odyssey had taken TrekTrev, Tina and Sean away (daresay warm beds had claimed others), thankfully a dedicated few had made the effort to share the workload.  The puny puff of a southerly pushed us through Central Kialla, other earlybirds were westbound on River Rd as I fronted for duty at the drivers end with Shorty, Gazza the next pairing to the dip before Pistol's power piloted us east. 

The turns rolled at the usual predetermined positions, the expectations consistent even if the effort wasn't (no shame in a short shift folks, it's braver than staying in bed!)  Tempo to the Toaster was keen, MyRideTrev not so keen to advance.  Gazza was on his once a month appearance, the benefit of youth gifting him the pace to perform (us relics need a consistent thrashing to keep in tune!)  Cats were at the corner as we reached the Big Ring, an enthused squirt west on Lemnos-Cosgrove Rd as breakfast under the Lemontree heaters was craved.
 

Shorty and MyRideTrev were sitting out the sprint which put me onto Gazza's wheel in Wanganui

Rd, the 26 vs 60 thing was niggling at my nerves till he called me over at the treatment plant after a fairly short shift.  The bunch immediately thinned as we broke into the 40's, I felt like washing on the line at DECA till TatMat saved me from a fast fate by taking the lead role. The big engines lined up to lunge at the test track, Wozza, Nev, Rocket and PistolPete taking the reigns.  Nev and Boof bolted up the hill when most had their sights on survival in somebody's (anybody's!) draft.  The Boulevard was less boisterous to breakfast than normal, arriving at base camp finding the folk with a foot fettish (Leah, Bo, Mrs.Pistol and Kel) to talk on peloton posers, froth, handicapping and workplace benefits.

30/4  The Monday mood mender.

Waking with the winter woebegones wasn't the weeks' intended start, time atop two wheels would be Monday's mood mender. 5 degrees at 5am looked cold on the bureau's site, facing that reality out the front door was a bit more than invigorating! (though I guess that'll be tropical compared to July)  Off toward the golf course the old engine fired up ok, 10% better than expected had to be a bonus in the chill.  Lunar light lit the way in Wanganui Rd, watching the heart rate creep upward (as did the endorphins) on the eastward effort to Lemnos North Rd.  The 6am rush hour (two cars) passed as I passed the smell of soup at Campbell's, through the roundabout (G'day Tina!) and south into the mist of Central Ave.  I chose a road less travelled (Poplar Ave) home, a circuit small on distance but big on boosting bravado, contemplation and coffee completing the course.

1/5  Three........try two tackling temperature.
Is it the challenge of being chased? The thrill of the chill? Pushing the fitness frontiers? Or maybe it's a warped disposition to watch others suffer?  Only BamBam, Softa and I had reasons Tuesday, Cate's gone to the dark side of hanging onto the Hares, KillkennyPaul is under doctors orders and all others are made of marshmallow, so a trivial trio set off east at 5:45, BamBam doing the honours of first shift.  (an elephant stamp for the effort in light of little appearance of late)  My turn to tow to Orrvale Rd where Softa took leg 3, his force fading at Prentice Rd, the little rise to Kinder corner almost killing him.  The cool climate was playing hell on his respiratory restrictions, so a compassionate and calm crank to the cypress trees was in order.  Steadily back up to speed by Beckham Rd, I drove on to Channel's end, but Softa was spent and chose a short cut homeward.  BamBam and I soldiered on, if only to be lures for the Hares behind.  I was impressed with BamBam's drive to One Tree Dam but  felt guilty handing back the lead as we turned into River Rd, his next strong drive inspired me to do better (my goal to reach the dip stretching several more white posts further).  Back to the front again in Central Kialla, a few passing cars delivered a delightful draft but Hare headlights were homing in as we worked west onto Mitchell.  Just a little shy of Dave's dip the team tore by (Rocket, Pistol, Wozza, Bruce, Nev, Boof and Tina), not enough push in my pedals to catch their tail but their draft helped to stay somewhere near to the highway where the Hares halted, approaching traffic allowing us to tag on.  Smoothly back on the gas allowed us to steal a tow home, the draft from 7 a little less murder on the muscles.  Hoping for a relaxed roll after the finish line didn't happen, Hares were hellbent on a hurry to McCaffeine.  I tore along to the highway (if only to score a segment PB) then eased to thank BamBam (blown off the back at the bridge) for his tenacity. Maybe the 5:45 foray has finished?

2/5  A warm welcome.
Sighs of despair from Belly and Sootie as I arrived was a weird welcome to the Goat's train of pain on Wednesday (do I really drive that hard?)  Feeling the love, I led out of town with Tum, Coggo, Phil and Carl forming the locomotive of labor. 

All stops out crossing Doyles Rd and aiming for the bridge, my old engine was spluttering a bit by Dobsons Rd so Tum got my elbow to take charge.  Compliments of "gorilla", "machine" and "animal" soothed the soul (but didn't deliver the oxygen I craved), trying to supress the growling bear so I didn't spook Belly as I grabbed his wheel.  Recovery took it's time as Tum, Coggo, Carl, Phil and Sootie did their bit, I had the dream draft as Belly steered us south.  Back in that position of pain at the fig farm I set sights at the bridge (again) on Boundary (and made it this time), a pause at the pub for a passing Pajero then back to business battling breathlessness.

Belly drove the first k of River Rd, I got into a groove on the front into the 40's (helped by the 2nd k of billiard table tarmac), but was running low on oomph near the dip.  Signs of wear and tear were creeping in on a few others too, some shortening turns, some swapping cogs to maintain the drive, a few with velocity variables and others with a case of the noddies.  Turn 4 came for me in Central Kialla, the breeze behind maintaining some motion to reach Mitchell.  Hey, the sprint scenario was looking sweet, I'd score a shift before Galbraiths and get a few moments of recovery before the Conrod crescendo, but Phil and Carl had ducked from duty, putting me at the expending effort end out of Conrod's dip. 600 meters to go with the breeze blowing at the brow soon broke me, throwing the elbow at 300 but only Tum, Coggo and Belly were left to thrash out the finish, the remnants scattered behind eventually congregating for the cruise into town.

3/5 The Hares and their split ends.

The endangered Ralphus

Spasmodicus spotted at

Thursday's grid.

Anticipating doing a few turns with the Hares on their "cruisy" Thursday was blown to bits after just one, matching Wozza into a nasty northeaster (17-26 km/h) had me well out of my driving depths and cringing in the caboose rather early.  What a great thud back to earth after yesterday!  Watching Pistol Pete, Rocket, Nev, Liam, Bruce, Boof, Travis and Wozza take turns toasting the tempo, not-so-NewAvantiJohn joined the list of laborers as Tina, Cate, Ralphy and I settled in as spectators.  Soaking up a free draft without contributing smells of inadequacy to me, but survival in the slipstream quickly conquers a culpable conscience. Channel Rd blurred by and the 9 drivers kept going back for more (masochism!), Boundary Rd offered some comfort with the northeaster behind us and I'd almost decided to join the workforce till Rocket lit the afterburners to River Rd.  Tina and I found ourselves in the unenviable role of gatekeepers, trying to smooth out the shift swapping for those behind while close to the limits ourselves. We'd made big inroads on a bike ahead in River Rd, Hoges in a hurry west joining the caboose as not-so-NewAvantiJohn retired from rotation.  Full steam into Central Kialla Rd I'd nearly drained the tank to catch the tail, no chat but flat chat toward Mitchell hoping the legs and lungs would comply.  Down Dave's dip Rocket let loose, splitting the bunch and taking Wozza, Liam and Nev toward the highway. Pistol, Bruce, Boof, Travis and not-so-NewAvantiJohn in the wake behind made it across Melbourne Rd, but traffic closing in threw out a caution to Ralphy, Cate and I, figuring going OTA was better than going 6 feet under.  So the scenario switched from drafting to driving, 3 keen to keep a cracker average pursuing Pistol's pack (but without a hope of catching them). Ralphy's steaming along well (don't tell him or he'll need an XXXL helmet!) for a bloke that doesn't get out much and Cate personifies a cyclust (noun; a person having a deep craving or appetite for riding bicycles) on a mission.  Us three thrashed the final k's to the Conrod culmination, the 40+ average a warming workout.

4/5 Forecast rain made Friday a rest day (though a few of the hard-core slogged out a swift circuit), almost understanding the logic of BeerMat, Hollywood, HBK etc over the late (6am) long lazy breakfast.

Week 18:   204km                  Y.T.D. 5,180km