Week 26 : Insomnia and insanity.

Post #454
23/6.  The dedicated dozen.

Peloton population was predicted to be paltry for Saturday's single degree, but hopes heightened as a dozen (Tina, Wozza, TatPaul, Sean, Rocket, Boof, PistolPete, TatMat, TrekTrev, Bruce and Grumpy) arrived at the carpark to do the 6am business before breakfast.  The spectre of fronting the first turn wasn't so daunting today (second day in succession), the others could like it or lump it while I had a grip on the cruise control.  Wozza kindly paired with me welded in second gear to make me look adequate while I waged war with my signals of suffering from all quarters (engaging in polite, relaxed conversation so as not to give the game away), relief at the roundabout where Wozz with Bruce took the lead role to the truck route.  Many were happy to wait their turn for driving duty though Sean stepped up for an early effort with Boof.  PistolPete was back from a rare respite, Rocket should have enjoyed a warm 1 degree after taking a minus 1 day off, the tranquillity was tumultuous without The Godfather and his guffaws, TatMat's on the mend, it was TrekTrev's first ride for the week and Tina ticked off another casual 400 k's for her 7 days.

I was back at the business end with Tina then Wozz in River Rd, the glance at the Garmin bitter-sweet, cerebral satisfaction with the speed but muscular mayhem maintaining it.  The temperature was just below MyRideTrev's limit, counts for countless cowering Couldabeens it seems, though cloud cover made conditions strangely bearable.  A mystery quadrella cranked south on Boundary Rd (early Goats on a k craving?), Couldabeens conversation bouncing across the two rows as we worked toward the highway.  Sean had reartired from driving duty and I faced the front again, the last k of Boundary Rd with Tina and the first of Old Dookie with Wozz.  I was really questioning my target to reach the bridge for the roll-over, enthusiasm far greater than energy...…..again.  Bruce's "good work old man" healed my hurt, a speechless minute to restore respiration and the flogging was forgotten, back to the social sentences en-route to the Toaster as the sun struggled to shed a glow on the Mt.Major horizon.

Cats had cowered from their clockwise 6:30 circuit, Zwift being the miserable substitute for their reality I guess.  Another effort at the pointy end got me to Boundary Rd, closer to town and closer to being thrown into the deep end at DECA.  Rocket, Wozza, TrekTrev and Sean all had sporting commitments and took an early exit via Verney, the sprint stress-less with only eight left to work Wanganui.  A consensus for a calm conclusion made Wanganui Rd seem longer but shorter on strain, there was no amble along the boulevard though as Bruce kept up a keen cadence to the Lemontree.  Just Sim, Mrs.Pistol and MyRideTrev made up the pedestrian peloton, so all had a warm seat at the breakfast table, the do's and don't of nasal clearance, those blessed biking Italy and good gloves made warm chat to distract from the cold commute home.

25/6. A frosty fraction frankly.
More than madness motivated me out the door into zero degrees in the wee small hours of Monday, insomnia and insanity combined to get a few k's done.  New Dookie Rd was in my line of sight, just a patch or two of low fog and plenty of white crusty grass to view on the way.  Low thirties was all the weather and the will could muster, but averages aint everything. A car-less course allowed me to track on the smooth line, beyond Lemnos out to Boundary Rd to steer south (with an eye peeled for the concrete traffic island that juts just a few centimetres out of the black stuff)

Surprisingly, speed stayed steady into the light south southwester (a nice massage for the mindset), the choice of which way west back to town distracting me from the temperature (or lack of it)   Plans for a decent distance soon dissolved, coffee capturing the craving over k's today. Just for change's sake, I took the highway back to town, the 2 meter wide emergency lane better than any other road can offer, the professionals using it (truck drivers) kind and courteous.  Back into town past the crusty cars at the roadside with just a fraction of a lap done, my toasted banana bread should have been sprinkled with concrete, but coffee and chat with Weapon was cycleogically satisfying.

26/6   Antarcticitis.
Fresh, foggy and faarctic on Wanagnui Rd in Tuesdays early hours, minus one slicing through the layers as if to knock some sense into me!  The early prologue was punishment for Mondays fractional farce, though after a few k's I'd climatized to the Antarcticitis.  Back into town, Coggo, Dippa, Phil, Amy, Heady, Belly, Sandy and Hommie fronted Friars for 6, had some turned up just to tough out the temperature?

A single file threaded the streets to escape east of town, Heady in the ritual role of pilot to the truck route, my job to trial a tempo on the first leg to Dobsons' bridge.  Mid thirties (a small discount for the frost factor) seemed to have an agreeable accord,  Coggo, Phil, Dippa and Belly following suit to Boundary Rd (Belly's variable velocity a bit out of character).  Dippa's dip went well considering his long lay-off, good to see Sandy having a stretch in the drivers seat as we worked toward the highway.  Heady led us to the pub for my second shift to start, gingerly on the accelerator 'cause every contributor counts in this weather.  I peeled off the front at the Broken bridges but we were short one as I joined the tail, a headcount finding Sandy awol.  I questioned the absence but there was no news spoken, Coggo the chivalrous one who returned to assist as seven steered west into River Rd.  The chill chastised all who faced the front, the length of the sit at the front varied, but sharing (no matter how short) was better than suffering it solo.  Dippa had another stint at the shiver seat, Amy's stretch showing a seasoned style, hats of to Heady's heroics and Hommy was up to his usual hijinks.  Exit time for me River Rd's end, the cold driving the adrenalin to fuel the speed that made it colder, driving the adrenalin.....and so on and so on!

27/6  A substandard Selleys substitute.
Spit, spot as I saddled up at 5:40 sank the hopes a little, but I put faith in the precipitation passing. 

Tina, not-so-newAvantiJohn, The Godfather, Cate, Kreeky, Shorty, MyRideTrev, Wozza, PistolPete, Rocket, CatCol and Boof filled the Wednesday grid, 4 degrees a world away from the recent minus's.  Rocket unleashed the tempo for the first leg which silenced the stragglers leaving last from the carpark, but all had grouped by the Broken bridge and settled into the speed.  Swiftly by Craig Lotsalumens at the roundabout, we'd swallowed up early escapee Sean on leg 3 and muscled onto Mitchell Rd, calm and cold conditions but at least the drizzle had ceased.

Two weeks off two wheels for not-so-newAvantiJohn, and the second ride for the week for Shorty, Cate braved the bare legs and CatCol crammed the commitment, Rocket rode relaxed and Boof was busting for balmy Britain, most well over winter after only 4 weeks (and only 8 more to go!)  Westward warriors were rare in River Rd, just a trio on the train of pain (but did I see two taking a tow at little cardiac cost?)  MyRideTrev toiled for tempo on our tail, a tax paid for too much bed and no enough bike? Many guessed we were against a light northeaster (a southeaster forecast), but in fact the bureau recorded nil, just to stupefy the strugglers.    Boof and I scored front of house as we swung into Kinder corner, I'd rolled across at Hopeful corner and wound up what wattage remained, only to have Rocket, Wozz and Pistol power past on their charge at the ChaCha.  My role quickly became the gap filler (a substandard Selleys substitute at that) for the drawn out bunch behind, trying to grab the draft of the tempo'd trio ahead (and all for the benefit of others.)   My elbow had overpowered my legs a little after Prentice Rd, half the bunch bolting by as Rocket resigned and Pistol podiumed.

28/6 The tap to Tat and back.
Tempted to tap a track less travelled, a course was set west early Thursday, to Tat and back would rid the ride repetition ritual.  A new pair of Michelin's put comfort in the circuit, almost 6,000 k's on the previous set had served me well (considering the winter wear and tear as slivers of stone stick to the slick surface and hack 'em like the shower scene from Psycho)   I put energy east on Mc Issacc Rd to Ardmona then muscled along Merrigum Rd as a southerly made its presence felt, the aim to reach Undera Rd if I could survive the posterior pummelling from the torturous tarmac.

 Unfamiliar surroundings and landmarks veiled by darkness kept me moving to an agenda, arriving at Undera Rd to find roadworks had closed my course.  An about-face (less I be lost meandering Merrigum) and finding an alternative to Tat (Hooper and Dhurringile Rd's)  I pointed into the punishment of the southerly.  Overruling the signals of hurt needed a fine focus, the search for a satisfying speed just shy of implosion.  Strange we submit our suffering to Strava for scrutiny to face fame or failure. Weird us humans!  Caution crossing the highway (a thought for Jodie who paid the price back in 2011), protests from the pectineus and iliacus    dogged me in Dhurringile Rd trying to sustain the silly standard the head had set.  I'd hoped for an easier effort east on Ferguson Rd but respite would have to wait for Toolamba Rd.  Commuting cars were kind (as I was for them, riding the white line of the road's edge) but there's always a tosser just out of the angry side of bed who takes exception to giving up a measly metre of an empty road.  At last, I had the small reward of six k's with the wind behind to blow me back to Mooroopna, a highway hurry home and berthed indoors just as the first drops of the days' drizzle fell.

29/6  The pedalling panacea.

Yet another grey day to make the mood morbid, and there was an early work start to suffer stocktaking, so a 5am pedalling panacea made a perfect prerequisite to Friday.  I made it a push on Old Dookie Rd through the damp air (but on a dry track) in the hope for help from the northerly on Boundary Rd.  Pushing the point of pain (but the speed showed no benefit), I put the disappointment down to winter and its handbrake on muscles and lungs, consistency will hopefully pay me back later.  7k's out to Boundary Rd and the northerly was as useful as a bindii on a breakaway, nothing perky about the pace headed south but the peace on an empty road was sweet.  I saved a little in the reserve tank for Darth Vader if he charged in Channel Rd, but he was sensible (like most) snuggled in bed at stupid o'clock. Feeling the breeze between the orchards and through the lefts and rights back to town, the ChaCha was no challenge with just self to satisfy, but the reality of a 6:30 start turned up the tempo home.

Week 26 :    246km           YTD 7,136km      

         
How about Mike Broadwith breaking the UK Lands 'End to John-O-Groats record last week, shaving almost 40 minutes off the 815km distance with a 43:25:13 (averaging 33.9 km/h)   Spare a thought for the original record maker George Mills doing it on a penny farthing in 1886 on gravel "roads" in 121:45.      

Week 25 : Minimising misconceptions of madness.

Post #453
16/6. The thrill (?) of the chill.
5 cool k's commuting to the carpark were warmed on the 18 cog on Saturday, cadence to cook the legs for the "feels like" 1 degree.

Wozza, MyRideTrev, Sean, PistolPete, Trish, Boof, Bruce, Tina, TrekTrev, Cate, Kreeky, Liam, The Godfather, Travis, Rocket and Mark had overcome the can't be f...….. and freshness to tackle the 55km excuse for a breakfast with bacon.  The first shift was left for Rocket and Wozza's lead, 6k's south to Mitchell Rd spent suffering the speed and the temperature by many (they'll get over it!). 2k's east to Central Kialla, 2k's north to River Rd and the pain had passed, though MyRideTrev was resolute to remain at the rear with Trish (playing the usual church mouse).
Travis called the conditions perfectly ("point four degrees better than the fridge") as we worked 6km east, Sean lumen-less again (but fitter than Friday), TrekTrev was stoked to be commitless on Saturday for a change.  The force of a headwind in Boundary Rd had no effect on Pistol Pete's pace, but Bruce back from 5 weeks in Europe was paying the re-entry tempo tax, Tina back from overseas too (Tassie) seemingly tax exempt on speed.  Winter has eroded the resolve down to the true believers, even TeamTat (predicting precipitation) had been pried from their pilgrimage.   7k's later we turned (almost gravel free) into Old Dookie Rd for the 3k crank to the Toaster, another 3k north to the Big Ring then pointed to town as the Cats crawled their clockwise course counter to ours.

The Godfathers' hijinks had Mark on a hot tin roof of hurry, even as we entered suburbia  I sensed the bunch slimming for the speed in Wanganui Rd.  Tempo turned up at the water treatment plant, several cementing themselves in the caboose as the frantic fellows at the front thinned two rows to one.  Speed stress silenced most (even sticking a sock in The Godfather!) by DECA, the 400 meters looked like 800 to Mt.Wanganui as some of the early drivers expired. Rocket hit the boost button as a teaser for Liam, the long line behind drawing longer with bits breaking off the back.  The relief of cresting the summit (at least 2.360 meters elevation) turned to concern as lights lagged behind, into Rudd Rd and some still struggled, so I dropped back to collecting Cate (the busted still belong to the bunch). Pedestrians had stolen the Lemontree hot seats again, so I was heated by porridge and coffee, going off the tourist track, wattage and demon descenders kept conversation flowing, the remount to ride home triggering a light shower (bike cleaning duty strikes again!)


18/6 Pursuit, prediction and puncture.
Leaving late from layering for the cold cranked up the cardiac count to reach the Couldabeens on Monday, there'd be little reserves left if I made the 5:45 launch.  9 minutes wasn't enough to cover the 5.5 k's and of course, the few traffic lights en-route went red.  Still 600 meters shy when I spied a string of red leds departing the carpark, I had little hope of catching but it was worth digging deep on the off chance (and didn't the legs protest!)   Lights had just vanished 'round the Channel Rd kink but I kept on the gas in the hope one may look back and take pity, up to Kensington roundabout and I reckoned I was gaining.  Would traffic halt their progress at the truck route?  Not likely! So the legs were asked for more.  Still convinced I'd gained a bit I pressed on to Orrvale Rd, plotting a shortcut via Central Ave if my pursuit proved pointless.  By the Kinder reality (and fitness) gave the thumbs down, so I steered north to head 'em off at Ford Rd.

The west northwester proved to be a pain (the way home west would be a pest) pushing on northbound to the highway, but a sixth sense through the seat of the pants said squishy, the bane of the bindii had injected the rear tube to chastise my chase. Ah, the joy of fixing a puncture in the dark and the damp! Repaired and remounted, predicting an intercept was difficult soldiering on through the dark of Central Ave, arriving at Ford Rd finding nothing east or west.  Unsure if the bunch was ahead or behind, the decision became skewed in favour of caffeine, so I pointed to town with a revised focus to intercept the bunch at the café table.  The wind had swung a little more southerly to ease the load (thanks said legs) and back into the city's streets, the lure of the Lemontree forced a bee line straight to Fryers St.  Not long seated when the lads and lasses (Rocket, Pistol, Bruce, The Godfather, Jen, Kreeky, Cate, Nev, CatCol, Kel and Wozza) rolled in, seems they'd suffered the puncture problem too.


19/6  Bbrrrisk!
Totally ignoring zero degrees outside, I filled the tank with warm porridge and hot coffee, it was better to just climb aboard the bike and ride, lest I be drawn into the dark world of lethargy and hibernation.

A loop of Channel, Boundary and Old Dookie certainly startled the sensitive bits, the cool crucified but it was a pleasant change to drive on dry roads. Maybe a night off bike cleaning duties?  Happily into the steady spin east without the challenge of a chase, all was at peace with the world as most sane people were still indoors asleep.  The chain and cassette chorus purred sweetly, contrasting with the creak and groan of my jaded joints, trying to maintain a bit of fitness (with the delight of dishing out a little distress to the hibernators in spring) justifying my early circuit.  En-route to join the dedicated 6am'ers and to minimise misconceptions of madness (on both sides!) there was no sign of Cats, cruisers or the crumbs of what was the P&W peloton on the way into town, but gritty Goats (Hommy, Tina, Coggo, Belly, Amy and Sandy) gathered at Friars for the 6am off.   The standard single file strung out of town collecting Phil into the fold, Coggo and Tina doing the driving to Central Ave for my contribution to commence.  Mid 30's works well for winter legs (Sandy satisfied to sit in the back seat), reaching School Rd for Hommy to have a go. Hommy's force faded a bit after a few hundred meters, Amy tapped a good turn and Phil forged on to Boundary for Belly's bit south.  The giant on the Giant dished out plenty o' torque for Coggo to repeat the recipe from the fig farm all over again, my second shift to One Tree Dam getting super chilled from the southerly.  Amy put in another effort on River Rd but went rapidly rearward on conclusion, a puncture the predicament that stopped the bunch for repairs.  Time was against me to assist (or even sledge), so cranked on solo to keep to an employers agenda.

20/6 Fridge folk.
Layered like an onion for Wednesday, the first zero day of the year drew the neck sock and the Antarctic grade base layer out of the bottom drawer, at least another five minutes allowed in preparation just to ride.

A casual commute to the carpark was in contrast to recent panicked pacing, Wozza, Kreeky, The Godfather, Sean, Cate, MyRideTrev, Mark, Kel, Rocket, Boof, Trish and BamBam were the fridge folk to front for our anti-clockwise crank.  Intentions to pair with Wozz at the front escaped me as the chill factor evaporated my enthusiasm, but an elephant stamp for Sean braving the pointy end early with Boof.  (I needed all the warm up time I could get!) MyRideTrev and Trish cemented their usual spot at the back with BamBam (suddenly emerging from obscurity), happy birthday to Kel fabulously fit and fast at 40, peculiarly no PistolPete today and Trish stayed silent but The Godfather made up for it.  The handbrake was slowly applied in River Rd, Sean shaved a sliver off the speed and MyRideTrev cut a lot as he fronted the fresh end.   I paired with Wozza soon after and turned up the tempo again, the gulf between the pacers and plodders seems to widen worse in winter.  BamBam wasn't venturing ahead and Kel took a curfew from captaincy as the celcius crashed to zero in Boundary Rd, Trev's tempo was tame at 31, Cate cranked it up to 34, my turn with Wozz to the Broken bridges got it to 36 where Rocket and Wozz turned it up to 38 to Channel Rd.    Shifting to the up line near the cypress trees had me five wheels from the front, and it looked like I'd be in at the deep end for the sprint till Rocket drew the bunch into Indian file at Hopeful corner. Wozza, The Godfather, Boof and Mark joined in the flog to the finish, but the rest of the bunch had broken off the back, Kel's puncture unnoticed by the front runners till reaching the school.  Time forced Boof and I onward, the remainder returning for repairs.

21/6  A cold slice of Toast(er)
There's days when a solo spin suits best (less one suffers softness from an incessant bunch tow) , Thursday's equinoxial event used for a little housekeeping of the headspace.  Finding the tempo that's neither tedious or taxing takes time and sentiments soon swirled in the skull, submerging the soul into staying smooth while pondering the chains' use-by date and just how many Toaster laps I'd clocked (don't Foss, it'll frighten!)

Nek minit, I'm at the Big Ring and steering south to the Toaster, where did the last 10k go?  Snapped out of the focus, the signals of strain started to hassle the head, time to consume some concrete and focus on the finish, albeit 30k's away.  The piggery's pungency distracted me in Old Dookie Rd, but focus went back to the white leds ahead (figured to be felines) as I breeched Boundary Rd before them.  That'll spur my speed.  As soon as the fig farm I spied red leds ahead, I'd now become the chaser and the chased.  With a million stars above and the city's glow over my right shoulder, River Rd soon emerged from the darkness, the two red leds looming larger as a bait for my work west.  The pussycat pursuit behind wasn't making much impression and my aim was forward, soon overtaking the fixed formation of Trish and Cougar at the dip. The southerly slog through Central Kialla had the first signs of horizon light and the inevitable drop in celcius, 86rpm heated the legs but the fingers stayed frozen. Into the groove on Mitchell Rd, there was little threat from behind, thoughts now on how to keep pace with an almost empty reserve tank.  Off the seat to crest Dave's dip turned the legs to jelly, time to ease the effort a whisker if I was to finish with some respectability. With no lights behind as I reached Galbraiths gate the odds were in my favour, a keen eye for kangaroos at Arcadia Downs and to crank Conrod finished 56 clicks in some comfort (that historic relative on Strava suffered again though)

22/6  The frozen few.

It would be only the determined (or the demented) to turn-up as the mercury sank to minus 1 on Friday, sure enough, Tina, The Godfather, Boof, Sean, Kreeky, Bruce, Cate and PistolPete were the few that fronted the frozen Friday grid.   I'd berthed beside Cate in the number 2 spot, but chivalry chose that I take the shivery lead role into Archer's Antarctic atmosphere.  Bruce called for an easy effort which suited me fine, legs and lungs wouldn't give much more than easy anyway!  The 3km shift is more a mental mountain than a physical one, considerately paired by Bruce to the Sanctuary roundabout.  Lower in numbers put us higher in workload, but thankfully the tempo was trimmed accordingly, Seans' shifts shortening sharply, shy of shame but surely better than the bed bandits buried under blankets.  River Rd was empty aside from a rare appearance of the FDC's (Ralphy, BamBam, Pelly and Grumpy), and I thought it was an acronym for Four Devoid of Commitment! I reckon time will tell.  Trish and Cougar were the only others clockwise,  Pussycats probably playing the pedalling PlayStation instead?  Shift 2 came due for me just beyond the dip, climatized to the cold now meant I stretched it a little further till Bruce called me over near the quarter horse stud.  The Goat pain train wasn't running (due to lack of temperature?) but rumour has it a Goat who shall remain nameless called the ride then didn't front!  A repeat of previous turns happened again in Boundary Rd, body languages from relaxed to relapsed were entertaining, though it would be a boring world if we were all alike.  The procession of pace in Channel Rd showed some restraint, becoming snap frozen with speed in a sprint wasn't on the want list, so a lid was put on the ChaCha for a welcomed wind-up for the week.

Week 25      282km       YTD 6,890km



     

Week 24 : That breathtaking baptism

  

Post #452.

9/6   The Saturday saturation.

A million microscopic water drops danced in the CatEye's beam, a grey ceiling of clouds rolled in low from the west and the road was as glossy as Wozza's head, it was one of those badass weather days that only the badass would ride in.  Rule #9 reigned!  Fed and readied before looking out the window meant I'd already committed, going back to bed would never bring sleep, the could've / should've would've tormented me all day.   Setting sail on the glossy tarmac stupidly optimistic, I told self this misty rain would stop, rooster tails of water and a damp back spiralling into squishy socks and H2O going where the sun don't shine.  Being rated hard-core was (sadly) one of the few things keeping the wheels turning.  Labelled as a loony didn't concern me, I was feeding an obsession that takes some filling.  Against the grain of Conrod straight was helped by a light northwester, the spotted specs weren't helping with navigation and the irrigation of nostrils did nothing for me, but sitting the chain on the 17 cog kept the cadence cooking and the legs warm.  Reaching Mitchell Rd roo-less for the 3k's east, I lowered the head for the assault of Archer Rd, predicting an empty carpark and plotting a course thereafter, but a distant red led ahead said there was another as dedicated (or delirious) as I. 
Landing at the launch site bang on 5:59 found that Kreeky was tough enough to tap a lap, so a committee of two (with a quorum) dictated a short circuit for the conditions (Channel then Boundary then see where the mood took us).  Kreeky's call for a 'quiet one' was Pachelbel's canon on my ears, the 8k's eastward spent threading the rivers of puddles on Channel Rd (and content that his 'quiet one' was in line with mine). 

The now west northwester ruined riding a straight line (still swerving little lakes anyway), deciding if lapping long or short coming to a head as we neared Old Dookie Rd.  The lure of the Lemontree heaters and a hot coffee made the choice so simple, so into the headwind home, made less stressful with thoughts welded to the breakfast menu.  Theology on the therapy / thrashing of the Tuesday / Thursday lap occupied a sentence or two, a few lights from paddock sheds spared thoughts on the plight of farming in this damp, and soon enough we'd reached town to reward our strength / stubbornness / stupidity (strike out that which does not apply).  In the sensible surroundings of the cafe, smug that we'd beaten the pedestrians to the warm seats, a long empty table soon filled with the foot and car brigade of  Boof, Rocket, Jen, Wozza, Mrs.Pistol, Shorty, AvantiAndy (without Avanti) and PistolPete, filling conversation with precipitation predictions, smoko vans and translating The Godfather's vernacular.

11/6  HB Liz!

Adrenalin fuelled the rush to Monday's ride, not wanting to miss the Couldabeens camaraderie and late layering the layers against 3 degrees had me spinning some speed through the streets to catch the 5:45 launch, warming rapidly in the cold to arrive at 5:44.  The Godfather, Kel, Rocket, Cate, Boof, not-so-newAvantiJohn, Wozza, Kreeky and MyRideTrev convened for a cool circuit on Queen Liz's birthday.  Two rows rolled east onto a puddle-free Channel Rd, Rocket and Wozza setting the standard of swift to the truck route and stayed for an encore to Orrvale Rd (fitness in another league these two).  Ditching the negatives as my shift was due at the Kinder, I sat on Kreeky's wheel preparing for the temperature vs tempo at the front. 

All went well down Central Ave but the energy gauge dropped to half along McFadyen, 'round the bend to the cypress trees pairing with The Godfather and the warning light began to flicker.  Dig deep Foss!  500 meters to the S bend won't kill you! 90rpm on the seventeen took the strain but felt I was 90 breaths a minute in recovery as Boof and The Godfather towed us to Boundary Rd.   Not-so-newAvantiJohn, Kel and Cate promoted themselves to the front but MyRideTrev had resigned himself to the rear, his head handbraking his performance?  Rocket and Wozz's determined driving demonstration continued, over the rumble strips that warn of an un-used railway line and up to Lemnos-Cosgrove Rd before others forged forward. Kreeky called a short shift from the main eastern channel for me to do the duty with The Godfather, Lemnos North Rd (the expected end of shift) an eternity of effort away.

The lungs had had enough by the intersection (tormented by the tax of temperature), Travis and

The Godfather making it look easy in Ford Rd, my last turn now ranked dismal.  Others advanced to contribute, presumably doing it easy (or they're good at hiding the hurt), soon reaching suburbia with breakfast beckoning.  Wozz and Rocket took the reigns to spearhead a sprintless crank to Mt.Wanganui but ensured chat wasn't possible with the pace, I was in struggle street on the Boulevard just to maintain momentum.  The bike steered like a ship into Tarcoola's roundabout, a mushy Michelin the cause, but I managed a squishy soldier-on to the Lemontree for repairs in the warmth and light.  Injuries with age, MTB tracks and expanding suburbs kept the conversation convivial over the warmth of coffee and breakfast, sun-up eventually motivating to roll homeward.

13/6  Interpreter please!

Awake at silly o'clock on Wednesday, I took to the tarmac to tap out the time till the 6am launch of the Couldabeens crew.  A turn-up of Wozza, Kel, CatCol, not-so-newAvantiJohn, Rocket, PistolPete, Cate, Sean, Jen,  MyRideTrev, Nev, Boof, Kreeky and The Godfather was surprising, add a couple of degrees and it adds a few extra to the starting grid.   Wozza was left front-of-house to captain the pack for it's exit from town, a hint of damp on the track kissed goodbye to a clean bike.  Shorty blended into the bunch (habitually) at Hoopers Rd, a WNW'er to treat us on Mitchell and River Rds.  Jen stayed positioned at the rear while the others ping-ponged the chit-chat from side to side, The Godfathers' almost Neanderthal grunt to the Cats (and the crumbs of what was once '51) needing an interpreter. (better check next time for subtitles)  Those M.I.A. (Kenworth, SuperMario, Hollywood, Jase, Nick, Softa, BeerMat, WhisperingJack, etc) were figured to return toward the years' end (or if ever!), tattle on socks, hippies and rainfall captured my concentration till duty called beside Boof at the Angora farm.

The reserve tank went wide open to keep up with Cate drawing alongside for the final k of River Rd.  Southbound Goats gave a great grunt of Godfather proportions as our paths crossed in Boundary Rd, Wozza tamely tapping beside MyRideTrev (clearly close to implosion).  Pistol paired with Wozz on the roll at One Tree Dam as MyRideTrev's body language swore suffering all the way to Channel Rd.  Wrapped in darkness with the moon and stars cloaked by clouds, we worked west toward town but eased at Darth Vaders' to keep MyRideTrev aboard (preserving our puncture person was paramount).  Excitement brewed to the ChaCha, Rocket and Nev towing the bunch nearly to Prentice Rd (saving Sean's bacon), not-so-newAvantiJohn formed a third row in search of the finish line as Boof bolted, I caught his draft to score second.

14/6  #Five and #nine.
A clean bike, a dark and dreary Thursday, an icy northerly to numb the extremities and the neurotic negatives trying to get me back to bed made it perfect to study Rules 5 & 9, so I faced Ford Rd at 5:20 for a 20k appetiser prior to galivanting with the Goats at 6.

Gloomy grey clouds almost within reach rolled across from the north as I threaded the path between puddles to dodge that breathtaking baptism of chilled water up the inside thigh.  Relaxed in the rhythm of 33 and 150 at 86, the target of Boundary Rd arrived earlier than expected, a blissful 3k south to New Dookie Rd then a windswept 7k back to town.  An empty Friars at 5:57 questioned Goat tenacity for a moment but the arrival of Sandy, Hommy, Tum, Amy, Coggo and Belly restored faith in the existence of the hard-core.  With Hommy's hugs done, a chatty cruise got us out of town and turned Indian file beyond the truck route, my job to set a speed that wins friends but doesn't turn 'em to turtles.  I'd hoped 36 was diplomatic and would restore my reputation from last weeks over exuberance (that's Hommy's job!), seems I was politically correct as Tum took over to Central Ave and Hommy proceeded to School Rd at similar knots (but Sandy's second thoughts relegated her to the rear).  Amy delivered a determined drive beyond the bridge, nice that a newcomer can crank it straight and smooth in the early part of a bachelor of bunch science.  Coggo captained to Boundary Rd (HG effectively exiled by an Eppalock estate, a 2011 vintage I'm told) and Belly was blessed by a breeze behind in Boundary, the greed of a tailwind tamed to share the shifts in the drivers seat to River Rd (although Hommy got hungry for the hurry).   Most got a turn westward stacked across River Rd's northerly, the turns changing predictably as participants puff ran out. My usual exit faced the northerly nuisance but 55k's were completed contented, I hadn't succumbed to the seasons sloth.

15/6  Blowin' (up) in the wind.
Another damp morning to bring undone last nights' bike cleaning efforts, the soggy southward spin to the carpark had a sliding skid on a sudden stop for a traffic light, reminding me of the two fingernails worth of traction we have on two skinny wheels. 

Rocket, Cate, Boof, The Godfather, Sean, MyRideTrev, CatCol, TrekTrev and PistolPete had trepidly tapped in for the Friday fraternisation.  Volunteers for the first shift were plentiful with the northwester blowing at 15 to 26 km/h to pump up the pace, I paired with Rocket to the roundabout and Pistol to the truck route in the hope of escaping the headwind later.  Pistol's tail-light did a dismount, a somersault and a half pike on leg #3, so a slow allowed breath or three to be caught on the retrieve and restart.  There was a fair flog through Central Kialla into the wind, Boof and Cate tenaciously towing us, the turns rolled in River Rd but Sean was running on 3 cylinders after his dip at the front then Boom!, slid silently to the rear to recover. (there's a strange pleasure in your own performance when others pop, that sounds cruel but the reality of two rides a week has a payback)  TrekTrev slipped back to assist, then CatCol cowered from the captaincy (in consolation?)   The answer is blowin' up in the wind! 

A tiny train of two Goats wheeled west, we turned north on Boundary, MyRideTrev wasn't having a bar of the lead role and Cate took a rare respite, so there was just Rocket, Pistol, Boof, The Godfather and I to share the suffering of the NNW'er.  I used the long handled shovel to dig the depths of determination to get to One Tree Dam, then running on obstinance just to pace Pistol to the Broken bridges.  MyRideTrev summoned me to serve again in Channel Rd which wore away at the willpower, I just hoped I'd miss the head wind in Central Ave.....ooops! Spoke too soon!  I survived the 194 bpm push to the Kinder and tucked in for the tow, happy to hear that sprint shenanigans were struck off the list for a saturated ChaCha.  All rolled back to town with most steering south for coffee, Cate, Boof and I went northbound, pleased to have precluded the precipitation...….. ooops! Spoke too soon!

Week 24     226km                YTD  6,608km    
 

Week 23 : The surge the scurge

Post #451
2/6  Baywatch.

The bay begged the bike for this particular Saturdays satisfaction, in Melbourne for the day so the Beach Rd mecca substituted for the Couldabeens circuit.  The St.Kilda startline (a change from my usual Mordialloc launch) had a few 6am soloists southbound, 4 degrees forcing a gentle build up to cruising speed.  By Brighton I was picking off ones and twos (seems city slickers are speechless to a common old "G'day"), no sooner said than I'd scored the inevitable wheelsucker tagging my wheel. (ignored for now, but if they didn't donate a drive I'd deal with them on one of Hampton's humps)  Spoilt by a hotmix heaven as smooth as Boof's head , I pressed on through Sandringham and Black Rock, shaking off my passenger but inheriting another. 

Turning up my torment to tackle the Col de Charman at full steam disposed of the drafter, there's a certain satisfaction riding a younger one off your wheel.  Passing a few more pampered the soul by my expanding ego was soon brought back to earth with a bike bolting by (admittedly it had an engine a third my vintage).  Heading beyond Mordialloc to explore Sir Evan Nepean's highway, I was picked up by the Black Rock boys cranking along at Couldabeens speed (although socially silent)  The draft of the Metro's Xtrapolis speeding alongside on the Frankston line kept the pace percolating, but by Chelsea it was time to turn my tour back to base, only then did I notice the nuance of a northeaster (a tax to pay for the 30k return).    Head down and hopes up, the tempo was acceptable (3 PB's), rounding up riders again rated it higher.   There's a melting pot of bikes and riders to entertain in this big town, the fashionista's and the fashionots, big bunches and small squads, the aerodynamic and the wide bodied (some seemed to have swallowed a wombat!), the tall and short, some starved of a decent bike fitting, posterior man-satchels big enough for a weeks' holiday and the odd pony-tailed lean and luscious lass to act as a delicious distraction.   Previous downhill delights had now become a labour for legs, the creatively titled segments of "The bursty bit", "Cerberus lung buster", "Ohhhh boy!"and "late for my wedding at the Brighton Savoy" wore down my reserves (but made room for brunch!).  I'd closed in on Brighton's Banditos (the pedalling type, not the engined variety) but moved onward from their pedestrian pace, the sea air a psychological salve but it was still cool on the coastline (though lycra made a lot of jogging bods rather hot pounding the paths)  So soon I was back in St.Kilda to finish 60k, the search for coffee and a bite to warm the tank was in vein, cafe's closed and not even a McOrdinary's to correct the cravings.  Oh, the lust for the Lemontree!

4/6  The Pace train.
A little 20k tap as a prologue to the peace train took my breath away, "feels like -0.4" was winters' welcome well and truly! Out New Dookie Rd and into the fog (fox included), Monday's muscles would motivate me beyond 32, completely car-less for the 8k east to Boundary Rd, the southern stretch (into the breeze) making the bones creak to Old Dookie Rd.

Back to town and fronting Friars found Tina, Speissy, Coggo, Phil and Heady, the only peacemaking Goats prepared to ride.  Six spelt single file (rather than work double shifts), Carl joining at SPC lightened the load a little more.  I kept an eye on speed so I'd conform at the front, but couldn't choose between Tina's 36 or Heady's 32, so erred on the swifter side if only to keep heat in the legs (so why is 36 possible now when 32 was a struggle earlier?)  A cautionary corner into Boundary Rd (gravel still unswept from 6 weeks ago) then hang on as Coggo took us on a pace train toward the highway.  Turn two had me tow the troupe from One Tree Dam to River Rd, a small price to pay for the draft donated for most of the lap.  Speissy has risen to the riding occasion of late, Heady's heading to Bali, Coggo's legs are ripe for his forthcoming Italian job and Tina's tourin' Tassie for two weeks (don't Phil, Carl and I lead a dull life!).  River Rd soon ended for my early exit, a steady spin back to town became increasingly difficult to keep the speed up, soon that squishy sensation spelt all was not well,  a slow rear puncture sidelined me (finding the offending sliver of glass and changing a tube in 2 degrees with numb fingers not really on my bucket list)

5/6  Rusty rolls.
A roll out Old Dookie Rd became rapid, red led's ahead challenged a chase.  Making up a 500 meter deficit was helped by a passing car or two, a fair bit of huffing and puffing getting me to catch the Cats tail (Kelvin, G, CatPhil, Cobbles, Sherls etc) 100 meters beyond Doyles Rd.  I had just a few seconds of recovery before attempting the rhythm of rolling turns, showing just how rusty I was.  (So long solo or doing the longer Couldabeens / Goats turns has me well out of practice)   On the front every 300 meters or so keeps the ticker ticking over, no time for chit chat, just focus on the smoothness (and not on Cobbles lycrack ahead of me!)   G and Kelvin are the sultans of smooth, just a hint of surge is a scurge for this crew.   Past the figs, the pigs and the pub on Boundary Rd, we'd collected Ol'Col at Channel Rd for our slog south, my turn approaching River Rd rattling Kelvin behind me ('tis tricky when I'm following one pouring on the power)   Rolls reversed to anti-clockwise for the trip west, though the southerly was barely noticeable, some now skipping turns as we drove to the dip and beyond.   Landmarks were going un-noticed as I strove for smooth with just five now driving, the rolls against the clockwise continued through Kialla and into Mitchell, ears now sharpened to hear the calls of who was rolling through and who wasn't.  Speed wound upward when Mitchell became Raftery, Indian file making my life less stressful.  Sherls drove a hard bargain in the captains seat from Arcadia Downs, my tank empty after 400 meters on the front in Conrod, from first to almost last didn't matter, warming the extremities was taking priority.

6/6  An ice cream headache (without the ice cream!)

Fourteen fronting was fair for a fresh (2 degrees) Wednesday ride, Jen, Boof, TrekTrev, MyRideTrev, SuperMario, not-so-newAvantiJohn, Wozza, The Godfather, Cate, Rocket, Kel, Kreeky, PistolPete and last-minute-Nev (arriving on our carpark exit).  Into the chill of Archer Rd, fingers and toes lost their feeling and an ice cream headache built up, the blinkered Nev (ski goggles) butting in as two lines formed for the town limit shuffle.

A fridge-like atmosphere took breath away and muscles complained at providing the pace to keep up, but all that's forgotten a couple of k's later (unless you're just about to arrive at the fresh front!)  It was cool enough to cancel Nev's almost mandatory disrobe of the gillet, chat well underway in the mid-field as MyRideTrev and Jen had chosen the caboose as a permanent residence.  Tempo tamed as SuperMario took the reigns in River Rd but TrekTrev wound up the wattage again as I paired with him at the bridge. (so who does set the pace? The one just arriving at the front or the one who's just starting the second shift?  Seems it's always the other guy!) 
Good to have a few of the girls back in the pack to put some beauty in the bunch (and tame the testosterone) though the pairing of PistolPete and Wozza kept the bitumen blurring by.  Even in Boundary Rd I could sense the ChaCha was going to challenge me as the lead-out guy, sure enough 5k's later I hit the front with Trek Trev to swing into Kinder corner. A lot of huff and puff to get to Hopeful corner and Boof took his time to roll across at Prentice (but soon ran out of choof) just as Rocket and Wozza got the real speed happening, dragging most of the field (including the caboose residents) on their dash to the finish line.

7/6  Ooops! Too much?
Plans for a prologue were scuttled by the snooze button in the early hours of Thursday, is Winters' grip strangling me already?  A roll to Friars found Speissy, Coggo, Tum, Manny, Dippa, Amy, Belly, Phil and Carl sitting for a start at six.  Speissy got the train rolling through town, single file finding favour with a NNE'er to pester our progress, then elbowed me the lead role as we crossed Doyles Rd, (judging the velocity was the vexing question).  It was neither the train of peace or pain, so I settled on mid 30's as a starting point with an earnest ear open for any protests on pace.  Silence said speed suited, so I drove to Dobsons bridge (compliments confirming my pace prediction) for Coggo to captain us to Central Ave, me slipping satisfied onto the trains tail for restitution while others worked.  Speed see-sawed a little depending on the driver, strength invading some and evading others.  All had a go in the drivers seat (sighs steering south into Boundary Rd blessed with a tail wind) as I sat on Carl's wheel waiting for the next shift.  Speed went well beyond peace and progressed toward pain as we steamed past One Tree Dam, my turn the opener to River Rd on the way west.  Riding the crown to make it easy to echelon behind, I carefully wound up the pace toward the angora farm, lights casting shadows ahead of me telling all were aboard. Mumbles a k later told a different story, my peek back showed leds scattered behind.....ooops! Too much on the motion? A slow for a spell regrouped the Goats, Coggo and Belly leading the line to the bridge where I made a better attempt at conformity (2 k slower) as an apology.  My short cut back to town faced the hurt of a headwind to home, a payback for past pace?

Week 23:  164km              YTD 6,382 km

Week 22 : Putting worth in the while.

Post #450
26/5 The fresh, the frazzled and the fragmented.

Well, shiver me timbers and double the base layers! 2 degrees was a chilly chore to throw the leg over the bike to brave a cool commute to the Couldabeens, a congregation of  PistolPete, Sean, TrekTrev, BigLen, TatMat, Boof, Wozza, DeterminedDan, Tina, MyRideTrev, Tum, Rocket and The Godfather drifting in for 6am duty.  I tucked in to Wozza's draft (not yet ready to face the freezing front) as he led the file south, Shorty blending into the bunch on cue at Hoopers Rd.  BigLen punctured at the truck route but ushered the bunch onward (prepared to repair and short-cut to intercept later), CatCol emerged from the darkness of Mitchell Rd, his k cravings finding no companions for an early circuit (cue The Beatles 'Elanor Rigby').  My turn at the front was a slow shift with MyRideTrev, then turn up the tempo to match Wozza to finish off River Rd. 

Pistol & Wozza took the drivers seats for Boundary Rd with relentless rapidity, all mostly silent behind being towed to the highway (cue Roots Manuva's 'Witness'), better-late-than-never Nev blending in at Channel Rd.  Lungs were chilled yet legs were toasted, climatising to the tempo and the temperature, then to tip-toe round the gravelled corner into Old Dookie Rd.  The horizons' orange welcome promised a sublime Saturday (cue Karnivool's 'New Day'), CatCol and TatMat chat captivated in the caboose as two lines of insulated and insatiably inspired speared the fog of Lemnos-Cosgrove Rd (Cat numbers thinned with the temperature) 

A long line of the frazzled formed behind in Ford Rd,  I'd obstained from


duty in Wanganui (somedays you got it, others you 'aint) as the speed slipped into the forties nearing DECA (and there was still 1600 meters to go).  My muscular masochism seemed irrelevant watching Rocket, Wozza, Determined Dan and Boof  forging forward for further flogging at the front,  Nev spicing the speed at the test track to thin the file Indian style (cue Devo's 'Whip It')
Gaps opened up as speed separated the quick from the quashed, again I found a string of survivors sitting in my draft to be towed back to the pack now cruising in Rudd Rd.  No sooner caught when Nev lit up the legs for the bolt to the Lemontree hot seats, fingers and toes numbed with the cold as the sun rose.  Bits had broken off the back in the Boulevard, I teamed with TatMat and DeterminedDan dragging behind, knowing pedestrians would have hijacked the heater anyway.  The revolution of bunch evolution, comparing porridge and a chuckle on applying peloton mannerisms to walkers made breakfast beaut.


28/5  Peace (& a piece of pace) Train.
Only my therapist can explain why I left a perfectly warm and comfortable bed at 5am........dad never took me to the circus? 

The Congupna circuit hampered with a headwind out to Jubilee Rd, speed a struggle till turning south into Lemnos North Rd.  Darkness engulfed the 7 k's back to New Dookie Rd, with only the red beacon atop the tower to measure when the treat of a tailwind to town would come. I'd slipped into a tempo trance and completely missed Tank Corner Rd and Ford Rd slipping by, the waft of soup at Campbell's signalling a delightful New Dookie Rd drive back to suburbia.   Brendy, Phil, Dippa, Heady, Speissy and Belly were towing a train of peace from Friars, my u-turn into the breeze to join them relived past pain.   Heady cranked his compulsory captaincy to the truck route, single file the understood yet unspoken standard.  Speissy, Dippa, Phil and Brendy did their bit to Central Ave as I lapped up the draft, my compulsion to tow the team to Boundary Rd seemed a fair swap.  The peace was pumped a little southbound, though Brendy abbreviated his turn, River Rd's tailwind tempting a tempo beyond usual Monday protocols (there were no complaints, or was it silence from the speed stress?) Speissy's shift shortened and Phil's went into overtime, I sat on Brendy's wheel waiting for the elbow.  It came just shy of Laws Drive, so I donated a draft to finish off River before departure on my shortcut home. With the pleasure of the prevailing wind's company for 10k's back to town, sixty clicks before seven was satisfying.

30/5 Die-hards in the damp.

3mm of damp in the early hours didn't dampen the enthusiasm (I'd contracted a chronic craving to crank since Tuesday's wash out) but the glossy tarmac spotted specs, polka dotted the kit with road grime, adorned the bike with worms and sent wheel spray up the nostrils. Ahh, the joy with winter upon us!  Only Rocket, Boof, Wozza, The Godfather, Nev, MyRideTrev, Sean and Pistol Pete turned up for Wednesday's duty, those missing previously rated as hard-core now designated soft-centred.  The muscular mix of Boof, Rocket, Wozza,
Pistol and Nev driving the first k's of the circuit was enough for me to wait my natural turn in the rotations, not till River Rd did I pair with Boof to the bridge then MyRideTrev to the dip, Sean sat lumen-less in the caboose.  A southwester kept the pace pumped to Boundary Rd, MyRideTrev reckoning he was close to blowing a head gasket. For a moment I pondered sitting out the lap in the rear seat (becoming infected by defeatists?) but the gospel according to Rule #5 echoed through the frontal lobe.  Battling the breeze in Channel Rd and berthed between Boof and Rocket should have been out of my comfort zone but I'd talked myself up to do a turn in Central with Boof, caution for traction on Kinder corner, then nudging 40 with Rocket to Prentice Rd.  Spoilt with no sprint (nothing left in the legs to respond) and guided by the moon's glow, The Godfather's guffaws provided the entertainment back to town.


31/5  Adieu Autumn.
A tailwind eastbound on Old Dookie Rd put confidence on the podium but any cockiness was in for a hammering in the head-wind home. 

A distant red led ahead baited a chase to put some suffer in Strava's score,  a spy behind had no pursuit of pussycats, maybe they were pretending to pedal on Playstation [Zwift] ?  Over ruled by Rule #9 folks! A little more overnight damp glossed the road and undid last nights' bike cleaning efforts, darkness disguising if my pace was in profit or loss to the bike ahead (I kept the push in the bike anyway).  Progress was perceived positive at the piggery in Boundary Rd, closing the gap by the highway and passing Mr.Mute (no reply to my 'good morning') at the pub.   Keeping the speed simmering southward, two red leds now appeared from Channel Rd as lure #2.  The challenge was cheap this time, the gain obvious by the Broken bridges, though wind whipping at the wheels in Boundary Rd and River Rd's head-wind would motivate muscles.  Working west toward the Angora farm passing Trish and Cougar line astern, I  continued, convinced that a Cat pack was in pursuit a k behind (must chat to the therapist about this feline phobia, and why dad didn't take me to the circus!)   Multiple lights in pursuit turned toward Central Kialla as I neared it's hall, that got the giddy-up happening.  I pressed on toward PistolPete's as the lights followed into Mitchell Rd, my satorius now smouldering keeping up with the cranial requests.  A clear cross of the highway as the Cats rose from Dave's dip added to my advantage, tiring from the hassle of the headwind but mining the minds' motivation to reach Galbraiths gate to get shelter from the breeze.  Pussycats had yet to round Roubaix on a sneak peek behind but I pursued the pain through Arcadia Downs and onto Conrod straight (ripper! roo-less!) to put some worth in the while and finish forty clicks.

1/6  Welcoming Winters' woes.

Winter's warriors assembled in Friday's 'feels like' 0.8 degrees for a fridge-like lap, Kreeky, Boof, TrekTrev, The Godfather, Kel, Rocket, not-so-NewAvantiJohn, Shorty, Sean, Mark and PistolPete enthused enough for the effort.  Straight into the speed southbound, not-so-NewAvantiJohn got the bunch mobile toward Sanctuary Park, Rocket then PistolPete equipped for the energy to pair at the city limits while most sat in silent suffering single filed behind. It's great to have Kel back aboard, passing up her pedestrian passion for the bliss of the bike, Shorty pushed work aside for ride #2 of the week, and Sean was back with his headlight restored even if his rigor wasn't. 

And so the winter woes of a dripping nose, numbed toes and frozen fingers begin, you'd think I'd know better riding the 13th winter in succession! Trish boarded the caboose in Mitchell Rd, The Godfather had the whistles and Sean had the gasps as we cranked though Central Kialla.  It was my turn to drive in River Rd, at the bridge with Shorty then to the dip with TrekTrev, a few dribs and a couple of drabs wheeling westward as our weekend wants were mused in the bunch babble behind, those missing and the day, month or year of their return were ranked in likely order. A fearless five on the Goats train of pain were a little behind schedule, our course north on Boundary Rd only hindered by the temperature.  Kel came forward for a turn but Trish sat surreptitiously silent in the rear seat.  Warmth from Channel Rd's cypress trees lasted barely a second, the chill facing the front to the Kinder seemed like an hour! Pleased TrekTrev rolled rapidly as we headed to Hopeful corner, I clutched at the slipstream as shifts swapped swiftly toward Prentice Rd, The Godfather goading Boof to bolt so I took the tow without complaint. From 2nd last to 3rd in 4 blinks and the sprint was spent, the weeks' work done save the savouring of post ride coffee.

Shout out to Irongirl Kylie (look up "tough" in the dictionary and you'll see a picture of her) about to brave battle #3. I'm sure there'll be a PB. Thoughts are with you.

Week 22         229km       YTD 6,218km