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