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