Week 30 : The leg's lament for leniency.

Post #458

21/7 Coldplay.

I was feeling like Bibendum (the Michelin Man) with an extra insulating layer for Saturday morning's predicted zero,  setting south for the ride ritual keeping the vital bits from the deep freeze.  It must have been a hologram of MyRideTrev in the 1 degree carpark 'cause he doesn't ride at 2 or below, Rocket, Wozz, TrekTrev, Kreeky, TatPaul, Bruce, PistolPete, CatCol, Shorty and TatMat filling a bigger than expected grid.  Mark and Trish arrived on our exit south, Rocket leading a long line to the city's limit, down to Adams Rd and, as rare as a Trump truth, the endangered Ralphy appeared in the Archer Rd mist (sporting a gorilla growth on the chin) Stuck

in the slipstream of the Rocket, Bruce and Wozza leaders made me a happy little Vegemite, waiting for the natural order to promote me forward. TatPaul quizzed my front tyre pressure as he drew alongside, but I dismissed his doubt as just jinx.   Most conversation was constrained in the chill, a few k's needed to climatize to the cold, the turn at Central Kialla steered squishy, TatPaul's theory regrettably right.  A slow puncture allowed me to reach the less-busy River Rd for repairs, the frozen finger fumble changing the tube went better than I'd first thought. 

A new order on the restart sandwiched me between Bruce and TrekTrev, quick yet kind company for me to front the front as we nosed north into Boundary Rd.  Rolling the turn just shy of the bridges was tactical (if I was to survive part two) but TrekTrev's turn shortened easing my workload.  The Rocket, Wozza and Pistol trio of tempo tore on to Old Dookie Rd, the light a little earlier on Mt Major's horizon certainly savoured Spring.  Another turn was due as we swung west toward town, my misconception of driving into a light breeze eased as speed turned respectable.  I called it quits at the bridge beside TrekTrev and spent a minute gathering the oxygen to resume being human, patches of fog assisting the chill.

Kreeky, Bruce, Shorty and CatCol took the Verney Rd escape for other engagements, MyRideTrev, Mark and Trish exiting at Numurkah Rd.  Pace percolated in Wanganui Rd, the file turning quickly single with speed, I was in second last survival mode as Pistol, Rocket and Wozz hurtled toward the hill.  The tempo was taking it's toll by the test track (rare that you find PistolPete pooped), so I lent him my wheel as a paltry payment for his help last Friday.  We'd slowly reeled in TatMat and TatPaul (cast off the Wozza and Rocket express) to congregate cornering Rudd Rd, Sean back aboard signalling the Boulevard bolt to breakfast.  Motors in bikes, warm accessories and Castlemaine and it's climbs captured the chat with the pedestrian peloton  Kel, Bo, Jen and Mrs.Pistol.

23/7  Disturbing the peace.

Legs were lax and the wind was wearing, expectations were fairly ordinary into the 17-28 km/h wind to Congupna on Monday morning and I was being careful not to cook the old engine this early in the week.  The constant wind at the brow was sending the angry meter into the red as I neared the horse hospital, thanks be to the turn south onto the truck route to calm the cardiac calamity.  (Funny, there's only seconds between the legs lament for leniency and the head's holler for a hurry up).  With the wind up the back corridor I had a stressless spin back to town to see which peacemakers would front Friars.  Coggo (Giant) Heady (Giant), Belly (Giant) and Phil (Giant) outnumbered Hommy (Avanti) and me (Baum), six o'clock struck and the tame train taxied out of town.

Heady headed us out of town (S.O.P), silly sucker me slotted in to second shift to Dobsons bridge, setting a speed sociable.  The roll at the bridge put Hommie at the helm and I joined the tail, Belly authorising me to apply the gas next turn.  Coggo, Phil and Belly sliced the 4 degree air to Boundary Rd where Heady, lapping up the tail wind, cruised to the fig farm.  Stalling the push till Heady caught the tail, I wound up the wattage to the bridge but darkness was tailgating me when I peeked behind, so eased up to collect the pieces.  Coggo, Phil and Belly passed by but Hommie and Heady were the victims of velocity so I slowed a bit more to offer a tow as a peace offering.  Over the highway and half way to Channel Rd the six pack was once again united, Coggo, Phil and Belly providing the pace to River Rd for my 3rd shift to start.  I'd duly noted the pace previous and stuck to it (how to win friends and influence people?) sitting centre road so others could get a draft.   Hooray for Heady braving another shift at the front but Hommie confined himself to the caboose while Phil, Coggo and Belly cranked their contributions. We'd run out of River Rd and I bid my farewells, off via the truck route to Archer Rd for a head-down headwind home.

24/7  Chevre menage a trois.

Dank, dark and dreary was the dismal description to discourage all but the gallant Goats from fronting Friars Tuesday.  Coggo and Belly were the tough two to turn up, Coggo doing the honours of first shift to Dobsons, the second leg for me to Central Ave (it seemed just as long but at least the engine was warm). The cranial calculator kicked in as Belly drove toward School Rd, subtract a little speed with only 3 dividing the workload,  recovery time would be fractional and the turns would multiply.  Coggo took over to finish off Old Dookie Rd, giving me the blessing of the northeaster behind in Boundary Rd, so I extended my shift to the bridge in thanks.  Duty came around again all too soon, from the Broken bridges down to River Rd eroded a lot of energy but the boys donated a decent draft down to River Rd's dip.  I'd contemplated finishing off River Rd as thanks for their support, but thoughts of the solo push homeward suddenly switched me selfish.  Over the bridge and on to the next white post, maybe the one after, oh just one more, show the elbow, hand the helm to Belly for the last 600 meters, tuck in for a tow (and a huff and puff), then bid my adieus. I kept it cruisy on the truck route preparing for pain from Archer's 4k of headwind, trying to ignore the Garmin's speed but keeping a 160 bpm cap on the h.r. till home.  

25/7  Rolling in the damp patch.

I don't think the horse was dead but I felt I was flogging the one destined for the glue factory Wednesday morning, struggling for speed out to the golf course into a northwester was understandable but it wasn't any easier east toward Grahamvale (should have carried a box of matches to build a bridge and get over it I guess!).   Dealing with discomfort of an angry adductor kept a light touch on the accelerator, tapping out a tame twenty k as a Wednesday warm-up worked.  CatCol, Wozza, Nev, TrekTrev, PistolPete, Cate, Kreeky, MyRideTrev, Sean, Rocket and Shorty assembled in the damp carpark, 8 degrees almost a heatwave as 6 bells signalled the start.  CatCol, Wozza, Nev and Rocket took the team out of town as I sat spoilt, swept along in their swift slipstream toward Mitchell Rd.

The now west northwester dissolved some of the distress of driving at the front, beside TrekTrev to River Rd's bridge then 5% off with MyRideTrev to the dip (an elephant stamp for effort considering the caboose has been his usual haunt)  The turns rolled on the effort east (passing pussycats giving up Zwift for the great outdoors now that temperatures have raised above hard core), Nev and CatCol driving the distance to Boundary Rd.  Sean was in struggle street, PistolPete toughing it out in short knicks, while TrekTrev and Shorty were seemingly unaffected by restricted riding.  A pain train of five flew south at One Tree Dam as I reached the rear to join the up line, puddles aplenty to kiss goodbye to a clean kit and soil a cycle. I was on a promotion to the pointy end in Channel Rd, Sean had shortened his shift beyond the S bend which put TrekTrev and I at the helm to the cypress trees.  Cate followed up to Central Ave, CatCol leading the charge to the Kinder, me in easy street with a tow into Hopeful corner.  Rooster tails of water anointed all on the ChaCha, Kreeky searching for the dry line kept me saturated to the finish line (another evening's entertainment of bike cleaning coming up) The casual cruise to town has quietly evolved to become a keen crank to keep the calves cooking, all the pain of the previous prologue now passed.

26/7  Four-tuitous.

A decent sleep, a good breakfast and a clean bike aligned the stars for Thursday, no wind and temperature in positive numbers almost made it Christmas, though riders were as rare as BeerMat in a bunch at Friars.  Cate was the only other starter at 5:59 (Goats have seemingly been struck with an FDC virus) but Coggo rolled in at the third stroke to restore some reputation.  Belly brought back belief as we steered round SPC, my usual niggle about scoring the first shift was scotched thinking of the solo option.  Cate captained from Dobson's bridge (consistent change-overs create comfort) as I settled into the rhythm at the rear, the simple pleasures of a dry stretch of tarmac, windless weather and teaming with smooth cyclusts of similar symbiosis was soaked up as we sped to Boundary Rd.  My second semester was southbound (swearing that wind was propelling my pace), driving down to the bridge then peel off into the delight of Belly's draft.  Cate towed us to the highway, Coggo cranked to the Broken bridges and Belly dug deep to reach River Rd, each pedal stroke amplified through his carbon fibre amplifier (aka rear wheel).

I was back on the front for River Rd, taking a few hundred meters to build back up to pace, running on all cylinders and well into the zone at the Angora farm, I set my sights at the dip for the change over. (not often that legs, lungs, heart and head harmonize when you're in a hurry) Cate and Coggo finished off the last 3k of River, but (as usual) time turned me (and Cate) on a shortcut back to town.  The wheels hummed homeward as light filled the western sky, Spring sprung to mind seeing colour in the clouds before seven.

27/7  Morning moisturiser.
A sneaky little shower snuck under the radar at 4:50 on Friday, totally unaware of the damp till I opened the front door.  Why should the bike stay clean for more than a day! With a northeaster blowing me to the carpark, being first on the grid was of little concern, the first shift south would be windswept.  Bruce, PistolPete, Cate, CatCol and SuperMario (out of hockey hibernation?) had decided to get damp, so I led the short line south on a puddled and glossy Archer Rd.  Bruce paired with me to the roundabout, us being careful not to snap SuperMario off the back, the damp blotting bikes, spotting specs and wheel spray doing it's best to find nostrils, but PistolPete was poised pristine, his 'arse saver' guard keeping the cool kit clean.  Sean seemed to be in the street of suffering as I partnered him to River Rd, mind you I was about out of oomph when Bruce rolled across at the bridge 3k later.  CatCol's conversations were copious, Cate keeps cranking continuously and PistolPete's power proves perennial as we worked toward Boundary Rd.

I was on the rushin' front for River's last k with Sean then the first k of Boundary with Bruce as a long pain train of Goats speared south, but I was craving a cog of sweet sixteen (I was spent spinning the seventeen and f...…. flogging the fifteen), cassette combinations contemplated as the calves felt crucifixion to One Tree Dam.  Was Bruce aiming at the puddles as I got into his tow? Another night of cleaning duties was pondered as we worked our west on Channel Rd, lined up behind Sean and readying for work at Beckham's bend. Bruce and PistolPete powered on to Kinder corner and Sean pumped up the pace to Prentice Rd so I rolled quickly over to save myself from being sautéed by speed.  Rooster tails of water from the ChaCha's puddles saturated the seven so it was a pseudo sprint in light of the conditions, trimming back the tempo for the 4k's back to town wondering why the hell we do this...

Week 30     270km           YTD 8,092km
   

Week 29 : The ride-less remorse.

Post #457
14/7.  Keep refrigerated.

A stone cold spin to the Saturday cycling obsession predicted a slim squad, Wozza., TatMat, Tina, PistolPete, Kreeky, TatPaul, Bruce, not-so-newAvantiJohn, The Godfather, Shorty, DeterminedDan and CatCol facing up to a frosty minus 0.5 degrees.     I had zero compulsion to do an early turn at the front (Wozza does a great job of that), struggling to climatise to the cold as the speed escalated south out of town.  PistolPete, Bruce and not-so-newAvantiJohn had lined up to advance, so I was delighted to delay my drive at the frosty front.  Tina suffered that sinking sensation of a soft tyre in Central Kialla, a pitstop called as we rounded into River Rd.   Bruce acted as pit crew to speed the restart,  the reshuffle berthing me behind Shorty and ahead of TatPaul in considered company.   

Hats off to TatMat and DeterminedDan making the iced pilgrimage from Tat, Shorty still swift despite an almost bikeless week and Kreeky less than aero wearing all the layers he found in the wardrobe. The cold bit harder reaching the front (lots of hot air in the middle of the bunch?), questions on why I was doing this circled the cranium till thoughts of Hollywood, BeerMat, Ralphy, Softa and a long list of loafers gave me the reason.
A little hope hit the horizon with a hint of light as early as the fig farm, the call for a direct line up Boundary Rd (avoiding the Toaster and BigRing section) was popular but the ever dropping temperature tolled.

Promoted to the front again in Lemnos-Cosgrove Rd labored the lungs with Antarctic air, but keeping a respectable speed actually felt a little easier, a feeling I had a little wind assistance may have helped  (don't tell Foss but there was nothing!)
Getting gradually closer to town dragged thoughts to breakfast and warmth, frozen fingers and toes from the now minus 2.9 temperature quickly refocussing the urgency to finish.   CatCol spurred on a squirt rather than a sprint in Wanganui Rd, the bunch mostly in one piece as we rounded Rudd Rd and bored into the Boulevard.  Warmth motivated motion toward breakfast, sensation in the fingertips lost but the legs warm and working well.  Coffee and porridge cured the aching fingers and numb toes, salami, band names and nona's chatted with the pedestrian peloton (Lynda, Bo, Leah, Mrs.Pistol and Kel)

16/7.  Mono-day.
The lure of a lap less travelled drew me to the Congupna metropolis (population   ) and beyond on Monday, 5 degrees was almost tropical after last weeks sub zero's, but a nasty northeaster ensured there was work to do.  Along the deserted highway and through the snap, crackle and pop of stones cast into the emergency lane, the breeze on the brow brewing a determination to reach Jubilee Rd.  Keeping up the cadence put the heart rate up, though I think 251 bpm was a little exaggerated.  I'd hoped there'd be a break from the breeze on the short stretch of Jubilee but I'd turned almost head on into the wind, the effort eventually easing for the swing south into Lemnos North Rd.  I aimed for the feint glow of town 15k away, hoping the spot or six dropping from the heavens didn't turn into a drenching, the speed steadily rising with thoughts of outrunning a downpour.  The spots stopped as I turned into Old Dookie Rd, catching a little of the northeaster back to town, no sign of pussycats and only Coggo at Friars as I made a bee line for a banana bread breakfast.

17/7.  Goat-mosphere.

Coggo, Tina, Heady, Sandy, Phil, Hommie, Brendy and Belly are the consistent contenders to tap a lap in the winter weather.  Heady kept to his job description of running us out of town, my standard shift the first leg to Dobson's bridge was made a little tougher fighting a northeaster.  Coggo did the drive of leg 2 to Central Ave with eight slipstreaming in the single filed draft.  I'd guessed Brendy would skip on a shift at the front, so tucked into the 8th spot to take a holiday from the headwind, Tina, Belly, Sandy and Phil taking their turns to Boundary Rd.  Hommie scored the luck of the tailwind (again) as we steered south, Heady's turn from the pork palace to the highway.  It was quite cruisy with the wind mostly behind but I resisted a bolt to the bridges, conforming to the speed of the previous shifts to keep me in the Goat good books. An elbow swapped the shifts at the bridges to Coggo who towed us to River Rd, Tina taking on the westward drive with expert echelon education.  Cadence amplified through the windswept wheels, most of River Rd's width used to shelter Brendy and Sandy in the caboose. Hommie's drive from the dip was fading by the bridge,  Heady digging deep to finish off the last of River Rd.  Peeling off to shortcut to town had a lot of help from the wind to Archer Rd, the northbound 5k's blowing me back to the reality of  hard work home.

18/7  The Rule #86 payback.
A desire for distance drove me out of a warm bed and into the chill of an early loop as a prologue to the usual Wednesday ritual.  Underwhelmed by the speed delivered from the effort expended, I put the sluggishness down to the legs being in Liechtenstein while the head was in Haiti.  Cat and Wozza were at the carpark to save me from the first shift, other lights filtering in as the clock neared 6.  I was happy for Wozz to do the work of the spin south as I sat in the draft, the other players now identifiable as the turns rolled 'em past.  The Godfather, Kreeky, PistolPete, Tina, Rocket and Nev were in the procession en route to Mitchell Rd, CatCol's cackle and other voices babbling in the caboose.  There was a shuffle in the order as Tina and Cate sought a skip for their shift, so I paired with Nev for River Rd's first k.  The roll of turns put Mark alongside me, correction; half a bike ahead, but I ignored the indignity and stuck with the speed everyone else was following.  Over Laws Drive and CatCol advanced, funny, the half biking halted.  Rhythm restored for the rest of River Rd, Rocket readjusting from Bali to bbrrrrr, MyRideTrev and Trish found hiding in the caboose, Nev performing the ritual removal of the gillet, and the Pelly and BamBam comeback conspicuous by their absence.  The belt up Boundary Rd tested a few as I rejoined the up line behind Nev, wondering where (already) I'd face the front again.  It was at Beckhams where I was promoted to the pointy end, Nev pairing perfectly to Jameson Rd (but I was betting another disrespectful display to follow )  Mark 3/4 biked me as we rounded the bend, I tried to forget Rule #86 but the cage had been rattled too much, so whole biked him to Central Ave. I eased up headed to the Kinder,  CatCol held back as Mark charged on some sort of mission, Wozza, The Godfather, Pistol and Rocket ramping up the knots and consuming him as we all swung into Kinder corner. 13 thinned to Indian file as the ChaCha appeared ahead, Nev marching away with ease as others strung out behind.

19/7  Thinning Thursday.

Participation had pined to just Phil, Coggo and Belly fronting Frairs on Thursday, the woes of winter wearing down more, almost weekly.  A northerly niggled on leg 1 to Dobsons (of course, I'd scored the first turn at the front) though I'd set the speed a little beyond what the legs liked.  Phil took the drivers seat at the bridge as I rolled to the rear, Belly delivering the news that Brendy was aboard (and confined to the caboose).  Phil tamed the tempo a tad (had I set a speed to spicy?) but Coggo cranked it up again over Central Ave.  Belly took over at School Rd and I'd just settled into the dreamy draft that only a 6'5" lad can give when his elbow flicked the handover (excused being his birthday). I'd hoped he'd take me to Boundary Rd so I'd get the bliss of a tailwind, but had the task to push on the intersection (but blew Brendy ota), Phil and Coggo enjoying the helping hand of the northerly's 17-26 km/h to the pub.  Over the highway and Belly's shift was short and shy of Channel Rd (Brendy's bail-out) so I was in the seat of suffering again. Pain pointed thoughts to tonight's dinner, the gas bill, the FTSE 100 index......anything but the energy needed to reach the bridges.  Phil dragged us to River Rd, Coggo captaining to the angora farm, Belly scoring the smooth tarmac to the dip.  My swansong was to the bridge then psych up for the solo slog home, an adieu to the trio at Central Kialla Rd, off the gas a little to Archer Rd, then grit the teeth for being blown (almost backwards) hurtin' head-on home.

20/9  The Friday few.
Another delightfully dark, damp and dismal morning, chipping away at a rider's resolve.  Mustering motivation was made harder finding an empty carpark at 5:57 but Tina, PistolPete and Kreeky turned up (if only to give credence to the craziness of cranking in these crap conditions)  Single file seemed sensible with only a force of four, so I led south with a strange yet smug satisfaction that those who failed to front would be wracked with a ride-less remorse.

That long haul to Sanctuary's roundabout poured red ink on my balance sheet, and there'd be more than the usual two shifts to serve today.  Tina towed us to the truck route and Kreeky cranked on to Mitchell Rd, that would give PistolPete the tailwind and I'd get the toil into the wind to River Rd! But PistolPete powered on through Central Kialla to reach River, my second shift sweet with the windswept leg to the bridge.  River Rd was as empty as a politician's promise, not even The Godfather's guffaws gilded the 6k of east west tarmac as Tina took over to the dip and Kreeky did a double shift up to Boundary Rd.  Even the train of pain had abstained, our northern push to Channel Rd on a barren and windswept track.  PistolPete donated all the driving north, I'd prepared for the pain of the headwind in Channel but Pistol's generosity extended to the S bend.  A mental target to reach the cypress trees started well but the wind wore away the stubbornness and speed in a few hundred meters, just enough left in the tank to catch Tina's turn to Central Ave.  Kreeky commanded the ChaCha (so pleased it was sprintless 'cause I was spent), PistolPete again the saviour towing us to town.

Week 29       232km             YTD 7,822km.

Week 28 : Thrilled to be chilled?

Post #456
7/7.  Windustrious.

Damp and windswept were the ingredients for only the tough to turn up to Saturdays ride, an overnight shower and a windustrious 20-32 km/h northwester attracting only Tina, PistolPete, Wozza, Bruce and TrekTrev to the start line.  Down in numbers and up in workload, the consensus curtailed the lap to the old Saturday circuit, (has it really been 10 months since this was the Saturday standard?) blown out Channel Rd to find Boundary and the usual course thereafter. Betwixt the channelled puddles of the ChaCha at a ripper rate of knots, I couldn't help thinking the hurt the homeward leg would hold. 

I was about to face the front again at Beckham Rd's bend when Tina's Continental turned  custard, even in the depths of winter the bane of the bindii bites us.  The joy of repairs and road grime done, we set sail again (Shorty's late pursuit behind went un-noticed), my cortex trying to cope with the fight to face in Boundary Rd.  Wozza kindly considered the age of this old engine as I shunned the signals of stress toward the Pub, finding the extra kick to catch Wozza and Pistol's pace as they took the helm was almost as hard as the last crucifying k.  Exploring the parameters of pain might be a bit perverse, is it the 'banging-your-head-against-a-brick-wall' (feels good when you stop) or murdering muscles to teach them tempo the reason?   Bruce spun the front dervishly, signing his style with hands draped over the bars, in contrast PistolPete sitting statuesquely still beside.

We'd turned into Old Dookie Rd and my turn came up again, blessed with a tailwind but challenged by Tina's tempo.  Back into the wind with noses northbound, I sank the chin to the headstem dredging the depths of determination as Wozza graciously paired with my steadily sinking speed, the saviour a slow for traffic at New Dookie Rd, a second or two to gasp then to crush the cranks to catch the Pistol & Wozza march to the BigRing.   14k's west into the northwester would make us earn breakfast, shielded at times by the odd row of trees but omg on the open sections.

CatKev and one other (representing to total Cats resolve) went easily eastbound, chat put on our backburner as legs and lungs burned toward town.  Shortcutting Shorty's arrival from the west was like the second coming (a fresher pair of legs as a salvation to our suffering), TrekTrev was toiling (a legacy of work getting in the way of regular rides) but there's no end to Tina's tenacity.  I'd been elevated to the expense of energy end again in Wanganui Rd and made the mistake of emptying the tank to the transfer station, so when Wozz and Pistol turned up the tempo and thinned the line toward the hill, I slowly slipped off the tail with no grunt to give.  Tina and TrekTrev on my tail rekindled some urge, grateful to TrekTrev as he shouldered some load 200 meters later.  Reassembled in Rudd Rd refired a bolt on the Boulevard to breakfast, sparing a thought (as my legs went to licorice) for the slumbering slacko's who'd suffer on their next visit. There were warm seats left at the Lemontree among the pedestrians (Kel, ScottMatt, Jen, Mrs.Pistol, Bo and Lynda), babble on old trades, old trains and doing turns making the conversation we'd been denied in the wind.

9/7. What pace is peace?

I'd succumbed to the softness of a six am start on Monday, prologues passe per se.  Six stalwart Goats (Coggo, Tina, Heady, Sandy, Belly and Hommie) fronted Friars for a piece of peace, the lead role left to me again to escape the suburbs (that makes me the scapegoat).  So what pace is peace? A few k's off the usual Tuesday / Thursday velocity would be in order, so I set the speed in the mid 30's, silence saying it was sort of satisfactory.  A tailwind eased the effort, Sandy keen to captain toward Central Ave as I peeled off the front to grab the draft of the giant on a Giant. A cranial calm descends as wind noise disappears and the Michelin music murmurs below, ah how soft we'd become always riding with the breeze up the backside! Hommie hit the front and hit the gas in Boundary Rd leaving a few of us to play shock absorber for those tested at the tail end, all back in line by the fig farm but the echelon was being interrupted by cars oncoming.  I took the drive from the pub to the bridges, restrained to forge fair play and friendships, but Sandy had swapped a second shift for reartirement at the rear.  Into the headwind on River Rd wasn't as painful as predicted, Tina, Coggo, Heady, Hommie and Belly doing their bit to Laws Drive so I returned the favour polishing off River's last k.  Time allowed the rare chance to complete the full circuit today, it felt foreign to carry on through Central Kialla (treated to a Tina tow) and along Mitchell, the signs of wear starting to show on some for the ascent from Dave's dip.  Belly handed me the reigns as we rounded Roubaix, a drive up to the horse stud where Coggo took over and I drew breath ready for the Conrod crescendo.  Heady and Hommie had run out of huff with 300 to go, so I spiced up the speed to the finish line only to have Coggo whip me for line honours.

11/7.  Serve chilled.

Ten minutes layering the winter woollies, grit your teeth, take a deep breath and open the front door!  Minus 0.8 wrestled with the resolve to ride on Wednesday, but I was sure there'd be others as determined (or demented) to clock a few k's.  Wozza, The Godfather, Kreeky, Tina, Mark, not-so-newAvantiJohn, CatCol, Trish and PistolPete were keen in the cool carpark for the 6am launch, but I shied from an early turn at the front till circulation got muscles moving at warp Wozza.   At least wind wasn't working us over, my flexibility less frozen as we reached Mitchell to bear east.  Kreeky's wheezes have waned, CatCol mused on a milestone, Wozza's on a 'loaner' while his Foil is fettled, not-so-newAvantiJohn contemplated cadence and Tina told of sticks and spills. Through Central Kialla and rounding the bend into River, Mark had meandered from his line to put me on a collision course with the traffic island, but a brief blurt averted a horizontal hiccup.  I'd paired with Tina over the bridge and then with Wozza from the dip, but Tina was bereft of breath soon after, a calm called to keep the crew collected.
Kreeky worked me hard from Beckham's to the cypress trees and I served a half decent effort from Jameson Rd to Central Ave, calling Wozza over for the crank to the Kinder.  The troops of tempo advanced to Hopeful corner, Mark's fuse left to fizzle on the push to Prentice Rd, Wozza oh so easily drawing away as CatCol and not-so-newAvantiJohn tried in vein to keep contact for the minor placings.

12/7  Weather warriors.
Weather had whittled the warriors down to Tina, Coggo and Tum for Thursday's therapy, 2mm of overnight wet dampening the determination of yet a few more regulars.  I'll admit I faked a fumble at Friars to skip the first shift (seems I've landed the lead lots lately), fourth in line suited for a slower start  (sore in the saddle site today).   Tina towed us out of town and handed the helm at Dobsons bridge to Coggo, so smooth of stroke and speed toward Central Ave for Tum to take over.  The compact kiwi cranked a long shift to School Rd where I made a debut to drive to Boundary.  "What's that noise?" Tum questioned as we swung south, I thought I might be half a gear out until he pointed out I don't change gears!  Squeamish steering soon spelt out the problem, my mushy Michelin forcing a halt to the proceedings.  It's gold to have a group stop for support (and I'd suggest to savour a sledge), even better it was the front to fix (the lesser of two evils).  Repaired, remounted and riding again, Tina was a hard captain to catch but the syncronicity soon stabilised as four found fortitude.  Another push at the pointy end had all the appeal of a visit to the proctologist, but was it another perceived puncture playing on my mind?  (We all love the C02 cartridge convenience but they do fall short of the 125 psi we really want)  I'd run out of urge at the front at the Broken bridges and joined the tail to reacquaint with resuscitation, only to have Tum ask me the soccer score! WTF?  Coggo cruised on to River Rd for us to work west, without wind but wet making it a dismal drive toward Central Kialla. I felt guilty taking the early exit at River Rd's end (to appease an employer) when the three had persevered with my puncture (there'll be a chance to return the favour I'm sure). A push home made up some time but the price was legs of jelly for the morning.

13/7  A frosty, foggy foray.

Not thrilled to be chilled by minus one Friday, we're just over the year's hump but winter won't let go for a few weeks yet.  Bruce, PistolPete, Tina, Kreeky, CatCol, Mark, Pelly, BamBam, Nev, Trish and The Godfather forced through fog and frost to front the carpark, I'd arrived first so faced the music of the first shift for the 3k drive to Sanctuary roundabout.  Bruce was best buddy partnering me in pace, but I lacked the spare oxygen to deliver full sentences, glad to see the back of him (literally!) as he and Pistol powered to the truck route.   All the huff and puff was steam train style down to Mitchell Rd, swinging east as the social stuff swapped sides.
The Cat collection was compact and Cougar and a cohort calmly cranked River Rd west as we earnestly energised eastward.  Comfort had returned to my (previously painful) pectineus, though the lungs were being crushed by the cold.  BamBam and Pelly have made their return (should we set a stopwatch?), Trish's aboard a new bike and The Godfather was loving the temperature (the lack of it) as Bruce and I struggled to see the
end of River Rd in the fog.  I felt pity for the pain train of two (Coggo and Tum) slogging south as we charged toward Channel Rd with Bruce and PistolPete commanding the 4k's north.  Through the pea soup on Channel Rd, hoping we were headed toward town, I'd progressed toward the pointy end wishing Nev would draw the line Indian file before I got the drama of the drivers seat.  But the sprint was struck off the agenda (couldn't see the finish line anyway) and swapped for a solid tap to town.  I wound up the solo one northbound at Archer Rd, gone are the days of six or seven steering the northern suburbs home while the southerners sip coffee and savour the sweetness of office hours.

Week 28   199km        YTD 7,590km      

       

Week 27 : Concrete's the cure!

Post #455
30/5.  The fast and the faded.

A casual crank to the carpark contemplated the Couldabeens heydays of summer where a packed grid of 35+ would form for the Saturday soiree.  Long gone are those days when overpopulation forced a split into two manageable bunches, temperature has trimmed the pack down to the party faithful,  Boof, The Godfather, BigLen, Shorty, Tina, MyRideTrev, Wozza, PistolPete, Kreeky, TatMat, DeterminedDan, TatPaul, Mark, CatCol, TrekTrev and Bruce.  Lots of NNW'er had volunteers aplenty for the spin south on Archer Rd (and right on cue, Trish joining on leg 1 and Sean on leg 3) but many turned shy headed north.  In the drivers seat, The Godfather dished out the distress to Mark through Central Kialla (the NNW'er nasty at 25 km/h), the turn into River retreating Mark to the rear for recovery.

The fear of the front took up talk time toward Boundary Rd, many relieved to have served their time in a cross wind rather than head-on.  Braving the blast of the breeze with Bruce then Boof in Boundary Rd hammered hurt into my hippocampus, breathing in to reduce the aerodynamic drag didn't help as the signals of suffering did their best to raise the white flag.  Just beyond One Tree Dam Boof called the roll over just as I was about to, trying to supress those growling bear breaths in recovery was a tough task too, instant inferiority complex as Wozza and PistolPete made it look easy driving into the wind all the way to the highway.  With composure almost regained, MyRideTrev, Tina and Trish called me back into the up-line, I'd reached the rear and was lining up for another turn at torture (Sean had seen sense and corralled himself in the caboose too)  I don't know how TrekTrev and Shorty manage on jus one or two rides a week, maybe it's time I backed off to see if that makes it easier?  (Wash your mouth out Foss! Concrete's the cure!)

 I'd lucked a draft up to the Big Ring, the Cats at the corner on their calm clockwise cruise of the Toaster circuit as we worked west.  Over on the roads' right with Boof then Bruce to echelon some ease for those behind, the wind still wore away the willpower to the bridge (a kind comment from Bruce psychologically soothed), then back into the delight of a draft while others went forth for their flogging.  The Godfather, Kreeky and CatCol kept up the cruelty but the Wozza & Pistol pairing showed how it was really done as the now northwester blew to 32 km/h. 

Rolling counter-clockwise was contrary to common sense while the wind hit our starboard bow, but one rolls with the ritual of the bunch, on the windward side in Ford Rd not a good preparation for the pain to come in Wanganui Rd.  DeterminedDan went back for more masochism so why should I weaken in the back stalls, lined up behind Bruce it looked as though I was in for the deep end at DECA, a brief bout at the rushin' front was all I could muster.  Hanging on as the big engines fired up split the bunch in two at the test track, several trying the tough job of trying to patch the gap as some popped off the handful ahead.  The fast and the faded made a long scattered line rounding the bend to the Boulevard, the front turned up the tempo again but bits were still busted off the back struggling for survival.  I did my bit at trying to tow the broken from the bunch back, but I felt like a spark plug had disconnected all the way to the Lemontree (a mushy Michelin the real cause).   A bon voyage to Boof and Sim over breakfast with babble about servicing, foibles with food and the weakening of walking.

2/7.  The ride to rid zee rust.
Somewhat seized from a slack Sunday, a ride to rid the rust had Zeerust on the 5am radar Monday morning. Minus 2.4 made for a fresh and foggy start on the northern exit from town, the course was coarse (of course!) berating the backside, all I want is a road as smooth as PistolPete's style (oh, and a tailwind too while you're at it!)  On and on northbound on Zeerust Rd, another road less travelled to twist the structure of the average day.  East on Bunbartha Rd for 4 k's (telling myself this will do me good), I found the deserted highway to steer south toward Congupna (hoping I'd miss peak hour).  Smooth sailing on a slick surface helped the spirits cope with the cold, swinging onto the truck route to decide a course to intercept the Couldabeens.  New Dookie Rd won over Lemnos-Cosgrove Rd, my easterly effort eroding energy as the head dealt with "feels like minus 5".

I backed-off in Boundary Rd saving some semblance of speed to keep up with the Couldabeens (feels like I'm the old nag among the stallions).  U-turning at the fig farm I was caught up in the collection of Bruce, Nev, Wozza, Kreeky, CatCol, The Godfather, not-so-newAvantiJohn and PistolPete. The draft was a delight after 27k's solo, a bonus breather on the back till my turn came up at the frosty front with Kreeky in Lemnos-Cosgrove Rd. Somewhat chuffed to be maintaining tempo (far better than my previous solo speed) on the drive to Lemnos North Rd with Kreeky then Bruce, there was a greater happiness to get back into the draft though.  Carrying positive vibes on the up-line, I was slowly promoted toward the front in Ford Rd, looked like I'd have the labor of Wanganui Rd but the velocity wasn't too far out of hand. Ooops! (spoke too soon)  Nev got the bit between his teeth beyond the test track and the eight thinned into Indian file behind, legs weren't too happy providing the power to keep up and the lungs weren't enjoying the supply of minus atmosphere.  Thoughts of getting home a little earlier to defrost motivated my motion down the Boulevard, bidding adieu at the roundabout as the lads stormed on for the cure for cold......caffeine.

3/7  The fetish for freezing.

If it's to support the stupidity of a fellow cyclist out in the cold, proving your perseverance or some freaky flagellation of frost, this fettish for freezing needs some professional counselling.  Why I set off on an early prologue is probably beyond help, but a 15k spin got the old engine a bit above the cold mark for the 6am Goat gathering.  Maybe therapy is beyond Heady, Tina, Coggo, Brendy, Phil and Belly too, but they turned up rugged up like Eskimos, Tina toasty with heated gloves and socks! 
I relieved Heady of his usual job as pilot to leave the city limits and just couldn't help myself doing the dip to Dobson's bridge, unsocially single file, but hey it's survival in the cold.
Heady, Tina, Coggo and Belly tapped out their turns in turn for the team but Brendy baulked at the captain's job as we swung into Boundary Rd.  Phil put in a great double shift to the bridge for my second contribution to reach the pub (still not reopened).  Heady had a crack at the frosty front despite being a bit short on form but Brendy was concreted into the caboose as we worked down to River Rd for Phil's charge as captain.
 My eye was glued on his right elbow waiting for the signal, but on and on his wheels hummed to the Angora farm before I was given the flick. Coping rather well at 36, I soldiered on to the main eastern channel (why 32 was such a chore earlier solo I'm not sure). Brendy was missing in action as I joined the rear, hooray for Heady having another haul, Tina's tempo taking the crew to River's end where my exit begged. 
A tamer tempo tapped to town and the glimmer of a few lumens of light on the 6:45 horizon gave hope, fingers and toes signalling hurry up Summer!


4/7.   Wearied Wednesday.

Drive was down to a dribble for Wednesday's lap, or was it the headspace hindering the horsepower? Saddling up early eased the pressure on the commute, cranking calmly to the carpark to keep conrods connected.  6 degrees (almost a heatwave for this week) was irresistible to Kreeky, Tina, Wozza, The Godfather, Cate, Mark, not-so-newAvantiJohn, MyRideTrev, PistolPete and Trish turning up for a bit of midweek movement.  I took the first shift on Archer Rd (funny how you call a halt for traffic and some still ride on), Wozza joining me at the front at Kialla Lakes Drive where Sean jumped aboard (or did he?), the northeaster feeling useless with my tank almost empty by the roundabout.  That Wozza & Pistol pairing made me dig deeper to the truck route, some composure coming in leg 3 to Mitchell Rd, a trio of Trish, Tina and MyRideTrev already in permanent caboose residence. 
The Godfather and Kreeky weren't sparing the speed as we went east and north, not-so-newAvantiJohn and Mark set the task of tempo into the wind.  Shorty and Sean were found in River Rd (shortcutting via the truck route?), better to have two more contributing rather than retiring in the rear seats.  Facing a niggling northeaster (9-17 km/h) with Cate then Wozza at the dip had the hapless headspace happening again, high time to pump in some positives less I be drawn into the abyss of the can't cope caboose!  The Goat train of tame pain (watered down for Wednesday) was a bit behind schedule at One Tree Dam, I'd fluked a tow in Boundary Rd as Kreeky, not-so-newAvantiJohn, Shorty and Sean bored into the breeze.  Positioning was perfect in Channel Rd, a turn with Cate from the S bend and with Wozza to Jameson Rd got me into a tow as PistolPete and Wozza worked their wattage to the Kinder.  Mark, The Godfather, not-so-newAvantiJohn and Kreeky did the giddy-up to Prentice Rd where I got the call over from the caboose.   Pistol, Mark and not-so-newAvantiJohn had passed their use-by date, Kreeky had the podium position all stitched up and I got enough draft to score second (my earlier erosion of enthusiasm now a forgotten foible)

5/7  Collecting crumbs.
A little leg loosener lap prepared the pectineus and peroneus for punishment, a northeaster would dish up some work to Boundary Rd this morning.  Goats gathered at Friars for the 6am flagfall (Brendy, Tum, Cate, Heady, Tina, Hommy, Sandy and Belly) , deja vu departing town with the team in tow, the drive to Dobson's bridge rather testing into the 17-26 km/h wind. 

I gave the elbow to Cate and joined the back on Belly's wheel, watching as others lined up to offer themselves as a sacrifice to speed.  Tum took over at Central Ave and soldiered on beyond School Rd, but Heady had a hernia and Sandy sank as the front seat's reality struck hard.  Rather than the disappointment and defeat of being dropped, a calm was called to collect the crumbs (well, at least they're trying instead of retiring, or suffering the zzzz of Zwift).  Brendy had bonked by Boundary Rd, so Hommy, Belly and I assumed the captaincy south to River Rd.  Another ease of effort was needed as we pointed west, the fragmentation was fixed but echelon education sadly lacked with the tail in the gutter searching for a decent draft.  Riding the road's crown, Belly and I became a midfield windbreak, Tum, Heady, Cate and Hommy rode on regardless ahead. (seems there's only a few with drafting diploma, the wisdom of working the wind is becoming a lost art)  Donating to the needy delivers the warm and fuzzys to me, so I stayed on to block the breeze till River's end, but being tested for time turned me to the shortcut home (minus the minutes, Cate came too).  We enjoyed a windswept way west to Archer Rd but the payback was pain into the wind to town, contemplating  Rules #20 and #67 diverted the hurt. Back into the suburbs raised a worry, cars passing minus lights and drivers wearing dark sunglasses 40 minutes before dawn makes you wonder.

6/7  The plodding pace and peace prescription.

There comes a time for calm and quiet, Friday's damp and dismal start was it.  South on Archer and keeping the cadence cruisy, I pondered the past when pace was painful even at 30.  The millimetres of Archer's ascent and descent were magnified at a snail like speed, barely noticeable at the usual Wednesday / Friday charge.  Clouds of gloom rolled low from the northwest, the glossy road guaranteeing bike cleaning duties tonight.  With a zone 3 cap on the h.r., I meandered to Mitchell Rd, the unchallenged legs and lungs in heaven (I could turn marshmallow and get used to this!).  The down then up of Dave's dip done without blowing a head gasket, I rolled up to the highway and was rewarded with a clear cross.  Even the north northwester gusting to 26 clicks didn't deter on Raftery Rd (caution for kanga's though), mind and eye off the Garmin and content just to roll the legs back to town. What better than to put icing on the cake with a GJ coffee to close the week?

Week 27     255km      YTD 7,391 km

And so another week of babble and scribble ends, thanks for the kind feedback on the blog in the bunches (do have your say in the comments section or Fb and pass on the oldfoss.blogspot.com address to a fellow cyclust )  Checkout other links and the Foss dictionary on your tablet, desk or laptop (hidden from view on your mobile unfortunately)