Week 35 : Tempo on tap

Post # 463
25/8  Refrigerated ride.

No amount of mental motivation, priming preparation or murmuring mantras can really ready you for the reality, just liberal lashings of Rule #5 to face the freshness of zero.  A few layers of lycra seemed ludicrous but a slow and steady stoke of speed soon had circulation and adrenalin conquering the cold. A sneaky roll around the block avoided the number one grid position, this old engine not quite warm enough for a frosty first shift. PistolPete, Rocket, TatPaul, MyRideTrev, Boof, Mark, not-so-newAvantiJohn, Shorty, Trish, Wozza and Pelly had lined up, Cougar and Popgun behind, keen for a calmer course.  Launching south at 6, the bunch was strangely silent for a Saturday, maybe the urge to contain warmth within kept jaws from flapping? Lodged between TatPaul and Shorty suited me well for my first facing of the fresh front, the foggy fields of River Rd setting a scenic start.  Nath arrived from the north as we swung into Boundary Rd, MyRideTrev and Trish the rear-gunners as not-so-newAvantiJohn and Rocket led the charge toward the highway.

Almost on cue to the landmarks, the turns rolled to share the stress, the Broken bridges, the pub, Boundary's channel bridge and the figfarm, the pairs did the do-si-do with a chorus of carbon the music to move to. Two pairs of gloves had little hope against the 'feels like' minus two, my fingers in frozen distress got tucked under the brake levers away for the icy breeze.  Nath was my partner in pace to Old Dookie Rd's bridge, Shorty's efforts now confined to the caboose.  Around Toaster corner and up to the Big Ring, four Cats had come out to crank a clockwise course.  TatPaul called the roll a little shy of Woolshed Rd (just as I was about to suggest it) but it was Nath's overwhelming performance I had to ignore.  To be fair, he played ball up to the bridge where I was due for retirement anyway, I'd made the mistake of looking at the speedo which overwhelmed myself.   Performance anxiety was calmed as many made similar drives at the pointy end, gradually returning to coherant in the draft as we neared suburbia.  I'd resolved to ride at the rear as pace picked up in Wanganui Rd, there was way too many fast fellas line astern for me too match. 

Pelly shook his head at the promotion forward too, his change of gear going queer (down three instead of up one) and losing him a few lengths just as the speed spiked at DECA.  I held back to loan him a tow but catching the swift six ahead was a tall order.  My tank had emptied short of Mt.Wanganui but Pelly saved the day and returned the tow favour, allowing us to rejoin the bunch in Rudd Rd.  Breath was back for the bolt to breakfast on the Boulevard, 5th fastest I reckoned earned me the egg, fetta and pesto breakfast.   Dollars in sport and lasting injuries
was the tattle at the table, Mrs.Pistol, Sim and Temple joining the conversation as the rising sun warmed chilled bones.

27/8  A Monday mood mender.
Melancholy from the mares of the night were mended with an early solo on Monday, surprise surprise, a southerly whipped up to stifle any speed I thought I had.  Down Raftery Rd with the CatEye cutting the 5:15 darkness the moon hadn't lit, I was hoping the chill kept kangaroos in their cot, so relief was the reward reaching Galbraith's gate to be riding roo-less, although ragged from the headwind.  (26 km/h gusts not on my ride recipe)  It was easier eastbound on Mitchell Rd so I cranked on to Central Kialla, my solo slog figured to be the concrete cure for going soft in bunches.  Up to the truck route with a tail wind bliss, west to Archer Rd wrestled with the breeze at the portside, but dopamine was now driving the demons away.  Northbound on Archer Rd egged on the ego to return to town and partake of the Pablo Brothers panacea to put week 35 on a positive start.

28/8  Serve ice cold.

That the dying week of winter may be it's end and our woes was probably all that motivated Sandy, Phil, Belly, Cate and Hommie to the Tuesday Friars Goats grid, already minus 0.4 and with an icy cold serve of a southwester to look forward to.  Hommie headed the heroes out of town and almost to Dobson's before swapping the lead role to Sandy for a bolt to the bridge, I did the bit to Central Ave finding mid thirties the acceptable tempo for the temperature. Cate, Phil and Belly shared driving duties toward Boundary Rd, dozens of little burn-off fires in the orchard (to fight frost from the fruit?) a scenic distraction. Contribution number two was due at the pig pen after a dreadful draft from Sandy (60kg wringing wet and knee high to a derailleur), the southwester not so nasty under the cover of the orchards but it was as cold as a hangman's hospitality.

I made it to the highway and handed the helm to Cate, a few minutes recovery while others took turns at the torment on the front.  Sandy was cooked by River Rd and had retired to the rear, so I had Hommie's draft as he hauled us into River Rd's first k.  His elbow flicked predictably when speed sagged, the head dropped and a gear changed at the quarter horse stud.  A few hundred meters at his pace (so he'd catch the tail) then I slowly turned up the wick toward the dip, the smooth tarmac a treat for the tempo.  I'd timed my turn well today, dragged along in the draft of Cate, Phil and Belly before the usual exit to keep on schedule.  The south southwester had strangely swung to an east northeaster, a bonus propulsion to Archer Rd then a 7k spin to town for the joys of work to begin.

29/8 The frosty five.

Seriously cold temperatures had trimmed the ranks to just PistolPete, Cate, TrekTrev and The Godfather for Wednesday's effort, minus three keeping all but the dedicated/demented (strike out that which does not apply) away.  Thinking thou shalt not covet PistolPete's heated gloves, I was up for the long leg to Sanctuary's roundabout (berthed first is often cursed) on an unspoken but understood single file attack on the lap, cranking comfortably in the company of likeminded, predictable cyclusts all on the same wavelength.  PistolPete drove a double shift all the way to Mitchell Rd, Cate and TrekTrev donating the drive to Central Kialla.  I rarely get The Godfather's wheel to draft, a chance today to study the style.  Clunk, clunk echoed through the Enve wheel as the chain was dropped to the top gear, all that torque tormenting the links and 11 cog to drive the Reacto forward, just a hint of variation in the velocity but I'll put that down to the freezer like atmosphere.

My duty was called again 500 meters into River Rd, happy with self's speed, particularly over the bridge for the most subtle of downhills to the dip.  In fact, progress pleased so much that I added three more white posts worth to my shift before handing the captain's hat to Pistol (who made a mockery of my turn by driving all the way to Boundary Rd with barely a puff to prove it) .  TrekTrev took the reigns from Cate at One Tree Dam and pushed through the pain to reach Channel Rd with just a little fade in the last 100 meters (a big dose of determination with Around The Bay not far away).   The Godfather ploughed into the westward drive on Channel Rd, all the way to the cypress trees before electing me to head the hurry.  36's and 37's were right in my zone today (makes a pleasing change), shifting my target of turns' end beyond the corner into Central and again beyond the Kinder.  Why can't I have this tempo on tap always?  I'd almost made it to Prentice Rd before throwing an elbow at PistolPete, who drove on and on (emulating the Energiser bunny), beyond the school and the truck route, beyond Kensington's roundabout to complete a tenacious tow for us back to the start line.  With fingers too numb to change cogs, I tapped home with a weird satisfaction of conquering the climate while others cringed.

30/8  Thematic Thursday.
Just to rattle the routine, I swung the leg over the Fizik early on Thursday, the hint of a headwind on New Dookie Rd getting the head down and the heart rate up.  A few moments of reprieve as four cars sped by to the early shift at the soup tin was replaced with the reality of toil to reach Boundary Rd, a tailwind back to town would make it better.  The return to civilisation with a few lumens of light already on the horizon showed not a Cat committed to the cold (2 degrees), though that was tropical after yesterday.  Tum, Manny, Phil, AvantiLeigh, Sandy, Hommie and Belly were the Goats with guts to front Friars to spin a circuit, that Indian file routine the most sensible given the slim size of the squad.  Manny took the train out of town, skipping the chain over nearly every gear the BMC had, a smooth and sublime start if ever there was one.  He'd had enough a little shy of Dobson's and gave me the drivers duties to Central Avenue which I spent wondering why I was 20% better paced than solo (knowing there was a rest at the rear?)  Tum took over to take us toward School Rd, Hommie hitting the boost button toward Boundary (Sandy, tested by testosterone, sat safe in the caboose).  AvantiLeigh gets out once or twice a week but still sets a swift standard, although eight managed to harmonise the hurry south despite the differing fitness.

My turn was coming up as we breached the Broken bridges but my finger fumble in the pocket dislodged the phone, so peeled off to retrieve the escapee.  The kind crew had slowed, so hot footed my way back onto the pack, readying for River Rd's western leg.  A shuffle of the order had put me at sixth wheel, so I was gratefully dragged along by Manny, Phil, Tum, AvantiLeigh and Belly, all the way to River's end.  The east northeaster eased my journey on the short cut homeward, the suns rise in a brief window of a cloudy sky luckily lit the suburbs streets.

31/8  Riding Rule #9 (and riddance to Winter)

Fed, dressed, tyres (and motivation) pumped, I was just out the door and saddled up to be met by Friday's first drops from the sky.  I couldabeen curled up in a warm bed, I couldabeen enjoying another coffee, I couldabeen driven dippy by early morning tv, I couldabeen softening on Ralphy's training program, but I couldabeen hardening up, so contemplated Rule #9 and the opportunity to ride the riddance to Winter's end and turned the wheels south. 

Cate was as badass (or barmy!) as I, converging on an empty carpark, PistolPete figured to be the only other contender as the spits from the heavens continued.  But it was Nev who confirmed the commitment (or craziness) arriving on the stroke of 6.  A clockwise course was figured to be less taxing with a vigorous northeaster blowing so (ensuring there were no late comers for the anticlockwise routine) we set sail on Channel Rd to get the hard yards done first.  I took the first shift to the truck route (memories of the machines many months ago....when there were machines!), the wind mocking my efforts to keep 35 on the Garmin.  Cate put in a tough turn to Orrvale Rd where Nev set the tempo to the Kinder and beyond.  His elbow finally flicked at the cypress trees so I set my sights at the S bend.
I got there with a little left in the tank so reset the target for Boundary Rd, reckoning Cate wouldn't complain to get the tailwind south.  10 degrees was almost bliss but the raindrops felt like bullets of ice driven by the 32 km/h wind, ah the disbelief we' get from those doin' doona duty!  Nev smoothed the speed down to River Rd, the way west set on the roads' crown to negate the (now) northerly.  Nev finally relinquished the lead at the dip, my meagre donation made it to Rivers' end.  Rooster tails of water and the continuing driving drizzle turned us short cutting to the truck route homeward, Nev kindly cranking as captain all the way back to town. Back ten minutes ahead schedule we took a Lemontree pitstop to toast the winters' end, a fitting finale to the week and the season.


Week 35     240km      YTD 9,290




 

Week 34: The perfect panacea

Post #462
19/8  Sunday's solo suffering.

Rain ruined the ritual Saturday circuit so a Sunday spin satisfied the addiction, the damp had disappeared to be displaced by a wicked westerly (gusting to 33 km/h) and a "feels like" minus 1.7.  Nobody likes a headwind home, so the course was set to hurt first then a treat to town for the return.  With head down and hopes up to Mooroopna and beyond, brand spanking new cheese cutters (wire flexible safety barriers) stood in the centre of the Midland highways new surface, shame the emergency lane was littered with ruts, corrugations, loose stones and tarmac blisters.  Roadworks signs had been blown horizontal to paint a picture of pain, I guess I'd get over my snail-like speed with my analyst, or on the remedial therapy of the breeze behind.  Dodging the bitumen craters put me on the tactile edge-lining, rattling the CatEye to point skyward and the Garmin to point to the ground.

21k's to Byrneside were laboured long, trees gave a fraction of cover here and there and the open plains of Brewer Rd's 3k seemed to face the wind head-on.  Around the sweeper and onto a smooth surface toward the Merrigum metropolis had just the wind at the side to battle, 7k's onto Lancaster where the Sunday sun heaved itself above the horizon (it's a rare treat to ride in daylight), passing the Baron's "Karlsruhe" to steer east.  A calm descended with the wind no longer whistling between the ears, after 36 k's of toil the breeze behind was bliss.  20 minutes on the Lancaster-Mooroopna Rd made up for past pain, the heart rate lowered and spirits raised, just two cars to share the tarmac with till reaching Echuca Rd.  The gusts ruined riding a straight line when pointed southeast homeward, the blast from oncoming traffic questioned the drivers' parentage but the mind motivates the speed as the end draws near.  Somewhat smug I'd overcome the fractious forecast and not succumbed to a shortcut, it was happy days to head home and thaw out.


20/8  Degrees deficiency.

Monday's little prologue was as cold as fronting '51 uninvited, 0.1 degree with a wintery westerly thrown in made a bureau's 'feels like' minus 3.9 (feels like Antarctica more like it!) 10k's was enough climatizing to the cool, the Goat commitment crashing to just Sandy and Hommie fronting Friars for the peace train.  Sandy led the trio out of town (like drafting half a matchstick!) for my turn from Doyle's Rd, and with just three to contribute, I set Central Ave as the end of shift.  The westerly helped to ease our effort east, Hommie providing the tow to Boundary Rd (for Sandy to suffer the starboard struggle south?).    Coggo had arrived on the tail as we swung south, Sandy strove to the fig farm to make my second shift due, so I set another long one as a Coggo and Sandy recovery time.  It's a rare treat that the heart rate didn't hand grenade, the legs didn't turn to jelly and the lungs didn't collapse with the cold, and combined with a bit of orchard shelter, it allowed me to reach the highway half human! Hommie's horsepower got us to the Broken bridges where Coggo took the reigns to River Rd, looks like I had the honour of first to face the bitter breeze head-on.  Gingerly on the gas pedal, I wound up to what was maintainable, surprised when I spied the speed in the mid thirties (under the circumstances) so set about driving to the angora farm as my fair share of the workload.  Sandy had retired from duty (at least she'd the fortitude to front-up!), Hommie made it to the dip and I though Coggo was going to finish off River Rd for me till his elbow beckoned me to crank the last k.  Adieu's and merci's were swapped as I separated, grinding into the truck route and Archer Rd toward town, the tempo now tamed 10% so I'd get home hernia free.

21/8 Come on baby, make it hurt so good.

Sandy, Phil, Cate, Hommie, AvantiLeigh, Dipper and Belly turning up for Tuesday's tap rekindled some Goat grit, 6 degrees was better than a bindii in the bum but the westerly hadn't quit from yesterday.  Cate, Sandy, Phil, Dipper, AvantiLeigh, Hommie and Belly had Indian filed behind as I inherited the Heady position to put suburbia behind us, out to Dobson's bridge with the boosted bravado of the breeze at our backs.  With my first performance done I returned to the rear, Belly riding a cautionary metre off the wheel ahead (but I wasn't complaining in his decent draft), Cate, Sandy, Phil, Dipper and AvantiLeigh did their diplomatic best onward to Boundary Rd.  Hommie's heroic hurdle over a chronic case of man flu was worth a mention, Belly opened his account at the pig pen and I made use of the hint of a northerly in the west northwester to get to River Rd.  Roadside trees took the edge off the wind as we worked west, a little chirp from my chain reminding me it's high time to guage or garbage it from it's March fitting (6,000 k's ago).  Deja vu Monday when I was handed the last k of River Rd to finish, not a lot left in the tank for the push home as Cate and I turned to the truck route with time against us. That wind wore down the resolve to Archer Rd, over-ruling the legs begs for leniency took some cranial convincing to continue as Cate set a suffering standard of speed.  Reaching town with legs like Gumby's, at last a traffic light ordered a halt the head wanted, endorphins and lactic acid combining to make it hurt so good.

22/8  Under pressure...

Sleep was as scarce as a Softa sighting on Wednesday so it was solved on a sortie of the golf course loop.  With 10k added to the addiction, I rolled into the carpark as Rocket, Cate, Shorty, Wozza, not-so-newAvantiJohn, Kel, TrekTrev, Nev, Superman, Mark, Boof, The Godfather, Trish, PistolPete and Bo berthed.  Eagle eared Rocket had heard a hiss, homing in to my rear tyre as it happened.  Damn deflations!  Finding the cause (glass) and a new tube later, I was under peleton pressure but at least under the carpark lights to repair.  16 set sail south just four minutes behind schedule, though even now there was a hint of light on the Dookie horizon.
Wozza turned up the tempo gently but niggling negatives of imagining an undetected bit of glass slowly deflating my tyre (and speed) and that the CO2 had barely put 50 psi in was on my nerves.  I joined the up-line in Mitchell Rd to defy the defeatist in me, noting Shorty and Trish were already defeated, cemented in the caboose.  Superman swiftly suffered the speed in River Rd despite TrekTrev's kind compliance beside him (is it callous to take comfort in anothers' suffering? Thought I was doing it tough till I read his body language!)   Reality soon slapped me as I hit the front, TrekTrev wound up to common Couldabeens cruising speed (36+) but I was struggling driving any distance, so I rolled the turn at the quarter horse stud bringing Boof alongside me.
Boundary Rd seemed a week away but stern words to self said "Soft!" Rule 5 reigns!  Deeper and deeper I dug into the shallow tank of tempo to finally see those white lines of River Rd's last 500 meters, the rumble strips such a relief to reach.  Rocket and Wozza set the speed at 'shut up' toward Channel Rd (no passing pain train today, cancelled 'cause it was Coggo-less), several in tempo trouble as the speed sustained west toward town.  Half the bunch were now confined to the caboose (me included with a psi deficit) as the titans of tempo trimmed the time to the ChaCha.  Nev peeled off at the Kinder, The Godfather shied from the up-line as the front thinned to spin to Prentice Rd.  Threading a line around the expirees with a few in my draft, I finished midfield in a mess, but relished the recovery on the roll home. (The rear tyre stayed up, but read just 64 psi!)

23/8  Cruise & coffee contentment.

Felt I owed myself a cruisy circuit on Thursday if only to celebrate day 22,280 on the planet.  Even in it's dying days winter still tamed the temperature to two, so the seventeen cog had the job of working some warmth by cadence.  Fully immersed in the purr of the (new) chain and the Michelin melody being played on the tarmac of Ford Rd, attention was averted from averages and speed, just soaking up the serenity of a solitary spin.  It was peak hour at the soup tin as three cars crowded Lemnos North Rd for the 6am shift, but I went west on New Dookie Rd back to town. Justified by plenty of long and fast laps of late, a short and sweet lap was pure contentment, besides,  the massive magnet of coffee was beyond resistance, Pablo Brothers pulled me to the perfect post pedal panacea.


24/8  Fossilised from frost.
Layering like an onion as a force field to Friday's frost took time, climatizing to the cold took even longer, muscles muttering "masochism" all the way to the carpark.

TrekTrev, The Godfather, PistolPete, Cate, Superman, Pelly, MyRideTrev, Boof, Kel, Rocket, Nev, Bo and Bruce faced a fresh foray too, but I sat smug in fourth wheel having dodged duty of driving first.  The up-line took as long as a party room poll to get organised as we sailed south out of town, Rocket, Pistol, Nev, The Godfather and Kel priming the procession by Sanctuary's roundabout.   MyRideTrev was in respiratory rigor mortis behind Rocket, so a slow was called if we were to preserve our pit-crew for possible punctures.  I took a lead role through Central Kialla with Kel then Boof, the workload not too wicked being wind-less,  but (like others) wanted winter well into the history books. 

River Rd's scenery was sublime as Friday's first light forced through the fog, certainly beats the last three months of driving through the dismal dark.  (no cruisers or Goats today, just two Cats for The Godfather to goad)  Up Boundary Rd to Channel Rd and the roadside grass had turned white, westward we went with Bo enjoying the comeback (even though his lungs don't), Cate braving short knicks and Pelly defying FDC standards with commitment.  One can only crave to copy Kel and her super smooth slice through the atmosphere but I made a feeble attempt alongside from the S bend to Beckhams, Boof pairing with me to Jameson Rd where hope of a recovery before the ChaCha looked likely. With about as much hope of a placing as Mr Turnbull, I was surprised to be up near the pointy end by Prentice Rd (helped by a few reclining in the rear) but Boof's bolt to the finish put my pace into perspective.

Week 34    242km    YTD 9,050
 





 







         

Week 33 : Mind over murdered muscles.

Post # 461
11/8 Serendipitous Saturday.
Ignoring a forlorn forecast and a ruinous radar, I'd predicted less than a handful would front for Saturday's lap, but a serve of serendipity attracted Boof, Wozza, TatMat, Rocket, PistolPete, TatPaul, Mark, Bruce, MyRideTrev and Travis to the grid.  Setting south at 6, Trish, The Godfather, Shorty and Superman were found on the Archer St escape, filling the field for a pedalling precursor to porridge.

The waft of wind behind (and after a week's worth of cowering in the down-line) caused a cranial carpe diem, so I paired with Boof to the roundabout then with Wozz to the truck route (why do I find myself fraternising with the fastest?)   As the speed stayed spicy to Mitchell Rd, I was into the red zone to survive at second wheel, hanging on in the sole hope of respite when (& if) the speed settled.   Reality thankfully trimmed 10% off the tempo when we turned east toward Central Kialla, a chance only now to gain some composure before duty called again.  The Godfather copped critique for his Cat collaboration / Couldabeens criticism, his bike bearing a budgie-like squeak to pester the peloton, Superman struggled with speed (kryptonite in the kit or just mental make believe?) and MyRideTrev, Trish and Shorty didn't even emerge from the confines of the caboose.  A shepherd's warning brewed on the horizon as the bunch carved through Boundary Rd's breeze, I was facing another turn at the pointy end but I'd been well rested in Boof's draft.   Bruce beckoned Boof over a bit beyond the Broken bridges, bringing me to the front to face the fact of the flogging into the wind. 

I was going ok for half a k till the wind whittled down my willpower (and I had a workout with Wozza to follow!)   He's a scholar of Rule #86 so I'd nothing to fear, but I was almost empty reaching the highway so hallelujah'd the halt for traffic.  Just winding up to speed again when a minor mechanical split the bunch, so the proper pause to regroup was as delicious as a d'Huez downhill.  The restart put me on TatMat's wheel, super smooth and predictable kept concerns corralled as Rocket, Wozza and Pistol bored into the breeze with aplomb (I'll have what they're having for breakfast , though I think a big serve of youth and fitness would be better)   Straight up Boundary Rd and bypassing the leg to the Toaster was hoped to avoid the radar's rain, a relief to work west with the north northwester to our starboard shoulder.  CatKev was the sole feline with testicular tenacity to face the clockwise Toaster (perhaps the pussycats have taken to paper tole or pot porri as a past-time?) as we ran out of Lemnos-Cosgrove Rd and faced Ford.  Another turn at the rushin' front was soon due for me, so prayed I'd score a tree-lined shelter from the wind.

No such luck in the grind to Grahamvale Rd, Bruce was encouraging and TatMat was sympathetic but wattage was what I wanted.  A drop or three from the heavens whet the search for a shortcut home, Rocket retired at the rail-line with a puncture but beckoned us onward with Pistol, Shorty, Superman and Trish as his pit-crew.  The route via Numurkah Rd to breakfast was voted unanimously as the drops multiplied and Ford Rd ended, a tailwind taking tempo to the 40's for the 4k to the Lemontree.     MyRideTrev, Pistol and Trish toured in via Verney, Cougar cruised in from a calmer course, the pedestrian pack (Sim, Mrs.Pistol and Jen) parked and the café comeback crew (Temple, KillkennyPaul, Softa and ScottMatt) collected for the tattle on the three r's, hope springing eternal and slipping standards.

13/8  Winston's words ; never give in, never give in, never ever.
Obsession dragged me out of bed and north to Zeerust  at crazy o'clock on Monday, dealing with a wearing westerly, better at the portside than hammering me head on.  Distance was on my to-do list (the Fruitloop less than 4 weeks away), the engine running reasonably well for the start of a new week but the breeze swung to a west northwester, just enough to punish progress north.  6k's of toil was soon rewarded with a tailwind to the highway, 3k's of calm before a southbound slog back to town wind the wind niggling at the starboard side this time.

I occupied the smooth tarmac worn by traffic to ease the effort while the road was barren, my eta to town looked set to catch the peace train till that sense of softness struck in town, glass had deflated a rear tube and the hopes of a lap with the tame train.  Under a streetlight helped the pit-stop, Bruce happened to pass by and shed even better lumens to the repair.  Up and away on Old Dookie Rd and well behind schedule, I'd planned a short lap till the sight of distant red led's ahead brought out the bait for a chase.  At Central Ave hopes were slipping as the gap seemed to lengthen, but Winston's words told me to keep at it.  By Boundary Rd I was convincing myself I was closing, by the Pub the gain was measureable, time to empty the tank and catch the tail as others joined their ranks.  Onto the back at the Broken bridges, I'd caught Phil, Hommie, Belly, Sandy and Brendy, a k spent calming the cardiac convulsions in the draft before I'd get guilty and contribute to the cause. Brendy had claimed the rear seat for River Rd so I leapfrogged to Hommie's wheel and waited for my shift, Phil, Belly and Sandy dividing the distance to put me in the drivers seat at the dip.  Keeping the turn conservative (I had a 10k solo slog to suffer ahead) I let Phil front the five at the bridge to finish River Rd.  I had quite a push to reach Archer Rd as oncoming trucks blew me backward, though the sense of satisfaction on a successful chase kept spirits high when energy was low.

15/8  Goat gumption.
The consistent collected at the café (Coggo, Phil, Cate, Heady, Sandy, Belly and Hommie) to make a gathering of Goats with gumption, how the hibernators (AvantiAndy, Joey, JB, Bazza, Speissy, Jen, HG et al) are going to suffer on their emergence!

It's almost the same old squad, the same old single file on the same old circuit, but each day throws up a different order and changing wind and weather to make a velo variety.    A west northwester (thankfully a half strength of yesterday's) helped the hurry out of town, I'd inherited Heady's shift as the payback of being first to berth at Friars.   Cate, Heady and Sandy followed suit, my perch on Belly's wheel the trophy tow.  Boundary Rd wasn't so blessed with the wind at the right shoulder, though the effort eased as the echelon got organised.  Great to see Heady and Sandy putting in the turns when they once survived sitting on, Belly turned up the torque at the mere hint of  an incline but Coggo cranked cool and consistent to keep the rubber band from busting.   I did the Channel Rd to One Tree Dam leg and handed Cate the captaincy, tucking in at the back to brace for River Rd's rigor into the wind.  The driving was diplomatically divided up among the eight westward, kudo's curing the pain (mentally) for those peeling off the front to retreat for rearmost rehabilitation, I'd been assigned the last k of River Rd when I'd rather have been resting in readiness for the hard part home.  Happy the truck route was truck free from B double blasts, Cate and I worked west to Archer Rd but found a similar slog north to town, I'd have eased to a roll homeward if solo, but pairing with a fellow cyclust pushes the boundaries beyond, muscles were mush as I reached the city limits and Cate still kept the cadence cooking!

15/8  Windustrial Wednesday.
As a September sampler, wind swept me to the carpark on Wednesday, a northerly (18-28 km/h) would bless us before berating us today,

The Godfather, PistolPete, Mark, Rocket, not-so-newAvantiJohn, Cate, Boof, Nev, Kreeky, MyRideTrev, Wozza, Trish and CatCol proved a few fear nothing.  I jumped at the chance for an early shift while the wind was blowing at the backside, trying to keep up with Wozz while he handbraked his speed to Sanctuary, then to pair with Rocket to the truck route was a case of  'old nag amongst the stallions'.  I tucked into a tow while others braved the breezy end in Mitchell Rd, not-so-newAvantiJohn putting in the hard yards north through Central Kialla and to the bridge in River Rd well worth an honourable mention.  There was silence in the down line from the brave who'd done their bit, trepidation in the up line for those about to do battle.  Turning into Boundary Rd my pairing with Wozza went well for a minute, but half a k later the wind ranked me wrecked, time to roll before I imploded.

I'd barely made 300 meters when I begged Rocket to roll, out of breath and out of my depth at the business end was asking for trouble.  It was now a matter of mind over murdered muscles to hang onto Rocket's wheel, he and Pistol in another league charging to Channel Rd as if the wind was whimsical. 
I tried to supress the growling bear for fear of frightening others, my focus firmly fixed on the ferrule of Rocket's rear brake cable for want of a distraction from the distress.  A glance upward to judge the distance left only amplified the agony, but this was better training than tailgating.  Such relief to turn west and grovel for shelter in Channel Rd, just enough left in the tank to keep in the tow till the h.r. dropped from the heavens.  Some composure had returned by the cypress trees, The Godfather supplying an interval and entertainment with a prodigious puncture, copious Cat connotations, sledges and retorts enjoyed during the repairs.  Calm was called for the ChaCha on the restart, clouds anointing our return to town, the wind working weakness into wearied legs for the northbound ride home.


16/8  The cold comeback.

A longer lap (to rid the ritual rides of 35k's) was the therapy thought for Thursday, out to the Big Ring and Toaster to tap back to town might learn the legs some length with the Goats lap added as extra measure.  Even with the wind behind speed was a bit ordinary, putting the paltry pace down to the handbrake of 3 degrees and 'feels like' 1.  Don't you hate it when the only oncoming car burns a 4000 lumen led bar and refuses to use low beam (oh, that's right; it's only a bicycle!)  May the fleas of a thousand camels infest your underwear!  The 3 k's from the Big Ring to the Toaster was spent in mental maintenance for the headwind to town, but pace was pretty pleasing considering.  Lowering the head raised the velocity, tuning out to the distance seemed to consume up the k's quickly, fronting Friars with 3 minutes to spare.  With Coggo the sole starter I figured there'd be hurt ahead, but Sandy, Phil, Belly, Hommie, AvantiLeigh and Dipper's arrival meant there'd be some ease between the efforts.

Coggo covered Heady's hiatus to tow us out of town, his elbow giving me the Dobson's to Central Ave shift.  Sticking to the speed standard set, I caught compliments for the contribution as I peeled off to tag onto the tail, Sandy, Belly, Phil and AvantiLeigh doing their bit toward Boundary.  Hommie's bike was strangely silent (a rare bit of care being treated to a new chain), AvantiLeigh is gifted with the rides-sometimes-but-rides-strong syndrome and Dipper's having a dead set dip despite his scarce appearances.

 Coggo's shift finished as we neared Channel Rd, I set my target to breach the Broken bridges but that felt fairly flimsy when I got there (onward feeble Foss and make your shift swift, less ye be labelled limp!)   Belly got my elbow at One Tree Dam as I retreated for recovery, would another turn fall due in River Rd or would I be treated to a tow to it's end?   Fog floored the fields as a few lumens of light lit the land, all had another flog at the front but delivered me the short straw just over the bridge.  I ran at the red-line to River's end, promising myself a calmer crank home, cold biting at the extremities for the solitary 10k to town but happy to cap 60 before 7 in 'feels like' 1.

17/8  The baker's dirty dozen.

I was surprised the streets were soaked for the Friday foray, the 4am sprinkle may have steered several back to bed but Rocket, TrekTrev, Kreeky, PistolPete, Cate, The Godfather, Boof, MyRideTrev, not-so-newAvantiJohn, Pelly, Bruce and (at the third stroke) Nev cast aside the conditions to crank a lap. A wind-less weekday was welcomed, so I didn't mind driving the first leg, gradually up to speed by the city limits and a sympathetic speed set by Boof to the roundabout made a sweet start. Puddles and mud made a baker's dozen dirty, most unaware of the overnight shower till ready to ride.  The further south and east, the dryer the tarmac became, Nev performed the ceremonial gillet pocketing on cue, Pelly was defying FDC standards by riding more than twice a week, TrekTrev emerged from the oblivion of work and weather and MyRideTrev consoled himself to the caboose (as a matter of course) as just 4 Cats cranked west.

  I was wondering who pinched the white lines of River Rd's last k as I paired with Boof toward Boundary, it seemed a world away as energy drained from my rusty old tank.  A pained train of 6 Goats sailed south, my effort eased on the demotion from 2nd to 3rd wheel as we nosed north.  It's hard to dodge each puddle (unless imitating WobblyTrev!) so random irrigation of bikes, kits and nostrils was commonplace.  To the back of the bunch in Channel Rd and onto the up-line, it seemed I was due for duty as the sprint drew near, but the wet and the ChaCha's channels of puddles put a dampener on the exertion, so the substitute solid tap to town was the week's fitting finale.

Week 33   273km               YTD 8,808km

Week 32 : Preventing performance anxiety

Post #460

4/8  The comeback kids.

Surprise starters to Saturday's soiree included Liam and Travis (from a huge hinterland holiday), Kel (completely cute in cool kit) and Bo (a comeback from a kangaroo calamity 20 weeks back).  Bruce, Rocket, not-so-newAvantiJohn, TatPaul, TrekTrev, PistolPete, Mark, Nev, CatCol and Trish were just as welcome to share the effort of 55k's before breakfast, Rocket heading the hurry out of town.  A light breeze blew from somewhere behind (4 different opinions on it's origin) as two rows formed toward the roundabout, social updates bouncing from side to side while two at the front silently sliced through the Archer Rd atmosphere.  I was feeling fairly fuzzy for my first turn in River Rd (Nev and CatCol are quick quarry), but there's no shame in shortening a shift (better than the bedlam of a blow-up at the business end).  I could almost smell Spring coming as light lit the eastern horizon (just 27 days away but who's counting!), we'd caught Superman on a early reconnaissance at the dip as Travis and not-so-newAvantiJohn moved forward for their lead roles.  It was a northeaster that made it's presence felt as we steered north into Boundary Rd, composed enough now to be social now with Liam, Pistol and TatPaul en-route to the highway.

A mechanical malignment halted Liam at Boundary Rd's pig pen so Bo (with backside bothers) took tools to his saddle to shift his sit. (or was the tight kit causing the discomfort?)  The order is never restored on the restart, and I found myself sandwiched between Pistol and Rocket and out of my depth, but in a league of gentlemen. Out to the Toaster and up to the Big Ring and wary of the workload taking the front seat, I reminded myself that Rocket and Pistol don't bite, I just needed to shorten my shift at their speed and suck up the feeling of inadequacy.  Just two Cats eastbound crossed our path west, a severe concrete deficiency in the other Cats diet it seems.

The few puddles in Lemnos-Cosgrove Rd meant bike cleaning duties for many, speed now spicy in the rush craving coffee. The caboose was filling with permanent residents in Ford Rd (TrekTrev, Superman, Bo and Kel all on a Verney Rd shortcut course)  as I was called over to the upline, being gradually graduated to the gruelling end the closer we got to Ford Rd's end.  This was going to hurt!

Nev judged a flashing red led ahead in Wanganui Rd to be the world's brightest bike light, but reaching the water treatment plant a flashing blue one partnered it, as we found the road regrettably closed (Police accident investigation squad on the scene of a fatal was somewhat solemn)  We u-turned to take a new course via Numurkah Rd to the Lemontree, Nev possessed with pace to reach breakfast at warp speed.  CatCol's calories, smooth and swift drivers and km's per annum was the talk tabled with the foot faction Jen and Leah and the denizens of dirt  MyRideTrev & Cougar.

6/8  Peacemeal.

A little Lemnos loop started the week well, a breeze was blowing at the brow but speed wasn't as slack as expected driving through the damp of Ford Rd.   The NNW'er worked at the willpower back to town too, 85 rpm getting me to Friars in time to find Sandy, Heady, Phil, Coggo and Brendy berthing for the 6am ritual.   You-know-who captained the crew to Doyles Rd, I carefully added three clicks to the cruise control for my lead to Dobson's estate (mindful of the peace train protocol) but it clearly wasn't enough as Sandy sped to Central Ave.   Coggo cemented that standard to School Rd, Brendy baulking at the drivers seat and retracted to the rear seat (too much subsiding and not enough riding?)   Phil did a solid shift to reach Boundary Rd where Heady scored the pleasure of a tailwind to the fig farm.  I'd made a note of the previous pace and did the diplomatic drive to the highway, careful not to get greedy and hog all the breeze behind.  Sandy and Brendy were sitting out the lap now as four forwarded to River Rd.  Heady opened the River Rd account, the west northwester handbraking his hurry, handing me the reigns as the tarmac smoothed for River's 2nd k.  Overdue for a long shift, I stuck the head down and turned the determination up toward the dip, but tick tick tick tick BOOM! went Brendy off the back.  Coggo's captaincy cranked on to the bridge and after Phil's fine finish of River Rd I was still searching for oxygen and facing the windy way home alone.  Preserving the scant resources left for Archer Rd went well till I turned north, legs were like licorice labouring the 4k's back to town with the wind wearing away what wattage was left.  A slowly deflating tyre rubbed salt into the wind-whipped wounds, prayers were offered to St Michelin, fingers crossed and a lot of luck got me to my driveway just as the rim kissed the road.

7/8  Out with the new and in with the old.
A west northwester had blown the roads dry for my early edition on Tuesday, a solo sought for the sake of change.  I should have set a north / south course to keep the wind at my side but that tailwind euphoria was too tempting.  So I went out with the New Dookie Rd buoyed by the breeze, Mavic's symphony of carbon in C sharp playing on the ten k's of tarmac (a good serve of  headwind hurt home would firm up a softening attitude!) Reaching the church and turning south to the Toaster posed the question, what the hell was I thinking?, the wind whipping the wheels to give me a WobblyTrev trajectory. Chin on the headstem and spinning like a mixmaster (well, 87 rpm) it was in with the Old Dookie Rd aiming at the distant orange glow of the city's street lights, at least some cadence turned on the internal heater against the 'feels like' minus point two.  Strangely, big slices of the 10k's home went missing as the mind meandered on thoughts of the pain and suffering the cast of hibernators will face on their Spring comebacks, and September's winds will welcome them with avengance!

9/8  Fog fest.
A million microscopic water drops floated in the CatEye's beam, fog had filled Thursday's morning to veil my vision on a Congupna course at stupid o'clock (inflicted with insomnia).  Preventing performance anxiety of a sluggish start, focus was fixed on the damp tarmac and away from the Garmin, though the erratic h.r. readout (207 to 138 and back up again) was a distracting annoyance.
The old engine had eased up to speed by Radio Australia, fingers on a workout wiping away the fog's soft focus to keep Congupna's cityscape clear.  The smooth surface of Grahamvale Rd raised the tempo and lowered the stress, soaking up the solitude southbound but soaking up the fog felt like pushing through porridge.   The fog seemed thicker back in town, my roll to Friars finding just Phil at 5:57.  Praise be to Tum, Coggo, Heady and Belly for swelling the squad to six, sharing the load in 0.6 degrees was better than suffering it solo.  Heady handballed his usual role of running us out of town, Tum electing me to direct the Dobson's drive.  Belly had set the key performance criteria at painless, so I guessed at a smooth 36 to the bridge, peeled off and found favour from five for the drive.

Tum took the tempo to Cenral Ave and beyond the coolstore, passing the captaincy to Coggo, Phil faded a little at School Rd but Belly bored on to Boundary Rd performing an overture to the fig farm.  Heady's first shift started swift but slowly sank in speed by the pig pen (at least he was having a go and not clinging to the caboose), his elbow quickly showing me the drivers seat.  Over the bridge and a squishy sensation was dismissed as psychosis, but by the highway a marshmallowing Michelin was making its mark, a puncture had ruined my ride.  Honouring Rule #83 (be self sufficient) and rather than holding up the hurry, I beckoned the boys onward minus me, gingerly u-turning to limp back to the Pub, a street light would be my assistant in the pit stop for repairs.  Don't you hate it when nothing is found piercing the tyre! A second look and feel found nothing, so a tube and CO2 was gambled in hope, fingers crossed (when thawed) and the Midland highway made my way home.    


10/8  Windecent exposure.

All fun and flippancy before the flogging on Friday, a northeaster (gusting to 35 km/h) blew the bunch (Kel, Cate, Boof, Superman, Kreeky, Bruce, PistolPete, Bo, CatCol, Pelly, BamBam and Nev) southward on Archer Rd, the oncoming and u-turning Godfather missing the train (a mechanical mayhem?).  The up-line filled quickly with those keen for a tail-wind turn, I was stuck in the down-line but sat socially satisfied ; Boof's back from a couple of casual climbs of Alp d'Huez, CatCol's km craving continues and BamBam's on comeback number 23 by my reckoning. The turn into Mitchell Rd and into the boisterous breeze brought on a gnashing of teeth, a furrow of the brow and making an appointment with a therapist on why we do this.   I'd been lucky scoring the sheltered side of the bunch to Central Kialla, the change to the up-line and northbound turned up the toil, but hey, Pelly, Superman and Cate had lined up for punishment at the front, so why shouldn't I?  BamBam and Kel had courted company in the caboose, we turned east onto River Rd and I'd edged closer to the front, Superman's speed slowly sagging toward the dip as Cate rolled across to spare him the suffering.  500 meters later and I was donating the draft for Cate, Bruce now my co-captain as we nosed into the northeaster.  My turn was toast by the quarter-horse stud, kind kudos from Pistol as he paired with Bruce to bore on toward Boundary Rd.  Bo's turn was brief (and wasn't he reminded of it!) as I rolled to the windward side for the leg north.  Only two Goats pounded the train of pain south, we were treated to a tow by CatCol, Boof and Nev for the 3k's to Channel Rd where that sweet silence of the breeze behind blessed us.  Superman had retired to the rear and wheels hummed of the hurry to the cypress trees, lucky me had drawn the short straw of the headwind leg to the Kinder! The drive to Central Ave had some shelter but the northern stretch hurt, hopes of reaching the sweeper were swept away when the legs said quit. With just enough to catch Bruce's draft it was hang on to Hopeful corner, Nev and Boof bolting away for ChaCha honours, most folk feeling fantastic the fast & furious had finally finished.          

Week 32     206km          YTD 8,535km

Week 31 : The danger of dressing in the dark.

Post #459
28/7  Saturday's sober squad.
With a blood moon as company, a relaxed roll to the ride contemplated a reduced roll-up, last night's beer and pizza gig may well put many on the "too fragile" list.  I arrived to a sparse start line of Cate, Bruce, TatPaul, PistolPete and TrekTrev, the main focus on Pistol's new Pinarello (matte black F10 Dogma, e-tap, discs, Scope wheels etc), almost as stylish as the man himself.  With dribbles of desire mopped up (thou shalt not covet thy neighbour's bike!), the 6am resolution was to shorten the circuit (being short on cyclusts), so we set sail south single file for the usual Archer, Mitchell and River course but to bypass the Toaster and BigRing and bore straight up Boundary.  Bruce led the lads (and lady) down the long leg to the roundabout, me all psyched up for second shift, helped by old mate the north northeaster.  Sean's made a habit of joining in out of town, but another participant is always welcome (particularly when the peloton is paltry). 

Indian file was anti-social for a Saturday but it lightened the load of six in the draft, PistolPete's easterly effort in Mitchell Rd executed with ease, TrekTrev oblivious to the northerly up to River Rd, Sean short in his first shift (at least he's having a go) for me to take the drive to the bridge.   The moon's red glow behind hadn't started a zombie apocalypse or triggered any lunar lunacy (apart from what already exists!), Bruce and Pistol driving the hard yards toward the quarter horse stud as Nath arrived from the east to join the line of seven.  TatPaul set the tempo in Boundary Rd's northeaster and Cate put in a determined drive to the bridges as I soaked up the calmer karma in the caboose.  The breeze blew a little eau de piggery at us over the highway, TrekTrev and Sean pointing our pace to Old Dookie Rd where Nath opened the afterburners to New Dookie Rd.  (with most in the gutter in search of a draft, a little echelon etiquette would have eased some effort)    The turn west into Lemnos-Cosgrove Rd promoted me to the front, gently on the gas to keep the crew together and on to the bridge for a handover to TatPaul.  We'd reeled in a red led ahead on Ford Rd, welcoming Weapon to the riding ranks as excitement / resentment (strike out that which does not apply) brewed for the sprint ahead.
TrekTrev and Sean departed on other sporting specialities at Numurkah Rd, the business of winding up for Wanganui putting heads down and heart rates up. As usual, two lines became one well before DECA but a sprint seemed superfluous with only six, so a pseudo pain train swapping turns to the hill sufficed instead.  The line in Rudd Rd looked short, a headcount finding Weapon missing in action, so I about faced to court company back to breakfast. Pedestrians Leah, Mrs.Pistol and Jen joined the tattle on ageing, platypi (platypodes?) and titanium at a shorter than usual Lemontree table.

30/7  Mondayne?
Another dull and dreary start to the week did little to muster motivation, still I should be thankful I can get out of bed when some poor folk can't (my sympathys BeerMat, Softa, Ralphy, BamBam, Grumpy etc etc)  Eastward early on New Dookie Rd had a welcome westerly (heart-ache for the head wind home!) to briefly boost the confidence, though lethargy kept my pace pedestrian in the low to mid 30's.  Boundary Rd arrived earlier than expected, the way south highlighting the wind blowing at the right shoulder.  Ignoring the incompetence incurred watching TdeF highlights (how does Roglic  ride a 200k stage, climb 5000 meters and average 36.4 km/h?) I pressed on at my snail-like speed to Channel Rd preparing for the punishment back to town, but pace proved pretty positive despite the head-on 24km/h westerly.  There's just enough left and right turns in Channel Rd to get a  brief breather, but by the time town came into view I'd had enough, heading for the medicinal benefits of banana bread and a long black.

31/7  A mixed menagerie.

Tuesday's grid looked grim at 5:57 till Coggo, Belly, Heady, Sandy, Phil, Hommie and Cate turned up, Cats courting companionship (AvantiCraig and CatKel) adding to the assembly at Friars when 6 bells tolled.  I led a cruisy exit of town when traffic lights split the line up on Old Dookie Rd, a chance to draw breath before labouring the leg to Dobson's bridge.  Ten in a row promised plenty of ease between efforts, Cate cranking to Central Ave for Phil to lead leg 3.  Sandy tailed the team as I tucked into Hommie's draft, his Avanti is well overdue for a cleansing.  Belly's bout was brief but Coggo put in his usual tenacious turn, AvantiCraig and CatKel keeping courteous.  Hooray for Heady stepping up to suffer again as we crossed the highway, Belly's second shift short but Coggo and Hommie polished off Boundary Rd for me to rip into River.  My head said gently on the gas for the first 100 and ride on the right to keep sweet with those sucking up a slipstream at the back, drive on to the angora farm and elbow Cate to the captaincy.  Another round of turns gobbled up 6k's toward Central Kialla, AvantiCraig turning up the tempo to the bridge, the speed settling back to sensible as Belly put in a proper turn to Mitchell Rd.  Happy to have the time for a full lap, I was handed the helm by Hommie rising from Dave's dip and put the head down to reach the highway and after a short halt for traffic drove on to Roubaix to plan my position for Conrod straight.  Heady, Hommie and Sandy had dropped off the back so I caught the back on Coggo's wheel, settling in for an oxygen overload hoping the turns went to my plan.  Phil reached Arcadia Downs and AvantiCraig made it to Conrod, CatKel's crank was cooked by the dip where Belly opened the throttle.  Coggo took control with 500 to go and delivered the perfect lead out as I wound up for the last 200.  But all stops were out as Phil's wheel crept alongside me, just enough in the slight downhill of the last dip to edge me forward for the win.


1/8  The Superman similarity.

Shortchanged by the forecast (dry and 7 degrees was substituted for 4 degrees and overnight drizzle), I made a damp dawdle to the Couldabeens on Wednesday, the road just wet enough to make a mess of a clean bike.  Why does one bother? (Rule #65 of course)  Kreeky, CatCol, TrekTrev, Nev, Wozza, Rocket, not-so-newAvantiJohn, The Godfather, Mark, PistolPete, Sean and Trish collected in the carpark, attendance way beyond expectation. CatCol captained the first leg south of town, not-so-newAvantiJohn (just back from Darwin and coming to grips with the weather) advanced as fog quickly settled in the low lands.  I was happy to wait behind CatCol for the natural order to take me forward as others advanced.  The diabolical danger of dressing in the dark had struck Sean with a wardrobe malfunction, somewhat similar to Superman if you get my drift...…..to earn him that nickname hereafter (picture withheld to preserve what dignity may remain). 

I'd guess many have fronted a ride with a faux pas of helmetlessness or minus tube and tools, gloves etc., but this one earned extra embarrassment.   I'd reached the rear as we turned into River Rd, just one headlight behind (and staying put) believed to be Trish, so I joined the upline to be sandwiched by the swift (following Rocket and being followed by CatCol), the moment of truth coming at the angora farm as Rocket rolled across The Godfather to put me front of house.   Pretty pleased with my pace (considering the company) as we sped toward Boundary Rd, I'd even managed to chat a sentence or two (so long as they didn't exceed six words!) but thought it best to get out while the going was good.  CatCol paired with me to River's end, welcoming his tow as we turned into Boundary Rd. 

Pistol's Pinarello punctured at the Broken bridges so a halt was called to fix.  The drawback of disc brakes was the dilemma, removing and replacing the skewer and the precision alignment will be standard practice before long (give me the old school caliper any day).  Time was ticking for me to get to town, so when another halt was called I tendered apologies to slog solo home.  A westerly had sprung up to hamper my hurry but the bunch had mobilised quickly and caught me at Hopeful corner.  Weapon had boarded the train as I caught the tail, being towed back to town keeping me on schedule for another day at the coal face.



2/8  Zerology.
Signals to surrender were strong on Thursday, mercury at zero and strengthening symptoms of a cold rattled my resolve, but stubbornness shoved me out the door before I gave it too much thought.  Belly, Sandy, AvantiLeigh, Heady, Cate, Coggo, Hommie and Phil proved that winter only stops the soft, Sly (a Cat cast-off?) turning up to make a train of ten. 

Heady owns the first shift and led us on the "Headyheadnouttatown" segment to Doyles Rd.  Hommie did the speed shift to Dobson's bridge, Sandy then Cate continuing to Central Ave.  Careful not to snap the rubber band, I turned up the tempo gently toward School Rd, passing the pace to Sly who diplomatically drove to Boundary Rd.
AvantiLeigh took careful charge of the southern spin to the fig farm, 10 in a row making the effort easy (six single file sharing speed suits me, though some would say sixty is suitable!)   Belly's turn was tiny as we passed the pub, Heady got the elephant stamp for effort facing the front fearlessly, Hommie huffed and puffed to One Tree Dam for Cate to crank to River Rd, the icy blast from oncoming traffic taking several breaths away.  Gently on the throttle again when I scored the lead role west, many a glance at the Garmin to smooth the speed for the benefit of all, driving to the quarter horse stud and elbow Cate into the hot seat.  I rolled to the rear where Sandy had cemented her spot (but there was no sign of Sly), seems I'd score a free tow to the end of River before slogging a solo home.  Peeling off to tap the truck route to town,  I settled the speed a smidge in the interest of survival, no recovery in a draft for this solo sausage and I had that lovely minus 0.6 to enjoy.

3/8  Candles in the wind.
9 degrees was akin to the Bahamas, well worth a prologue in preparation for the Friday soiree. 12k's on a northern loop assimilating to a gusty northeaster (24-35 km/h) was more psychological preparation than physical, arriving at the start line as PistolPete, Bruce, Rocket, Cate, Kreeky, CatCol, Pelly, Superman, Wozza and The Godfather rolled in.  Wozza led the charge from town and I should have done an early turn with the breeze behind, but the early pace was pickling me (submit incessant symptoms of a cold as an excuse)   Pistol, Rocket and Bruce finished off the swift southern legs as many readied for the turn to face the wind, reality trimming 8 km/h off the tempo as two lines stacked across Mitchell Rd.    It was inspiring to see everyone having a dip into the tough stuff, whether fit or fading, Pelly, Superman and Cate taking the blast on the brow to River Rd.

I felt lucky to get a little shelter from the trees as I hit the front, but that lasted as long as a Whispering Jack comeback when we ran out of cover and faced the open spaces.  CatCol called 'enough' at the bridge just as I was about to do likewise (a long wait for the heartrate to drop back to something like sensible in his draft),  PistolPete and Bruce seemingly blasé to the breeze as they bored toward Boundary Rd.  Noses north and the pain persisted (see your medical practitioner?) and I was back to the front again for a little hard labour till trees came to my rescue at the Broken bridges.  All went quiet for a moment in Channel Rd with the wind now behind us, the whine of wheels at work soon filling the ears as tempo turned into the forties toward home, pleasure and pace taking place of the previous pain.  Some chose to sit at the back as the heart and lungs were asked to do more and the ChaCha drew near, even The Godfather slipped silently to the caboose when the lines thinned to single at Hopeful corner.  My legs were labouring the limit as the fitter and faster fled forward, so I was delighted to reach Orrvale Rd where the sprint ends, but a keen tempo to town continued, keeping calves cooking.

Week 31          237km                  YTD 8,239km.