Week 22 : Dying a damp death.

Post #501
25/5 Saturday serendipity.

Hopes were hammered seeing a damp forecast for Saturday so a clear morning's radar rekindled the anticipation to take the holy sacrament of the Saturday spin.  As this old engine ages, a slow and steady warm-up almost becomes mandatory, a calm commute to the carpark an ideal intro.  Quite a mob had massed on the starting grid to mock my prediction of a slim squad, Kreeky captaining our escape from town.  I was well overdue to htfu and put in an early shift instead of cowering in the caboose, so sided with Kreeky to the roundabout and sucked up the sting of part two to the truck route with Boof.  Turns rolled to allow putting to faces to the undefined riders who'd previously assembled in the dark.

Team Tat in total (Mat, Paul & Dan) were the surprise addition, Grumpy championing commitment with his 6th ride in a row, that wry Godfather grin hinted of the hijinks hidden within, GiantAndy has been investing hurt into the hills (as if he needs to get stronger!) and Tina was back into her craving for k's after a rare ride-less day.  One less layer for twelve degrees felt like an aerodynamic advantage over the past fresh weeks insulated like the Michelin man, a social sentence or three with Bruce, Lance, Rocket, Shorty, Liam, Nev, Superman and Travis as we covered Central Kialla and River Rd.  GiantAndy and Travis turned the tempo toasty up to the highway, the expectation of effort at the front due again on my agenda in Old Dookie Rd.  Two and a half k's from the pork palace to the Toaster then to the church was shared with Kreeky then Boof, my second donation done, now time for the treat of the tow.

Pussycats crossed our path at the Big Ring, the ENE'er helping us homeward, though Lance pondered his position as Rocket and Nev (another freakishly fit and fast fellowship) drove the train into the forties all the way to Lemnos North Rd with Lance labouring at second wheel.  Despite being wrung out like a washed sock, Lance moved up for his duty in the drivers seat, speed sinking quickly as his tank dried up. Travis lent a helping hand as the turns turned again, although some had now taken up permanent residence at the rear.

A couple of k's later duty called again, right into the thick of things in Wanganui Rd I'd called a short shift with Kreeky, given all beside Boof (probably at an idle) then tucked in for a tow as the cream rose to the top.  I shouldn't have glanced at the Garmin (47 km/h) with 600 metres of masochism to the hill, but a peek behind found an expanding gap to the rest of the pursuing pack.  Boof had burned all his biscuits and I could barely offer a tow, but up and over the hill the group had gathered again to crank a calmer commute to breakfast.  We joined the early shift of Temple and Vince to ponder the Lemontree's new menu, punch-up's, punctures and toughing out turns driving the discussions.



27/5 : My sharp inhale from the chill of the chest strap synchronised perfectly with Monday's first shower, a howl from the 30-54 km/h westerly and sighting streets saturated, ride hopes were sunk....or were they?  I was almost back to the warmth of the bed when the rain halted, gusts became a breeze and thoughts see-sawed in that frustrating 'yeah-nah-but' dichotomy.  Succumbing to the soft option of sleep sat uneasily till further showers released me from guilt.

28/5 Dedication at a dribble!

I needed a bit more pronto in my pace if I were to get back onto Tuesday's schedule, a little late out the door and every traffic light turned against me.  All the velocity was in vain reaching the grid at 5:39, not a soul in sight to tap Tuesday's tango.  Colds have corralled a couple but dedication is down to a dribble now that winter is almost upon us.  Kreeky arrived to join the Hare hurry but I'd pinned hopes of keeping company with Goats rather than having a Hare hernia.   Friars looked grim at 5:58 till Phil fronted, Snow then Coggo turning up to restore some faith. A 17 km/h northwester blew us toward Boundary Rd as we settled into a single filed speed, Phil a little shorter in shifts than last time we'd cranked in collaboration and Snow a little swifter.  Coggo remains a fast and fair force, taking us south to the highway, the wind shifting to NNW helping the hurry to River Rd. I'd handed the helm to Coggo as we turned westward but Snow sought a slow to catch the tail. With four back together and stacked against the breeze, we set about dividing the drive west, easing off the wheel ahead as the wind tossed our trajectory about.  I'd managed a decent turn to Laws Drive and timed a tow for the remainder of River Rd, 10k of headwind home and I needed a holiday before the hurt.  Gusts from oncoming trucks prepared me for the toil of Archer Rd, 30 clicks was the leg limit back to town.

29/5  Five for Rule #9.

"It's only a drop or two" the optimist said to the cerebral cortex, "oh, it's just a sprinkle you softie!" half a k later.  But by the bridge over the Broken, the case for the affirmative was dying a damp death, a proper shower soaking my commute to Wednesday's ride.  I'd swing by the carpark to confirm my solo stupidity and head home for a hot shower, but through the Kialla Lakes soaking emerged PistolPete on a similar Couldabeens commute.  Our commitment (or craziness?) confirmed, we converged on the carpark to find Rocket, Tina and Boof (stoic or silly?) forming a genuine badass bunch.  Talk of a short lap found favour (was it doubts about the drizzle or the extra time for Mc coffee afterward?), so we set south on a soaked Archer Rd.

Rooster tails of rain found many places to soak, socks now soggy and a trickle was headed to where rain rarely reaches.  Boof threaded our path between puddles to Sanctuary's roundabout, PistolPete proving that a weeks worth of man flu won't slow him down.  Rocket chaired the charge west to the highway, my hope for a draft if I could get my head below the handlebars.  Tina was content to act as tail light, my turn likely to be a one and only from the highway, so I dug deep to aim at Galbraith's gate as a target.  10% down on Rocket's pace (I'll call it a pensioner discount) I'll blame on the strengthening west northwester (32 km/h)  but I was 100 metres shy of my target when the wattage ran out, so elbowed Boof to the fore.  Despite varying degrees of man flu, Boof, Pistol and Rocket kept the pace primed to Conrod's finish, no let-up over the skinny bridge and to Raftery's end in the pursuit of caffeine.  I kept my hurry homeward for that time testing transition to get from drenched to dry.

30/5  Trial by temperature.

Inspiration runs and hides when the bureau says "feels like minus two" and that a few were sidelined with flu, real riders would be a rarity today.  I don't count the once-a-week café racers or those pedalling on PlayStation, it's the out-in-the-elements hardcore few that respect Rule #5, shun softness, inspire others and prevent the extinction of the endangered cyclustus hardcorus.  Into the wintery westerly called on cadence to keep veins from freezing, out the Boulevard to the golf course, then east on Wanganui Rd to put a few k's in before gallivanting with Goats.  The temperature had been all but forgotten in pursuit of a decent average speed, time now the concern to reach town by 6.    Heady, Tina, Snow and Coggo faced up to the freshness at Friars, Heady (of course) heading our Indian filed escape for town.  A turn to Dobson's bridge  is the usual expectation but a bit of a breeze behind inspired my shift to reach Central Ave. Coggo took control and I retired rearward out of the wind to bask in the warmth, a whole 0.1 degrees toastier! Snow took us swiftly from School Rd to Boundary, marvellous what a new bike will do for your motivation.  It's good to see Tina having a go in the drivers seat, dragging us to the fig farm before handing it to Heady, but his horsepower went on holiday a few hundred metres later (at least he's got the fortitude to front!)  I shortened my second shift to finish at the highway, sharing the joy of the frozen front with others.  A few k's in the draft before my next turn beckoned pondered the missing many and supposing the squeals of suffering on their return... if they return at all!  Heady's elbow put me at the front again at the Angora Farm in River Rd, that sublime stretch of smooth tarmac helping my push into the westerly.  Retiring from duty at the dip, Coggo, Snow and Tina did the towing to drag me to River Rd's end, Heady happy to guard the rear seat and bank oxygen.  Speed was whittled down by oncoming B doubles on my short cut via the truck route, not so nasty north on Archer for the hurry home to appease an employer.

31/5  The flu few.

With the wind up the Khyber, the Michelin's making music and a chain purring, all was peachy pedalling to Friday's grid, but would the headwind hurt homeward?  Boof, Tina, Rocket, The Godfather, Superman, Joe, Liam, Wozza and Travis converged on the carpark in the minutes before the 6am launch, even the few fighting off flu (Kel, Bo and PistolPete) had fronted for the Friday fling. Grumpy jumped aboard on our carpark exit, I wasn't giving up my spot on Boof's wheel as he led us south out of town, sheltered from the westerly as that speed squad (Wozza, Rocket, PistolPete and Liam) formed to drive us down to Mitchell Rd.  With the wind up our willows to Central Kialla the speed spiked of course, slowing down breaks holy laws!  The Godfather's kitch kit was judged crude (somewhat clown-like), the co-ordination of socks and shoes done in the dark obviously, but I guess we all look a little shabby in PistolPete's company.

Superman's shift was short which rapidly paired me with Grumpy to the dip, but I was a bit below k.p.i's on my turn with Boof toward the quarter-horse stud.  Rocket, Wozza, PistolPete and Liam got heads down to handlebars on the push to Boundary Rd, telling myself it does get easier at second then third wheel, contrary to the cardiac convulsions!  Coggo was the sole pain trainer and u-turned to hitch a ride on our flight to Channel Rd.  I was called into the up-line by an ever expanding caboose, Kel, Tina and Bo now had Superman as company and I'd presumed Joe was the mystery figure in the background (seen at the start and not sighted since).  I'd considered keeping them company but htfu was calling me for another turn, beside Grumpy at Central Ave then with Wozza to the Kinder. There was plenty of pain holding on to second wheel as Wozza and Rocket casually cranked into the forties, unperturbed by the headwind of course (if only to keep a clowns' comments quiet?), the calmer roll to town absorbed in chat (previously prevented by pace)

Week 22       216km            YTD : 5743km    

 

Week 21 : Getting faster by going slower?

Post # 500
That's a bit scary! Didn't think a bit of random scribbling started eight years ago would turn that obsessive!  I'm humbled by the comments received within the bunch, over coffee and on-line,  and still surprised at the international interest from all manner of places.   I'll take all that attention as a hint to continue,  shall I?  Do comment to steer me in the right direction.....

18/5  Wheely smooth.

With a wistful adieu to the faithful old Cosmics now hanging in the shed (haven't they rolled some memorable k's?!) a new pair of Craftworx carbons turned for the first time Saturday morning, the transition from 23 to 25mm most noticeable as I climatized to the feel of a different set of hoops underneath me.  Compliant in corners yet unflinching when off the saddle, the Craftworx Ultima Aero's played a happy chorus on the commute to the grid, self being satisfied they performed as good as they looked.  But would they make an old engine go faster?  Travis, Shorty, Lance, Joe, Rocket, Bruce, Liam, Grumpy, Cate, MyRideTrev, Temple, Wozza, Nev, TatMat, TatPaul and Vince had congregated for the hallowed Saturday spin, a suitably sized squad where there'd be more than one turn at the front and that rubber band syndrome would hopefully be at a minimum.

The warm welcome to Temple being back aboard was brief, the speed to Sanctuary's roundabout testing his time off, Nev hung back to assist but was ushered back to the bunch. We'd catch up socially at the Lemontree.  Five degrees felt strangely warm from several days of four prior, maybe I've toughened to the temperature already?  I'd joined the up-line with Vince ahead and Lance behind, Rocket and Wozza (the inseperable sultans of speed) setting the tempo to Mitchell Rd.  With my new wheels came a new cassette, a Dura-Ace 12-25 close ratio, having that 16 sprocket I'd long craved.  What joy to find that comfortable cadence between spin and grind as the bunch ploughed east to Central Kialla then north to River Rd.  TatMat had a case of the cbf's, MyRideTrev readying for a Broome getaway, Vince squeezing in a lap before labour and Grumpy was breaking the FDC mould by riding regularly.  Tis the season where it's suddenly socially acceptable to sniff, the chill on the olfactories turns the schnoz into a tap in this temperature!

I faced some toil beside Vince from the church to the Big Ring, so I was putty in Lance's hands as we drove west toward the kennels, but he earned an elephant stamp rolling early at Woolshed Rd.

The fast faction was a little outnumbered by the coalition for cruising, consensus setting a not-too-hot velocity toward town, all soaking up the serenity of a Godfather-less group.  With voluntary and paid work pending, Rocket and Vince opted for an early Verney Rd exit, the order now shuffled to put me on Wozza's wheel.  Liam and Grumpy put a pinch of pace back into Wanganui Rd then Wozza and Bruce's long shift toward the hill got me thinking I'd escaped the effort, but Wozza's roll put me at the business end to burn the vastus lateralis up Mt.Wanganui.  A social spin along the Boulevard to breakfast was a pleasant change, Joe was jubilant making it all the way around as we joined Temple and Travis (punctured in Wanganui Rd) for the breakfast babble on Emu's stupidity, sweet smells and the short attention span of some motorists.

20/5 Monday morning's motion.

Monday's mindset was welded to positive, 14 degrees was heaven sent and the joy of working new wheels was still fresh (though the sting in the bank balance might linger for a while)    Wozza, The Godfather, Col, Bruce, Kreeky, Cate and PistolPete had mobbed for Monday morning's motion, Bo & Kel arriving on the car park exit to join as Wozz and Col kindly cranked the first shift into a niggling northeaster.  My 1200 metres working into the wind wasn't the agony I'd predicted, the heart had climbed into the 170's but that 16 sprocket was sweet on the leg labour.  Bruce's follow up was kind, fast but not formidable to the Kinder when I was well due to duck for cover in the draft.  That was it, my contribution done till duty called again later, time now for chat with the chaps (and chapettes) when I could spare the oxygen to talk!  I've come to appreciate the slight slow for Rabbit Row as a chance to bank breaths, though it seems the bunnies have emigrated elsewhere, caution rules to keep us all vertical.

The wind was whipping me at the starboard side when I joined the up-line in Boundary Rd, I'd hoped the drivers would have read the wind and got up the road to serve us some shelter but I guess focus gets fuzzy at the rushin' front sometimes.  My go from Old Dookie to New Dookie Rd carved up the calories beside Col, the measly 800 metres to the rail line feeling more like the Mur.  I was slowly returning to respiratory recovery as Bo and Bruce towed us to Lemnos-Cosgrove Rd, but Bo and Kreeky played hell with heart rates driving west into the forties toward the bridge. The falling spots from the heavens weren't expected, squinting to the horizon to judge how wet or dry we may finish.   Spots were all we got getting closer to town, PistolPete had retired from rotation (and that wasn't expected either), another turn in the drivers seat for me alongside Col to Verney Rd then Bruce to the highway, getting my work done before Wanganui. The Godfather's jibes from the rear turned up Bo's velocity at the front toward the hill, those few drops now more frequent along The Boulevard, sharpening the speed to consume coffee at the Parklake (for want of venue variety?)

21/5  Goatless!
Facing fog and five degrees, I didn't spare a nanosecond's thought to returning to the warm bed or even a second coffee, straight out the door and kick some k's before I was swamped by softness!  Vision along Verney and Ford Rd's was good for fifty metres ahead though it felt like pushing through porridge. There was hardly a commuting car about till nearing the Lemnos soup tin, the atmospheric pea-soup thickening a little on the 8k's back to town so the white line at the roadside helped keep me on the tarmac. That only four felines had formed at the Notre Dame grid didn't auger well for a big Goat bunch, but I was keeping faith some would front.  5:59 at Friars and the footpath was empty, seems Goats had softened to new lows!  Six bells came and went and with work beckoning me at 7:30, I set off on a solo spin with a nod to Rule #9, assured of peace, winning each segment and the sprint! There's a strange satisfaction in doing a lap while others laze, my speed not worth talking about though the heart was hovering in the middle of zone four out to Boundary Rd. There was a slightly clearer path southbound, seeing only the 5:40's (Bo, not-so-newAvantiJohn, Kel and Col) northbound through the mist.  (Cats apparently abandoned at the outbound edge of town)  A ride with a little less spice in the speed suited me today, hoping I didn't have a  "creature from the black lagoon" moment with Darth Vader or rampant rabbit in Channel Rd.  Dampened by a billion microscopic water drops floating in the fog, I'd returned to town to find
the 5:40's headed to Scottish coffee, but I headed homeward with time ticking away.

22/5 Only committed need apply.

Feels like 3 degrees and the starting grid had been condensed to the committed...and July is yet to test us!  Rocket, Kenworth, Tina, Kreeky, Wozza, Col and Boof proved their winters worth, but who will remain when minuses threaten?  Bo and Grumpy joined as we exited town, the usual task of tempo taken by Boof as the rearmost battled for breath.  A red led blinked as bait through Central Kialla, Superman being the lure caught in River Rd's first leg.  Temperature had squeezed my lungs to half capacity just as duty called at the front, lucky Col was sympathetic to the cause as I soldiered on to the dip, saving a morsel of muscle for the dynamic duo, due next in the drivers seats.

Rather than a recovery, the heart rate went to the heavens as Rocket and Wozza worked their wattage toward Boundary Rd, all the while self saying "this will do you good Foss" despite my legs disagreeing. Kreeky was Christmas on a stick calming the tempo a tad in Boundary Rd, I'd almost felt human again by Channel Rd.  Kenworth's contribution in the drivers seat was short lived, not that I was complaining....my turn would now get done before the charge at the ChaCha.  Beside Col through Rabbit Row and on to Beckham's bend, then with Boof to Jameson Rd, trying to supress what sounded like the closing minutes of a XXX movie.  Boof, Wozza then Rocket advanced to drive us all to the Kinder, some solace sensing a sprint-free conclusion to the circuit as Rocket held the helm (and the hurry) back to town.

23/5 Hare tonic.
There's always a lucky dip at the Couldabeens carpark in the early weekday hours, though Thursday had thinned to just not-so-newAvantiJohn, Will and Grumpy at T minus 5:40.  Will was waiting for the Hares and not-so-newAvantiJohn needed to roll 'round the block to fend off freezing, so Grumpy and I set off in advance, hoping to hitch-hike with the Hares as they hunted us down.  Why it was a battle to hold 34 km/h we could only guess, Grumpy had laboured his legs with hill repeats but my reason related to Rule #5 I think.  Which would be the better workout? To push along paired and puffing or hang onto the Hares hurry? It was all a bit scientific at this hour of the day, that old mantra "Just ride FFS!" was the answer!  The legs distress was dismissed as drivel in Boundary Rd, a peek rearward finding darkness our only pursuant.  To slow for a minute would have been heaven but I don't know anyone who's getting faster by going slower ;  I'll subscribe to the theory that pain pays back with pace. (such profound philosophy at 6:07 am!)

A line of led's were now cutting through the River Rd blackness behind us, the last k to Central Kialla spent wondering the wattage wanted to tack ono their train.  Delayed by puncture, Bo arrived from the west to hitch a Hare hurry too, readying for the rush in Mitchell Rd as Boof, not-so-newAvantiJohn, Nev       and Will slipped swiftly by in smooth syncronicity.  Catching their slipstream, the pace wasn't so punishing (what a difference a draft makes), heart rate remaining unchanged from the last 20k but the legs went liquorice!  There was poetry in motion watching the lads swap turns at the front but there's a feeling of freeloading hanging onto the back without contributing to the cause.  Over the highway and beyond Galbraith's gate, the smoothness helped me to hold on, reaching Conrod built confidence I'd survive the circuit.  No let-up crossing the line, the tempo continued (for the want of caffeine) keeping heads down through town, I'd baulked at a traffic light and broke off the back but enjoyed the calmer cruise home.

24/5  A clown & a car on collision course.
'Twas but the faithful few Friday, Rocket, Kreeky, Boof, Shorty, Kenworth, The Godfather, Wozza, Col and Grumpy ready to roll at six.

With the fastest first (predictably), Boof, Rocket and Wozza led the charge south as the rest of us mere mortals straggled behind in the hope of being counted among the finishers an hour later.  I'd noticed led's pursuing a distance behind (Travis and Liam)  as we'd reached the truck route, so I took the news to the drivers theorising more leg equals less labour.  Kreeky felt the effort of the ENE'er in Mitchell Rd, the lack of laps shortening Shorty's shift through Central Kialla with The Godfather.  I'd reached the front seat turning into River Rd, perfectly timed to face the headwind, the weight of expectation almost crushing as Liam drew alongside, that bridge (the usual roll point) was an eternity away but he remained respectfully level despite his 42 year advantage over me (dad's honour has rubbed off well).   I was pleased as punch with my 1200 metre push to the bridge, that sweet 16 cog a ripper ratio to reach the target, mind you that whisker of worth I felt was soon forgotten as Boof, Rocket and Wozz defined what driving into the wind was all about.

The turn north into Boundary Rd eased the frown lines but The Godfather's taunts only turned up the tempo to Channel Rd.  Effort eased with the wind behind us, the chorus of carbon spinning toward the S bend quickly put on apex alert as a car approached taking a big slice of our side of the tarmac.  Should've gone to Specsavers? Armageddon averted, we threaded a cautious line along Rabbit Row as I paired with The Godfather to the cypress trees, mentally preparing for the pairing with Liam and wondering what challenge the ChaCha would bring.  More than satisfied with the speed to Central Ave, I'd called Liam across and settled in for more speed when Boof hollered a pit stop for a puncture.  We'd at least top up on oxygen before the charge home.  Repaired and remounted soon after, there was a gradual turn up of tempo to the line, a certain clown's cackle prompting a spirited speed back to town.

Week 21       267km               YTD 5,527km      

Week 20 : More mental than muscular.

Post #499
11/5  For the times they are a-changin'.

Maybe it was my chance interception with newcomer Joe that opened a watershed moment, his queries on bunch protocols (admirable in attempting assimilation) highlighted the bunch evolution (revolution?) in recent times.  Some regulars are becoming rarities and the divide deepens between the fast and the outclassed, or has the winter blues struck a little early?  Bruce, TrekTrev, Wozza, Travis, Rocket, Kel, PistolPete, Bo, The Godfather, Liam, Superman, Tina, MyRideTrev, Lance, TatMat, Boof, TatPaul and Joe had lined up behind me at the carpark, so I paid the price of early arrival to lead leg one.

A gentle build up of pace (under the pretext of allowing the tailenders to get up to speed) was all this old engine could do in "feels like two degrees", Nev made his standard delayed debut at Kialla Lakes and Wozza kindly rode at an idle beside me as I suffered to Sanctuary's roundabout.  Rocket and Wozz paired to turn up the tempo to the truck route, my glance back (between gasps) finding an abyss to the bunch behind.  Off the throttle for a tad in leg three reassembled the rabble, Joe's original intention for a brief appearance at the front coming to nought (in fact, confined himself to the caboose for the whole lap).  Quickness out of corners tested tail-enders to keep in touch, but Wozza and Pistol were mindful to tow the stragglers back on.

Bo had hauled himself from the depths of man flu, The Godfather in need of echelon education, putting the tail in the gutter.  Feeling the bite of the cold as it cut through the layers, I was soon called back into the up-line by voices in the caboose, a popular place of late as the swift get supersonic and the part-timers toil.  I was content with my contribution to Old Dookie Rd with Pistol then to the bridge with Bruce, the drive by Rocket and Wozz (there's that pairing again!) relentless to the Toaster and onward to the Church.  Daybreak drew long on Lemnos-Cosgrove Rd as the headwind hurt the brave volunteering for the rushin' front, fitness measuring the length of labour at the pointy end as TatPaul rejoined from a Boundary Rd short-cut.

My calculations reckoned I'd get a turn in before the work in Wanganui and sure enough, paired with Pistol in Ford Rd, but legs wouldn't deliver what the head wanted so I called an early roll.  Bruce sided sympathetically till my Garmin numbers said quit, time in the tow hoping a heart rate would calm.  Speed got serious nearing the transfer station, I'd just rejoined the up-line when the real horsepower got their noses to the front, so plans of another turn at the front fizzled.  Hanging on as gatekeeper, I called the faster to the front, a few more faded from duty so it became a conga line of survivors to the hill, all hoping to catch the tail in Rudd Rd and be part of the pack for the bolt to breakfast.   It felt foreign when just eight rolled into the Lemontree breakfast table, but chat on record breakers, big rings and sleep deprivation occupied the few in the social epilogue.

13/5  Everybody hurts.

With a headful of HTFU, I faced Monday's nine degrees with summer knicks and fingerless gloves (bit optimistic?), south to the carpark with a resolve set in concrete to avoid the first shift (muscles in Mondayitis mood).   Sherls, Wozza, The Godfather, PistolPete, not-so-newAvantiJohn, Col and Bruce had assembled for the opening salvo to the weeks' work, Pistol advising Bo & Kel's (punctured) eta.  With barely a minutes' delay there was a team of ten to turn into Channel Rd's dreary darkness, guaranteed to drain every dram of determination out of you if it weren't for the magnetism of a lap with like-minded cyclusts.  I'd bought a bit of time before facing the flogging at the front, on Col's wheel (with Wozz behind) allowed a few k's to prepare for pace, to climb a mountain more mental than muscular really.

Bo and PistolPete looked to be cruising in the drivers seat, though I could sense the handbraking of a northeaster but I guess hurt gets us all at some point, just that some are better than others at hiding it!  The Godfather had trimmed ten percent off the tempo to the cypress trees, only inciting others to resume the prior pace,  Col set a reasonable rate of knots at Boundary Rd's bridge but I felt fairly flabbergasted by the fig farm, Wozza the working my will to reach Old Dookie Rd before I relented to his rapidity.  Kel had the best idea, comfortable in the caboose!  Sitting at second wheel wasn't helping my heart rate, nor was second or even third, I could be quite sociable at fourth spot though, but then I was back in the up-line soon after to start that escalation again.  Effort had eased in Lemnos-Cosgrove Rd  with the wind at our rear regions, getting closer to town and closer to the front I had some comfort thinking of Monday's no-sprint rule.  Beside Col at the test track my endurance was eroding, I called the shift short bracing for part two with Wozz.  I'd levelled with the lad for a few hundred metres till Mt.Wanganui tempted his tempo, despite holding speed I was rapidly relegated rearward so hung on to the draft (at second last) trying to bank some oomph for the Boulevard leg home.  Not-so-newAvantiJohn was bent at the brow and Bruce's cadence was cooking, so I was strangely satisfied it wasn't just me hurting homeward.

14/5  A hazy shade of winter.

I ignored the reasons of rising at stupid o'clock and riding into The Boulevard's blackness at 5:25, why I'd spin a solo prologue into four degrees I'll leave for my therapist!  Lapping a golf course loop discovered the wind had stayed in bed but the cold was a class act to chill muscles and lungs.  Hommie, Brendy, Sandy, Heady, Belly and Snow fronted Friars, and you guessed it, Heady headed the hurry (at Heady's specifications) out to the truck route.  Coggo climbed aboard the single filed squad, a bit of variation in velocity (and length of turn) may frustrate some but at least they're doing much more than the snooze squad!  Sandy's shift was short and sweet, Coggo's quick and constant, Heady's slowly sagged, Brendy donated a decent drive and Hommie was up to his old tricks of surge then sag. Feeling a hint of softness creeping into my cranium, I set a long target when handed the helm in Boundary Rd, gently up to speed to stick to Belly's instructions ("don't be a dickhead Foss".....ain't he lovely?) to drive a 3k shift to the highway (surprised there was a little left in the tank after).  Happier with a metre gap to Brendy's wheel (call it variability insurance), the others put their two bob's worth in, each in their own distinctive style (better the devil you know).  Filed like Indians is rather anti-social but it finesses the focus on staying straight and smooth, Brendy's elbow ushering me to the front again at River Rd's bridge.  There was no escaping another shift before my early exit, so the last donation took them to River's end,  I hollered my hooroo's and with 9k's to home and 16 minutes on the clock, the wheels hummed and legs warmed but fingers and toes felt the chill.

15/5 Hurts so good.

I shouldn't grizzle about the bite of four degrees when the minus's have yet to hit us, count your blessings mum used to say (till some Strava mate posts a sundrenched ride from some Spanish coast!)  Kenworth, Superman, Joe, Tina, MyRideTrev, The Godfather, Cate, Kreeky, Rocket, Wozza, PistolPete, Boof, Col and not-so-newAvantiJohn had proved their mettle congregating at the carpark, Bo then Grumpy climbing aboard as we cranked a chilled course south out of town.  The fitter faction (you know, the ones happily chatting at the front while most gasp in their wake) led the charge to the truck route while the lesser league hoped to find some fettle before being promoted to the pointy end. 

The hurry hummed along to Mitchell Rd but the tempo was tamed when The Godfather was put in the drivers seat (to the delight of the cooked in the caboose).  More had braved the up-line by River Rd (good to see Tina back in the rotation) but Joe and MyRideTrev weren't to be coerced from the rear seats.  So often the head's the handbrake when the body's most likely to cope, even a short shift has no shame, 'tis better than cowering in the caboose!  Booties and thick gloves were in vogue, even PistolPete had given in to long knicks, haute couture of course!  Into Boundary Rd and that Rocket and Wozza combination struck chat off the agenda, heads down for the hurry less we suffer the shame and indignity of going o.t.a.  The horizon blushed orange behind us for our charge into Channel Rd  though The Godfather had the cruise control set at canter for his turn to the S bend.  Odds of avoiding the hard labour in the ChaCha were looking rather thin as PistolPete powered to the Kinder, here's me at fourth wheel and Col bails out of duty into the down line.  Bo dug deep at Hopeful corner and thinned the pack to Indian file, Grumpy given the helm at Prentice Rd.  With an eye on his elbow I kept tucked into the tow but those signals of suffering soon surfaced, time for me to get to work.   Some promise of success with 300 metres remaining was soon scuttled hearing Boof's wheels hunting me down, though the big gap behind him looked perfect for me to take second spot.

16/5 Six shooter.
Six shot south along Archer Rd's length in Thursday's early hours, picturesque in the half light with fog layering the lower fields.  Pistol Pete had perfected the first shift starting slow and bringing speed slowly to simmer into the high 30's (well, the draft was delightful at fourth wheel!)  Blessed by breezeless conditions, Bo took turn two in what's usually leg three, so my calculations for the lead role in Central Kialla allowing ample time to get in the groove for my move.  Kreeky capably captained Mitchell Rd and put me in the front seat as planned, so I stuck to the principal of smooth-and-straight-and-the-speed-will-sort-itself to get to River Rd, the caboose containing Kel in cold convalescence.  Cate did a short shift to respect rhythm, Pistol Pete back in charge and turning up the speed screws to the dip.  Bo delivered a long drive to River's end, Kreeky conscripted for Boundary Rd.  I kept a fine focus for an elbow but not a flinch was forthcoming by the Broken bridges, Kreeky cranking all the way to the highway before handing over.

Steadily winding up speed so as not to disconnect others, I struggled with pace (and probably pessimism) to the bridge, that category three climb of at least 400mm certainly felt by this flat-lander.  Then out of nowhere that moment arrived, the tarmac turned smooth, my heart rate levelled, I was on top of the gear, the legs stopped screaming and all turned cool, calm and collected with the world.  Where's the switch that turns it on?  Or can you buy it in bottles?  Getting "in the zone" arrives without planning or fanfare, can vanish without notice, but 'aint it sweet when it stays!  It hung on till the Fig Farm when hard labour came calling again, the h.r. began to climb but determination was now the driver to reach Old Dookie Rd.   Relying on others for long turns to aid my recovery, I tucked into the tow as Pistol piloted us to Central Ave.  Bo and Kreeky continued the long shift habit all the way to town saving me another effort at the rushin' front (bless their booties) , homeward bound early for Cate and I as the rest steered south in search of Scottish coffee with Hares (not hairs).

17/5 Sprint spice.

Friday was the fourth consecutive day of four degrees but I still struggle to climatize to that chill when I open the front door!  Five k's at 86 rpm got the internal heater working, Boof, Bruce, Shorty, Superman, Rocket, Tina, Bo, MyRideTrev, Grumpy, Liam, Kreeky, Kel, Wozza, not-so-newAvantiJohn, Travis, PistolPete, Cate and Col were tattling temperatures at the carpark in readiness for the 6am launch.  MyRideTrev led a leisurely start to the bridge before tempo turned toasty, thanks to the usual masters of motion.

The up-line started to form on the outskirts of town while I played 'pick your partner in pace' :  Wozza? nice guy but nope, Pistol? too pacy, Travis? too torquey, Kreeky? compliant to my lax legs, so I joined the up line while tail end of the down line grew longer.  Not till River Rd did I find the freshness of the front (feels like 1.7), and there's the joy of July yet to come!  To the dip with Kreeky and half a k with Cate, back into draft (with less of the chill) while 13 of the 18 came forward to donate to the drive.  Despite the temperature, the half light before daybreak is worth getting out of bed to see, our turn north into Boundary Rd turned heads east for the horizon's hues.

The Godfather was hollering sledges to the front (in the comfort of the draft mind you) while most got down to the business at hand.  There's always an expectation of effort in Channel Rd but it was all rather cruisy to the cypress trees, watching Rocket, Wozza and Pistol edging closer to the front as we neared Central Ave told me to hang on for some hurry. Mid forties well before the Kinder doubled the bunch's length and halved it's width, Rocket unleashing his wattage all the way to Hopeful corner and beyond.  I'd been lucky to catch the tow of the front few as the pack splintered into pieces toward Prentice Rd, Rocket releasing Wozza for the final assault but Boof and Liam took flight to fight to the finish line.  The once casual cruise back to town is history, a solid spin back to the suburbs (to silence The Godfather?) kept the bunch busy.  Back at Archer Rd northerners and southerners parted company for coffee and/or careers, first sighting of some in  the caboose for me.

Week 20    253km              YTD  5260km
     
 

Week 19 : Solving that softness.

Post #498
4/5 Saturday ; sledges and satire.

Despite the multitude of winter layers, I'd readied to ride a little early on Saturday, so set off sedately to ease the old engine into action.  I'd unwittingly wasted minutes daydreaming and dawdling, suddenly pace was paramount if I was to reach the Couldabeens grid by 6.  With a minute to spare I joined TatMat, Boof, The Godfather, GiantAndy, Shorty, Tina, TatPaul, MyRideTrev, DeterminedDan, Joe, TrekTrev, Bo, PistolPete, Bruce, Col and Lance....and at the third stroke, Nev.  Boof's regular role of lead led us out of town, I was letting the natural promotion to the pointy end happen while waiting for my motivation to arrive.

Joe's helmet light was as welcome as a boot full of bindii, PistolPete made a stylish statement in a new class kit (GiantAndy a close second in co-ordinated colours), Nev mimicked a Minion sporting snow specs, while Col's Campagnolo clattered at half gear.  The Godfather was occupied supplying sledges by the bucket-load (something to do with being dropped Wednesday I'd guess), the bunch steering east onto Mitchell, north through Kialla Central then east again on River Rd.  Behind all the crew chatter, cranial calculations were already underway of my debut to the drive, hoping that westerly wouldn't blow me backward and it would be at a pace that wouldn't pickle me.

As it happens, I was running out of steam beside Col at the bridges in Boundary Rd, but distant blues and reds ahead under a floodlight spelt trouble, slowing us just beyond Channel Rd.   Downed powerlines (from a motorcycle fatality) u-turned us to re-route the ride, Lance and I heading the diversion via Channel and Central but the drive to the S bend was cooking me, some days you've got it and others you 'aint (and I guess some were struggling with less than that).  Tina tagged along in the caboose with Bruce who'd been bitten by the CBF's, new scenery to view along Central Ave a welcome change from the ride repetition of the same-old same-old Saturday circuit.  
Back onto Boundary Rd and without warning, Joe faded fast (strangely from fifth wheel), those behind rounding him up to get back in touch with the bunch. Sledges swapped sides on the drive back to town, baits laid going unbitten but the laughs were in plague proportions.  Heads were down and heart rates were up in Wanganui Rd, but not the frantic thrash we're used to, so it was another Saturday sans sprint but The Godfather's endless sledging warranted earplugs!  Keen for coffee, the bunch barrelled along the Boulevard Lemontree bound, but I regrettably had to skip the sociology and breakfast with other tasks pending.

5/5 Obsession overload?
Eyes opened early out of habit on what is my cycling sabbath, so what better cure than to feed the obsession? It's all about the bike isn't it? The intention for a sedate Sunday spin (now that's a ride rarity) lasted for at least thirty seconds, that cool 6am start stirred some swiftness to warm up, and that fuelled the fire to keep decent Garmin numbers on the screen (it's that cranial curse of competition again)  The south southwester cut through the base layer but helped my hurry out to the golf course, already an orange glow on the horizon to aim at the Big Ring. 

Speed seemed a bit high in Wanganui Rd but the heart rate reflected the effort, I'm sure the headwind would bring me and my ego back to reality later.  A lazy late breakfast or coffee and a Rouleur read on the couch was driven from the thoughts, substituted for keeping 86 rpm on the screen ; isn't it weird how the distance evaporates when you concentrate on something other than k's, a relaxed perch and staying smooth worked for me.  The 3 headwind k's to the Toaster wasn't so bad but there was enough westerly in the wind to cull some calories.  Boundary Rd chipped away at the average speed so there was satisfaction to pick up the pace in River Rd with just a side wind to battle.  The sun heave ho'd off the horizon and put a little spring in my spin but the other addiction (caffeine) was calling me back to town.  I could almost taste a long black in Archer Rd so with a long awaited tailwind and near to 300 on the suffer score, I awarded myself a trophy of banana bread to accompany coffee.

6/5  Not so nasty.
Monday's first few hundred metres were chilly but a bout of cranial concentration on Rule #5 soon solved that softness, arriving at the carpark 5k's later with the freshness forgotten, now to match the muscle of Grumpy, The Godfather, Kreeky, Wozza, Cate. Bo, Kel, PistolPete, Cobbles, Sherls and Col who'd gathered for the 5:45 foray.  Two rows of six steered into Channel Rd's darkness, time for me to prepare for pain at the pointy end as I joined the up-line.  The weekend's post-mortems kept my doubt diverted till it was time to face the music at the front with Wozza at the cypress trees.  I'd look at the Garmin numbers later on Strava rather than suffer the reality of the moment!   Focus was fixed on reaching the S bend (but I'd weakened 100 metres shy), Cate bailed out of duty and ushered Kreeky to the helm, the tiny trimming of tempo helping me to reach Boundary Rd just short of implosion.  Kel and Cate had taken the role of tail-lights, the northern leg blessed by a hint of breeze behind.
 How attuned we become to the whims of the weather when we become bike junkies, the slightest suggestion of wind dictates our position and course, weather apps become lifelines, winters' cold and headwinds are a measure of our worth and tailwinds become trophies.  Scenery was still draped in darkness at 6:15 (there goes our daylight credit when the clock changed to eastern standard time), so I eyeballed Enve's, Dura-Ace's, Mavic's and Prologo's instead, so soon we'll be plunged into darkness from start to finish (and all the way home) as winter tests our motivation to the max.
Cobbles was hoping all would drive longer turns to keep him from further duty, Sherls just tapping away to the rhythm of his helmet lights (doing a disco for those behind)   The Godfather was restrained minus his sparing partner to sledge, Col supplying his usual trivia tattle while I primed for the task in the drivers seat beside Wozz again (kindly running his engine at idle while I revved the daylights out of mine).   Two passing cars helped by vacuuming me part way to the highway beside Kreeky, then back into the tow for me while others worked Wanganui Rd.  (Cobbles got the short straw to haul us up the hill)  Into town along the Boulevard before the commuting chaos began, those few doubts I started with were now history, now I was trying to forget that work would drag me from the bike.

7/5  A Goat gathering.
The demise of the 5:45's, variety and a touch of Goat guilt lured me on a Tuesday lap down memory lane, a 14k solo, join the Goats for 25 then hurry homeward to appease an employer.  The dark and desolate 5k's of Ford Rd wasn't so inviting at three degrees, at least I only had me to keep up with.  It was peak hour in Lemnos as four cars headed to make soup, I headed back to town making haste if I was to catch the Goats launching from Friars at 6.   Coggo, Heady, Sandy, Snow, AvantiLeigh, Belly and Hommie represented the determined division, seems all others are in the fairy floss faction.  Heady did his head-out-of-town ritual, all assuming a single file stance as Sandy turned up the wick towards Dobson's estate (ranks as 'most improved' since I last gallivanted with Goats)

I'd scored the wheel of wattage behind AvantiLeigh and he'd kindly held back on the horsepower to keep all aboard, and making a note on the pace, I did my bit from the bridge to Boundary Rd.  Kudos as I slipped to the back in Boundary Rd confirmed I'd conformed, taking the rear seat as Coggo drove to the pig pen.  Snow had a go and Belly took us to the pub, but Heady had developed the huffs and puffs moments after facing the front at Channel Rd.  Sandy quickly restored the pace to One Tree Dam, Hommie (minus his trade-mark surge) driving to River Rd.  I put in pace to River Rd's dip after AvantiLeigh dragged me to the Angora farm, a turn in particularly sharp focus with new (prescription) bike specs taking the fuzzy out of the tarmac, even the Garmin small print is now legible (is that really my heart rate?)  Love your work Dippa!   Heady was awol when I'd withdrawn to the rear for respite,  I'd recovered in the last k of River Rd, hollered my hoo-roo's to short cut homeward with the chill factor of a soon-to-rise sun keeping my cadence cooking.

8/5  If someone says 'character building'!

The wind whistled and whittled the numbers down on Wednesday, Rocket, Kenworth, Grumpy, Wozza, Shorty, MyRideTrev, Boof, The Godfather, Tina and PistolPete counted as warriors of the wind, the missing as marshmallows.  A drawn-out game of "choose your partner" was being played at the back of the bunch as those blessed with wattage drove south toward Sanctuary's roundabout, PistolPete left un-paired till Kenworth bit the bullet of bravery (me thinks the 30 km/h gusts from the west was part of the key selection criteria).  I'd queued up with The Godfather ahead and Shorty behind, instant relief reaching Mitchell Rd but left gasping by the giddy-up when the westerly blew us to Central Kialla.

Stealing shelter from the northwester beside The Godfather helped me reach River Rd, Shorty the man to match as the bridge was set as the turn target.  Shorty saved me some suffering calling a shorter shift, the pace put in the percolator as Rocket, Boof, Wozza and PistolPete flexed their fitness to Boundary Rd. (no complaints from the crew, though I guess oxygen was being put to more urgent use than talking!)  Real estate became valuable in Boundary Rd's echelon, I got lucky having the shielded side to psych up for my next turn into the headwind. PistolPete and Kenworth opened the account in Channel Rd but turns shortened with the suffering, finding myself beside The Godfather (strangely silent) to the S bend.  Shorty paired with me to negotiate rabbit row but had rolled again before the cypress trees.  I was happy to see Rocket and Wozza take the tempo by the scruff and charge at the ChaCha, we only needed to bite on a bullet and hang on to their  hurry.

9/5 A fast and faithful five.
I'd almost resigned myself to a solo lap Thursday, such is the evaporating enthusiasm of late, so it was inspiring to find PistolPete, TrekTrev, not-so-newAvantiJohn and Col prepared for pace at 5:40.  Oh me of little faith!  With the circuit and speed agreed on (I could see Col's call of "35 all the way around" lasting about 35 seconds) I assumed the mantle of pilot for leg one to the truck route. Now the task of living up to that expectation!  37 was all I dared to drive if I was to have something to catch the tail on leg two, just enough it happens to latch on as TrekTrev tore onward to Orrvale Rd.

Col kindly calmed the pace a whisker (that's 2.6 smidgeons or 9 umpteenths in the old measure) allowing me to get out of that oxygen deficit disorder.  Not-so-newAvantiJohn drove from the kinder to the cypress trees (and he reckons he's not well?) where PistolPete played captain.....all the way to Boundary Rd ('cause he can).   The bait of a red led ahead shuffled my priorities from pain to pursuit, passing a stray cyclust who attached as caboose.  Over the bridges I started to re-taste breakfast, so elbowed TrekTrev to the front, but he hit the turbo toward River Rd leaving Col to hold station.  Eventually, silence and a lack of lights behind told Trev he was driving solo, Col effectively doing a double shift as he soldiered on to River Rd's dip.  Not-so-newAvantiJohn was not-so-new taking the lead to the bridge but Pistol was in his prime powering to River Rd's end.  A tailwind pumped up my performance to make the shift swift to Mitchell Rd then slipped back into the draft as TrekTrev echeloned us westward.  I'd stolen the shelter in the last left centimetres of Mitchell Rd, our hitch-hiker would have to use the gutter 'cause I needed all the recovery I could get!   Col took the lead role as we crossed the highway and not-so-newAvantiJohn got keen to be captain at Roubaix corner, all that effort placing me closer to the pointy end again with a headwind to come!  PistolPete put in a tenacious turn from Galbraith's Gate, past Arcadia Downs, to Conrod straight.  Through the dip and up onto the flat, Pistol drove on till the 500 metre mark, only then his elbow handed me the hurt. I owed him a decent finish after that hard slog, wringing out what wattage I could muster to reach the 60 sign.

10/5  Green blotted the radar and plenty of precipitation presented a rare chance for extended shut-eye on Friday, and with a sparkling clean bike Rule #53 over-ruled Rule #9 (although the purest of the badass ventured out ; to be gifted the cleaning task tonight!)

Week 19     271km                      YTD 5,007 km      

Week 18 : Beyond the boundaries of ouch!

Post #497
27/4  The cull of the cold.

Winter turned up five weeks early to test us with a trial by temperature, two degrees culling the grid to Rocket, Bruce, The Godfather, Bo, Kreeky, Lance, TatMat, Joe, Boof, Kel, TrekTrev, Grumpy and CatKel.  The long forgotten apparel of shoe covers, knee warmers and heated gloves were suddenly back in vogue, though Joe had braved short knicks (no forecast? no long ones? or no feeling?)   Lungs were gripped with Archer Rd's chill as Boof led us up to speed, toes and fingers frosting with the joy of another 50 km of this ahead.  And there's 16 long weeks of it yet to come!  TrekTrev was the Cheshire cat having finally cured the irritating click, click, click in the left pedal, though the whisper of a tink, tink, tink from my front wheel won't disappear. (178,000 km may be the reason?) Rocket was rolling with ease and Bruce signed his shift at the front with the characteristic gangly gait but Kel confined herself cautiously to the caboose, a slowly fading legacy of the horizontal hurt in Rabbit row many weeks back.

My time for toil had arrived through the mist of River Rd's dip, Lance then Boof compliant partners in pace, or had a well hydrated reunion tamed Boof's tempo to something more manageable?  TatMat and Rocket paired at a prodigious pace, but I should remind myself of the 20 year advantage they hold over me. To Boundary Rd's fig farm and The Godfather (skinned like a sausage in neck to toe blue lycra) clamped the velocity at 33, that got tongues flapping now that there was oxygen to spare.  I'd reached the back as the bunch turned toward the Toaster, the sun struggling to appear but had lined a distant jetstream pink to suggest it was sometime soon.  Grumpy cackled to a sentence shared with Bo and, recharging his determination in the rear seat, Joe returned to the rotation to offer some sort of contribution, a little out of his depth maybe but at least doing his bit toward the tempo.

A part payment to the pace if you like and a bit toward the bunch belonging.  At least it wasn't boom then bust ; we've had that before and suffered the rhythmic tsunami.   An oncoming collection of Cats crossed our path (better numbers than ours) collecting CatKel to their crew, wheel shadows ahead in Lemnos-Cosgrove Rd signalling the sun had finally risen to give us psychological warmth.  To the front again (nearing the kennels) with Lance, I'd guessed his turn would be somewhat short but his speed was spicy enough to keep me silent.  Boof's another matter and I gritted teeth for a long grind till "that'll do me" shortened my aim of reaching Boundary Rd (that reunion reason?).    Distance had dissolved reaching Ford Rd, gloved fingers pointing to the fractured fragments of tortured rubber and radial plies from the evenings' donut sessions, thanks to mindless mushrooms (big heads, little stalks)   Kel, Joe and Bo opted for a Verney Rd exit leaving ten to tap the remaining k's, the cold crushing any inkling of a sprint to the lofty Mt. Wanganui.  Temperatures shrinking effect, football's foibles and wheelwrights made the chatter on the (ever shortening) Lemontree breakfast table.

I diverged to the big smoke Saturday arvo to slake my thirst for things bling and bespoke in bikes, the Handmade Bicycle Show displaying the bike building art of Chimera, Wood's, Curve, Parlee, Baum and Stoemper (to name a few) and components by Enve, Columbus, Craftworx, Zipp and Partington.  After disturbingly dribbling over delicious wheels, I was lucky to meet Phil and eye off  his '82 Peugeot (and Baum's oh-so-cool homage to it)



29/4  Monday's motivational.
With hot coffee in one hand and warm porridge in the other, the temptation to drop anchor on the couch was almost irresistible.  
Something breaks that softness, maybe it's the the lure of a  lap with like minded cyclusts, a craving for the euphoria afterward or maybe it's the bollocking you'd get failing to front!  Rocket, Cobbles, Kreeky, Cate, Bo, Col, Kel, The Godfather, PistolPete and Grumpy filtered into a dark car park, some still a little fragile from BeerMat's 40th frivolities.  First to arrive elected me to the drivers seat, not troubled by the pairing with Rocket (always respectfully level) but doubting I'd do a decent distance.  So there was satisfaction reaching the truck route 3k's east without imploding (was that Rocket sneaking in a snore beside me?), slipping into the tow as Kreeky and Rocket dragged us to Orrvale Rd.  Cobbles drew alongside, appreciating the tolerable start, should I have told him that was my 'flat out'?  'Round Kinder corner and on to the cypress trees, the now customary caution for rabbit row let the heart rate holiday for a moment.

At least darkness brings with it headlights to give us a heads-up of cars coming (the ones that remember to turn the lights on), safely swinging into Boundary Rd to commence my promotion to the up line.  As soon as Old Dookie Rd, work at the front beckoned again, Kel working me over to New Dookie Rd where just a k beside Rocket had me spent.  And this was "cruisy" Monday!  (Perhaps I should supplement porridge for concrete?)  Zoning in on the blur of wheels and whir of chains, breathing soon restored to be sociable, Col was somewhat seedy and Bo certainly second hand from the 40th festivities though their speed didn't suffer.  The 'yep, nah, maybe' split the bunch on the call of car at Numurkah Rd and of course, a long line of traffic opened a gap of several hundred metres, the chase for the "nah's" to get back on digging well into the reserves I'd had banked for the next turn at the front.  Legs burned climbing Mt.Wanganui beside Rocket, so it was easy to call him over in Rudd Rd and ignore the feeling of inadequacy.  Kreeky managed the muscle to bolt the Boulevard with Rocket, threading the thin line between parked cars and commuting traffic commencing the working week.

30/4  The Tuesd'y smoothie.
Just up to rhythm with the Michelin brothers singing their happy tune when another traffic light halted me (call it interval training if you like) , at least there's only a few sets to battle on the commute to the carpark.  It must madden Melbournians!

The 5:40 fling proved popular with Bo, TrekTrev, PistolPete, Grumpy, Kel and Col arriving, the more to share the suffering the better the chance of recovery between shifts.  PistolPete piloted us single and south out of town, and as if to prove his worth, went beyond the standard Sanctuary roundabout target to the truck route....and then to Mitchell Rd to be sure.  With wattage worn at second wheel, Bo laboured the leg to Central Kialla, his primeval "aarghh" the reply to my "well done Bo".  Mrs.Smooth delivered me to River Rd and, convinced I was facing an easterly, I put my head down for the hurry to the bridge.  Happy I could hold the previous pace lightened the mental load for the 900 metre task, the hurt actually easing nearing the bridge said shelter from the trees was to thank.  But guess what?  The bureau said calm!  Back in the tow of six, my composure took a k to calm, it was TrekTrev then Col's turn to suffer for the squad.   PistolPete trimmed his turn to tow us to Boundary Rd, the long line of Hares hurrying south.  It was Bo's turn now to go above and beyond, driving long to the highway before handing over.   Kel smoothed the way to Boundary Rd's pig pen, elbowing me to my second shift, a little downhill off the bridge just the kick start I needed.  The wheels did their thing at 40 as I'd tuned in to staying smooth, it'd be nice to reach Old Dookie Rd but let's see if my drive lived up to the dream.  I'd survived the 180 bpm at 90 rpm beyond the fig farm so stubbornness did the rest to reach Old Dookie.  Kudos eased the hurt but Col and Kel (keen to be towed home) called me back into line early, legs of jelly to catch Bo's wheel.  Delighted that TrekTrev, Pistol and Grumpy divided the drive back to town, my tank nearly empty but the contentment cup overflowed scoring a KOM.  Might last for a week if I'm lucky.

1/5  Carpe Diem!

A nose out the back door confirmed my doubts on the bureau's numbers, it was 19 degrees and the northerly was blowing at 24-35 km/h!  A leisurely, less layered kit-up was followed by a quick commute to the carpark, being blown there was a bonus but there'd be a tax to pay back to town.  Boof, Rocket, Tina (back from holiday) and PistolPete had gambled on the gap in the radar's green and with a nod to Velominati's Rule #9, set sail south under Boof's captaincy, collecting The Godfather exiting town.  The changing of the guard at Sanctuary's roundabout put Rocket in command, Tina (on his wheel) quickly opting for a back seat as five heads lowered for Rocket's drive to Mitchell Rd.  I'd braced for the wind blast at the portside toward Central Kialla, but preparing for the pain at the pointy end ain't like meeting the real thing, that northerly nastier than expected.  The lads (and lass) would have to tolerate my lowly 36 km/h or lump it.   PistolPete wound up the speed to River Rd which gave me a case of liquorice legs, The Godfather scoring the lead for the leg to the bridge, but suffered the wanders from the wind.

A small contingent of Cats approached as Boof dragged us out of the dip, too tempting for Tina who u-turned to tap a tamer pace with them.  Sitting second wheel to Rocket's relentless two k turn of torture was erasing my energy, if he'd plough into the pies and sit up a bit I'd get a decent draft!  Taking the lead role in Boundary Rd was meant for sadists, I was almost inside out and barely nudging 35 when Rocket called a slow (praise the Lord!) 'cause The Godfather had popped 200 metres back.  We'd regrouped and I slowly resumed the torture to muscles and mind reaching the Broken Bridges, PistolPete took over to get us out of the headwind in Channel Rd with The Godfather strangely silent stuck in the caboose.  There was no let up working west, Pistol and Boof showing what they were made of (tougher stuff than I!) to Beckham's bend but a k was knocked off the pace (in respect for rampant rabbits).   Competition was the dopamine to drive the muscles beyond the boundaries of ouch, it was now up to heart and lungs to keep up as Rocket resumed his rapidity (appearing to be just above an idle).  It smacks of elitism but I was surviving the speed better than another,  it's fuel for this old engine to keep up you understand. A blur haloed  Rocket's rear Zipp as we sped to Kinder corner, hoping like hell an elbow wouldn't elect me to the drivers seat. Dragged for another k of cruelty, my tank was almost dry, the last drops used to catch Boof's wheel when I slipped back to 4th wheel, guessing (correctly) the leg to town would be set at suffer speed.  The moment's slow at the truck route was heaven then back on the gas to town, The Godfather popped again but I was determined to be counted among the crew at the finish.  (ps; blessings to Boof for dragging my jellied legs homeward)

3/5  Moist 'n misty.

Fourteen millimetres of wet was welcomed by a dusty autumn, the road damp and dismal after Thursday's rain, but just try and stop the possessed pedalling!  Bruce, Grumpy, Tina, Boof, Cate, Rocket, PistolPete and Wozza formed a tight-knit team, hopes that more may join to ease the workload were deemed preposterous, a hint of winter weather and the soft turn scarce.  Nev cruised in from Kialla Lakes as the rolling regime got underway out of town, all the joys of winter riding (a gritty chain, grubby bike, foggy specs and rooster-tails of water up your nose) came flooding back...literally!  I took a berth between Nev and Grumpy when Tina took permanent residence at the rear (holiday legs hurting she says ;  no doubt a ride with "a little bit more" will cure 'em!)  Nev cranked kindly beside me as I faced the front through Central Kialla, Grumpy my next partner in pace to River Rd's bridge, though he cut the shift short.   I thought he was doing the gentlemanly thing but self preservation was the agenda, his pairing to the dip with Rocket followed.....make that Laws Drive instead.

The Cats crossed our path in silence (presumably Godfather-less), bunch numbers noticeably diminished on our drive to Boundary Rd. And winter's not here yet!  The odd puddle unavoidably ridden through guaranteed a groan from the bike behind, yet PistolPete remained stylishly unsullied. How does he do that?  My turn came up again to donate to the drive, alongside Nev to Channel Rd's S bend gradually turned up the heart-rate, now just to get my head around doing the distance with Grumpy to the cypress trees.  Hiding the Hiroshima of 180 bpm to Beckham's bend went well and I'd prepared to dig a bit deeper but Grumpy took the pressure off with another early roll.  There's something strangely satisfying about having the roll called by another, your own call seems like an admission of defeat.  The vote for a Poplar Ave diversion was unanimous, avoiding the ChaCha's long puddles and taking in different scenery to finish.  Puncture practice on the roll home with two separate flats was frustrating, but then I've been spared that chore for many months. Might need that practice with the season to come?

Week 18      206km               YTD 4,728km