Week 26 : Proving performance....or pigheadedness.

Post #506
22/6  Champions of the chill.

'Twas solstice Saturday and the depths of winter froze the extremities (feels like minus two), theoretically we're over the hump but the ravages of July still lurk just around the corner!  Deliberately a little earlier and deliberately a little slower, my calm commute to the carpark was a little kinder in the cold till circulation allowed a bit of pace.  In the two minutes before six Boof, Nev, Shorty, Kreeky, The Godfather, Rocket, Bo, Lance, TatPaul, GiantAndy, Determined Dan, Grumpy, Bruce, TatMat and PistolPete made up a better than expected bunch, Boof leading the line south toward Sanctuary's roundabout with Superman's reflective cape to aim at.

The tempo turned tolerable after a few minutes of teeth clenching cold at Pistol's pace, Lance's strobing tail light was almost summoning spasms (again) but Grumpy had dialled his dazzler down.  Conversations were mostly audible over The Godfather's garble, that tenth commandment (thou shalt not covet thy neighbours heated gloves or heated socks) hard to uphold with Pistol and TatPaul seemingly snug.   It had been a mostly cruisy ride but my turn at the front drew near, time to contribute to the collective cause and harden up for the hurry.   A grind with Grumpy from the fig farm to Old Dookie Rd then with GiantAndy to the bridge was just a few minutes of energy expenditure, there'd be fifteen minutes of laziness afterward.  Just four Cats had faced the cold as we steered west into Lemnos-Cosgrove Rd, the Rocket and Pistol combination had hit the front and we all hit the forties till The Godfather's protests subsided (the urge for oxygen overtook the temptation to talk)

GiantAndy had taken a Lemnos exit toward employment, our strive for speed had a slap of zero degrees to contend with (that carrot of coffee at the end made it cycling under sufferance somewhat).  The caboose had gained popularity and population as we toured into town, back to the front for me again under the pressure of work in Wanganui.  I'd rolled across after Grumpy's strong shift which only opened the floodgates of Pistol, Boof, Bo, Kreeky, TatMat, Bruce et al hurling themselves at the hill.  It's been many moons since a Saturday sprint (Boof cementing a win from what I could see through the fog), composures then collected on a steady Boulevard spin.  A few departed for a Stanley's sojourn but the majority made their way to the Lemontree to huddle under the heaters, chat on canines that chase, music genres and dog diets dispersed during breakfast.


24/6 The frosty five.
Insomnia inspired the 5:00am start on Monday, three layers of insulated insurance was installed against a rather brisk minus two.  South through town and onto Raftery Rd was like a mother-in-laws kiss and charity combined, aiming into Conrod straight and aiming to join the 5:45's, hoping there'd be some hardcore there.  The k's clicked over and so did the clock, by Mitchell Rd my calculations of the eta would be within seconds of the launch.  That would be PistolPete a kilometre ahead as I turned north into Archer, so the head dropped down for the hurry if I was to catch the train. Reaching the city limits with two minutes to go, Channel Rd came into view as the clock clicked 5:45, just catching PistolPete, The Godfather, Kreeky and Col as they rolled out.  That haste had helped, I was well warmed and ready to pair with The Godfather to the truck route.

The chat door was kept mainly shut (keeping the warmth within) and with just five to swap turns and a little patchy fog to cut through it was well and truly a welcome to winter work.  Col sounded to be in respiratory ruin though his speed told a different story as I drew alongside at the cypress trees, matching The Godfather was a little easier as he'd handbraked the pace a little from the S bend to Boundary Rd.  Not a bike or a bunch was to be seen on this favoured course, all softening on Zwift or just plain zzzzzzz….   There's several I know who have a temperature limit, but there's little difference between two and minus two, it's all cold!  There was more huff and puff for me at the front in Lemnos-Cosgrove Rd with Col to the bridge (less puff and more pace now) then The Godfather (sublimely silent) to Lemnos North Rd.  Kreeky cranked courageously beside PistolPete to Verney Rd as yet another turn looked likely for me in Wanganui Rd.   Col was improving with each turn and my drive was in decline, I called a short shift at DECA's test track and fighting a foggy focus on Mt.Wanganui, made sure I had a tyre ahead of The Godfather at the finish line (lest we be flooded with news of a victory)

25/6  Five for fortitude.
I might have dived in a bit deep Tuesday, the old engine creaked and groaned even in the low thirties at zero degrees, and here I was headed to join the horsepower on the 5:40 fling!  The wattage of Pistol, Boof and Kreeky were waiting in the carpark, so with self still sceptical, set off south with Pistol piloting.  Grumpy joined the tail at the Broken bridge, Pistol carefully applying speed toward Sanctuary's roundabout.   I must have hardened to the hurry 'cause it wasn't too cruel reaching the truck route, Pistol handing the helm to Kreeky to crank to Mitchell Rd.  Strangely, I was still coherent turning east when Boof took the lead, looks like I'd be forth on duty for the Central Kialla stage.  Easing up to the expectations (37) wasn't that easy but the old engine ran ok to River Rd, how come that was possible when low thirties was the maximum before?  The weight of conformity or the want of acceptance might be the answer, but it did sooth the soul that I'd matched a more youthful standard.  Grumpy captained River Rd's first leg but an oxygen deficit shortened his shift shy of the bridge, Pistol Pete drove his second shift to the dip an a bit beyond, Kreeky seemingly set on taking the train to Boundary Rd.

His velocity ever so slowly sagged over time, figuring a breeze was taxing his tempo, the body language telling a tale of torment but with an accent of tenacity in it.  Boof took the lead role in Boundary Rd and was still steaming along swiftly at the bridges, of course he soldiered on to the pub (sending a subtle signal of match me if you can?)   I didn't set a target when I faced the front over the highway, preferring to pick the previous pace and wait till the old engine misfired.   Up and over the bridge at 160 that smallest of declines was a bonus, down to the fig farm and 175 was whittling away at the willpower, the 600 metres left to Old Dookie laboured at my legs and lungs limit (just to prove performance.....or pigheadedness!)  (Coggo was spotted solo southward, the only Goat with guts to face the day).  Gumpy took us west toward town till the tank was almost empty, PistolPete back in the drivers seat making Grumpy's job to catch the tail a trial.  Of course, Pistol powered to the forties all the way to town, Kreeky driving us into town to take the train to coffee while I turned toward employment.

26/6  I could get used to this.....NOT!
That moment between succumbing to a sleep-in and discarding the doona dragged on, another morning with the mercury at zero was luring me to the dark side of softness.

So is it skiting on Strava, the urge to hang-out with the hardcore or just that obsessive cycling disorder that bounces you out of bed?  Layered like an onion in readiness to ride, you feel invincible till opening the front door, the frost forcing a foggy "faaark" from your lips!  No surrender now Foss, just ride f.f.s!  Slow and steady with speed broke me into the briskness, five k's of cautious commute got me to the carpark to find Bo, not-so-newAvantiJohn, PistolPete, Kel, Col, Wozza, Boof Shorty, Grumpy, Rocket and Joe, probably pleased to find other (crazy) Couldabeens had committed (or should be committed!)   Pistol led the charge south and I'd sneakily snuck into his draft to maximise the tow till I faced the front (though hanging on at second wheel was hardly a cruise)    Kel exited west (kudos for knocking over an earlier loop) as we pointed east on Mitchell, another phantom northeast breeze felt through Central Kialla that the bureau debunked.

Fairly frozen at the front with the fastness of Boof then Pistol to match, my short shift seemed to short change the standard drive donation, though some were even shorter and some never made it out of the caboose.  No sign of Cruisers, Cats or Goats raised our ranking, I took hope from a hint of horizon light that we'll soon see the days lengthen, well it was a little distraction as Rocket and Wozza paired (there's that combo again!) to hurt us with their hurry.  Shorty, Grumpy and The Godfather's turns shortened in Boundary Rd, moving me nearer the effort end again.  Continued cruelty seemed to have limbered my legs, speed seemed sustainable to the S bend with Boof (or was he just being kind to the aged?) but despite due diligence, I remained a wheel in arrears to not-so-newAvantiJohn as he hurled himself toward the cypress trees.  The specialists in speed (Bo, Wozza, Rocket et al) had lined up to dish out distress for the ChaCha, cementing my place in the 'hang-onto-the-draft-to-figure-as-a-finisher' division and hope not to be demoted o.t.a.   A solid spin to town kept the circulation flowing, work steered me homeward while the need for heat headed many to coffee.

27/6  What? Warmer?!
Through the bends of the Boulevard and out into the blackness of Rudd Road to the golf course, a light east northeaster chilled the bones on an early loop, though three degrees was the warmest we'd had all week. Thursday's usual 5:40 fling was swapped to gather with Goats, I'd boost their attendance by 20% and spare my legs some of the thrashing of the past few days.  Sounds like softening eh?  My easterly effort in Wanganui Rd made better time than expected, the turn south into Verney lapping up the billiard table tarmac back to town (until the roundabout roadworks resembled Roubaix roughness!)   Tum, Coggo, Snow and Heady are the mid year remnants of the 15+ (fairweather) Goats, but I guess all bunches suffer scarcity the moment weather turns less than ideal.

Heady's lead out of town (inked heavily into his job description) handed me the first shift to Dobson's bridge, I doubted a high thirties hurry but there was just enough north in the east northeaster to allow 36 to the bridge.  Tum drove down to Central Ave but Snow struggled in his matchstick-like draft.  Coggo took over where Snow left off (just short of School Rd) with  his trademark smooth and slick shift, Heady polishing off Old Dookie Rd but traffic split the synchronised spin into Boundary.  Calm till the fig farm, Tum gave me the giddy-up when all were aboard, so I drove to the pub, buoyed by the breeze at the backside. Tum took the train south to Channel Rd where Heady put in his best again, Snow turning up the tempo to One Tree Dam but I think he'd drained the reserve tank in the process.  Coggo continued the rush to River Rd but Snow had dropped off  Heady's wheel by the corner.  Off the gas for a moment or two, five realigned for Coggo to pour the pace back on again, ah how a tailwind invigorates!  I had the drivers seat again at the Angora farm but cranked carefully to keep the five as one (how to win friends and get an invite back)  I'd waited for oncoming cars to pass before peeling off near Laws Drive, back onto Coggo's wheel (and it's 80mm carbon chorus) for a draft to Central Kialla Rd.  A passing truck or two drew us along in a 40+ draft just as time called me to short-cut for a solo home.

28/6  A 6:30-stocktake-so-solo-at-stupid-o'clock spin.

It's a bugger when work interrupts the riding, so a sparrows' fart start to satisfy the obsessive cycling disorder was in order to clear the head ahead of works' stocktake.  A northeaster restricted my rush but there'd be a treat back to town.  A persistent push to Boundary Rd paid off with relief on the adductor magnus turning south, and with an eye on the clock, toyed with the route back to town.  There was plenty of serenity without wind whistling between the ears and not a car to compete with, so chose the highway back to base (two metres of emergency lane to myself and not a dog or a rabbit to deal with)  The westward spin slipped quickly by (regrettably closer to another day at the coalface) but JFK's right, "nothing compares to the simple pleasure of riding a bike"


Week 26    260km             YTD 6,770km        
       

Week 25 : For the inspired, or the insane?

Post #505
15/6  Soggy and foggy.

Ah Saturday!, the escape from the drudgery of a weeks work with a social spin among bike buddies, the fog and a soggy road still not enough to dampen the Saturday spirit.  GiantAndy, Col, Boof, Wozza, Rocket, TatMat, Superman, PistolPete, TheGodfather, TatPaul, Kel, Grumpy, Bo, Joe, Bruce and not-so-newAvantiJohn were more keen than the conditions and I'd braved lead duties for leg one (high time I hardened-up for that first flogging)    A gradual build up to 37 (so this old engine didn't chuck a rod) found Rocket the man to match beside me to Sanctuary's roundabout, and of course it was Wozza then PistolPete following to ruin any chance of recovery.  Damp and drizzly, spray off the wheel ahead, a grubby kit, spotted specs, a filthy bike, heart-rate in the heavens, copping a soaking through the puddles and legs calling muscular mercy all adding up to a great ride!

"This will do you good Foss, it really will" said a little optimistic voice as I hung on to the fast forging to the front, funny how you fix focus on something (Rocket's soggy skewer) while all the ifs buts and 'should-you-really-be-here's scroll through the cerebral cortex to shut the legs up.  Kel and Bo about faced at River Rd's end to tend to family schedules, GiantAndy's discs squealing in C sharp major slowing into Boundary Rd.  Some form of composure had returned now I had several ahead slicing the atmosphere, but I noticed that concerned look on the faces of those advancing for their duty in the drivers seat.
 

Conversations were shorter and less spirited than most Saturdays (The Godfather's effervescence exempt), I reckon café and coffee warmth had taken priority. Hanging on to Rocket and Wozza's 40+ hurry on Boundary Rd (smoothness soothing the sting) made me rather ragged facing the front on the turn into Old Dookie Rd.  I called a short turn the preserve the rhythm, Boof and Rocket then driving to the bridge, though The Godfather, next due for a turn, dived for the shelter in the down-line.  Superman and Grumpy hadn't fronted and Joe was found in the darkness of the caboose, TatMat, Pistol, Bruce and TatPaul all with tenacity in the tank to advance as we turned at the Toaster, feeling a hint of a west northwester.

Just a handful in the Pussycat pack set south at the Big Ring (their circuit shortened by softness to head homeward in Old Dookie Rd), our way west kept pacey by the fit faction.  Duty called me again at the kennels, though I'd grown accustomed to the pace and survived a reasonable turn with Rocket, glad that was over by Boundary Rd and hoped it may have be my last.  Bruce and Pistol finished off Lemnos-Cosgrove Rd with haste, GiantAndy squealing his departure as our thinning bunch took on Ford Rd. (where was Superman and Joe?)  Wozza and Rocket did a Verney Rd exit (family sporting duties) and a sudden calm descended over the remaining eleven, rejoining the up-line now a more attractive proposition for some reason.  Pace was perky (but not painful) on the dash to the hill, a full blown sprint struck off the register in this sodden state.  Bunched together on the Boulevard just ten remained when not-so-newAvantiJohn turned for home, I'd caved in to the consensus of coffee at Stanley's with allegiance vs conformity having a wrestling match in my head.  Out of the damp of a dismal day in café comfort, chat on super schools, warmer wear and miss spent youth erased thoughts of the soggy and foggy ride.....till time came to face the damp commute home.

17/6  Blinded by the light.
Fog forced Rules #5 and #9 to the fore as pings from Goats on WhatsApp abandoned plans to pedal, two degrees hardly the warm welcome to a working week.  The party faithful (Bruce, Col, Kreeky, Wozza, Kel, PistolPete, The Godfather, Bo and Grumpy lined up for Monday's duty, Wozza steering us east into Channel Rd while Grumpy dragged the chain in the opening k.  Those who'd spent hours cleaning filthy Saturday bikes were happy with a dry Monday road, though the damp atmosphere made it like pushing through soup.  I'd got a berth behind Bruce and was towed smoothly to the Kinder before facing the front, that tiny drop in temperature out of the draft really taking the breath away.

To the end of Central and into McFadyen Rd the engine was running reasonably well, matching Grumpy to Beckham's bend before he rolled across.  That tail-light set on max and (unwittingly) aimed right at my cornea was visual violence in foggy conditions, ten seconds exposure and I was trance-like; if Pavlov had've rung a bell I'd have tsunami'd saliva! Denied the view of three bikes ahead, I relied on Grumpy to smooth the speed, the road's edge my guide to the straight and narrow.  Finally released from the led lah lah land at Old Dookie Rd I returned to the up-line, comfort returning quickly with a good view ahead.  Time again for expenditure at the effort end in Lemnos-Cosgrove Rd, beside Bruce then Grumpy to Lemnos North Rd. Col and I compared the almost impossible task at the front with a talker when oxygen is your priority, something most of us (except Rocket) can relate to.  Speed spikes a bit as wheels work into Wanganui Rd, the hunger for the hurry to the hill handbraked for the sanctity of the no sprint standard on Mondays.  I'd arrived back at the pointy end in Rudd Rd with a deficit in determination, the mind was made up that muscles weren't going to play a part in it.  An early roll seemed like the soft option (but it kept the rhythm intact), the fog had lifted though the temperature hadn't, and time tolled for toil at work, so I parted company with the crew (who steered toward coffee and conversation as if to rub salt into the wound of working early)

18/6  Racing rain,

Succumbing to the snooze button a second time disqualified me from reaching the 5:40 fling by launch time, so a lap with Goats was a satisfactory substitute.  Coggo, Sandy, Snow, Heady and Hommie had herded at Friars, a rare sighting of the world's most endangered Goat species (Capra Robusta)   That's not to condone a breeding program Hommie!  Barely a hundred metres travelled and the first drops from the heavens fell, catching the headlights beam, had the forecast 7am shower arrived early to anoint us?  I had one of those "yeah, nah, but" moments till Rule #5 flooded the cortex, steering east onto Old Dookie Rd to take the drive to Dobson's as my duty.  A building northeaster (7-26 km/h) did it's best to blow me backward, Coggo taking over the tow to Central Ave.  Sandy's shift was short but determined, Heady hurling himself to School Rd before letting Snow loose as train driver.  The random drops from above had stopped and Hommie hauled us to Boundary to find it was my turn again, blessed with wind now behind.  An intention to reach the bridge was thought lame by the ego, that breeze at the backside re-setting the target to the highway.  Others did their bit while I enjoyed the draft, thoughts of the headwind home keeping the reserve tank untouched. Echeloned right to left on River Rd, I did my bit to Laws Drive and peeled off to the right for Coggo's turn to tow, only to have an unannounced car almost on top of me.. Yeah, thanks for the call Hommie!    I'd banked a little wattage in the tow to Central Kialla, hollering my au revoir to the five before steering to the truck route for the shortcut to Shepp, making good time to Archer Rd but blown about for the northern leg to town.

19/6  Keep refrigerated.

Minus one is for the inspired or the insane, so I ranked myself in the former along with Col, The Godfather, Rocket, Laura, Boof, Joe, not-so-newAvantiJohn, Wozza, Bo, PistolPete, Kel and Kreeky who'd faced the frost for the Wednesday lap.  Wozza got lungs labouring for leg one, the 'feels like minus 2.4' savaging breaths proportional to pace.  The usual contenders forged forward while many suffered speed in silence behind, The Godfather had turned down the tempo by Mitchell Rd, sending a (false) sense of security through the troops yet to face the front.  I'd joined the advance line behind Boof (layered like Douglas Mawson) with Bo as my backstop, Joe and Laura commanding the caboose through Central Kialla.  Col drove determined to River Rd's bridge, Boof rolled across promoting me to the pointy end with the expected target to the dip a long dark 1000 metres away.  Bo partnered for part two and I dug deep to deliver a decent drive, after Monday's lame effort I was keen to drag my ranking off the bottom rung.

800 metres was all the lungs and legs would deliver, so called a roll for Bo and not-so-newAvantiJohn to cut the breeze.  Surprisingly, Joe had arrived in the advance at second wheel, but realised the error of his ways and called for a gap in the downline to hide in.  I opened a two metre hole ahead of me but he was running on three cylinders half a k further, retreating in respiratory ruin to the comfort of the caboose.  Rocket took to Boundary Rd but bits were breaking off the back at One Tree Dam.  Memories of suffering the same indignity many moons ago drew me back to lend a draft to the distressed,  Laura latched on as I got to the Broken bridges, The Godfather (dragging Joe) joining us as we turned into Channel Rd.  Pistol Pete had returned to loan us his wheel, pleasing to find the bunch ahead cruising to ensure a united finish.  A gradual acceleration started to fracture the tail, so a tame tap along the ChaCha kept the crew as one.

20/6  An ice cold six pack.
Umpteen layers of insulation to ward off the minus one effect shoved the schedule out the window Thursday morning, the rush to catch the 5:40 train perfect preparation for the impending toil.  Bo, PistolPete, Kreeky, Kel and Col arrived at the carpark proving tenacity is contagious, PistolPete getting my vote for Captain Considerate, building the tempo carefully to the high 30's south into Archer Rd.  He went beyond the standard Sanctuary roundabout target and on to the truck route, adding a further 2k to Mitchell Rd (just to prove a Pistol point?)    Not to be outdone, Bo got into the drivers seat for a long haul too, east to Kialla Central Rd then north to River, but wait....longer to the bridge in a mine's-bigger-than-yours move.  Kel turned the turns back to sensible with a swift shift to the dip but Kreeky had the longer-is-better philosophy, pushing a solid turn to River Rd's end.

 My theory of short sharp shifts (and plenty of them) wasn't worth trying, I'd finally faced the front as we put noses north into Boundary Rd so set Channel Rd as my target to throw Col an elbow.  Over the Broken bridges and the old engine wasn't running too bad, but that ever so subtle incline to Channel Rd had the head throw in the towel.   Col was captain to the highway and I'd reckoned he'd make it to the Ham Hotel, but as if to increase my inadequacy, drove all the way to Old Dookie Rd.  Yeah, thanks Col, I'll chew that over with my therapist!  PistolPete  was back in charge for the west way home and with Bo as back-up, it appeared my turn was a one and only.  I suppose we all like our moment of glory or contribute to the cause for that sense of being part of the team, some even get their rocks off on pushing the pain barrier, but the cold had numbed any of these thoughts to be just content to survive the speed among the young ones.  As expected Pistol handed the helm to Bo at Central Ave, the solid spin back to town had me still in zone four in the draft, Kel taking the reins at the truck route to keep six silent to SPC.

21/6  The Friday frosty.

A southwester cut like a Samurai sword in Friday's two degrees, bones frozen despite a cooking cadence to the carpark.  Kreeky, The Godfather, Bruce, Boof, PistolPete, Joe, Kel, Bo, Laura and Col had huddled at the Archer shops for the 6 am set sail, but where was MyRideTrev, Kenworth, Shorty, Grumpy, SuperMario, Cate, TrekTrev, Superman, Pelly, ScottMatt, WhisperingJack, Jen, Ralphy, Jase, BamBam, AvantiAndy, Temple, Weapon, Nick, Lenny et al? Emigrated to the United States of Softness? Joined a basket weaving auxiliary? Attending a concrete conference? Spring may bring the answer...

Nothing quite prepares you for the chilled chase to catch the tail, that's the legacy of starting last, to suffer the multiplied reactions to the speed of the first shift . Kreeky captained us to Sanctuary's roundabout, the squad settling quickly as the pace was found to be feasible (in the absence of Rocket and Wozza?)   Sandwiched between slices of The Godfather and Col, I was promoted forward at Central Kialla, frozen extremities seemed to commandeer conversation (for those who could tolerate talking in the frozen atmosphere).      The Godfather had shortened his shift shy of River Rd's bridge, so I rolled across for the drive to the dip with Col, only five felines with the fortitude to get out in the real riding world crossing our path.

A chat with Col and Bo resolved that yesterday's 5:40 fling was a ripper ride, something to inspire working through winter (if the numbers continue to be keen)  North into Boundary Rd with an eye on the caboose keeping connected (how do you predict that whiplash effect?), we relished the breeze behind to reach Channel Rd and lucked some shelter from what orchards remain for the west leg home.  Almost to the S bend and my suddenly mushy Michelin caused  a pit-stop for repairs (and a fumble of frozen fingers to fix it!)     No pressure with ten watching and waiting in the cold, so I was pleased to complete a quick re-tube (looking like I knew what I was doing) and get on our way.  Cutting through the cold again took many breaths away, the spirited but sprint-less finish quickly giving way to the craving for coffee back in town.

Week 25   250km    YTD 6,506km              







         

Week 24 : Top guns and pop guns.

Post # 503
8/6 Saturday, sadly segregated.

Who'd make up the mix of the Saturday lap shuffled through the thoughts as I set south, it's that lucky dip of lads and lasses that puts the spice of variety in the ride.  Lance, Boof, TatMat, PistolPete, GiantAndy, Kreeky, TatPaul, Tina, TrekTrev, Kel, Bruce, Bo, Travis, The Godfather and CatKel were the ride's ingredients, Boof and PistolPete hurtling into the habitual hurry to Sanctuary's roundabout, many strung out behind probably wondering if they'd survive, but the Saturday spin rarely drops it disciples.   Most coming off driving duty grizzled at a struggle eastbound, I felt the battle too alongside Kreeky then Lance in River Rd's last k (yet the bureau called it calm), thoughts of the several k's of respite till next facing the front easing the legs pain.  First light revealed a grey day, a small pack of Pusstcats had beaten us to the BigRing, our path west feeling the chill of an imminent sun up.

Travis won a few votes calming the pace but GiantAndy had to bid his adieu heading for early employment.  Pistol and Boof turned the tempo back up in Ford Rd (preparing palpitations for Wanganui Rd?), I was pleased to have done my shift before the real rush started.  Into town and over the highway, I was back at forth wheel when Bo lit the fuse at the transfer station, drawing away from a strangely silent Godfather.  The bunch stayed united leaving Bo hung out to dry till Boof, Pistol and Travis kick started the sprint to the hill.   I was in luck to hold Kreeky's wheel as the trailing train lost a few carriages to Mt Wanganui, but we'd regrouped in Rudd Rd for a considerate cruise on the Boulevard.   A division at Mason St seemed a senseless segregation over café choice (au revoir seven years of social harmony?) only five seating at the Lemontree (though MyRideTrev, ScottMatt and KillkennyPaul swelled the numbers) for a yarn on the Pyrenees, gastric band surgery and burning banana bread.

10/6 A fickle forecast.

Monday's moist forecast cast a big shadow of disappointment, I'd observed my Sunday sabbath and the lust to lap was almost overwhelming in Monday's early hours, so a gap in the green on the 5am radar was like Christmas had come early.  A sinister sky kept my effort up driving into the darkness of New Dookie Rd, though my pace was paltry with a north northeaster (20-32 km/h) supressing the speed to snail-like.  The public holiday made the course car-less, nine k's east to the Pine Lodge Church to steer south and savour the tailwind (albeit briefly).  The wind put the wobbles into Old Dookie Rd, back southbound on Boundary tempted a lot of tempo but I needed to bank some wattage for a likely headwind home. A little shelter on an empty River Rd made my line respectable for the six k's of tarmac west, I'd contemplated a short-cut home via the truck route but Rule #5 overrode that nonsense.  Through Kialla Central and down to Mitchell Rd, I braced for the breeze at the brow that Archer Rd would deliver, the reality of steering north not so bad after all, just the right spin found on the close ratio cassette to get me to town, regrettably readying to work.

11/6  Champions of the chill.

Habit was the sole motivator to get me out the door on Tuesday, the 5:10 start for the sake of variety, certainly not to enjoy the three degree temperature! Thoughts of those softening souls that have already caved in to winters weather (won't they feel the sting in Spring!) stirred my speed on a foggy Ford Rd, loving the serenity of an abandoned strip of tarmac to contemplate Spartacus and Cindy suffering cycling Corsica and Tina touring Toulouse (some are doin' it tough!).   South on Boundary and back to town via New Dookie Rd got me into a decent rhythm, fronting Friars to find a ripper roll-up of Coggo, Sandy, Snow, Hommie, AvantiLeigh, Phil, Heady and Dippa assembled for the 6am spin.  Heady's habitual lead out of town handed the reigns to Sandy at the truck route, setting a suitable speed for nine to Indian file east.  Hommie then AvantiLeigh led the way to Central Ave for my turn to reach School Rd, Coggo then dragging us to Boundary.  Phil and Dippa sliced through Boundary Rd's fog but Snow was the man of motion driving a swift shift to the bridge. Great to see everyone donating to the cause, some more so than others but who's measuring at this time of year?   AvantiLeigh towed me the first k of River Rd and ushered me to the drivers seat at the Angora Farm, my favourite stretch of smooth tarmac making the job a little easier and inspiring the drive to the dip.  Back into the draft for recovery, Snow turned on the speed to finish River Rd, time for me to exit for a somewhat calmer nine k's home.

12/6  What wind?
Beating the bureau's prediction of precipitation was a bonus, but the tax was a strong northeaster (19-32 km/h) for Wednesday.  My commuting k's to the carpark were tentative, legs had been Lester Ellis's training bag overnight, so I rolled gingerly ahead in Archer Rd to let the bunch catch me warmed up.

Boof, Bruce, Liam, Col, Rocket, MyRideTrev, Wozza, PistolPete, The Godfather, Travis, Bo, Superman, Kreeky, Laura and Joe swept through the truck route intersection, my bolt to catch the back of the bunch erasing the legs' lament.  I found Laura at the back with a case of mind over muscles (the head wouldn't but the legs would), so an encouraging word was delivered to keep her aboard.  Many faces were painted in pain as the pack bore east into Mitchell Rd's gusts, though those flushed with fitness (no prizes for guessing who!) had barely raised a sweat.

With MyRideTrev, Laura and Joe resigned to the rear seats, I joined the up-line behind Superman, preparing for the pain at the pointy end somewhere in River Rd. Superman called an early roll at Laws Drive (a long weekend on the coast hadn't helped his hurry) so part two was partnered with Col, though drawing top weight had handicapped his horsepower too. That driving duo (Rocket and Wozz) sentenced most to hard labour to Boundary Rd, Col now wrecked and retiring to the rear.  I'd got lucky being on the sheltered side for Boundary Rd as the up-line battled the breeze up to Channel Rd, the turn west suddenly silent with the wind now behind us.

I'd just joined the up-line as the speed spiked toward the Kinder, Joe and Laura letting go of the caboose as PistolPete sped to Hopeful corner. The Godfather was silently searching for cover as Rocket hit the boost button at Prentice Rd, the bunch long and thin for the charge at the ChaCha.  Time for traffic to pass at the truck route was spent in oxygen overload, the steady spin into town greeted by dark clouds looming to promise a damp day.


13/6  Winters welcome.
A damp road and a wintery westerly needed a quick reply to Tum's "anybody riding?", my thumbs up ensuring he didn't crawl back to bed (three weeks off the bike and he wasn't going to wriggle out of this one!)  40 psi was donated to a somewhat soft front tyre (hoping it would hold for the lap till repaired at leisure at night) then set off to find what Goats gathered.

Heady and Coggo had fronted Friars too, so as bastions to Rule #9, we got outta town on an unspoken but understood Indian file effort on Old Dookie Rd.  Tum took the lead role crossing the truck route, I suffered the spasmodic spray from Heady's wheel (what better than to spend your winter evenings bringing the bike back to respectable) while Coggo sat as backstop.  Tum's tempo survived for 800 metres before handing the hurt to Heady, a good effort considering the rarity of his riding.  Heady got over the bridge and half way to Central Ave before his elbow said effort expired, so I stayed in the drivers seat till School Rd for Coggo to finish off Old Dookie.  Tum started round two of turns in Boundary Rd though I wished he'd have got up the road to gift us some shelter.
Now at second wheel, I was watching Heady for signs of suffering as he battled toward the bridge, the shoulders dropped, a lower gear grabbed, twenty metres more then his elbow said enough.   My measly 900 metres to the highway seemed shy of a decent shift, so set my target at Channel Rd as a changeover for Coggo to captain the crew.  The reality of River Rd's headwind
 brought us back to earth, the limits of labour were to be explored if we were to get back home before breakfast. Tum's tenacity was at a trickle a k down the road and Heady was hurting at half that (at least he's out having a go) so when I was handed the reins just shy of the Angora farm I went easy on the throttle till Heady was comfortable in the caboose.  Gently up to 35, I plugged away to the dip, handing Coggo the drivers seat, but was called into third wheel with Heady close to implosion.  Twenty metres on and he'd dropped the wheel into no-man's-land, Coggo considerately calming the pace till he'd caught the draft at the bridge.  Time was ticking away so did my au revoir's at River Rd's end to labour the truck route and enjoy an second wind in Archer to get me home on schedule.

14/6  Sorting serious from soft.

Those first few drops were dismissed as trivial but spotted specs and a semi-gloss tarmac a k later had poked the pessimist in my head.  Positive thoughts Foss! 'Tis but a spurious sprinkle! This (hopefully) passing precipitation would sort the serious from the soft and, as expected, the turn-up was all top-guns, the pop-guns were all in bed!  Rocket, Wozz, PistolPete, Boof, Bruce and not-so-newAvantiJohn slipped swiftly south into Archer Rd, Laura a last minute entry thrown in the deep end to catch the tail, so Bruce, PistolPete and I eased up to keep her in tow.  Two rows of four forged on to Mitchell Rd, quietly confident the drizzle was done.  I'd lucked Bruce's wheel on the advance to the front (ignoring Rocket's horsepower behind me for part two), a half shift toward River Rd's bridge was enough to leave something in reserve for part three.

Rocket respectfully levelled with me to the bridge, the real hurt (part three) was hanging on to the hurry as he and Boof turned up the tempo.  Laura was clinging to the caboose, no doubt buoyed by a bunch belonging on one hand and battling the 'what-the-hell-was-I-thinking' on the other.  A little inspiration helped her headspace hurdle the hurt, my eyes peeled that the bolt into Boundary didn't detach her from the draft. PistolPete fired a big calibre shot to Channel Rd, my heart-rate happier there was a gentle build of speed toward town, to the S bend beside Bruce then keeping a cap on a cardiac calamity beside Rocket to the cypress trees had me wrung out.  Speed was kept quick but considerate to the ChaCha, then none of that casual cruise crap back home, speed still stayed spicy to the suburbs before northeners and southerners parted company at Archer Rd, not-so-newAvantiJohn glad he got out of bed and Laura lasting to the end (elephant stamp for effort!)

Week 24     271km             YTD 6,256km  





 
             

Week 23 : The dying breed of the dedicated.

Post #502
1/6  Winter's warm? welcome.

Lots of layers of lycra for the first day of winter had little effect against the chilly southwester, not till a k down the road did a decent heart rate and circulation turn up the internal heater.
TatMat, Lance, TrekTrev, Tina, TatPaul, Kreeky, Kel, The Godfather, PistolPete, Rocket, Liam, Boof, Travis and Col set south at six, last minute Nev was a little later than that, hurrying head down to chase to catch the tail as TatMat sped smoothly to Sanctuary's roundabout (I'd taken the easy option of tucking in for a long tow before facing the front).  Grumpy joined the clan as we crossed the truck route, winter's darkness our companion for most rides over the next twelve weeks unfortunately.

Wozza was found in River Rd, The Godfather's garble echoing through the bunch and across the fields, testing the limits of the Noise Abatement Act and sleeping residents en-route.  Lance's turn dialled down the tempo a tad to the relief of many, mind you his tail-light strobing was almost inducing epilepsy.   I'd arrived at the business end in Boundary Rd at the Hosie Rd intersection, pairing with TatPaul to the ham hotel then a long stretch to Old Dookie Rd with TatMat.  1500 metres looked longer than the legs would labour, what your head says and your legs will do are often worlds apart, so finding faith beyond the signals of stress is the hard part.  Surprising seeing a 92 rpm cadence but I made sure to avert eyes from the heart rate number, that reality might ruin me!  TrekTrev, Tina and Kel took comfort in the caboose, PistolPete, Liam, Wozza and Rocket providing plenty of place to the Toaster, Pine Lodge's church and up to the Big Ring, beating the Cats to the corner.

My lead role came up again at Matilda Drive, TatPaul's turn terminating short beside Boof, so I had a short but swift shift to Verney's roundabout then the kilometre of cruelty to the highway with TatMat as the hurry heightened for Wanagnui Rd. (some comfort coming from TatMat's kudos and  being relieved of driving duty)  The dash at DECA now seems history, although the pace still percolates to the hill, the fast forties are favourable over the freakish fifties for most. A sensible spin along the Boulevard brought us to breakfast, seems sad to now have café division (after six years of post ride social harmony) but ten teamed at the Lemontree to tattle on carbon wheels, Vietnam and winter insulation.




4/6  Thrash therapy.
Most of my motivation was invested in others fronting up, Tuesday's chilled southerly (17-30 km/h) doing little to wear away winter woes.  The craving to crank a few k's (denied from Monday's damp) got me to the grid, finding PistolPete and with two led's (Bo and Kel) coming.  Kreeky's inclusion at the third stroke was a bonus but I was silly enough to get Pistol's wheel of wattage as we set off.  He was at least kind dialling up the hurt gradually, but by Sanctuary's roundabout I was ready for rest rather than face the front.

Suffering into the southerly for 800 metres went better than expected, handing the helm to Kel at the truck route was a respiratory relief though.  Kel had had enough of the front half a k later, Bo driving the train to Mitchell Rd for Kreeky to crank to Kialla Central.  The southerly behind primed PistolPete to get pacy north, though I scored the slog with the wind to the starboard side to River Rd's bridge.  Kel had called it quits and called me in to forth wheel, recovery would be hard fought as Bo took a long drive to River's end in a display of dogged determination.  Kreeky did likewise in Boundary Rd, still swift and smooth at the Broken bridges but the search for a lower cog at Channel Rd said his shift had reached the use-by date.  Pistol took over as pilot and poured on another 4 km/h, this was going to hurt for a while I reckoned.   Not wanting to be the link that breaks, you hold on to keep the train as one and prove something to the team (and probably to yourself), gradually the legs hardened to the hurt but I just needed to get my heart rate off the escalator.  Pistol drove on and on to Old Dookie Rd, handing me the pain of the portside wind, and aiming to reach the bridge might have been shooting for the stars 'cause I was certainly seeing them 100 metres shy of the target.   An elbow to Bo and retreating back to forth place, that growling bear stayed with me for several hundred metres, Bo thankfully keeping pace just below my heart's Hiroshima.  Kreeky headed the hurry from Central Ave and took another long shift to the city limits, my rubber legs happy they'd finished the thrashing at the front and happier for the therapy of a quiet roll home.

5/6 Wednesday in the Westinghouse.

Take a deep breath, clench your buttocks, grit your teeth and open the front door, Wednesday's temperature (feels like -0.4) was going to bite!  Without a moments thought on why I was doing this, I set south guessing there would be only the tough that would turn up,  discounting the many that have succumbed to softness.  Rocket, Tina, Kenworth, Col, The Godfather, PistolPete, TrekTrev, Boof, MyRideTrev, Joe, Bo, Kreeky and Wozza restored faith in the hardcore prevailing, readying for the six am carpark launch.  I'd promised self to harden-up and do an early shift at the rushin' front.....till Rocket took the squad by the scruff of the neck and tore into Archer Rd's darkness.  Lads in his league moved up to contribute to the speed while others (including me) sat for the natural rotation to force them to the front, some choosing to cringe in the caboose.

MyRideTrev was slowly slipping off the wheel ahead till compassion caused a calm in pace at Sanctaury's roundabout, Joe and Tina cocooning him in the rear seats.  Over the truck route, Wozza and Boof resumed the regular rate of knots, though not enough to silence The Godfather garbling behind me while I soaked up the delightful draft that Kenworth provides.  Kreeky led the way east to Central Kialla, fog making navigation a niggle in River Rd, just as I was about to score the lead.  To the dip with Kenworth and beyond beside The Godfather (how silent he becomes at the front!), I found the pace most bearable thanks to new found comfort atop the Fizik (I'll spare you the gory details!)
  

Bo paired with The Godfather toward the quarterhorse stud, but may have been dreaming of Vegas driving almost into the right hand gutter, but Rocket soon straightened the aim toward Boundary.  There's a marked drop in clockwise pelotons and their numbers now that cold is our constant companion, HurtLocker is history, the cruisers are compact, Cats have condensed, even the PainTrain runs on limited days with just a few carriages.  I was back in the up-line in Channel Rd, The Godfather now babbling in the rear seats, Col and Kreeky driving from Rabbit Row for Kenworth and I to face the front nearing Central Ave.  I'd thought I'd done well getting to the Kinder in the high thirties till Bo rolled across and opened the way for Rocket to fire up the afterburners, high forties now asked of the legs as the bunch thinned and lengthened on the ChaCha.

6/6  Therapeutic Thursday.

Legs were labouring (or maybe it was the will weakening?) Thursday, that buzz from a jolly good thrash on the 5:40 fling was substituted for a tap with the Goats to stem a speed psychosis setting in.  I took the pair of lax legs on a golf course loop to inject a morsel of motivation into them, the hint of a west southwester felt like the handbrake was left on but time (or the lack of it) kept the tempo going to berth at Friars at 5:57.  Phil, Sandy, Hommie and Snow represented the dying breed of the dedicated by six am, so I assumed Heady's heady responsibility to lead the line out of town.  Sandy and Hommie had suffered the rigors of a week in Bali, so out of compassion I took a long drive to Central Ave.  I must have set a suitable speed 'cause Sandy contributed a short shift, Phil and Hommie polishing off Old Dookie Rd for Snow to steer us south.  That WSW'er had faded to make the effort a little easier, Snow's elbow promoting me to the drivers seat at the Fig Farm, so I made the highway the target for the next roll.  Snow dragged the chain crossing the Midland, so I plugged the gap at forth wheel, five eventually back into line for Phil then Hommie to tow us to River Rd.

Settled into a sweet spin on the sixteen, the task of train driver wasn't so daunting, I'd aim at reaching the quarter horse stud and see if there was any horsepower left.  The four leds behind me cast shadows ahead, the tarmac smoothed and wheels hummed as I slipped comfortably into the zone.  Re-aiming to reach the dip, focus was fixed on smoothing speed within +/- .3 (but keep your eyes off the heart rate Foss!)  Flicking an elbow to Snow downgraded me to last in line, time to soak up a draft and prepare for the solo spin home.  I bid my farewells at Central Kialla Rd, finding Coggo arriving from the truck route (alarm malfunction?) to chase down the four I'd just departed.  I kept the cadence cooking to maintain some momentum against the gusts from oncoming trucks, north into Archer the labour lessened to make a pacey yet pleasant pedal homeward.

7/6 Mild Melbourne.

Down in the big smoke, Port Phillip had lured me to lap a few k's on Friday and Melbourne's mild temperature (12 degrees) made it a fitting finish to the week. A south-north spin made a change to my usual north-south tour of the eastern side of the bay, just bikes in twos and threes setting south from Port Melbourne at six.  I'd passed a few by St.Kilda though it wasn't long before finding three spinning a similar speed, though without an invite I stayed respectfully five metres off the back.  Through Brighton and massed bunches were now plying north, but I was content dealing with my own company instead of a mixed menagerie of the unknown.  Those first few inclines at Sandringham took up the slack in my flatlander legs, the whiff of salt air stirring some spirit to get off the Fizik and have a go.  A second's hesitation at a yellow traffic light and I was on my own again, high time I stopped being a wheel sucker and did some work anyway!  Down through Black Rock and Beaumaris those gradual rises and falls kept me busy, a few more solo cyclusts now out and about giving me something to chase. The road almost levels at Parkdale and gives way to a gradual decline to Mordialloc, bumping up the average (and the euphoria) before my U-turn point at the Tour de Café (closed weekdays).  I'd expected a fair expenditure of effort for the return but the slowly increasing commuting traffic had the effect of a vehicular vacuum, nearly all respectfully giving that metre that matters.   It pays to ride the road of regular riders in these parts.  Light started to fill the sky and bikes were less common by Hampton, copious cars now all on their way to work while I secretly sniggered on my rostered day off.  Lifestyle!  Back to St.Kilda and onto Beaconsfield Parade, luscious lycra lasses now jogged the paths by the beach, but my focus was on coffee, considering a 1:30am bedtime and 5:00am rise!  (a great gig then a great ride well worth the deprivation)

Week 23    236km             YTD 5,983km