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