Week 35 : The us and them thing.

Post #515
26/8  The peloton populaire.

For a fleeting moment serious thought was given to going back to the bliss of bed, another freezing morning was doing it's best to soften me, but the regret of missing the Saturday ride would keep me cranky most of the day, so h.t.f.u. 'ol Foss, kit-up and saddle-up!  The chain clattered it's neglect and teeth chattered to the "feels like minus one", a sad and soulful tune for the six k warm-up (now there's an oxymoron!) to the starting grid.  Rocket and Boof had berthed, the clock clicked 5:59 and the floodgates opened,  Travis, Manny, Liam, TrekTrev, Kreeky, MyRideTrev, Lance, TatMat, Wozza, GiantAndy, PistolPete, DeterminedDan, Bo, TatPaul, Bruce, Joe (not Jude) and Shorty filled the carpark and the atmosphere with chatter, and a good measure of cackle as The Godfather rolled nonchalantly in.  The circus had come to town!  The order got sorted as legs spun south, thoroughbreds to the front and old nags galloping to keep up behind, all chasing Superman's reflective cape (gillet) to Sanctuary's roundabout.

Grumpy was another early starter as bait for the bunch, the sight of his bare legs making most feel warmer.  Shorty, DeterminedDan and Kreeky represented blue team Avanti, all aboard the bargain buy of the year (carbon Corsa SL, Dura-Ace and DT Swiss wheels for a rock bottom $2999).  Why today was well populated was anyone's guess, the temperature certainly wasn't inviting so maybe we're the moths to the early light.  With the bigger bunch came a mixed bag of wattages (contributing to varied velocities), although it took some urging to draw MyRideTrev from the caboose. GiantAndy provided him the tow and I played back up as we made our way forward in the advance line, finally facing the front at the fig farm and careful to level with my bike mechanic less I pay double for the next service.

MyRideTrev's turn was short but sweet, Rocket next up cranking kindly alongside to Old Dookie Rd.   Wozza and Rocket proved their power dragging the bunch to the Toaster with total disregard to a headwind of course, Pussycat numbers low as we turned toward town on Lemnos-Cosgrove Rd.  This riding in daylight thing is a treat after months of dashing around in the dark, noticing someone's smoothed the rough join to Ford Rd's new stretch of tarmac, even fixed the northside gully that played a part in the Pussycat prang. Looks like I'd be at the front again for the work in Wanganui, a tow to the front from GiantAndy was handy but the effort beside him made my role a short one to DECA (steering the train around a jacket left in the middle of the road).  TatMat and DeterminedDan drove possessed to the hill but GiantAndy stretched ahead for the Mt.Wanganui win.  Breakfast warmed us at a lengthening Lemontree table, tattle on The Rules, big distances and being possessed.

26/8  Cold comfort.

By the skin of my teeth I'd caught the tail of the Monday train, every traffic light against me on the cold commute to the start line.  PistolPete and Kel led the dedicated few (Bruce, Kreeky, Wozza, Grumpy, Bo and The Godfather) into Channel Rd while I gobbled the oxygen of recovery at the rear, two k's in the draft and I'd descended from the heart rate heavens, coherent enough to join the up line on The Godfather's wheel.  It was one of those days where you could feel the breeze (a subtle southwester) but the bureau said bullshit, I'd managed to avoid the southern stretch of Central Ave and lucked the northeastern leg of Channel and the north northwest of Boundary Rd for a pairing with The Godfather then Grumpy for my opening salvo.  Focus fixes on strange things in the tow of recovery, Grumpy's grubby Giant still soiled from last week's damp and the contrast of PistolPete's pristine Pinarello about to serve up some speed at the bridge.  With Wozza's wattage alongside, Pistol's pace had a silencing effect on the small squad, all the way to New Dookie Rd they blurred the bitumen in a labour on legs (but they were probably just above idle)

You've gotta give kudos to Kel storming her way to the front in the mass of males, she's almost the last of the lasses left to tame the testosterone and put balance into the babble in a bunch of boofy blokes.  Come back Tina, Jen, Cate, Laura, Car + Mel, the bunch has turned a bit shabby without you! (PistolPete's panache the exception)   Bo and The Godfather went into extra time from their two k drive on Lemnos-Cosgrove Rd, another k beside Bo in Ford Rd softened The Godfather (it's strangely reassuring hearing the gasps of labour alongside when your tank still has something left) so my effort was eased reaching Grahamvale Rd.  I savoured that rare moment of being right in the zone for the drive to Verney Rd but I'll admit I was glad to grab Grumpy's draft for the next leg to the highway.  Maybe I'd avoid the work in Wanganui?  Pistol and Wozza put in a hurry toward the hill,  Kel on the limit with Pistol's pace to Kittles Rd, but there was a calmer conclusion along the Boulevard as the crew cruised to coffee,

27/8  Tuesday's torment (but lovin' it!)

Second wheel to PistolPete (again) and into a chilly southerly wasn't my ideal place to start the Tuesday 5:40 fling, but I was sure I'd get over it.....later.  Grumpy, Kel, Kreeky and Bo were lined up behind, special guest Boof along for the ride too (on holiday from the Hares?)    My head was full of great intention starting my shift from the truck route, winding up the speed to the previous pace I was soon sent the signals of stress from labouring lungs and lamenting legs that I'd set the speed a bit swift, Mitchell Rd still a pinpoint on the horizon of hurt.  I reckon I could hear the snores of big engines at an idle behind me and that switched on the stubbornness to drive harder (I just wished the speedo had reflected all that effort).  Trimming a k off the tempo might help reach the target but legs wanted more of the lesser as soon as I'd started that softening, a car up used as an excuse to slow a little more (but seeing that sinking speed dialled up the disappointment).

Kudos from the passing crew when my elbow flapped surrender in Mitchell Rd soothed a tormented mindset, but how the legs protested accelerating to catch the caboose when Grumpy worked us east to Central Kialla. Not wishing ill on others, I'd hoped others were going through the same struggle, or am I the misfiring Magna among the Murcielago's?  Muzzling my gasps, grunts and groans as Boof drove the train to River Rd, he then caught a case of the 'Tina's' with "a little bit more" to the bridge.  A bit of breath had returned so I could keep up with Bo's big shift in River Rd, his hurry to Boundary Rd helped by the southwester.  Kel drove deja vu (last Tuesday) to One Tree Dam, Kreeky still blessed by the new Avanti advantage powering up to the pub, but that put me closer to the deep end, that thin draft from PistolPete as he set sights on a three k shift at forty.  I was banking on my second turn to be less torment than the first, but Pete had delivered me to Old Dookie Rd where that southwester hit me as I hit the front for the west way home.  I'd nearly made it to School Rd but my elbow got in early and said enough, Grumpy's turn starting strong but was worn by the wind reaching Central Ave.  Boof did the honours of driving the last leg home, no let up on the legs but the head was happier seeing relief beyond the finish line.

28/8  Too cool for Cats.

Another bone chiller of a morning did little for the enthusiasm riding to Wednesday's whip around, though MyRideTrev was inspired enough to drag a few hibernators (Whispering Jack, BamBam and Laura) into an early exit of town to rid the rust and reacquaint with riding.  Zero on the temperature gauge was throwing them in the deep end.  Bo, Shorty, Kreeky, Bruce, PistolPete, Joe (not Jaques) Kel, Rocket, Superman, Boof, TrekTrev congregated in the cold carpark for the standard start at six in the usual 'them and us' format, 'them' of freakish fitness forging to the front while 'us' of spurious speed struggled to keep up till a hint of warmth in the legs and a sense of duty forced us forward.  Each day the sun rises two minutes earlier, things we haven't seen for months now visible for a change ; a thick frost at the roadside (confirms our diligence, or delusion), and cud chewing cows giving us the "what the?" look. (and they're not stupid standing naked in the frost munching grass?)

That pre-dawn orange piercing through the fog cancelled our craziness though.  Luck had me between Joe (not Jesse) and Shorty headed to the front in River Rd, Joe (not Jude) going a little longer and a little stronger at each attempt in the drivers seat.  Heady was the solitary bike bearing west ('twas too cool for Cats obviously) and it was inspiring to see the Goat train of pain running again as we steered north into Boundary Rd. Wednesday's are generally less taxing in tempo than the Tuesday or Thursday thrash, though Shorty, Superman, Joe (not Jethro) and Kel had already taken up retirement at the rear, ushering me back into the advance line with TrekTrev ahead and PistolPete behind.  It felt weird to carve through the calm of Channel Rd instead of fighting a wind, to Central Ave and it was time for driving duty again with a tiring TrekTrev to the Kinder but a powerful PistolPete to Hopeful corner.  The red leds ahead of MyRideTrev and his comeback kids was bait for a charge at the ChaCha, though it was fresh enough in the low forties to restrict the rush.

29/8 Hello hibernators!

That sinister world of the sleep-in nearly got me in it's grip, those precarious moments beyond the alarm spent fighting the BeerMat syndrome till sense took over.  I abandoned the ritual Thursday  prologue and tapped to Friars to see which Goats gathered.  Hommie, Heady and Coggo rolled up for 6 am duty, Heady not so keen to take the first shift so I treated him to a tow out of town.  Belly had emerged from the endangered species list to join us at SPC as I gently squeezed the accelerator to Dobson's bridge, mindful of Hommie carrying top weight and Belly's rarity of riding.    Heady's turn was shorter than 'lil Jodie's seatpost, a whole lotta huffing and puffing to the back as Coggo captained us eastward.  Even Belly had baulked at advancing when Hommie took the helm, and with Heady hiding in the caboose, I was back at second wheel already.  Hommie's copious draft was a delight though!

Back into hard labour at the front with four hundred metres of Old Dookie Rd left, I reckoned on riding a k of Boundary would give recovery time for some to be tempted to do a turn.  Five on the five forty fling crossed our path heading north, I peeled off the front nearing the pork palace for Coggo to carry us to the highway.  Heady made a second attempt in the driving seat but with speed swiftly sinking, the rear seat of recovery was reality.  Belly braved a brief turn, handing over to Hommie to press on to the Broken bridges, my turn again to reach River Rd.  Coggo poured some spice into the speed to the quarter horse stud, Hommie doing well to nearly reach the dip (considering the ballast he's accumulated) where my number came up again.  Aiming at the bridge was far enough 'cause I wanted a tow before facing the solo stretch home, my elbow gave Coggo the lead and I rolled to the rear, Heady now a distant o.t.a. dot on the rear horizon.  Hoo-roo's were delivered at Central Kialla Rd to drive the shortcut via the truck route to town, keeping an eye on the clock to keep my employer happy.


30/8  Friday in the fridge.

Getting my head around the hurt as Wozza turned up his wattage down Archer Rd was Friday's struggle, fridge like temperatures with that sort of tempo was contrary to what my unco-operative legs wanted.  Superman, Boof, PistolPete, Grumpy, Bo, Rocket, The Godfather, TrekTrev, Kel, Kreeky and Bruce seemed satisfied with the speed south (or were some suffering in silence?) as thirteen thrashed to Mitchell Rd, fog scenically blanketing the fields across to Central Kialla.

The Godfather served up the entertainment (whether we wanted it or not), how peaceful the week's been till now!  River Rd was empty again (surely a sweaty spin on a static bike doesn't count?), The Godfather dialling down the velocity toward the dip, suiting Superman who's still paying the price of hibernation (making mine an easy part one at the front).  Part two hurried up the heart rate to match Wozza's pace, my will wanted to reach Boundary Rd but the old engine expired two hundred metres shy.  We'd gathered up Laura in the rush, was she the sole comeback kid on an early mission?   The Goat train of pain was running again, five working west as we slowed to point noses north. 

The Wozz and Bruce combination made short work of Boundary Rd and short breaths for me, they're happily chatting away at the business end while most were maximising each chilled lung full to keep in touch.  It's that us and them thing again.  The ritual retirements started in Channel Rd and tempted by the tow from those driving at the front, I was joining them.  Maybe the TGIF mindset is softening me?  It was hardly a sprint, more like a squeeze of the throttle on the ChaCha, but it still had the effect of stretching the bunch long, the regroup on the roll to the truck route filled with The Godfather's garble.



Week 35           250km        YTD 8,882km

Week 34 : The drive you thought wasn't within.

Post #514
17/8  Bay day.

A bike and the bay was bait for a Saturday lap while in the big smoke for the weekend,  an almost tropical eight degrees and a lazy east northeaster was about the only company on the Mordialloc end of Beach Rd at six. So much for the Saturday sociology.    A few minutes spin got the engine stoked up, ready to get angry for the first of the gradual inclines beginning at Mentone's 'Edgy'.  An occasional southbound bunch reinforced my rationale to ride at this hour, sea air doing something for the enthusiasm as a distant red led beckoned a chase.  The h.r. went on an escalator on the bumps to Beaumaris, the roads gradually populating with southbound bunches of eights and twelves chasing a few soloists.  I'd caught and passed the few heading north, wheels humming on the super smooth hot mix as the "Beauy bumps", "The Anna Meares crush", "Cerberus lung buster" and "Go Go Juice" segments blurred by.  The odd glance back confirmed I had none in pursuit, more blinking leds ahead seemed to Morse code "chase me" to Sandringham.  The CBD lights drew me ever northward, mowing down plenty of ones and twos, wasn't that a balm for a thin-skinned ego!

The forecast had promised a little southbound help for the return, so a push to Port Melbourne went on my agenda in Brighton as bunches formed in the side streets.  Luscious lasses in lycra jogged St.Kilda's beachfront to distract my drive but I'd found my way to Luna Park and set about burning the legs onto Beaconsfield Parade for a seven k push to the Port.  I took a couple of minutes as a breather in Bay Rd before about facing and setting south, the promise to self for a relaxed return was soon ditched as others (seemingly snail-like) were reeled in regularly (or was it International Day of the dawdler?)  You have to laugh when a flurry of red traffic lights halt you at every intersection (we are blessed riding rural roads), passing then being passed by a pair of matching Specialized (even suited the same) through most of Brighton. 

Traffic lights lessened in Sandringham and I'd forged ahead of the pedalling pigeon pair, sensing one of the Specialized had stuck to my wheel.  Well into the groove, I'd gobbled up a few threes and fours en-route to Black Rock, "love to Sylvia", Ohhhh Boy!" and "Yeah, another useless segment on Beach Rd" slipping by as I began to tire of the dag still drafting (without a hint of help). Perhaps a five hundred word essay on Rule #67 as homework? Steadily stoking the speed and keeping the cadence cooking (what a delight that Dura-Ace close ratio cassette is), total ignorance was given to the heart rate,  I scored a couple of PB's on Mentone rises (helped by  hearing the huff and puff from Sir Specialized battling behind) and with the addiction to a long black biting me, emptied the tank to the Mordialloc pier.  Slowing to berth at Tour de Café, my wheel-sucker (without a word) about faced and headed back north ; no worries mate, you're welcome!  A long black and banana bread soothed the sting of a 335 suffer score, all shapes and sizes congregating and refuelling at the café as a start, a turn around, a half way or finish to the Beach Rd habit.

19/8  Monday's masochism.

I felt the hometown chill Monday, an extra layer added to ward off the "feels like minus two" and I was off to the carpark to find who'd be as determined (or deranged) as I.  PistolPete, Bruce, Kel, Kreeky and Bo formed the compact clan for a fresh forty k, pushed by a west northwester nine k's out of town, only to suffer the headwind home.  Like scoffing the black forest cake before the brussels sprouts or doing the descent before the climb, both we'd rather do the other way around, but we don't get a choice with the weather and winter will usually dish up it's worst. Kreeky then Kel made for collaborative company from the Kinder to the S bend, the wind whipping up some grizzles on the turn north to the pub.  Kreeky's cold withdrew him from further duty which put me on Bo's wheel in Boundary Rd, he and PistolPete not sparing the wattage up to the fig farm.  The pessimist would have me cringing in the caboose but 'ol mate optimist dragged me (reluctantly) forward for driving duty (half a wheel back from Bo's determined drive in the hope he'd respect his elders)

Two k's shaved off the previous pace prevented my implosion, Kel a tough cookie to contend with as I wrung out the last drops of determination to make it to New Dookie Rd.  It was hard to speed up recovery with just four swapping shifts, then Kel withdrew from active service as the headwind hurt us in Lemnos-Cosgrove Rd.  PistolPete drew us single file (sensibly) into the wind though I was staying at forth wheel till I'd calmed my cardiac count.  Two k's in the draft while Pistol, Bruce and Bo battled the wind (20-28 km/h) got my guilts going, so I followed Bruce's wheel up for duty in Ford Rd.  The workload at the front seemed easier than wrestling to hold a draft in the rear ranks, but the muscle to manage the pace kept my shift short.  Another turn came around in the final throws of Ford Rd, shame there wasn't a string of traffic at the highway to let lungs recover.  Bo, Pistol and Bruce kept fronting for the flagellation, so a sense of teamwork sent me forward again, this shift swift and just a bit further.  Go figure?  Over the hill and into Rudd Rd, the wind now behind us sped the Boulevard bolt to the Butter Factory, consuming coffee and conversation on another day off inspired a loop a little later (a Tina trademark) to add twenty k's and break the forty habit.

20/8  I want my mummy!
It looked like a thrash for three as Kreeky, Col and I watched five forty tick over on the starting grid but PistolPete, Bo and Kel saved our suffering arriving from the south as we set sail into Archer Rd's darkness.  Pistol towed the team to the truck route (as is his want), my turn to move it to Mitchell Rd, waging war on the west northwester, so I sat on the roads' centre to shield those that would shield me later.  Yeah, it's echelon 101 but it's surprising just how many don't get it!

Kreeky took the reigns while  I attempted recovery at the rear, but what was now a tailwind only turned up the tempo (and the toil).  My vision was beginning to sharpen again as Col bolted to River Rd, Bo got in the drivers seat and with the breeze at the backside, turned up the turbo toward Boundary Rd.  This would be another of his long drives.  Legs and lungs kept answering the call for more as Bo broke into the forties out of the dip, thoughts spared for Kel hanging on at second wheel but there again youth has that athletic advantage.  Bo finally relinquished the lead when we turned north into Boundary, Kel keeping the quickness to One Tree Dam before passing the pilot's position to PistolPete.  Enthusiasm was up to the brim but the red light was flashing on my energy gauge, Pistol pouring on the power to the highway where we were blessed to a brief breather for traffic (for five seconds anyway).  It was only thirteen hundred metres to the bridge but it may have well been months away, pleas for power went unanswered from my legs that had lost their will for wattage.  The growling bear got me to the bridge, Kreeky showing faster form made it to Old Dookie Rd.  Shifts turned short and swift into the headwind home, stepping into another world of hurt but a greater level of achievement as a bonus.  It was hammer time for me at School Rd and again at Dobson's estate, four hundred metre turns into that wind setting the legs on fire but at least I had partners in pain.   Bo's blast to SPC tested my limits of labour, accomplishment the only thing carrying me to the showgrounds where I bid my farewell and dawdled home.

21/8 Wind worn.
I pondered my trickle of torque as the westerly wore away the speed to the Wednesday grid, but doesn't the bunch dig up some drive you thought wasn't within. Well, I was hoping they would!   Boof, Rocket, Shorty, Kreeky, Superman, Wozza, Col, Bruce, The Godfather, TrekTrev and PistolPete had laughed in the face of the 26-38 km/h winds, though the humour was hidden on the faces of TrekTrev and Superman.
Boof got the squad spinning south (Superman suffering at second wheel), the regular pundits of pace forming the advance line at the city limits.  I'd sandwiched between Col and Shorty, the tailwind turning up the tempo and terminating talk in Mitchell Rd though it didn't stop The Godfather serving up the spite.   Bruce scoffed at the sidewind spinning swiftly through Central Kialla, chains clicking to the little cogs (though The Godfather's gears clattered louder than the man himself) as Wozza and Rocket got heads down for the hurry east on River Rd.

I found forty feasible beside Col for a k but basic survival reflexes urged me to roll, hoping Shorty would partner peacefully.  He didn't.  (That new bike euphoria is excusable). Superman suffered a short shift north on Boundary Rd then suffered with a capital S at second wheel to Boof bolting to the bridges, retreating to the rear for resuscitation as the fit faction forged forward to Channel Rd.  The headwind was a hell for most and a mere hiccup for others (yeah, you guessed who!) as we faced the westerly back to town, a few had crucified themselves against the 38 km/h gusts at the front and I was nearing certain cruelty at the pointy end in Central Ave when  

Where did everyone go?

Rocket hit the front and hit the gas to the Kinder, drawing a dozen desperado's to the ChaCha.  Freakishly fast and impervious to the wind, Rocket had his head down in a hurry to the finish line while others could only hang on hurting, bits breaking off the back of the bunch all the way to Orrvale Rd.  A long pause at the truck route allowed the broken bits to re-bond, the pace turning back up to a solid spin to town.



22/8  Heady's headwind hernia.
For a split second I questioned the reason to ride into Thursday's windswept darkness at 5:25 (some strange folk still snooze in the warmth of their beds, slowly softening) but quickly withdrew into the crazy comfort of my o.c.d. world aboard two wheels.  Kittles Rd provided a viewing variety from the repetition of Rudd Rd, to Grahamvale Rd via Wanganui and Ford was the easy bit, the energy evaporating pushing into the 24km/h southwest wind back to town.

Coggo, Tum, Heady and Snow were the only Goats with guts to front Friars (Hommie's guts are his hinderance apparently), long gone are the days of fifteen plus Goats tapping a lap, how many will emerge from hibernation and when is anyone's guess.  Repeated rides haven't helped Heady's horsepower, his habitual role handed to Tum to head us out of town, who turned up the tempo to Dobson's bridge at no extra cost.  It was a nice change to lead leg two to Central Ave though the road reseal is as rough as hessian undies, Snowman (winner of Winter's silver jersey ; most spirited senior citizen) leading the pack toward School Rd.  Coggo's shift was a little shorter than usual but it's quality over quantity for the real head goat, a few spits spotting what was my clean bike en-route to Boundary Rd.  My turn again southbound as we crossed paths with the 5:40 crew, making it to the fig farm before sharing the love of the southwester with others.  Heady made the move forward as Coggo dragged us to the highway but then had second thoughts about the lead role and left it to Snow to tow us to Channel Rd.  Drafting Tum is like drafting a matchstick so my heart rate only raised a fraction when he handed me the reigns at One Tree Dam, so I was somewhat spent arriving at River Rd to find Heady had un-hooked some distance back.  Coggo and Snow went back to help the hurt, releasing Tum and I (on time constraints) to team for the slog home. We shared the shifts for River Rd's length, taking the truck route short cut to Archer where we finally got out of the headwind to head homeward, legs like liquorice back in suburbia (but strangely satisfied).

23/8 Woebegone Winter!

Winter just won't let go, frosting fingers (and other bits) to test the devotion to Friday's lap.  Speed was a struggle to the carpark but I found Bruce, Kreeky, Superman, MyRideTrev, Boof, PistolPete, Col, Rocket and Joe (not Joel) congregating in the cold of minus two.  The sensible thing to do?  Tear into that temperature at tempo to feel better!  A slow start allowed a late Wozza to get aboard, an even later Bo and Kel joining at Sanctuary's roundabout.  I tried to do the Mitchell Rd leg beside Wozza but winter had my lungs in a vice like grip, an early roll put Col beside me, conveniently keen for a chat while I was suffering oxygen depravation.

It's pleasing to have light in the sky a bit after six, long forgotten sights now seen beyond the reach of the headlights for a change.  All but MyRideTrev were taking turns so I had a heartrate holiday before another turn bumped it up.  It could have been the cold, the week's worth of workouts or just the fact it was Friday (thank God) 'cause pace seemed a little more manageable, that need for speed not so important.  Even with noses pointed toward town in Channel Rd, the usual urge toward the ChaCha was tame, though drawing deep minus two breaths at the front alongside Wozza was work enough for me to reach Central Ave.
Those gifted with grunt seem to arrive at the front at the perfect (Prentice Rd) moment while others hang on in the hope of saving face to finish as part of the pack, the few spat out from speed gradually gathered up again on that certain wait at the truck route.  All ended well with the mob socially spinning through town to converge on the Butter Factory for the ritual laughs over lattes.

Week  34       281km                    YTD 8,627km





       

Week 33 : Tickling the tempo.

Post #513
10/8  Ah, what wonderful weather!

A damp road wasn't on my want list for Saturday but the bunch magnetism drew me south through the sodden streets to the starting grid despite the dreary conditions.  Boof, Bo, Shorty, GiantAndy, The Godfather, PistolPete, Bruce, TatMat, TrekTrev, Nev, TatPaul, Superman, Determined Dan, Wozza and Rocket converged in the carpark with much ado about Shorty's new Avanti Corsa SL.   Six bells signalled the usual practice of pace sending us south of town, teeth clenched for the "feels like minus two" and the wintery west northwester cutting through booties, base layers and gloves.  The fit were fearless in facing the first turns, by happy chance I was caught up in the ranks at the rear, happy to let the natural order of things promote me forward  in due course.

Regular sprays from wheels through the puddles chilled inner thighs and concerns of keeping a bike clean, advancing toward the drivers seat as the standard Saturday circuit turned us east onto River Rd.  PistolPete punctured at Laws Drive (keeping up the Saturday ritual), the pack pausing in the rolling fog for repairs while The Godfather provided the verbal entertainment.  It seems PistolPete's Pirelli's have worn thin after twelve thousand k's, unlike the everchanging fashionable attire, new tyres might be on his shopping list this week.
Soon enough, the flat was fixed and the bunch underway again (strangely in almost the same order).    I had TatPaul's wheel up to the Broken bridges, the shift beside him short as he urged me across well before Channel Rd, TrekTrev was next to pair, the huff and puff of ride rarity making a mountain of his drive to the highway.  Rocket, PistolPete and Wozz were just working us up to a lather at the pork palace when Pistol punctured again, paper thin Pirelli's super susceptible to the road grit coating all of the thirty two tyres among us.

Talk on tyres occupied the time till repairs were done, a course consensus deciding we'd cut off the block to the Toaster and spear ahead on Boundary, minimising the time till coffee could warm us. The sky lit momentarily pink as the sun appeared for half a minute, fog soon rolling us back into winters' misery on Lemnos-Cosgrove Rd.
A mix of varied cadence battled into the breeze (13-17 km/h) whipping up from the west, some spinning like a dervish, others grinding it out on the little cog in defiance. I was nearing the front in Ford Rd when Bo butted in ahead to bait The Godfather at the front (but he wouldn't bite), I'd stayed cautiously half a wheel back when Bo rolled across to send the same signal, there was nothing left in my tank anyway. 

GiantAndy kindly levelled with me from Verney Rd (exit stage left for TatPaul and Shorty surprisingly) to the highway, wasn't I relieved to have traffic halt us for half a minute so I could top up on oxygen for the work in Wanganui Rd.  DeterminedDan and I nominated ourselves as rear observers when Rocket served up the speed toward the mount, but the headwind and the two degree temperature switched it to a pseudo-sprint of little interest.  Grouped together on the Boulevard bound for breakfast, spots from the sky laid on caution by the bucketful to navigate the slick roundabouts into town, some headed for an alien basecamp but most huddled 'round the heaters at the Lemontree.  MyRideTrev joined us for chat on new bikes, reading radars and grand fondo's, ever increasing rain forcing a second coffee to contemplate the commute home.

12/8  The prescription of pain.
Treating the legs to a lazy Sunday has a price to pay ; it's murder Monday getting back into the ride routine.  A wind from the west helped the roll to the starting grid, trying not to dwell on the long drive later back to town against it.

 Bruce, Nev, Kel, Joe (not George), Kreeky, The Godfather, Bo, PistolPete, Col and Grumpy's arrival meant the load would be shared around, all enjoying the charge out Channel Rd with the benefit of the tailwind.  Kreeky was climatizing to the cold from a long weekend's Gold Coast warmth, I'd surprised Nev highlighting his helmetlessness (his beanie not quite to AS/NZ2063 standard) and Joe (not Jerry) got my jealousy juices flowing chatting on his Franco-Irish holiday plans.  A turn with Bo to the Kinder then Kreeky to the cypress trees shut me up for a couple of k's, mostly mute for the next k in recovery while Bruce and Nev towed us to Boundary Rd.  Many bikes had been blessed with a weekend bath (though Col's was still craving that care), our tailwind tempo swapped for a battle with the breeze at the portside headed north on Boundary Rd. Joe (not Johnathon) advanced for duty in the drivers seat keeping his shift short for the sake of smoothness of speed.  My hopes of hiding from the headwind sank in Lemnos-Cosgrove Rd, I'd found myself at the front (well, half a bike back) from speedo-less Bo, obviously blinkered to the fact that nobody was alongside.

He'd eventually tamed tempo so I could level, I managed to reach the bridge and call the roll for Kreeky's (collaberative) company for half a k more.  Bruce and Nev put in a big drive on Ford Rd, Kel's effort admirable into the wind but Col quickly dived for cover as his shift drew near.  Joe (not Jeramiah) braved the business end briefly (practice makes perfect pace) as we faced Wanganui Rd, there was no escaping another turn for me as the shifts shortened to DECA, Bo on his habitual hurry ahead for a hundred metres till compliance got the better of him.

The prescription of pain overcame that mental "don't wanna" up to Mt.Wanganui, a quick spin along the boulevard finishing forty k's before facing a working week.

13/8  Cold but cooked quickly.

Yet another cold morning (will winter ever end?) didn't deter PistolPete, Grumpy, Col, Kel, Kreeky and Bo from fronting for the five forty fling and I had no hesitation letting PistolPete drive the first shift, he'd again set the standard for smooth starts but up to speed at second wheel made me suffer.  I'd been given the elbow at the truck route after Pistol's "short" four k stint, maybe the days of the super shift are numbered and we'll all get a few more turns? 

A hint of a west southwester hammered my hurry to Mitchell Rd, two k's in the drivers seat at two degrees and I was cold but cooked quickly!  Grumpy led the way to Central Kialla (keen to firm up his fitness for graduation to the Hares in spring he tells me), Col on his comeback captaining the crew from the primary school and steering us east into River Rd.  How far Bo would go was anybody's guess, the hunch that he'd hammer out the length of River Rd was scotched when he handed the reigns to Kel just beyond the dip (a record short shift of just two k's).   The cold had culled Kel's wattage to a brief burst, Kreeky's inspired drive to River Rd's end then on to the Broken bridges attributed to that new bike feel (another to bag a bargain Avanti Corsa SL).  PistolPete took over and raised the suffer stakes another five k's per hour, turning up the torture for me hanging onto his rather thin draft, so focus was fixed on the new rear tyre wearing down it's centre moulding as his Garmin radar winked 'try to keep up!"  Legs burned all the way to Old Dookie Rd, Pistol handing me the drive duty west toward town.  "Feels like minus one" had a vice like grip on my lungs as I urged the legs to deliver speed to School Rd, that light west southwester didn't help so the six behind would just have to tolerate my tamer tempo.  Col, concreted into the caboose, left me a space at sixth wheel when I peeled off the front to recover, though Grumpy's speed didn't allow for much relaxation.  Bo got the gasps going from Central Ave, a couple of passing trucks delivering a draft that dragged us into the mid forties back into suburbia, the circuit swift enough to score many a second fastest Strava score. 

14/8  Bewdy Bruce!
Boof, PistolPete, Shorty, Joe (not Jackson), Kel, Bruce, Rocket, Col, Wozza, Kreeky, The Godfather and MyRideTrev congregated in the carpark for Wednesday's effort, the regular fast freaks setting the speed south.

We'd passed a pack paused for a puncture at Hooper's Rd, seems there's a secret squad starting earlier to foster some fitness (Nev nurturing TrekTrev, Superman and Laura), those who now realise that hibernation taxes one's tempo a lot.  Grumpy joined at the truck route and the pace picked up, nothing to do with the driving division (Rocket, Wozza, Boof and PistolPete) all line astern by strange coincidence tickling the tempo.  Kreeky calmed the speed in Mitchell Rd but not enough to draw MyRideTrev and Col from the rear seats, so I set a path forward with Shorty (then Bruce) to share the duty.  Shorty drove well to the quarter horse stud, that new bike sensation helping the speed till the engine's age gave in.

Bruce considerately paired with me to finish off River Rd, thereafter suffering that second wheel syndrome (spent but smug, knowing the next turn was ages away).   Bruce and PistolPete poured on the power all the way to Channel Rd, only amplifying my inferiority complex, though I had a reasonable chance to recover before the ChaCha required acceleration attention.  The Godfather was at forth wheel as we leaned into Kinder corner , hollering 'parasites' to Rocket and Wozz in the drivers seat did nothing but vault velocity into the mid forties.  Kreeky and Col continued the charge and it looked like The Godfather may take the chocolates till Bruce saved us all by pipping him at the post (the bragging would have been intolerable!)

15/8  Gone Goat'n.
To loan a little labour to the diminishing winter ranks, I made my way to Friars for the gathering of Goats on Thursday, just Coggo, Tum, Heady and Snow the sole stalwarts of the season.  (And summer brings bunches of sixteen plus?)

A clockwise circuit was a breath of fresh air, mind you two degrees made for a chilly challenge, six bells chimed and Heady performed his ritual lead out of town.  My turn came at the truck route to turn it up to Dobson's bridge (a struggle to stoke up a speed something like satisfying), Tum took over, but one ride in three weeks doesn't do much for driving any distance.  It was peak hour at Central Ave so the wait for five cars regained some oxygen for a few, Snow's turn to School Rd nearly made it, so Coggo's contribution commenced.  Typically smooth and swift headed to Boundary Rd, his elbow three hundred metres shy was a surprise, so I stood in for the rest of the east leg and stayed on southbound to the Fig farm as my fair share.  Tum took the reigns as I slipped to the rear for recovery but Heady had hijacked the rear seat and ushered me in to forth wheel. Recovery now put into fast forward.  A hint of a breeze from the north helped our hurry south, Coggo delivering me to the lead role just over the bridges, so I set sights at reaching River Rd.

How fortunate to have the breeze shift east northeast for our westerly work toward Central Kialla, Heady still taking a breather at the back as Tum, Snow and Coggo shared the shifts to Laws Drive.  A day off work meant I could commit to the whole lap for a change, so the long drive to River Rd's end was workable as there'd be a tow after my toil (instead of suffering solo on a shortcut home)   Snow seemed grateful I'd kept it a quintet, Heady not so sure, but he was back into the rotation down to Mitchell Rd, albeit pickled from the pace.  Snow hit his straps with a determined drive to Archer Rd, Coggo dragging us to Melbourne Rd where my number came up again.  To Roubaix corner with sights set to reach Galbraith's gate,  chilled oxygen in the lungs shortened my aim by a few hundred metres, time for recuperation before detonation (just as Heady Hiroshima'd off the back).  Four forged onward with just three k's to go but that meant another shift at the business end was a certainty, at least Coggo got me into Conrod straight and out of the first dip before handover.  A sprint finish was out of the question, most had emptied their energy already, so the contentment that the distress of driving was done with a better than average average was reward enough, slowing for Heady to rejoin (divebombed by a magpie as punishment for being dropped) and headed for caffeine recovery at Mandy's.

16/8  Wind & waskally wabbits.

Twas warmer but windier for the week's end, Bruce, The Godfather, Joe (not Josephine), Kel, Shorty, MyRideTrev, Liam, Travis, Boof, Col, PistolPete, Wozza, Bo and Rocket filling the carpark for Friday's festivities.  Eight degrees felt tropical and the north northeaster served up the speed southbound to Mitchell Rd, I'd found myself on Liam's wheel joining the line of promotion to the pointy end (I'll bet climatizing to Victoria's cold from Port Douglas' warmth hadn't slowed him).  There was a battle into the wind as the bunch steered east, a sudden slow tested reactions as a waskally wabbit darted from the roadside into PistolPete's path (he seems to have a natural affinity to wildlife of late!) but with skill and a good measure of luck, all remained vertical for the lap to continue.  Through Central Kialla then east onto River Rd, Liam kindly levelled with me as I secretly gasped from the bridge to the dip, expectations shortening with the shortness of breath beside The Godfather toward the quarter horse stud.

It was a little reassuring to see others on shorter shifts too.  There was no slow on the way north as Bruce, Pistol, Rocket and Wozza drove up the distress levels into the wind, Joe (not Julia) suffering at second wheel to Rocket (he soon slipped back to bank a few breaths)  The whistling of the wind was silenced turning west into Channel Rd, the speed gradually sufferable as I was promoted further forward with the sultans of smooth driving at the front.

There was a moment of bliss as forty seemed comfortable drawn along in the draft of Team Edwards toward the Kinder, then lungs and legs told of their torment and threw me back into that world of work at the front.  Just a short shift from the Kinder to Hopeful corner (hoping I'd hold on), The Godfather cruised past and rolled over which uncorked the sprint squad behind.  A  moment at a hundred and ten rpm burnt me before I could grab the next cog, the freakishly fast drew ahead to the finish line but there was consolation seeing a squad of the spent behind. Another day off spared me time to consume coffee and conversation with the crew (after a blast to the Butter Factory to earn it).

Week 33       247 km                  YTD 8,346 km
               
   

Week 32 : Testing the testicular tenacity.

Post #512
3/8 Puncturama!

The engine was sluggish Saturday, five degrees should have been inspirational after nearly a weeks worth of zeros so maybe yesterday's ninety k's may have worn down the wattage?  Giant Andy, Bruce, Lance, Kreeky, TrekTrev, Rocket, Tina, Boof, Kel, The Godfather, Tat Paul, Bo, not-so-new-AvantiJohn, MyRideTrev, Wozza, PistolPete and Nev formed the Saturday squad, Rocket and not-so-new-AvantiJohn testing the tailenders with a swift start south into Archer Rd. The dash had dissolved by the city limits, settling comfortably into the high thirties standards for the social stuff to start (for those not on driving duty).   It was difficult to judge the direction of the breeze midfield, though the ease of effort headed toward Central Kialla hinted at a westerly.  The Godfather hollered a halt for a puncture as we entered River Rd (isn't it nearly always a rear tyre?), the flustered fix most entertaining as he wrestled with a very thin Continental.

A restart in River Rd at a relaxed rate won votes, TrekTrev had emerged from a short hibernation (or had a cobwebbed Trek stirred his enthusiasm?) but I doubt this will open the floodgates of the many winter retirees returning.  My guess, October. We'd just crested the Broken bridges when PistolPete proposed a pause for another puncture, tis the season where tyres go through the "shower scene from Psycho" syndrome, grit and flint sticking to damp rubber then slicing through as the wheels go round.
A swarm of onlookers administered advice and delivered derision, passing the few minutes of Pistol's fix (yet another rear wheel offending), the consensus to shortcut to Lemnos-Cosgrove Rd straight up Boundary.  The deck shuffled on the restart, putting me on Giant Andy's wheel, there was the draft to die for in the draft of six foot four aboard a Giant but the labour to level with him hurt. On the front at the fig farm, the speed was bearable but in half a k the heart rate was on that escalator to harass the head into thinking a coronary was upon me. 

Calling a roll at Old Dookie Rd, Bruce drew alongside as co pilot for part two, compliments helping the headspace but the lungs and legs lamented all the way to New Dookie Rd.  A grey day had dawned behind us in Lemnos-Cosgrove Rd, the fitness of Wozza, Nev, Boof and Rocket propelling the pack closer to breakfast, there were plenty still to take a turn so another turn of toil for me at the front seemed unlikely.  A soccer schedule for Rocket and the lure of a latte for MyRideTrev turned them via Verney Rd, the remainder continuing on course to Wanganui Rd, was it to be a waltz or a whippin'?  With the bunch still intact at the test track, a full boost blast to the hill seemed unlikely, most still with oxygen to talk as we swung south into Rudd Rd for the roll to breakfast.  Nearing the end of the Boulevard, the majority turned to the Lemontree when the course to the café of choice was chosen, core balance, dodgy used cars and the black dog being babbled over breakfast.

5/8 Col's comeback.

A northwesterly inspired me to grid in the number one spot rather than roll 'round the block to avoid it, I wasn't perturbed by the pairing with PistolPete either, so confident was I to be blown out to the truck route.  Kreeky, Bo, Tina, not-so-newAvantiJohn, The Godfather, Kel, Col (back from his hernia holiday), Bruce and Joe (not Tony) lined up for a mild Monday lap, eight degrees was a gift but most were layered expecting winters' worst.  The first shift out to the truck route had that expected ease (although the speed was sympathetic for Col's comeback), Channel Rd cloaked by cloud cover although that probably saved us from being frozen.  Most had driven a shift on reaching the Pine Lodge Pub, I was back in the advance line and following Joe (not Thomas) while Kel and Tina set the speed to the Boundary Rd bridge.  A rare but sudden freewheel, sometimes with a swerve, told me Joe (not Terry) still coming to terms with riding at close quarters, focus fixed just on the wheel ahead rather than three or four beyond?

A lot happens at ten metres per second, and with reactions taking up to two, there's a lot of trust invested in those cyclusts around us.  Joe (not Tim)'s shift was short (sensibly), calling me across at the fig farm where I had Pistol to partner, why I set my target at New Dookie Rd I don't know 'cause there was little left reaching it.  The Godfather and not-so-new-AvantiJohn did the long drive of Lemnos-Cosgrove Rd, The Godfather signing his stubbornness in the big gear (but that was his last shift, choosing chat with Col in the caboose for the remainder of the ride.  Bruce, Kreeky, Kel, Tina and Joe (not Tristan) advanced into Wanganui Rd but shifts shortened to give me another term of toil alongside PistolPete, the sight of Mt. Wanganui stirring speed up to Rudd Rd.  Another welcomed r.d.o. allowed the rare treat of a post ride long black, arachnophobia and kit colours keeping tongues employed.

6/8 The hurt habit.
Winter just won't let go, delivering just one degree for the Tuesday thrash (how my lungs will love that!)   I was banking on the bunch to boost my speed 'cause it was none too spectacular on the solo spin to the Archer Street shops.  Berthing in number two spot behind PistolPete, Bo, Kel, Tina, Kreeky and Col queued behind me, so the pressure was on to perform and hang on to Pistol's drive. 

Pete's the master of the sensible start, a quiet roll for a hundred metres or so then ever so gently squeezing the accelerator up to the high thirties, making the hurry almost bearable.  It was a surprise to have his elbow usher me to the front from just a four k drive to the truck route, the legs complying to make reasonable pace to Mitchell Rd, but I wasn't banking on a long shift lasting so handed the lead role to Bo.  Col on the road to recovery (a highway from a hernia?) sat the ride out in the caboose but could still manage a cackle at the cold of winter.  Of course Bo was in for a long shift, the light northerly knocking off a k or two of pace to River Rd but on and on he went, his handover to Kel at the dip seemed like short shifting, only 6 k's on the front must mean he's ill?  Kel, Tina and Kreeky finished off River Rd in swift style, PistolPete back at the helm in Boundary Rd to wear me down at second wheel to the pub.  Getting a second shift for a Tuesday was rare, so I made an effort at reaching the fig farm, head down absorbing myself in a mental metronome to keep it smooth, a Garmin glance or two satisfied seeing consistency (but eyes off the heart rate!)    Peeling off the front and slipping back to second last brought relief, a compliment from Col soothing some of the suffering as Bo took hold of the helm to Old Dookie Rd and steered us west.  It's said that possession is nine tenths of the law 'cause he'd claimed ownership of the lead role all the way to Central Ave and beyond, by then I guess most were happy to hide in the tow and be dragged to the ritual of post ride coffee.

9/8  Bit breezy!

I'd weakened to winters wet on Wednesday and Thursday (how standards slip to soft when the bike is cleaned and the chain oiled) so was almost frantic by Friday to get a lap in.  A wild wind had whipped up from the west northwest (37-61 km/h) testing the testicular tenacity, but it was great to get the bike/life balance back again (I'd become quite cranky from the lack of a lap).  That wind juggled addiction vs common sense as I tacked and jibed against the cross wind to the carpark, contemplating the dedicated (delirious?) who'd turn up.  PistolPete (of course) was there, Rocket had won his own argument between ride and rest, the only other was Joe (not Jim) showing his commitment (craziness?) to the Couldabeens cause rolling in for duty.   Consensus (and sense) agreed on a shorter circuit, predicting the pain for the western leg back to town, so the Channel-Boundary-Old Dookie lap was chosen.  That big breeze at the backside made us instant Strava stars (there'd be Strava slugs on the return!), Rocket and Pistol (probably at idle in second gear) propelling us to the cypress trees in the mid forties, there it was my responsibility to reach Boundary Rd with Joe (not James) happy to hold forth spot.  It's rare that forty plus is possible for a couple of k's so I relished the rush to Channel Rd's end 'cause there'd be plenty of pain at a pedestrian pace later.  Rocket took the reigns to the highway, wind whipping at the wheels to squiggle our steering to the Pine Lodge Pub.  A sudden darkness behind me told that Joe (not Jeremy) had gone o.t.a., so a slow (to my legs relief) gathered him back into the four fold (convincing him to continue was the hard part)  Rocket kindly calmed the pace to the pork palace but Joe (not Jesus) was in struggle street again.  A little less wattage kept him aboard to Old Dookie Rd where the hard yards into the hell-of-a-headwind began. Finding a rhythm at that magic 86 rpm helped but the gusts snapped Joe (not Jehoshaphat) off the back again.  Another couple of k's cut off the pace kept the train together back to town, I reckon the kudos from being resolute to Rule #9 might just speed the recovery.

Week 32;       161km     YTD 8,095km

Week 31 : Hurting but hilarious.

Post #511
27/7  Vilification & velocity.

I found a welcome peace rolling out of town in Saturday's early hours, the din and kerfuffle of the working week now o.t.a. and the tranquillity of a pair of humming wheels playing music for my mental therapy.  Down Raftery Rd, along Mitchell and up Archer clocked me twenty three k's in readiness for the ritual Saturday spin but last night's rain had turned the road glossy and the bike filthy. So much for last night's cleaning ritual.  'Tis winter I guess.  Bruce, Rocket, Wozza, The Godfather, TatMat, Shorty, TatPaul, Tina, Lance, Joe, Boof and Pistol Pete congregated at the carpark for the six a.m. off, a better roll-up than I'd expected given a damp and dreary day beginning.  Bo added himself to the southbound entourage of lads and a lone lass, and I reckoned I'd done my week's share of first shift, so lapped up the tow till the natural rotation delivered me to duty at the front.  Joining the advance line in Mitchell Rd, I had Lance ahead (must sabotage that strobing tail-light that induces epilepsy) and Tina behind, chatting a few social sentences with Shorty and TatMat till it was time for work at the business end.

That chance pairing of Rocket and Wozza got the scenery blurring by in Boundary Rd,  and with Pistol Pete and Bruce as follow up, there'd be little talk till Old Dookie Rd.  Shorty advanced for a turn, keeping it quick (considering work only allows him a couple of rides a week) but The Godfather soon slowed the speed (and silenced himself) in the drivers seat.  Clouds curtained any hope of early light, Lance had retired to the rear and I found myself on Pistol Pete's wheel as the rotation forced me forward. I'd sensed a hint of northeaster (bureau told me later it was calm) so reaching the front as the bunch flew west had a positive effect, Pistol setting a high thirties standard I could cope with to Boundary Rd.  I rolled the turn and eased the throttle for Tina to pair but was on the gas again in an instant trying to match her pace to the bridge.  The Godfather launched an attack of sledges as Rocket reached the driver's seat, the vilification answered with velocity into the mid forties (in an attempt to silence him?)  

The hurry was hurting but hilarious, some struggling with the speed and/or the satire of the moment as The Godfather now struggled to serve a stinging sentence.  There was a few minutes to regain breath and composure as velocity dropped back below forty but I think it was purely a pause predicting pace the in Wanganui Rd.  Midfield suited me well as the fit got faster toward DECA, Boof hit the afterburners to the hill and The Godfather went rapidly backwards through the ranks, but a regroup in Rudd Rd allowed a collective cruise along the Boulevard to breakfast (a few non-conformists steering to alternate venues), the majority massing at the Lemontree to chat on internet scams, Stage #19, and the art of burning banana bread.



30/7  Ladies and gentlemen, it's the Bo show!

I found happiness back on two wheels (a ride denied with Mondays damp) but hurt facing a feels like 1.4 into a stiff southerly to the Tuesday grid.  To be over the hump and headed toward spring was the positive, and hey, it wasn't raining!  Pistol Pete, Bo, MyRideTrev, Grumpy, Tina, Kel and Kreeky had fronted for the 5:40 fling, Pistol Pete taking on 6 k's of headwind duty down to Mitchell Rd with no complaints from us line astern behind.  
Bo was handed the reigns in Mitchell Rd and many suspected a long shift would follow, to Central Kialla was the standard and his drive to River Rd understandable (tailwind), I was looking for his hint of throwing an elbow at River Rd's bridge but stubbornness had him stuck at the front.   MyRideTrev was suffering at second wheel and by the dip, retreated to the rear, Grumpy standing in as backstop while Bo drove on toward the quarter horse stud.  I'm sure I could smell a martyr on fire!  After 10 k's in the drivers seat, Bo finally relinquished the lead on the turn into Boundary Rd (good grief! someone else get's a turn?), Grumpy less greedy taking the team up to the highway for a (comparatively) short 3.5k shift. Tina turned on a great drive to the fig farm for me to make a contribution, deja vu (last week) being a one and only appearance at the business end so added a 2k push west on Old Dookie Rd for my cameo role. MyRideTrev and Pistol Pete were missing from the passing parade (Pistol tending to MyRideTrev's o.t.a.) but  Kel made a smooth and swift shift to Central Ave where Kreeky finally got his moment of glory to drive the team to town.

31/8 Couldabeen colder!

The bureau warns you, a couple of base layers and a pair of thick gloves warms you, but nothing prepares you for zero degrees opening the front door.  Feeling as cold as the hinges of hell rolling south (the bureau bringing news of feels like minus 1.6), I'd eased the expectation of speed so nothing snapped of for the six k commute to the carpark, reckoning half a dozen would be a good turn up in this temperature.  Surprise, surprise, the grid was fairly full with Boof, Pistol Pete, Shorty, Kreeky, Tina, Wozza, MyRideTrev, Rocket, The Godfather, Bruce, Kel, Joe and not-so-newAvantiJohn ready to roll at six, Grumpy joining a considerate calm start that eased the omg factor winding up to speed.  I was on The Godfather's wheel as I joined the up-line, hearing protection not needed as the cold had constrained his cackle.  Speed standards had been tamed a tad for temperature though my time at the front was still a bit breathtaking as the lungs fought the minus one intake.  The Godfather called a roll at River Rd's quarter horse stud, part two of the turn (to my surprise) finding Joe pairing for a brief blast at the business end.  I took care to keep level alongside and to his credit, rhythm remained, he'd mounted that mental mountain of a maiden appearance at the front and wisely kept the shift short and sweet.  Tina and Kel captained to River Rd's end, there was even a hint of early light as the bunch bored into Boundary Rd.   My bike's steering had gone mushy as we swept under Channel Rd's cypress trees (a slow leak from the front tube felt to be the culprit) so the safest bet was to stay at the back with the spice of the ChaCha yet to come. For a moment that soft tyre seemed imaginary approaching the Kinder but sweeping into Channel Rd's corner felt like steering soap across the bathroom floor.  Direction was steadily spongier as MyRideTrev got my draft instead of going ota, we were reeling in Bruce who'd expired from his driving duty but the sensation of a rim kissing the tarmac brought me to a halt.  Bruce and MyRideTrev kindly loaned moral support for the repair (no point holding up the whole crew so close to coffee), a quick single filed spin into town bumping up the suffer score to finish.

1/8  Serve chilled.
Fridge temperatures continued on Thursday with another zero to endure, Pistol Pete, Bo, Kreeky, Tina, MyRideTrev and Kel just as delirious / dedicated (strike out that which does not apply) lining up at the shop for duty.  Bo took the first shift out of town, late-comer Grumpy joining the train as we got up to speed,  all the while I was wondering how much bravado Bo had for breakfast today.  He bored on beyond the truck route of course, so maybe he'd call it quits at Mitchell?   No, that was far from proving a point, so Bo drove on to Central Kialla (but I couldn't see his cape flapping).   Pistol Pete took control and considerately dialled up the speed slowly, up to River Rd then east toward the bridge (but how far would he go?)  I was beginning to think Pistol would drag us to Boundary but his elbow beckoned Kel to the drivers seat before reaching the quarter horse stud.  Ignoring the heightening heart rate, it was closing in to my call of duty, Kel offering me the lead as we nosed north into Boundary Rd.

I'd managed to get up to prior pace and into a capable cadence to set focus on the Broken bridges, if the arctic atmosphere didn't kill me beforehand. Not up to the endurance of Bo or Pistol Pete, I reckoned on sticking to the rhythm and bailing out before busting was the sensible shift, handing over to Tina just beyond the bridges then slipping back to gasp at the rear (well, second last with MyRideTrev captaining the caboose).   Tina drove well on the everso gradual uphill to Channel Rd, her tank emptying with the highway in sight but soldiered on to finish at the pub.  Grumpy took the lead but MyRideTrev had gone awol so we slowed while Pistol Pete went back in search for the lad lost.  Seems MyRideTrev had retired via Channel Rd so with Pistol returned to the fold, the team tempo'd the remainder to town.  Kreeky kept us speechless into Old Dookie Rd, Grumpy got his long shift done and spiced the speed in the draft of a truck,  Bo dragging us to SPC to finish our Indian filed effort.

2/8  Foggy, frosty, fresh & frivolous.

Yet another cold start for Friday but scoring a day off work took the edge off it.  The Godfather, Kreeky, Boof, Joe, Pistol Pete, Wozza, Shorty, Rocket, Tina, MyRideTrev, Bo, Bruce, Kel and not-so-newAvantiJohn assembled for the week's end action, Rocket leading the first shift south into the none-too-welcoming one degree of Archer Rd.  Velocity varied according to the fitness on the front, all quite manageable in the cool, till the fast fronted.  Speed had settled on the other side of River Rd's dip (Pussycats presenting a poor population of three), Joe advancing to the front choosing Tina's compliance to pair with.  Reality reduced his speed when facing the drive out of the draft, the subtle squeak of a few disc brakes telling of the reduction in rhythm.

Shorty and I opened our accounts in Boundary Rd to One Tree Dam where Shorty called a roll, so I psyched up for part two of the drive beside Rocket (most compliant considering my pedestrian pace).  From the Broken bridges the faster factions took hold of the front and dialled up the average speed, silencing a bit of chat too (but failing to mute The Godfather).  Not-so-newAvantiJohn pumped up the pace in what may be his swansong with the bunch, bound for life in Darwin and the instant warmth we've been waiting months for.  All the best for the tropical Territory temperatures John!  The whiplash effect had the rearmost off their collective saddles as the bunch speared into Channel Rd, a few choosing to sit out the sprint (including me) as the hurry hotted up nearing the Kinder.
Bo did the bolt into the ChaCha to Prentice Rd an Bruce looked to have the win in the bag till Boof was struck with sprintinterest and stood on the gas.  The rare chance of a weekday post-ride coffee had me Butter Factory bound with the bunch back in town, Rocket (sensing a deflating problem) still swift enough that most scored segment trophies keeping up.  Kit chat over a long black passed the time pleasantly and with more time on my side for another ride, I joined Tina to tap a lap with a small (but more stable) segment of the Adams family.
It's been many moons since seeing the senior squad, Wormy, Minty, Hoffy, Irish Tony, Chilly and young Brian (among a few others) lining up for the 8am roll.  A sedate start single filed down Archer Rd, fog filling the fields with the rising sun trying to strike through.

Choice led some via Mitchell but a few of us used River Rd, Chilly suffering the side effects of speed sitting at the rear.  We found Minty and Wormy in Boundary Rd but young Brian had vanished in the fog, so settled into a northbound spin to the highway (Chilly exiting via Channel).  The temperature had dropped to ice my gloves but the sun psychologically warmed the spirits as we swapped turns to Lemnos-Cosgrove Rd (needless to say Tina and I doing double shifts).  By Ford Rd just Hoffy, Tina and I were left to tow the troupe, age having wearied the slightly senior (an inevitable conclusion we'll all face someday).  Wanganui Rd had frightened Wormy and Minty who'd made a bee line for brunch, so the tenacious trio worked to Rudd Rd and battled the Boulevard, buoyed by the caffeine conclusion at Friars to top off a smooth and steady ninety k's.



Week 31       284km                  YTD 7,934km