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