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