Week 39 : A head in need of hardening.

Post #519
21/9  Saturday; sanctity and suffering.

It took a step outside to believe Saturday's twenty degrees, three icy months of winter had me weather wary so a base layer went on as insurance.  Feeling near naked with arms and legs exposed, a gusty northerly (24-41 km/h) blew Batman and I to the carpark, temperature would bring some out to play but the wind would cower others in their cots.  There'd be certain suffering on the east, north and west journey to breakfast.  Shorty, GiantAndy, Wozza, Tina, Kreeky, Rocket, TatMat, Boof, TatPaul, TrekTrev, Lenny, TrackStan, PistolPete and daughter Molly assembled in the shop's carpark, the wind whipping us full steam south at six bells.   A few struggled to catch the tail of tempo so a slow attempted to keep a congregation, a northbound Vince u-turning to jump aboard at Sanctuary's roundabout.  Forty plus was back on the agenda to Mitchell Rd, the orange sunrise a distraction for eyes bored by the wheel ahead or questioning the speedo's accuracy.

Molly had been dislodged as the bunch battled Mitchell Rd's crosswind (PistolPete to the rescue), the bunch getting bravado boosted, teeth clenched and bars gripped for the head-on hurt through Central Kialla.  The toil was testing enough way back at fifth wheel, so the effort of GiantAndy and Batman at the front didn't bear thinking about.  It was my time to face the torture at the front with TrekTrev in River Rd, half turns seemed to be the standard against the wind (and that's about all my legs would give) so reaching the dip started part two alongside TatPaul.

Legs were liquorice half a k later, but satisfied I'd done my bit, recovery in the draft was the treat after toil.  There was a punishing pace set by the swift (need I say who?) into Boundary Rd's headwind, high thirties had heads down and tongues out to the highway (but isn't that why we ride?), setting speed expectations for TrackStan, Batman and GiantAndy lined up for duty behind.   Good luck and good position had me hidden from the wind on Old Dookie and Pine Lodge Rd, the task in Lemnos-Cosgrove Rd a tough one, with the wind working me over from the right.  That hurt at the front was soothed (psychologically) by kudos from TatMat and Kreeky as they advanced to participate in pain, the temptation to overlap wheels for a better draft resisted as we all struggled to hold a line.  The caboose was the place of choice as Ford Rd drew to an end, I joined Kreeky, Shorty, TatPaul and TrekTrev looking for a safe seat with Tina and Vince already in residence as the work in Wanganui loomed large and lethal.

I hadn't seen the two lines begin thin with speed, TrekTrev's hunger for shelter from the wind forcing me into the gravel for a few manic moments.  Holding the line, avoiding the rough edge of tarmac and faith in 25mm tyres got me back on terra firma but Batman's sudden launch had broken the bunch in two before we'd reached DECA.  Looking for allies spent from the sprint found TrekTrev, Tina and Vince, so we set to work together to catch the pack.  Just back aboard when Tina's specs did a dismount at Canterbury roundabout was a perfect excuse to rest legs, retrieve lost property and roll with three back to breakfast.   Holidays, Saturday's sanctity and perfect pictures made the talk on the long table with the warm morning feeling foreign .

23/9  A fraction of hope that the forecast was wrong quickly vanished during my five a.m. breakfast, the heavens opened for a Monday minute but then stopped, maybe there was a chance to ride after all?  Two minutes later a decent downpour made the difficult decision to relinquish the ride too easy.  Back to bed felt sloth-like, but the slumber was sweet.  Of course, there's a sneak peek at Strava later to see who did the Rule #9 thing or if others had succumbed to that supplementary snooze.

24/9  Endangered species.

A sparrow's fart spin (it's that craving k's thing) south looped back to town in time to collect Ballarat buddy Stu (on a brief cricket stop-over) to roll to the revised grid and check out some endangered Goat species.  The usuals Heady, Coggo, Snow, Belly, Manny, Hommie, Sandy and Tina had dragged the rare riders Carl, Baz, HG and Phil out of their hibernation, so we were set for a lazy lap while the lax laboured.  Belly didn't need to read me the riot act.  Four degrees made a cool comeback, few words spoken from the caboose as seven rolled the turns on Ford and Lemnos-Cosgrove Rd (a revised route with roadworks on Old Dookie Rd).   Sandy felt the freshness from the recent weeks in sunny Spain, Baz starting over from six months of slackness and HG was almost unrecognised on a clean Colnago.

I can't tire of these super sunrises, a morning motivator that many never see, and it was quite the change to tap a lap in the lower regions of zone three instead of wrung out on the rivet.  HG and Baz had abandoned ship to shortcut home via Channel Rd (theirs will be a long and painful road to return to form.....if they haven't given up already), the remaining toughing out the temperature (a wintery feels like two) down to River Rd.   Heady was happy he'd be counted among the finishers and Sandy sat contented in the caboose as Coggo kept a cap on the pace without a hint of cooked brake pads. The sun's psychological warmth counted for some comfort but the clock was against me by River Rd's end (Tina on time constraints too), so we paired to pace the shortcut back to town, finding mid thirties a revelation.


25/9  WTF?! Wednesday.
As welcome as a tax audit or a fat fart on a first date, Wednesday's winter weather chilled the bones of the hopeful that Spring may one day warm us.  The Godfather got the grid giggling (everybody loves a clown!) but it was down to business at six for Rocket, Batman, PistolPete, Kreeky, Boof, Stu, Liam, Superman, Trav and TrekTrev, setting sail into Archer Rd's arctic atmosphere.  The pecking order of pace soon sorted the fast from the fazed, the bunch settling into a rapid routine down to Mitchell Rd.  It took a moment to notice Superman was on a new bike, the KTM shelved for another of the bargain basement Corsa's.

Stu was at his Ballarat best in short knicks, wattage that fitted the fitness of Boof, Rocket, Liam and Wozz working the front.  We were well into River Rd before my debut at the front, the sunrise lighting up Tina in the distance as I paired Superman at Laws Drive then The Godfather at the dip.  Movement in a distant driveway set my internal alarm ringing, lucky I hollered a slow as a truck appeared then slowly pulled out in front of us (and here's me thinking thirteen headlights ablaze would be noticeable).  Just because a vehicle is moving doesn't mean the driver's awake.

Thankfully all remained vertical, the speed back up to spec to finish off River Rd, but Boundary Rd became interesting as we approached One Tree Dam.  A startled skippy bounded left, right and back again, looking for an escape from our northbound bunch as the Goat train slowed from the south.  Wildlife soon cleared for bike business to get back on track, the 'wouldabeens' (setting sail ten minutes prior) now the bait for our determined drive into Channel Rd.   
I'd been promoted worryingly close to the pointy end approaching the Kinder, but by good fortune the bunch thinned to single file headed to Hopeful corner.   PistolPete peeled off the front after a swift shift to Prentice Rd and with just TrekTrev and Superman ahead a podium position looked possible.  Oh no it didn't!  The real horsepower of Liam and Rocket let loose from behind to humble us hopefuls.  Half a minute gasping to the school was enough, tempo was back on the agenda again to town, catching the 'wouldabeens' (and startling some) at Archer Rd.

26/9  Just a sucker for a sunrise.
What the head wants and what the legs would deliver were two separate things on Thursday, and with the impetus evaporated from the 5:40 fling (come back Kel, Bo and Col!), I settled for a solo appetiser then Goats for main course.

The scenic salvation for the soul was a slow and steady sunrise to match my slow and steady solo fifteen k's, a cruisy contemplation getting head and engine motivated.    Tina, HG, Coggo, Heady and AvantiAndy were at Verney Rd's roundabout, HG hoping a head start would help him.  Chocks away at six, we'd caught HG within a half a k, but crossing Grahamvale Rd he was instant o.t.a. (yup, his was going to be a long and laborious return to form)  Yet another super sun-up made amends for all those cold, damp, dark and dreary winter starts (though I was having trouble feeling my toes in three degrees), Tina tapping a super smooth shift into Lemnos-Cosgrove Rd. (we get spoilt in a well disciplined bunch, only appreciating the ease of  being on the wheel of a smooth operator till we're following a fickle foreigner).

AvantiAndy put in a good effort in the drivers seat considering time off the bike and the handicapper assigning him top weight, even Heady played a cameo role at the front as the sun got above the horizon in Boundary Rd.  Speed had climbed gradually to the highway but AvantiAndy had suffered enough reality and withdrew for the comfort of Channel Rd homeward, the remaining four sharing shifts (relative to fitness) to River Rd.  Tina set that smooth shift happening again to the quarter horse stud and I attempted the same to Laws Drive, figuring (correctly) that Coggo would tow us to River Rd's end.  Suitably refreshed from the draft took the edge off my nine k's solo home, hopefully legs would match the will's wants tomorrow.

27/9  Fido Friday.

Trav, Shorty, Wozza, Batman, Kreeky, Tina, Rocket, Superman, PistolPete, TrekTrev, Boof, Lenny and DeterminedDan rolled up for Friday's public holiday spin, a whole two degrees warmer than yesterday feeling almost tropical. How will we handle the heat?  The copybook start south was headed by horsepower as usual, and I'd succumbed to the easy option of taking the slowest promotion forward.  This head is in need of hardening.  Pace had settled to cruisy by Mitchell Rd (to the joy of some spent by a week of speed), then a sudden slow for a red dog standing sentry by the roadside woke a few from the slumber.  Mid thirties were in vogue from Central Kialla, new Corsa's in vogue too with Shorty, Kreeky, DeterminedDan and Superman all aboard these new steeds.  Tina joined the advance for a short turn at the front, calling me across at the Angora farm to work with Wozza to Boundary Rd.

A northeast breeze was my battle and Wozza kindly complied with my sub standard speed, though what I though was a paltry pace had broken Tina to slip back to the comfort of the caboose.   Oblivious to the wind, PistolPete and Wozza paired in Boundary Rd and stoked up the speed, the holy grail of a steady tap swapped for a slice of suffering.  A day off (for most) extended the route up to Lemnos-Cosgrove Rd, my fixed focus on the wheel ahead  missing the sudden slow for more canine caution, causing a split-second wheel lock then back on the gas when Tina's ankles were looking delicious to dogs.  The new course had Batman befuddled, over New Dookie Rd, avoiding the rumble strips for the un-used railway and up to Lemnos-Cosgrove Rd to steer west and relish the breeze behind.  Verney Rd was our course to caffeine,  the super smooth tarmac single filed south far removed from the usual rough and rapid work in Wanganui Rd.  A brief black brew at the Butter Factory satisfied a social starvation, but time quickly turned me regrettably to work. Saturday will be sacred.


Week 39      252km              YTD 9,881 km
 

     

Week 38 : Suited to the stupid.

Post #518
14/9  Rarities return.

Left to your own devices, it'd be a quiet roll to the start line but quick company (Rocket and Batman) pushed me a little beyond the comfort zone, perfect preparation as it happens for the swift Saturday spin ahead.  Legs and lungs were well limbered arriving at the shop, finding ride rarities BeerMat and Temple on the comeback trail, welcome additions to the field of ChrisA, Shorty, Wozza, Lenny, TrekTrev, TatMat, PistolPete, TatPaul, Lance, Manny, MyRideTrev, Dalts and CatKel.  Six bells set us south, Superman and Vince the late additions to total the team to twenty.  Several had already secured seats in the caboose but the ritual of rotations got underway out of town in the now acceptable high thirties (ahh, the days of the thirty five limit seem eons ago)   Movement in the distant River Rd roadside waved a flag of caution for me, Vince and I slowing the train early for a large grey kangaroo bounding along the fence line.

Must be the Manny magnet attracting wildlife.
After fifty metres of eyeing one another off, Skippy nonchalantly leapt the fence with no effort for greener pastures.   Getting back up to speed was a test, legs had liked the luxury of a moment at a casual thirty km/h, Kreeky kindly keeping level with me while restoring the rapid rhythm to River Rd's end.  A big bunch meant many minutes before I'd face the front again, Saturday's sun arriving at the horizon as we arrived at the highway.  By that strange coincidence, the tempo trio of Rocket, Wozza and PistolPete were line astern to stoke up the speed to Old Dookie Rd and into the sunrise toward the Toaster, more taking up permanent residence at the rear.

Of course, I got the southwester in the face as I faced the front in Lemnos-Cosgrove Rd, TrekTrev for part one to Woolshed Rd and with Rocket for part two to the bridge.  I'll admit to doubts about joining the advance again but that Rule #67 about doing your time into the wind nagged at the conscience, just as TatPaul sought refuge in the draft of the down line to TatMat's castigation.  The caboose uncoupled at Verney Rd for their casual cruise to the café, the eight remaining steeling selves for the work in Wanganui.

Scraping the bottom of the energy barrel was helped by the fact that others were in deeper drama than I, grandma said you shouldn't take pleasure from the plight of others but the dog-eat-dog world of the sprint (and the shame of going o.t.a.) would be foreign to her.  Clutching at TatPaul's draft as Rocket slammed the speed into supersonic at DECA, the sound of Superman's gasps behind me slowly slipped away.  Those precious yet paltry few seconds of relief (post sprint) in Rudd Rd were almost in sight to drive me up the hill, though the frontrunners thoughts of caffeine had stirred the speed to the Boulevard.   I'd slowed seeing PistolPete retreating to TrekTrev's rescue (wrecked and off the rear), the chore of catching the bunch best shared.  Three k's nudging forty couldn't catch the crew, though we'd collected Superman from his Kittles Rd shortcut to berth at base camp for breakfast orders.  It was days of old with Temple and BeerMat at the long Lemontree table, the hot topic of super schools declaring open season on teacher sledging.

17/9  Turn up the temperature!
The reason to ride at five in "feels like minus three" was being ignored (self punishment for believing in yesterday's forecast and sleeping in), the icy southerly was assisting my speed to Congupna and there wasn't a car to compete with for tarmac space.  Three k's on Congupna East Rd then I really questioned my sanity, steering south into that southerly for a seven k slog to New Dookie Rd was suited to the stupid.  The balancing act of a slowing speed and a hurrying heart rate was precarious, leaving something in the tank for a lap with what Goats fronted Friars in the back of my silly head. The turn west onto New Dookie Rd was a treat, driving back into town to front Friars at 5:55.  With slim pickings of Pussycats at Notre Dame (one even turned tail for home seeing a slim squad!), Sly and CatKev joined Heady, Coggo and Batman for the six a.m. spin.

It was high time Heady towed us out of town but on handover at the truck route, Sly stepped up the suffering to Dobson's bridge (No more Christmas cards from Heady).  I had the helm to Central Ave where CatKev took control, so I slipped back to the rear for recovery but Heady had taken possession of the caboose.  Momentum faded for CatKev short of School Rd (it's the Narooma holiday syndrome), Batman restoring the rapidity to get us to Boundary Rd.  Coggo faced the breeze in Boundary Rd at a sensible speed though Sly stepped it up again to reach the highway.  I'd hoped to put in a reasonable turn to the bridges but the wind shear from an oncoming truck blew me backward, Batman taking the lead (Heady heading homeward via Channel Rd) to reach River Rd.  CatKev was now commandant of the caboose while Coggo set the standard west, I sat in Sly's draft checking cogs for the correct cadence.  Second wheel at the quarter horse stud, I prepared for my next appearance, Sly's shift swift and strong to the dip before his elbow beckoned me. Thoughts of nine k's solo home limited my turn to reach the bridge, back into the draft for a k's respite before dispensing farewells to drive the shortcut via the truck route and Archer Rd home.

18/9  An ice cold smoothie.

The first couple of k's climatizing to the cold (and the tempo) was cruel, but a decent dose of smoothness soon stopped me sooking.  Wozza and Boof had set the standard south, Weapon (seeking 'wouldabeens') collected into the clan as we approached Sanctuary's roundabout.  TrekTrev, Superman, Shorty, Kreeky, PistolPete, Batman, The Godfather and Grumpy had lined up for labour at the front, the prior pace preserved till River Rd where The Godfather pulled it back into wouldabeens gear.  That suited Superman who's been toasted by tempo since joining the comeback trail several weeks ago (me thinks the shoulders are expending the energy pushing a big gear, a cadence above eighty might be the answer?)  
Shorty paired with me at the dip for a swifter shift but he rolled shorter than expected.  You'd question a ride with the mercury at two till a scenic sun-up gives you the reason, Wednesday's light streaming through the trees as Grumpy and Pistol kept the pace percolating to Boundary Rd.

Hommie led the pain train of five south (Avanti-Leigh finally out of hibernation) as our dozen drove to Channel Rd, Superman and Weapon keeping the caboose occupied.
 I was on The Godfather's wheel as the bunch turned for home into Channel Rd, a few flat rabbits (better for the bunch than live ones) to steer around as the sun attempted to warm our backs.  I took care to stay level with The Godfather as we fronted in McFadyen Rd, Kreeky partnering for part two in Central Ave for a quick crank to the Kinder. The soul is soothed seeing the speed sitting in the high thirties with an effort that would barely break thirty (damn, I hope my Garmin was telling the truth!), Wozza gently squeezing the throttle to the ChaCha to keep it short of a sprint (but worthy of a workout).

19/9  Hare styled.
TrekTrev had hatched a plan to roll out five minutes ahead of the Hares and jump aboard as they passed, but with just he and I at the 5:45 grid we figured on banking our reserves and starting with the swift.  Grumpy, Kreeky, Rocket, TrackStan, Boof, ChrisA, Liam, PistolPete and Trav soon appeared for the 5:50 flogging, TrackStan starting leg one at supersonic.  There was some relief when the tempo tamed a tad at the roundabout, an east northeaster capping the pace to a whisker below forty.

Variables in velocity were amplified at the back and I didn't fancy taking Grumpy's role as gatekeeper to this sort of wattage while the little voice of reality called "suck it up old boy, you've got the easy job!"  Turning south onto Boundary and out of the headwind, I was pinning hopes the hurry wouldn't amplify, blessed today was tameday so I stood a chance of hanging on.  The swift swapped shifts with a pacey precision down to River Rd though the echelon had me in the oncoming lane.  I'd readied for the whiplash at the back as Chris A hit the accelerator west, the bitumen blurring beneath me and blurring my vision to catch the tail.  About time I hardened up and copped a Hare hiding, riding with the rapid gets you back to reality and flattens any hint of fig jam syndrome.  Certainly sorts the chosen from the chaff.  That east northeaster had faded but River Rd was still covered in the forties, most of the six k's spent saving the watts to stay in the draft when the dozen turned toward Central Kialla.  Playing tail gunner felt like a free ride but I kept glances rearward for traffic to earn my keep.  Legs were burning crossing the highway and the defeatist inside was chipping away at the foundations of Rule #5, it looked oh so easy for the likes of Rocket and Liam but I was ten rungs down on the ladder. Conrod straight was covered quickly, my mental rubber band snapping as we crossed the line to drop off the back in the hope of retrieving a happier heart rate.

20/9  Legs out!

Friday's fourteen degrees had liberated the legs, at last Spring had sprung and we didn't need to layer like an onion to do a lap (though some are wearing layers that only time and a lot of k's will remove!)  Now, to dig through the wardrobe archives for my fingerless gloves.....   TrekTrev, Tina, Kreeky, Shorty, Boof, PistolPete, Wozza, Superman, Rocket, The Godfather and Grumpy lined up for the Friday friendly, a keen northeaster (18-28 km/h) pushing our pace down to Mitchell Rd (but my peloton position had me due for duty into a headwind)   Kreeky and TrekTrev bore the brunt through Central Kialla while I psyched up for the suffering in second wheel, the reality of River Rd's battle made tougher seeing the bridge a painful pinpoint in the distance.

I was deeper into the red zone (and fuzzier in the focus) when TrekTrev called an early roll (just as I was thinking it), now to reach the bridge with what wattage was left.  A (strangely) silent Godfather soldiered on beside me to the bridge, his part two rather abbreviated rolling at Laws Drive.  Shorty drove to the dip but facing the front was Superman's kryptonite, speed sinking like a stone as the headwind hammered his hurry.  Surviving at second wheel soon became his big ask, retreating to the rear for respite while Shorty filled the gap.  Boof, Rocket and Wozza showed the fettle of their fitness to River Rd's end, surprisingly it was Grumpy now in struggle street, quickly coveting the caboose for comfort.  Kreeky and TrekTrev again headed the bunch in Boundary Rd, that wind at the right shoulder extracting cusses as many fought to find a draft.

The speed was spurred though seeing the 'wouldabeens' in the not so distant future, I'd almost emptied the tank to reach the Broken bridges when Shorty saved me with his early roll.  West into Channel Rd and we could soak up the serenity, no more wind whistling between the ears but some labour for the legs homing in on the 'wouldabeens' (MyRideTrev, Laura, Nev, Hollywood, Cougar, ScottMatt and BamBam).   Cautiously staying behind till the coast was clear, Rocket Wozz Boof and Kreeky bolted, catching many by surprise, a few of us caught off guard and breaking off the back.   I couldn't catch Kreeky's draft  (I'll blame 60 psi in a slowly deflating front tyre) and TrekTrev was in a similar street, so we grouped with Tina and The Godfather to settle on being survivors and tap back to town.

Week 38       236km                    YTD   9,627km


       

Week 37 : Clamped by cold and cooked by cadence.

Post #517
7/9  Wind worn.

A wicked wind from the west would send some deeper under the doona on Saturday but it didn't deter Boof, Kreeky, MyRideTrev, TatPaul, Rocket, Blyth (Batman), TatMat, Col, PistolPete, Bo, Wozza, Lance, Superman and GiantAndy from filling the carpark for a spin. Off into the Archer Rd darkness, the ridiculously rapid (as usual, Rocket, Wozza and PistolPete) took up the task of forming the advance line as Boof set the speed standard south, the usual long line behind void of volunteers, all just waiting till fate forced them forward.   With a k covered and just two in the upline, Bo and I braved the move forward, the tailwind to come some consolation.  It's been two years since the extra eighteen k's were added to the Saturday circuit, some have come and some have gone, others have slowed, a few are fitter but the ride ritual remains the same.  Blown eastward on River Rd, it was my turn to face the music at the front, to the bridge with Bo then digging deep to the dip with Col, it should have been a breeze with the tailwind  but I was battling for breath when Col rolled across to put me out of my misery.

 And the hurt into the headwind homeward was yet to come.  Lance advanced for punishment at the pointy end but MyRideTrev had found his happy place at the back, GiantAndy had Di2 dilemmas (minus volts and stuck in a low gear) and Batman was in circuit studies while doing his diploma in bunch dynamics.  A couple of drops from the sky began to multiply and soon glossed Boundary Rd, quickly turning eyes westward to forecast our dampness.

Thankfully the drizzle soon fizzled and the bunch bore north to the highway,  those few seconds in slowing savoured by the suffering till it was back on the gas again.  The sun struck through the grey over Pine Lodge's canola as I worked my way to the front again, with Wozza then Col up to the Big Ring then tucked into the draft as the headwind hurt on Lemnos-Cosgrove Rd. The caboose became a popular place as troops to lead the charge thinned, my legs none too happy being pushed ahead among the Division 1 drivers but Rule #67 (do your time into the wind) nagged at me to forge forward. Fitness facing the front figured in the speed but I'm a fan of maintaining motion, better to be short and sweet preserving pace than rubber-banding the bunch.   Kreeky took an early exit via Verney, the remaining hoping to hang on for the Wanganui work.  Rocket hurtled toward the hill (was he aware of the headwind?) as the bunch broke into bits, PistolPete picking up some of the pieces to regroup in Rudd Rd  (collecting MyRideTrev on the Boulevard as he emerged from the Kittles Rd shortcut).  Three chose an alternate base camp but the majority seated at the Lemontree soaking up the sociology, the breakfast babble on wildlife encounters, Hollywood's return and the TDU put the prior punishment behind.

9/9  Feels like?  A fridge!

An extra layer to heed the bureau's "feels like" and I stepped out the door, the west southwester still cut through me like a knife.  Winter just won't go away.  Bruce, Kreeky, Kel, The Godfather, Bo, Grumpy and PistolPete were dressed like Douglas Mawson but keen to welcome the week with a wee spin, and just like Saturday, to be blown out of town and battle back home again.  I'd squeezed in a turn at the front with Kreeky using the last of Channel Rd's tailwind, into Boundary Rd beside Kel as her "I'm so not fit" kept me speechless to the highway.  Pistol's Pinarello-less still, Bruce's Bossi bright and shiny, Kreeky's aboard the ageing Avanti while the wet weather keeps the new one stabled, but there were a few (nameless) who hadn't blessed their bikes with a bit of weekend TLC.  Rules #4 and #65 folks!

The honeymoon was over reaching Lemnos-Cosgrove Rd, with noses into the headwind and head into hurt mode, Bruce sensibly suggested to single up, so I joined the line at fifth wheel and prepared for the pain to come.  Bruce and Grumpy set the speed swift enough toward the bridge but Bo just had to do better, respect for the rhythm cast aside in pursuit of personal pace.  Kreeky turned down the tempo a tad when he took the reigns in Ford Rd, The Godfather creeping it up a couple of clicks as he steamed westward.  I'd missed his early elbow but the deviation left spelt he was spent, six hundred metres to Grahamvale Rd seemed a little shy of a turn to me but the kudos from the crew told a different story.  We needed torque but couldn't talk as Pistol powered to Verney Rd, The Godfather choosing to sit this one out but he'd snookered me out of a turn.   I jumped a space as we crossed the highway to enter Wanagnui Rd but Bo had the bit between his teeth toward the hill so I was saved the struggle for a while.  Lungs were refilled in Rudd Rd as we waited for Grumpy to reconnect, Bruce guiding us along the Boulevard to the roundabout for me to head the last leg.

10/9  The Tuesday test.
I really didn't want to.  It was going to hurt.  And that southwester would be the death of me.  PistolPete wasn't at the front, it was me.  An early arrival had thrown me unprepared into the deep end of the first shift, there were standards to uphold, Bo & Kel were missing in action and there were just four to share the load.  Time to stop sookin' Foss and h.t.f.u!  A foot fumble clipping in didn't do the confidence much good but we were soon underway south as this old engine puffed and spluttered to reach a satisfactory speed.  Batman, PistolPete, Kreeky and Col were lined up behind, the pressure to perform was weighing heavily on the head, the heartrate was on a stairway to the heavens and I'd only reached Adams Rd!  Legs were getting lazy but my elbow was keen to flap, blurring the bitumen to Hoopers Rd and into the depths of despair, the roundabout still seemed worlds away.  There were very few breaths left in the bank to catch the tail, so at three hundred metres shy my elbow gave Batman the lead so I could recover at the rear.

The visiting Kiwestralian powered the Propel to the truck route and a bit beyond,  PistolPete setting the pace to Mitchell Rd, nah make that Central Kialla, nope, to River Rd ('cause he can).  Col had settled into a long drive east, the southwester of some help to his hurry to the dip and out the other side.  Kreeky drove long and strong to River Rd's end but that put me back in the drivers seat for Boundary Rd to aim at reaching the bridges, the eastern sky blushing orange ready for the sun's arrival.   Lungs were clamped by the cold and legs were cooked by the cadence though strangely, there was pleasure in the push to the Broken bridges.  Batman did well in his hurry to the highway, my reserves at the ready for Pistol to take the drivers seat at the Pub.  Focus narrowed on the five millimetre gap between caliper and tyre on Col's rear wheel (it diverts thoughts from the messages of massacre from my legs), Pistol powering into the forties to reach Old Dookie Rd.  Kreeky and Col took to the west way home in a hurry and another turn was on the cards for me, short and swift from Central Ave to Dobson's bridge then gasping into the tow for Batman to get us to close to town. There was a millisecond of mayhem as a stone kicked my wheel sideways, but then quickly off the seat in sprint mode to catch Pistol's turbocharged turn to the traffic lights. Sudden silence behind me told of Batman's absence, an about face for a few hundred metres found him already removing a punctured tube (the same stone that had my posterior puckering previously).

11/9  The fellowship of the frost.

Surely this was the last of it?  Minus zero point six questioned why you'd bother and answered why the 'wouldabeens' dived for doona cover.  Lungs were gripped vice-like in the 'feels like' minus two point six, a calm commute to the carpark with Batman was tough enough, how would the team's tempo treat me?  Boof, Rocket, Wozza, PistolPete, Superman, Col, The Godfather, Batman, MyRideTrev, Bruce and TrekTrev had toughened to the temperature, the wattage gifted to Wozza taking us swiftly south at six.  The horizon glowed at Wednesday's arrival and fog coated the canola, a scenic consolation to the cold as we shivered toward Mitchell Rd, The Godfather's comic castigation warming us with a laugh.

Shuffled to the rear, I was called into the advance line by MyRideTrev (no takers for an early lap today, seems the 'woodabeens' have stalled just after they started)     In TrekTrev's draft through Central Kialla, the rude reality of the frozen front hit me in River Rd, took me back to my breathing capacity on a thirty-five-a-day habit.  Reaching the bridge was out of the question so rolled across three hundred metres shy of the mark, Rocket most obliging levelling with a wheezing old engine over the bridge.

It was well beyond the dip before I'd regained focus, enough to spot the Cat pack westbound (well, two had ventured out)    Boof, Wozza and Pistol kept legs in labour to the quarter horse stud, Laura and Weapon (on a quiet circuit) overtaken at the ripple strips.  The Godfather's sledges slipped into overdrive in Boundary Rd, (seems he's only silent in the drivers seat) regardless of the speed set at the front, that jaw kept on flapping.  I lined up behind TrekTrev in Channel Rd, guessing I'd squeeze in a turn just before the challenge of the ChaCha, under the cypress trees with Rocket then to hang on for the hurry to the Kinder.  The sun hit the horizon just as Wozza hit the throttle, the squad stretching long and laboured to the finish line (The Godfather silent, at last)

12/9  Goats a go go.

Six (starters) at six (a.m.) in six (degrees) wasn't bad for the remnants of the remaining Goats, winter has worn away a once popular peloton.  Birthday boy Hommie, Coggo, Snow, Tum and Belly had fronted, Batman along to supplement the squad.  To when Dippa, AvantiLeigh, Jen, Principal Skinner, Brendy, DeepFry, JB, AvantiAndy, Speissy, Phil, Baz and HG will return is anyone's guess, or are some already an extinct species?  Coggo commanded that I set the train tapping out of town, the sky lighting up like a tail-light as I gently turned up the tempo to Dobson's.

Was my (self imposed) limit of 35 km/h breaking Belly's heart?  His "I love you Foss" answered the question as I rolled to the rear at the bridge.  Batman followed my cue to Central Ave, Tum, Snow and Coggo taking their turns into a niggling northeaster to get us to Boundary Rd.  Hommie, inspired by the breeze at the backside, set a good speed to the Pork Palace, my shift to the highway barely breaking out of zone three.  How pleasant to ride not on the rivet!  Batman was keen doing the distance to River Rd, building my hopes I'd score a tow for the length of it before my shortcut home.  The scenic start to the day had dissolved to a dull grey, Tum, Snow and Coggo thoughtfully taking their turns at the roads centre to shelter those behind.  Hommie drove a long shift from the bridge to River Rd's end, delivering me fresh at Central Kialla to battle the breeze solo back home.

13/9  Frisky Friday (& a Poppa podium)

It's almost the same old, same old.  Boof, Wozza, Rocket and PistolPete high tailing it south as division two (the few who are left) cling to the rear in hope of holding on, or maybe brave a turn or two.  But each ride has a different angle or moment, something to learn or laugh about, and a slice of social enlightenment to savour.  Even if each day were Groundhog day we'd still ride, that dopamine drug is what we're hooked on, and a lap usually keeps the 'crazies' at bay.  Bruce, Kreeky, Shorty, Superman and The Godfather were the only others for the Friday fling, three degrees feeling almost tropical after recent zero mornings.  A hint of a southwesterly had no effect on division one but felt almost gale force to others, I'd joined the up line and with a little luck, arrived at the front in Mitchell Rd scoring a little help from that breeze.  A kilometre at speed beside Rocket and my internal gauge warned there wasn't a lot left, so I begged an early roll to share part two with Kreeky.

Just a k off the previous pace was a life saver, reaching Central Kialla to then bask in the bliss of a draft.  The tempo was then dialled back 4 km/h en-route to River Rd, making me wonder why I'd sacrificed myself to speed a minute ago, the bunch treated to a few moments of serenity while The Godfather donated his drive at the front.  Turns turned shorter as the less swift reached the reality of the drivers seat, putting me back into the advance line again to see the Pussycats had pulled out all stops to field a pack of eight on their clockwise circuit.  For me, it was time for toil again at the rushin' front in Boundary Rd and mind over muscles wasn't working too well, what the will wants and what the legs deliver are two different things, regrettably shortening my shift with Rocket and shorter again with Kreeky.

Bruce was in a lather matching Pistol's power so I wasn't the only one in stress street.  Channel Rd's hurry homeward felt thankfully more manageable, others were contributing to the cause and I'd fallen in love with the rear seats, a free ride home for me felt justified recalling the week's work on two wheels.  Rocket and Wozza had settled into a steady forty on the front for the ChaCha, effectively stalling a sprint finish, but from the back, The Godfather seized a sneaky chance to pluck a podium.  The sight of the 'wouldabeens' (a ride a week spells a long comeback trail) ahead kept speed spirited back into town, my week ending deflated with a nail through the rear tyre on the way home.



Week 37        256km                               YTD  9,391 km  




     

Week 36 : A want for a whippin'.

Post #516
31/8  And good riddance Winter!

The days of riding bare armed, legs exposed and with warmth at your back still seems worlds away, it was Winter's last hurrah and we were layered like onions preparing to freeze at speed for fifty five k's.  You've gotta be addicted!  Rocket, Liam, Shorty, GiantAndy, Bo, Wozza, Trav, TrekTrev, PistolPete, TatPaul, MyRideTrev and TatMat made up the Saturday assembly, freedom from the confines of an employer and the lure of the Lemontree menu was that little ray of sunshine with just one degree on the gauge.  TatMat was quick off the mark for the Archer Rd introduction, the southeast breeze biting through the layers as speedo's climbed into the high thirties.  Bruce and Grumpy joined as an advance line formed, Liam quickly into the drivers seat in his trademark horizontal back, hands hanging over the bars, smooth spinning style.

This Saturday was set to be swift.  Liam rolled across to the left line at the roundabout and the brave lined up for driving duty beside him, Wozza, Pistol and Rocket donated the long drives alongside, consuming the k's to Mitchell Rd, Central Kialla and beyond, then taking to the shelter in the down-line when the energy evaporated.  GiantAndy, Trav, TatPaul, Shorty, Bruce and TrekTrev moved up to do their bit in River Rd, Liam set like concrete at the front respectfully matching each effort.  Grumpy and Bo turned themselves inside out beside the young fella on Boundary Rd to the pub but I was opting out if a gap opened over the highway.  Bo put the choke on the challenge and rolled in front of Liam to end his twenty k sit in the drivers seat, the routine of rotation finally starting toward Old Dookie Rd, a relief for some and a restriction for others.

To the Toaster then the Church the speed had somewhat settled, though steering toward town the bait of breakfast would bite.   Grumpy and I led into Lemnos-Cosgrove Rd working west toward town, a touch of a southwest breeze trimming my turn a hundred metres.  Liam drew alongside (respectfully level) but I'll admit the pressure of pace was getting to me, his forty one year younger engine barely running while mine was on the rev limiter.  Trying to keep the mind on top of the hurt (rather than the hurt handbraking the head) was a mental wrestling match I soon lost, calling Liam across at Woolshed Rd and preparing for more pain as Rocket came forward as his co-pilot.  Legs, lungs and heart were in hell by Boundary Rd as Liam and Rocket turned the tempo into the forties, but the want to play a part in the peloton (and admittedly to mask one's weakness) drives the will to new limits.

Liam's matchstick draft was as useful as an ashtray on a motorbike, the kudos from TatMat and Bruce my only driving force by the main eastern channel where the white flag waved and my elbow submitted defeat.  Dropping two metres off Liam's wheel let TatPaul into the gap and the relief was almost instant, he'd kindly sat up on the hoods to aid the tow so the feeling of imminent implosion slowly faded.  MyRideTrev and Shorty were clinging to the caboose, GiantAndy bid his farewells to steer to work via Lemnos as Bo took to the front in Ford Rd and instantly pegged back the pace.  It now seemed likely I'd survive, at least to Wanganui Rd.  Wozza, Bruce and Pistol maintained the tempo into town (Shorty and MyRideTrev vanishing into Verney Rd to skip the sprint), most looking now for a way to wriggle into the left line as Wanganui Rd and it's workload drew near.  Those equipped with the effort drove forward as I locked onto TatMat's wheel at DECA, Grumpy dropping off the back as we struggled to the hill.

TatMat and I slowed in Rudd Rd to get Grumpy back aboard, winding up what little wattage we had to claw our way back to the bunch.  By the Boulevard Grumpy had disappeared again, so certain he'd be lured by the breakfast bait, we'd caught the somewhat slowing train back to base station to cure the caffeine craving.  Depression, retro bikes and where magpies lurk kept jaws flapping as the long forgotten sun warmed our chilled bones.

2/9  Thawing therapy.

I hat running late. It's a Virgo thing.  The good intentions leaving home on time were scuttled by tardy traffic lights, forcing a rush to the carpark to catch the 5:45 Monday train (mental note to alter the course for the future) 
To the grid just as Kreeky, The Godfather, Bo, Col, Kel, Bruce and Tina were departing, I was at least primed for pace but The Godfather's curse at a deflating rear tyre (yep, always the rear one) soon stopped the squad and gifted me some recovery time from that sprint to the start.
Kel's eagle eye found the offending puncture and before you could say volume in my Vittoria, Bruce had us Indian filed to the truck route.  The call of "have a look!" handballed the responsibility from the front, judging a "yep" or a "stop" was left to the individual as a car drew near.  Most made it through but the backmarkers chose to halt, so the cruise for half a k got me recovery time again.  "All aboard" set Bo driving to Orrvale Rd and of course (to prove performance) stayed on till the Kinder before handing over to Tina.

Swiftly to the cypress trees, it was my turn in the lead role, my shift to the S bend easier than expected (maybe that quick commute to the carpark did the trick?)  Kreeky towed us to Channel Rd's end then added extra to the highway, that set The Godfather going on a long drive of Boundary Rd to Old Dookie then Kel to provide the power to New Dookie. This was getting infectious.  Col targeted his turn to reach Lemnos-Cosgrove Rd and I knew Bruce would drag us a distance (to Lemnos North Rd as it happened) but at this pace my shifts would be shorter.  Bo set his sights on the distance of Grahamvale Rd and Tina's tempo tested me into town, at least we were closer to coffee and sun-up had a psychological warmth on the back.  With a whisker of inadequacy I donated a standard shift, though kudos from others erased that feeling quickly, perhaps I was getting a seniors concession? A sprintless Wanganui Rd is a Monday treat, and a day off work treated me to the social stuff at the Butterfactory base camp.  Temperatures into double figures prompted a post coffee cruise for fifteen k for the sake of soaking up Spring.

3/9 Hurry + hurt = happiness!
Skirting the streets around the traffic lights made up some minutes to reach Tuesday's grid, though that made me first to berth for the 5:40 fling.  About time I hardened up and faced the first shift.  Kreeky, Col, TrekTrev, Kel, Bo, Tina and Grumpy arrived for action so I set our little train steaming south, hoping I'd set a respectable pace to Sanctuary's roundabout.  Surprisingly, speed was satisfying, legs supplied the labour and the heart rate was headed to the heavens (nothing new) but I was averting eyes from the distant roundabout to avoid a mental meltdown.  It was a bridge too far for the brain.  PistolPete arrived late from the south and tacked onto the rear, I'd reached my three k target and threw an elbow at TrekTrev to take over, then rolled to the rear for rest, finding I'd scored Pistol's wheel.....again.   The east northeaster would play hell on Mitchell and River Rd so my early shift was timely and tactical, Kreeky and Col driving the hard yards to Central Kialla while I restored respiratory function.   Tina tore into River Rd possessed with pace (Queensland made her quicker), Bo taking on the breeze at the bridge, but there'd be no epic turn from him today.  That wind had worn away his wattage a bit beyond the dip, Grumpy put in charge to tow us to the quarter horse stud.
Kel's determined drive dragged us to Boundary Rd, PistolPete now piloting us north.

He mixed swift with smooth (as usual) to make my job holding onto second wheel easier, the speedo seemed stuck at 40.7 each time I snuck a look as Pete carried us over the bridges, past Channel Rd and up to the highway.   Keen to keep the drivers seat, Pistol stayed on till the pork palace, so my turn started somewhat second hand, keeping the pace was possible but doing the distance was difficult.  Legs were lax by the fig farm so rather than wreck the rhythm, I left the lead to TrekTrev and spent my last milliwatts catching the tail.  TrekTrev turned into Old Dookie Rd and worked us west a bit, a breeze was now in his favour but I'd happily have his horsepower.  Col was in command back to town but the pace didn't let up at the truck route, Bo kept the hurry and the hurt happening to SPC before the relief of the respite on the roll toward coffee.  Plenty of PB's added the happiness.

4/9  Two tribes.

A taste of two degrees told me winter's barely left us,  a cold commute to the carpark optimistically dressed in Spring kit.  MyRideTrev led an early long line of emerging hibernators to slink silently south from town, one wonders who will eventually rejoin the ranks of the A's and B's, or could this be the beginning of a divide where cruisers and bruisers do their separate thing and only congregate at cafes? Tenacity and time will tell.   A squad of Trav, Bruce, PistolPete, Kel, Rocket, Col, Shorty, Superman, Pelly, Wozza, TrekTrev, Kreeky, The Godfather, Bo, Boof and Grumpy had grouped at the grid by six, my early arrival delivering me the driving duties (again) to the roundabout.  Keeping traditionally Indian filed to the edge of town I pondered who'd partner in pace when the advance line formed.  Measuring up to the muscles of PistolPete, Rocket or Wozza would work me over so there was some comfort to co-pilot with Kel.  But never under estimate a woman with wattage, unless you have a want for a whippin'.  Hopeful of reaching the roundabout but with my heart hating the hurry, Kel called a roll just as I was about to, saving me certain suffering.

Back into a draft vision would slowly sharpen, despair would dissolve, a sentence of more than two words could be spoken and I could cancel plans for my Friday funeral.  Rocket and Wozza got into their habit of hurry in Mitchell Rd to The Godfather's grizzles of foul play for a Wednesday, but rotations by fellows of fairer fastness settled the speed a touch.  PistolPete's Pinarello was in the pits so the old Avanti was being blown of cobwebs, Grumpy in summer knicks made all feel a little warmer while Superman and Pelly chatted comfortably in the caboose.  Trav was the perfect partner for my second appearance at the front, from River Rd to One Tree Dam was enough for part one, the pairing with PistolPete in part two aimed at reaching Channel Rd, but my will ran empty 400 metres shy.  Volunteers for the front thinned as we worked west on the eight k's of Channel Rd's twists and turns, and by Central Ave my answer to joining the advance line was a no.  There was too much horsepower ahead.  Trav, Rocket, Pistol, Boof and Wozza charged at the ChaCha (lured by the collection of comeback kids just ahead?), the two tribes forming a long line and a calm cadence back to suburbia.

5/9  The Belly ache.

A crank to Congupna and back at stupid o'clock fed the k craving on Thursday, contemplating the solo serenity and the heaven of hotmix (vs bitumen using 20mm stone) and questioning why is the toilet window frosted on aircraft?   Convinced I was fighting a northeaster, there was relief to steer south onto Grahamvale Rd (but I was baffled by the bureau's belief it was a south southeaster)  To Friars on Fryers at 5:55 I found Blyth, a visiting Westralian who'd sought me via Strava to learn a local lap or three.  Heady clattered in stuck on the little ring (Rule #90 unheeded Heady?), wrestling the chain to it's proper place manually, Belly bowling in as our back-up as six bells chimed.  Coggo and Hommie turned up a tad tardy and as Heady had hid from his out-of-town-tow task, I took leg one to Dobson's.  There's always doubt inviting a stranger into the fold (can't hang on / won't shut up / no bunch manners / rides like WobblyTrev / happens to be state time-trial champion) so was delighted to find Blyth smooth, straight, sociable and sufficiently swift spinning to Central Ave when I elbowed his turn at the bridge.

Oh, woops! I'd set the bar a bit brisk seeing Belly blown out the back, so we slowed a tad for leg three to reconnect the carriages.  I think I'm now off Belly's Christmas card list.  Coggo captained the crew in Boundary Rd to the pork palace, Belly's turn was brief and Heady's half that (at least they're not cowering in the caboose).    Hommie's back in business despite carrying the extra ballast, handing over to Blyth at the Broken bridges to take us south to River Rd (with hints on navigation from behind).  I had the helm for River Rd's opening salvo, finding form on that super smooth stretch of tarmac at the Angora farm.  Back into the draft when Coggo fronted the crew, I reckoned on staying in the tow till time would turn me to shortcut to town. Almost rested as I bid my farewells at Central Kialla (fielding a friendly f-off from Belly), the nine k's homeward were pleasingly pacy, that subtle southerly amplifying my ability to help me homeward.



6/9  Nothing, zilch, nought, zero.  Fooled by the forecast, a sleep-in Friday felt foreign, but good.

Week 36          250k                        YTD  9,133km