Week 46 : Begging for breath.

Post #526
9/11  A strangely serene Saturday.

Really?  Feels like zero, seven weeks away from Christmas? Maybe Summer will give us a refund?  I needed to turbocharge my motivation in this temperature to throw a leg over the bike, entering the Tat 100 just a week away stirred the spirits to clock a few longer k's so I was out the door at 5:05, boldly ignoring the celcius gauge to tap the deserted New Dookie Rd tarmac.   Guessing the distance to the 6am grid kept the speed simmering, that 17-28 km/h westerly helping me to Boundary Rd for a fight against the wind back to town.  Right left right left along Old Dookie, Central, Poplar and Orrvale to steer into Channel Rd and back to the shop's carpark.  I timed that nicely, rolling around the block to grid at 5:57.    TrekTrev, Kreeky, Wozza, Lance, Bruce, Boof, Grumpy, TatMat, Bo and TatPaul converged, the absence of Rocket and PistolPete (and The Godfather to antagonise them) a good reason for a relaxed ride.  Bruce called a 35 limit (then promptly paced at 37 toward the truck route) but no stress, a tailwind on Mitchell and River Rd's would ease the effort.

TrekTrev's now whiskered and Kreeky's hatching a mo, TatMat was barking like a bloodhound and Lance's tail light was again enticing epilepsy (thankfully mostly obstructed my a posterior man satchel : Rule #29 infringement)  It's the same old circuit but each one is different.  Driving duty came due at River Rd's dip, between Bruce and TatMat had a minimum of taxation, a pleasant change from the usual Saturday slog.  Or was that the tailwind talking? That temperature incited the nose to run like a tap, mindful of the manners mum taught not to sniff.  Surely this is the last of the wintery weather?  The wind made it's presence felt at the flanks while we worked north on Boundary, the perfectly sized group (suitably sized for a worthy workout, just enough recovery time between turns and none of that rubber band syndrome felt in bigger bunches) neatly formed and synchronised to Old Dookie Rd and out to the Toaster.  

Pussycats were well patronised, passing our path at the Big Ring as our heads went down to drive into the chill, that prior almost arrogant attitude with the wind at our backs now erased by reality.  I was pleased the pace had settled to near the mid thirties but legs and lungs wouldn't do the distance my hopes had wanted.  Still, nobody was measuring turns.  Into Wanganui Rd my turn had come again, that wind and a decent stretch of corrugations was shaking what speed I had out of me.  Legs were well warmed on the spin to keep up with Boof and TrekTrev passing DECA , our small bunch a little longer cresting the hill. Thoughts of hot coffee under the Lemontree heaters stirred Wozza's speed along the Boulevard (wouldn't a relaxed roll to finish the Saturday circuit be weird?), I guess burning a few extra calories warranted a guilt free choice from the menu.  9/11, Trumpisms and rising costs occupied the chat while porridge (who would'a thought?) hit the spot under the heaters in November.

11/11  Rippa ride!

Was it 120 psi in the Michelins? The draft from a couple of passing cars? Maybe the Sunday off the bike or the fact not a puff of wind marred the morning?  Mid thirties was dead easy on the commute to the carpark, and regardless of the reason, I was relishing it for all it was worth.  It set a plus in the headspace as Bruce, Bo, Trav, PistolPete, Kel, Boof and Col converged for the 5:45 fling to start the working week.  Second wheel to my titanium team-mate Bruce, eight set forth east on Channel Rd in a fresh not freezing eight degrees with no qualms facing the front for leg two.  I'd preserved the prior pace to Orrvale Rd then paired with Pistol to the Kinder.  Hallelujah! No hernia getting there!  (mind you, it felt good to be back in the draft after)

The sun peeked over the horizon at the fig farm where I lined up behind Bruce for another drive of duty, musing a damp Dromana weekend with PistolPete, the ever increasing traffic with Col and V8 Supercars with Bo.  To the drivers seat over New Dookie Rd I could feel the energy ebb earlier, so called an early roll with Bruce at the rail line rather than tame the tempo, hoping I'd do the distance with Pistol to Lemnos-Cosgrove Rd.  Eastbound Goats had plenty of participants  as we worked west,  a calmer cardiac count coming to me as I was demoted to forth wheel while Kel and Col towed us toward town.  Kreeky arrived from the west (a puncture preventing his placement in the starting grid) while I'd avoided the work in Wanganui, but the payback was a shift in Rudd Rd to scale the heights of cemetery hill, then to keep up with Pistol on the Boulevard till the legs would give no more.

12/11 Only two true to Rule #9.

The wind whistled through the trees and What's App pinged the retirements almost instantly.  WTF? A little bitty breeze (well, a 22-41 km/h northwester) had turned Goats to quarter strength skinny chai latte sipping, doona snuggling softies! I just had to grid to see who wasn't!  It was breezy to the golf course but a tropical 23 degrees wasn't to be missed after our miserable winter, most of the course would have the wind almost behind so I couldn't see the sense of withdrawals.  Verney's roundabout was deserted till 5:58, Belly the only Goat with gumption to honour rule #9, and rule #5 for that matter (Tina excused tackling Lake Mountain in two degrees)   Off into Ford Rd's emptiness with the wind as our assistant, I cautiously applied the accelerator to guess a satisfactory speed.  A peek uder the armpit gauged the gap, driving to Lemnos-Cosgrove Rd where Belly seemed keen to stay at second spot. So I stayed in the front seat toward Boundary Rd, but over the bridge silence behind me said a slight slow was in order.  We paired in Boundary Rd and eased to spin socially, banking a little energy for the west way back to town was good insurance.  Time told me a turn via Channel Rd would keep me employed (it's a shame when work gets in the way of a good ride) and Belly was like-minded, so the inevitable arrived to face the wind for 8k's homeward but Belly elected me the tow truck and resumed his spot at the rear.  I found a rhythm at 87 rpm where the heart rate stayed stable, ignoring the speed 'cause doing the distance is what mattered. No point blowing a gasket in this situation.  Back to suburbia the relief turning north was treasured, the average speed wasn't worth shouting about but Strava's suffer score said super.

13/11 Facing facts at the front.

Joining the advance line behind Boof, PistolPete, Wozza and Rocket was jumping in the deep end early, that long thin tail of survivors in the draft hadn't a volunteer in it!  Banking on the westerly for a helping hand backfired when I paired with PistolPete for the northbound leg through Central Kialla, though I played the holding-half-a-wheel-back card to handbrake his hurry.  Begging for breath by River Rd, Bo at least showing some sympathy restraining his pace to 37 while I dredged the dying determination to reach the bridge (dried up a hundred metres shy)

I masked my meltdown sparing short sentences with Joe (not Tony), Bo, Shorty, Grumpy, Col, Kel, Tina, Bruce, Superman, TrekTrev and Lorne (a new addition aboard a BMC; young, fashionably kitted but not the panache of PistolPete).  Lorne faced the front but his energy evaporated within 200 metres, the duck to the downline saving him from certain implosion while Kel, Col and Shorty kept the tempo to Boundary Rd.   The tiny train of Tum and Coggo spun south as we headed north to Channel Rd, all the horsepower (Rocket, Wozz, Boof and Bruce) having a holiday at the back (a little tender from Tuesday?)   The westerly made its presence felt in Channel Rd, ten out of ten to Tina to tough it out to the S bend, my turn between Bo and TrekTrev to the cypress trees well worn by the wind.  Almost inside out catching TrekTrev's wheel out of the corner, recovery came quickly when Wozza's deflating tyre prompted a pit stop.  A split tyre, a tube and two CO2's so far but a $50 note saved the sidewall.  A rapid resumption caught Joe (not Tony) and Lorne napping on the charge to the ChaCha, both unceremoniously OTA at Hopeful corner as the bunch bolted for the finish line.

14/11  Goat grupetto.
Welcoming weather drew a gathering of Goats from their warm cots into Thursdays tempting twelve degrees but a weak westerly spooked HG to stay indoors.  Snow, Sandy, JB, Tum, Hommie, DeepFry, Tina, Coggo, Joey, AvantiAndy, Heady and visitor Jason clocked in for the six am countdown.

A single filed start soon transformed to an unspoken but understood pairing of two lines.  Melbournian Jason (Cannondale, Rapha, speed sensor on the front hub) blended smoothly into the gaggle, that tailwind taming any troubles with tempo.  Sentences ceased and frowns creased the brows of some as we steered south onto Boundary Rd with the wind at the side,  but JB still perched almost off the back of that pristine Pinarello, Tum tortured the small sprockets while the well-worn Charly Gaul jersey flapped, Joey's wheel buckle was in sync with his loose work-socks, Heady's lean legs still spin for all they're worth and Sandy stoically stoked the green Focus, no doubt hatching the next holiday.  The difference between the draft and the drivers seat caught me napping, increased effort needed to keep pace with Snow then Tina tested me to Old Dookie Rd.  Steadily south to River Rd (sighting ride rarities Whispering Jack and Nick slogging northward), we faced the westerly head-on, though I reckon it wasn't as painful as predicted (a walk in the park compared to Tuesday) though some would disagree.  Content with my contribution to the dip, I tucked into the draft to ready for a solo shortcut home, but Joey joined to share the load to town.

15/11  Frisky Friday.

Thoughts on tomorrow's Tat100 kerbed any enthusiasm to get to the front early, the north westerly would have assisted but PistolPete's pace suggested that waiting for the regular routine of rotation would ease me into the drivers seat with far less stress.  (I might have hardened up by then).  Rocket silhouetted the sun-up as we sped to Mitchell Rd, I got onto Shorty's wheel when he hinted a slightly slower speed.  Wozza, Bruce, Tina, Trav, Kel, ScottMatt (has he shaken that MTB illness?), Grumpy and Col rolled through as I settled into the social stuff, that faster than forecast northwester playing hell with my hopes of a swift shift to River Rd.

A k to the bridge beside Tina and I was ready for rest, speed then steadily simmered into the forties (as if to humiliate my hurry) but I guess some days you've got it and others you 'aint.   By Boundary Rd some had already confirmed their permanent place in the caboose (nothing to do with Pistol and Wozz charging toward Channel Rd?), I  figured I was softening seeking the same seat till I noted the fairly frisky average speed.  I hadn't really earned a rest at the rear but with that hundred k ahead of me I was preserving performance early, there were eight keen to share the workload at the front anyway.  Heady, cruising Channel Rd (ota from the pain train?) was collected into the caboose, glances left and right within our ranks as we closed in on Kinder corner, who was preparing for pace and who was searching for a draft?  Of course, the bunch thinned as the swift sniffed the finish line nearing Prentice Rd,  Col (running out of Ventolin velocity) among the few pooped from the pace.

Week 46        281km              YTD 11,713km