2019 : The year that was...

Post #532

Well, that's another year gone by, and just for a change, reaching no particular target or achieving no particular goal, just the pleasure of propelling two wheels around and enjoying the company of like minded cyclusts. (in web view, read the dictionary in the right column)   A change of scenery and ritual here and there put the proverbial icing on the cake.  My habitual fraternisation with the Couldabeens and Goats was mixed with a few different events and tours, the Lake Hume Challenge (Feb), taking the bike to Ballarat (March) and a most enjoyable three April weeks worth of touring Tasmania (super scenery and uncannily courteous motorists).   Four doses of Melbourne's Beach Road, a Bendigo Cycling Classic (October) and the Tat 100 (November) kept variety in the mix, though the Fruitloop's hiatus ended my 13 year run.

But it was 2019's winter that etched into the memory, not so much the relentless cold but the long list of retirees from it.  So many lost the will to commit to two wheels (some are still yet to return) despite it being no colder than 2018 (twenty nine days of three degrees or lower).   It's that fear of facing a long and suffering comeback that kept me going through the zero's and bone chilling breezes, admittedly the more that vanished from the list of regular riders only strengthened my resolve.

Allegiances split between cafes during 2019 but the bunch kept diversifying, different divisions making sure most levels of fitness were catered for. Injuries (almost inevitable) striking PistolPete and Tina (through no fault of their own) then I just had to go horizontal when the weather warmed up!  We bid adieu to SpinDoctor (Holland) and not-so-newAvantiJohn (Darwin) and regrettably last goodbye's to Nev Yuille during the year but we welcomed Joe (not Tony) into the fold and enjoyed the brief visits of Batman and Stu.  Other interesting interlopers were filtered by tempo.

The usual seven tyres, three chains and nine tubes were consumed in clocking nearly 13,000 km, a new pair of Craftworx carbon wheels making the effort a little easier (rest in peace Mavic Carbon SL's with 145,000 done) while the trusty Baum carries on delivering smooth and reliable kilometres into the 60,000's.  Elephant stamps to Wozza (a sub 10 hour Three Peaks), Liam (a comeback of inspirational proportions) and Tina (25,000+ km for the year), in fact all that swung a leg over a bike and had a go deserve a nod (the task is to keep it consistent!)
Thanks to all for their fellowship, laughs, advice and enthusiasm, a nod to the ranks of the rapid that keep the standards high (lest we soften).
And so begins my wrestling match of the mental side lamenting a lap while the physical side repairs nine broken ribs.  You'll be spared these weekly writings till then.  Take care out there bike buddies.....      

Week 51: The ride to ruin ribs.

Post #531
14/12  A prescription of pace.

Bed was bliss, legs felt lame, energy was extinct and there was a hundred things to do at home when the alarm chimed at stupid o'clock Saturday.  So a ride was the perfect prescription!  (HTFU old chap and get your priorities right!)

The weather was still stuck on a southwester though twelve degrees was tolerable, the spin through town amused by drunk nightclubbers staggering the streets.  I made my way to a crammed carpark, finding Wozza, Dalts, Temple, Tina, Lance, TrekTrev, MyRideTrev, GiantAndy, Bruce, Rocket, TatPaul, BigLen, Determined Dan, Boof, PistolPete, Lenny, Shorty, Bo, Superman, The Godfather, TatMat, Tum, Col and (pickle my grandmother!), SuperMario back on a bike! Up and away by six, two rows got sorted into a pecking order for the ritual fifty five k's.
Finding loose gravel across the River Rd entry, The Godfather took a wide line off road to avoid a horizontal embarrassment, (as if the floral atrocity he called a kit wasn't enough!) lucky to rejoin the tarmac upright with not a bindii collected.

CatKel was collected at the Broken bridges, Superman limiting his exposure to effort in the drivers seat alongside Lance on worn wattage too.  Tum took over crossing Channel Rd and I paired with him to the highway, TatPaul my sidekick to Boundary's channel bridge. Funny how you can muster a good turn when there's a long line of drivers ready to volunteer behind. It's a different story in a small bunch when the turns come round regularly. Settling back into the draft, there'd be a long wait till duty called again. TrekTrev played paparazzi and for a moment speed settled into the mid thirties on Lemnos-Cosgrove Rd to the relief of a few, but the serenity was short-lived as Rocket and Wozza resumed the rapidity.  Temple, Dalts, MyRideTrev and SuperMario wagged the work in Wanganui Rd, opting to vamoose via Verney Rd to Breakfast.  Vince and I were on duty toward DECA, just maintaining the 40's momentum, waiting for the movers and shakers to pounce, pleased to be near the business end when the sprint sprung to life rather than be dropped from the rear.  BigLen was in labor at the test track (see what too much MTB does to you!) as a gap opening ahead of him, so I seized the chance to grab Tina's wheel when she shot past, avoiding a case of the o.t.a.'s.  Breakfast caused the usual bolt along the Boulevard, Bruce's speed a bit spicy into Knight St where he got a bit too up-close-and-personal to an oncoming truck.  High and resting heart rates, retail pandemonium and container homes was on the Lemontree breakfast chat list as the day warmed us.


16/12  Welcome back Liam!

Monday morning's lethargy turned to labour when the clock struck 5:30, three minutes beyond saddle-up time put some pace into my six k commute to the carpark.  Bo, Lenny, Bruce, PistolPete, Wozza, Rocket, The Godfather, Trav, Joe (not Tony) Kel and Col rolled in, Liam's return from injury an inspirational moment.  The ubiquitous southwester drove us along Channel Rd as the weekend's production, past-times and parties were verbalised.  That breeze behind got my turn with Wozz to the Kinder up to the standard but that southern spin on Central Ave beside Liam was a lesson in labour till we swung eastward toward the cypress trees.  I didn't want to contemplate my next turn, it was a long way off, 'cause it'd be into the wind.  Tis the season where start and finish temperatures are differing, the rising sun helping to heat some hurry into lax legs.  Ahh, it'll soon be time to grizzle about the heat now that winters long cold chill has been forgotten.

The sights, sounds and smells of the great outdoors were being lapped up by Liam (even The Godfather's garble?), all those weeks of rehab and the wind-trainer would torment the toughest.  (yet some choose a static scenery ride indoors even when weather is wonderful)  The Goats train of peace looked appealing as we turned to work west into the wind, Joe (not Tony) keen to keep the caboose captaincy.  My time for torment came beside Wozz (supressing snoring) in Wanganui Rd, but I called my turn short through want for wattage that wasn't.  Liam and Bo took the reigns at DECA, me forgetting Liam's lack of draft till now,  recovery impossible in the tow of a matchstick.  Still, he'd step up my Strava suffer score trying to hold on.  The want for a Butterfactory brew stirred some speed on the Boulevard, car-bound commuters multiplying as work drew them toward town, the quick crank to the traffic lights where I parted company for a slow spin to home.

17/12  A ride to ruin ribs.

The choice between the 5:40 spin and the six am Goat getaway was decided by time (or lack of it), no way I was making the Couldabeens grid to catch their train so a golf course loop to the Goat grid was a schedule I could keep.  Heady, Phil, Tina, Coggo, Sandy, Hommie, Snow and Dippa had berthed at Verney's roundabout, so Heady assumed his riding ritual role to lead leg one.  A smidgeon of a southerly suggested I take to the crown of  the road to deliver a decent draft to others, the turn at the front to Lemnos North Rd judged easier than the effort at the back.  Go figure!

There was a bit of trepidation about facing the breeze in Boundary Rd but all stepped up to the challenge, whether it be long or short.   An orange daybreak put some enthusiasm behind the effort, a sense of stability and smoothness swamping the squad with Coggo at the helm.   I was back at the business end by the highway, the bait of HG and Brother Andrew ahead gave incentive to chase, my temptation of tempo tamed when they turned into Channel Rd.  Tina's turn was a delight to follow as I slipped to the rear of the Indian filed line, it was inspiring to witness Heady and Dippa advancing (albeit briefly) into the southwester on River Rd, it's all too easy to take the soft option of sitting-on but the nothing-ventured-nothing-gained gambit must have menaced their minds. 

All did their bit to Central Kialla, Heady kindly towing me the last k so I was fresh for the solo spin home. Those oncoming trucks did their best to blow me backward but the tailwind on Archer Rd would be a sweet swansong.  I remembered a long wait at the Kialla Lakes Drive traffic lights but there's just snapshots of circumstances thereafter, trying to dream up a snappy Strava ride title kept the pre-frontal cortex occupied, commuting traffic keeping the corpus collosum concentrating on the downhill to Guthrie St.  It was a white van pulling out from the stop sign that got the OMG's happening, the hope of turning east with him wasn't going to work but was worth a try for the harm minimisation.  Striking the drivers door at 45 degrees turned out my consciousness for a minute, brief pictures of Cats gathered and the ambulance driver asking questions was all the memory would recall. Feeling a great weight on my chest for the fleeting moments awake en-route to hospital were overpowered by questions of what about the bike? A partial lung collapse, nine broken ribs and  minor fractures to C3 and C4 would put a halt to riding (and this blog) for a while. (the bike, titanium tough, without damage)

Week 51:   135km                  YTD 12,833km

Week 50 : Painting a picture of pain.

  

Post #530
7/12  The Saturday sting.

Saturday had swelled with starters, was it the weather, the festive spirit or purely a bunch belonging that created the crowd?  Superman, Manny, Col, Boof, Grumpy, The Godfather, Lance, Tina, GiantAndy, Wozza, Lenny, TatPaul, Temple, Determined Dan, Rocket, Shorty, TatMat, PistolPete, Kreeky, Trav, MyRideTrev, Dalts and Bo amassed at the carpark awaiting six bells.  

We'd  just reached the standard Saturday velocity with two rows almost organised when Wozza puctured, the repairs rapid with MyRideTrev as the ever faithful pitcrew.  Back to business after the babble, the juggernaut sped onto Mitchell Rd but I'd found myself sandwiched by speed between the swift slices of GiantAndy and Wozza.  An old nag among the thoroughbreds.  High thirties and moments in the forties (once punishable by vehement vitriol from the caboose) is now the acceptable norm, admittedly a light southwester was favouring the flight.    

Sentences were swapped between the rows as River Rd blurred under the hum of forty six wheels, stacked (by chance?) in groups of the swift and somewhat slower.  It's probably the choice of what wheel to follow that decides the factions.  I had my time in the seat of suffering toward River Rd's end, calling it short to Wozza so rhythm was preserved.  I could cope with the speed, it's just the fuse that's frustratingly short.  Taking a minute or two to regain some breath becomes anti-social when the guy beside chats happily away without your reply, but soon enough there's oxygen to spend on the natter that bonds a bunch together.  We'd caught CatKel at One Tree Dam who joined Dalts in the hitch-hikers seat.

The long length of Lemnos-Cosgrove Rd rose me through the ranks, feeling that southwest breeze midfield only painted a picture of pain at the front. GiantAndy departed for work which put me on Boof's wheel, my next appearance at the front would be brief, less I go o.t.a. through lack of oxygen.  Half a k on the red-line and my donation was done, Trav and Wozz then easily driving a two k shift (driving in the knife of my deficiency).   Some escaped pain with an exit via Verney Rd as a bee line to breakfast, by Wanganui Rd I was among the rear ranks all shaking their heads when questioned about promotion to the pointy end.
At DECA the bunch had broken into bits, some slipping spent from the front, others dislodged from the caboose as legs, lungs, hearts or heads raised the white flag.  Several (including me) took a Kittles Rd shortcut (the gravel coated entry causing a calamity) to press on to the Boulevard and attempt to catch the train to breakfast when it passed.  Rocket and Wozz, with carriages in tow drove by, most grabbing the draft only to split for the café of choice.  Doing turns, the medicinal properties of onions and the benefit of bunch divisions was bantered over breakfast.

10/12  Wind woes.
JFK's quote (nothing compares to the simple pleasure of a bike ride) resonated Tuesday morning, two days off two wheels was too long in my book.  Back aboard the Baum was bliss. 

A southwester helped the 9k loop of the golf course to reach the grid with a few minutes to spare, Sandy, Snow, Heady, Hommie, Phil, Joey, Coggo and Belly filing in for the 6am spin.  Heady's habitual piloting of leg one had some hurry about it (I won't mention the prevailing wind assisting), Sandy and Hommie sharing the last two and a half k's of Ford Rd (an unspoken but understood Indian file today, possibly preparing for the pain of the south and west legs ahead?)  Echelon education hadn't progressed beyond pre-school standards in Lemnos-Cosgrove Rd, the tail end in the gutter in the search for cover.  The 5:40 Couldabeens express had heads down heading west, there'd be work for Goats too on the Boundary and River Rd legs to come.  Echelon might mean more then.  Sandy, Coggo and Snow were in for long hauls but Belly, Heady and Phil's shifts were short.  Joey may have had his focus fixed a little short, rapid reactions to wind gusts and the wheel ahead had a ripple effect back down the line, Snow suffering the staccato.

Tisn't easy with the wind whippin' at yer wheels, but setting a pace by peering a few wheels ahead can take the variables out of the velocity.  The bike behind will bless you.  Smoothness returned down to the highway, Snow setting a course to the Broken bridges left me to target River Rd as a reasonable donation.  The line stacked sensibly across the tarmac for the six k's to Central Kialla, my usual departure for home had Joey join in (tested for time too), he was delighted to be in the draft but not too keen to contribute.  The wind continued to crucify on the truck route but north into Archer was easier, so of course one spices up the speed.  Joey stayed silent but Strava gave him trophies.

11/12  A quiet Wednesday roll (says Rob!)

That south southwester would see the fit to the front for the leg to Mitchell Rd, many (like me) would shy from a shift till the going got easier.  Rocket, Grumpy, Lenny, Kreeky, Bruce, Kel, Wozz, Bo and Bruce cruised into the carpark from a quick Kialla Lakes Crit (their Wednesday warm-up), us mortals The Godfather, Joe (not Tony), Col, Manny and Boof may suffer as a consequence.  I'm not sure what's needed to drive at 37 into 30 k's worth of wind but I wished I had some sitting at third, forth then fifth wheel to Mitchell Rd, only then did I consider joining the advance line.

Kel took an early exit (Christmas breakfast beckoned) and I moved ahead with Joe (not Tony) to the fore and Col to the aft.  Speed was keen (understandably) with the wind whipping us through Central Kialla, the sun casting long shadows at us in River Rd.  The Godfather and Joe (not Tony) faced the front in Boundary Rd, Joe quick to call my roll at the Broken bridges where Col came alongside.

 I'd had enough on the turn into Channel Rd but Col (quite rightly) reckoned I'd done nothing, calling me to htfu for a decent drive.  So, wrung out reaching Darth Vaders, Col let me off the hook,  I gasped a long recovery toward the cypress trees but Rocket (knowing no limits) was just hitting his straps (no doubt spurred on by sledging from you know who). Volunteers for velocity at the front thinned as the caboose swelled with permanent residents, the ChaCha was covered quickly with a relaxed roll to the school as respite.  But just as breaths were caught it was back on the gas again for some testing tempo to town.

12/12  I'll have what Pistol Pete had for breakfast!

Unlike a tax audit or a visit to the proctologist, there's pleasure after the pain of a fast lap.  Like banging your head against a brick wall, it's lovely when you stop!  So with that perverse proposition, I set off to join the fellowship on the 5:40 flogging.  Bo, PistolPete, Kel, Kreeky, Col and TrekTrev charged into Channel Rd with the help of ChrisA (warming up for the 5:50 thrash).   With Pistol, Bo and Col ahead, my reckoning forecast I'd have the hell of the headwind for that short squirt in Central Ave, but Col saved me from that suffering doing a double shift to the cypress trees.   My kilometre at the front to the S bend was suffering enough.  Kel took command to Boundary Rd as I pigged out on oxygen at the back.  TrekTrev and Kreeky gobbled up the northern legs of Boundary Rd to New Dookie Rd, longer shifts with the southwester right up the posterior.  I'd just got my heart rate back to a happy place when PistolPete took charge, this would be yet another tour de fast force from the sultan of smooth (and style).

Not content with a dash to Lemnos-Cosgrove Rd (the corner congested by Cats cutting the apex), Pistol ploughed on to the main eastern channel and beyond (I gasped a g'day to Goats eastbound).  With forties commonplace I pondered Pistol's breakfast must be fast ; was it Clenbuterol on toast? maybe a cup of Eyrthropoietin or is his diet managed by a Spanish doctor?  A change of driver at Ford Rd had set Bo a big task, back up to Pistol's previous pace but his exposure to the wind out of the shelter of the trees shortened the shift.  Col soldiered on to Grahamvale Rd and suddenly my turn for torment had arrived again.  Where was TrekTrev?  OTA?  The aim at Verney Rd was a world (of pain) away as I tried a tempo previously paced, a little shelter among the outskirts houses was a brief bonus but the legs were losing the will to live.  That roundabout couldn't come soon enough.  Kel hit the gas for Ford Rd's last hurrah, my guttural gasps hard to keep a lid on while overdosing on oxygen to catch Col's wheel.  Plenty of horsepower ahead said I'd be spared the driving duty for a while, fingers crossed it'd be out of the wind and I'd have recovered by then.  Kreeky, Bo and PistolPete laid down their labour to drag us to Mt.Wanganui, Col kindly captaining to the Boulevard.  Buildings blocked a fair amount of the breeze so speed was almost acceptable while I had the helm to Tarcoola's roundabout.    The last drops of my weakened wattage were used to catch the draft as Kel bolted toward the Butterfactory.

We lost 'ol bike mate Nev Yuille today, a gentleman of the first order.  After a courageous battle to the finish line, he now has a tailwind home.  A pleasure to have known him.

13/12  All aboard! Tickets please!

Friday's scattered start had the squad spread out along Archer Rd, eventually amalgamating at Adams Rd to look like a proper peloton.  Or at least an organised one. Tina, Manny, Coggo, Rocket, Shorty, Col, Boof, Grumpy, Kel, Bruce, Bo, Wozza, PistolPete, The Godfather, Kreeky, Joe (not Tony) and TrekTrev were all in t.g.i.f. mode despite the niggling southwester that wont go away (although it had lost yesterday's ferocity).  Social stuff occupied all but those on driving duty at the front, The Godfather's garble audible from front to back.  The familiar figure of Snow was caught in River Rd, he'd not long got aboard when Cat Minno was absorbed into the pack too.

A big Cat pack blurred by as we rode the last ripple strip to Boundary Rd's intersection, the chooks out again to cackle their good morning as we accelerated north.  I was careful to level with Joe (not Tony) as he faced the front in Channel Rd and complied with his call for an early roll at the S bend.  Let's not shatter the dreams of the 'new' guy when he's prepared to have a go.  Not long ago he confined himself to the caboose.  Wozza showed the same courtesy to me while I huffed to Beckham's bend, or maybe it's called a pensioner concession?. The customary charge at the ChaCha had the usual punters participate, though Manny's chain had a hiccup in the sprint to cause a few posteriors to pucker.  Traffic at the truck route allowed a few to regain breath before Pistol and Rocket resumed a bolt to the Butterfactory.

Week 50   221km     YTD 12,698km  

Week 49 : Slipping down the slope of softness?.

Post #529
30/11  You'se are all soft!

That forecast five a.m. shower had been and gone on cue, toast and coffee consuming the wait while the drizzles subsided.  How dare the weather threaten the sanctity of the Saturday ride!  Kitted and ready to roll, the radar's band of green had almost passed, so I set south on soaked streets with an air of optimism of clear skies and the company of Couldabeens.  Deserted roads and an empty grid at 5:58 hinted at the softness that had struck the normally tenacious team, even PistolPete had failed to front! The sounds of silence at six was deafening.  Starting into the wind on Archer Rd's damp and dreary stretch was hardly inspirational, a taste of one upmanship getting the wheels up to speed, but squishy steering soon tested the resolve as a puncture halted me at Adams Rd.   A sledge free repair not tested by time was careful and considered, I had two CO2 canisters but just one tube. Another flat and I'd be using patches.  With the delight of damp socks, spotted specs and a filthy bike, I was back in motion, drawn into the ideal world of Rule #6 (free your mind and your legs will follow).  I'd channelled the hum of carbon and rubber on tarmac, transported comfortably in the mid thirties along River Rd (with a little help from 'ol mate southwester).  A Channel Rd shortcut to breakfast was considered lame, Old Dookie Rd was closed for roadworks so a New Dookie course to town was set as a worthy forty k's.  The real work began westward, I'd found a rhythm and tolerated the speed that went with it, white post after white post ticked away but progress was pegged by roadworks blocking New Dookie Rd at Grahamvale Rd, so a dismount to walk around the construction at least settled the heart rate.  Traffic lights in town did their bit to delay my caffeine fix but I soon berthed at the Lemontree to find Shorty, Boof and Rocket (minus bikes).  The rising skyline, decommissioning petrol stations and cultural figureheads filled the conversation void and breakfast filled the tank.

1/2  'Cause others did (& a long winery lunch followed)

Coffee orders continued as the 8:45 deadline slipped by, a fine misting rain blew in from the northwest as a Friars table full of raucous Goats pondered the 60k ride to Longleat winery, a Christmas tradition tempted by a long lunch.  Inevitably, bikes were mounted a little after 9. I'd joined Hommie, Spartacus, Tina, Heady, Sandy, Belly and Coggo for the loop via Karramomus and Miepol, HG, Baz, Rooster and         Brendy opting for a slower, shorter and softer route via Tatura. (both routes destined to be damp as grey clouds curtained to dampen the dry ground)  At least it smelled sweet.

Previously scoffed at, Heady's full winter kit now made sense as our spring base layers and socks were soaked in Channel Rd, a tailwind picked out as a paltry positive.  At least lunch was a lure.  South on Boundary Rd toward the metropolis of Miepol (population 9), that fine driving rain dragged the 'feels like' down to four, two rows of four thinning to a single line of eight echeloned to ease the effort.   Smoothness was shattered when Hommie paused pedalling at the front, wheels uncomfortably close and confused for a moment till Coggo and Tina smoothed the tempo again.  A gentle rise or two sent Spartacus and Heady rearward so I stayed rearward as windbreak while others stretched their legs to Murchison-Violet Town Rd.

The real work westward into the wind took a few minutes to get organised, Hommie taking natural break.  Maybe masochism drew me to the drivers seat at Shepp-Euroa Rd but the urge was to set a standard rather than let the mob meander, and that long strip of tarmac stretching to the horizon had all the appeal of Bells-Armstrong Rd (though this one was wider).   I'd stopped questioning why I was riding in this rotten weather, steady spinning in the low thirties kept all silent and together while barely breaking 130 bpm, so I stayed on for 6k till Two Chain Rd.  Belly, Tina and Coggo did their shifts (a brief blast by half-wheeling Hommie) while the caboose seemed content to sit in silence.  Murchison drew gradually closer, though two oncoming B doubles (with a wall of water in tow) blew us backward as if to test our mettle.  But wine and lunch over-ruled the obstacles.  Over the bridge and into Murchison, a brief OMG moment with wet brakes doing nothing onto Old Weir Rd, only a k to Longleat and we'd earned a glass or three.  Bruschetta, mushroom risotto, slow cooked pork with sweet potato salad, tiramisu and several shiraz soon erased the toil as partners and friends filled the cellar, glasses and appetites with early Christmas cheer and cackle.

3/12  Hit me with your rhythm stick!

Less I slip down the slope of softness, it was time to harden up to the hurry of the 5:40 lap, PistolPete, Kel, Vince, Bo, Col and Kreeky turning up for the Tuesday torment.  Kel was captain to the truck route, Bo in charge for leg two as a surprise showing of ScottMatt joined our Indian filed charge on Channel Rd.  A west northwester supplemented our speed as I psyched up for duty in leg three and it went rather well till that two metre rise to the Kinder nearly killed me.  PistolPete took over and I retreated for recovery, my huff and puff probably deafening ScottMatt locked in the rear seat.  Into Boundary Rd and Vince did the business to the highway, Kel to the Fig Farm and Bo beyond Old Dookie Rd, my turn again over New Dookie had my Mr Defeatist calling an end at the railway line but Mr Stubborn drove on to Lemnos-Cosgrove Rd.  I don't like Mr Stubborn, he hurts me! (but where would we be if we always listened to Mr Defeatist?)

We crossed paths with the Cats as I retired rearward on the turn west, PistolPete driving the hard yards into the wind, doing a double shift of course to Lemnos North Rd.  While Col and Kreeky captained us into Ford Rd, I wondered if I'd have to face that wind or would luck bless me being towed by the others to Rudd Rd?  ScottMatt had gone missing in action but we gained MyRideTrev entering town,  my Christmas coming early as Vince Kel and Bo stretched their turns to drag me to the top of Mt Wanganui.  Feeling a little guilty I'd avoided the real rigour, a full steam shift to Canterbury's roundabout might have rated as recompense.  I should have reserved a few watts, PistolPete's drive on the Boulevard burning the tibialis anterior to keep up.

4/12  I'm givin' her all she's got Capt'n!

I had to haul my head out of the doldrums Wednesday, it was one of those mornings where motivation stayed snoring in bed as I flung a leg over the bike.  A sluggish start might energise endorphins? Bo, Col, BamBam, Grumpy, Rocket, PistolPete, Wozza, Kreeky, Shorty, Coggo, Tina, The Godfather, Kel, Boof and Bruce rolling in added enthusiasm, Rocket and Boof adding to the heart rate by mobilising the mob toward Sanctuary's roundabout.  BamBam hesitated to join the advance as a winter off the bike played hell with his hopes of hurrying.
Need I say I told you so?

A little bit of westerly helped to rip along River Rd but it carried the cackle of The Godfather through the ranks, Bo and Col towing us into the forties.  Coggo copped a pasting about allegiances from the pain train headed south (it's a free country lads!), Kel taking to the front at One Tree Dam where I tried to simulate the smoothness alongside.  As if!  BamBam paired with me at the Broken bridges, his hibernation now paying him back with pain.  His short shift became shorter when Wozza took pity.  Two lines thinned to one in a hurry at Hopeful corner, Wozz and I stuck in no-man's-land and suddenly committed to the sprint.  Almost on the red line hanging onto his velocity, Wozza's elbow threw me into the deep end with 200 metres to go.....and there was no go left!  The howl of Boof's wheels hurrying behind spelt an instant end to a shift I'd barely started, blasting past as if I'd stopped, but I wrung the last out of the old engine to clutch at Bruce's draft to finish third.


5/12  Warm us o sluggish summer!

The start was snail-like, a northwester didn't help and an old creaky engine wasn't warming up, the wait for wattage to arrive would while away a couple of k's till gathering with Goats for a social spin.  The roll-up of Tina, Snow, Belly, Hommie, Sandy, Manny, AvantiAndy and Coggo was as good as it gets, I wonder if another winter will put this bunch on the endangered species list?  AvantiAndy assumed the Heady role of pilot for leg one, a Brown's cows beginning as who-follows-who got organised.  The 5:40 fellowship of Couldabeens hurried silently west into the wind as Goats talked weather , work and the weekend wet.  Time for me to serve a term when we steered south into Boundary Rd, Tina's tempo a test even if the Garmin numbers contradicted it.

Fitness factored the lengths of shifts at the front, some seemed to be nearly dozing while others were nearly dying during driving duties. Efforts were amplified in River Rd as the wind swung to a westerly, it wasn't helping the hurry and did nothing to egg on the ego.  Belly's was the wheel to follow, the giant on a Giant had ten times the draft than the matchstick shelter from Sandy.  All too soon, time tore me away from the tow of the bunch to face the reality of a solo slog homeward, time to contemplate the bonus (out of a breeze) a bunch brings and how suffering solo strengthens......I hope!




6/12   Friday frivolity.

GiantAndy had the helm and the hammer down into Archer Rd and I was glued to his wheel like Rocket to a brewery as the long line of Coggo, Tina, Joe (not Tony), The Godfather, Shorty, TrekTrev, Kreeky, Trav, Bruce, Kel, Wozza, Rocket, Boof, PistolPete, Grumpy and Col strung out behind to the exit of town.  Funny, few were coming forward for a turn.  The excitement had settled by the truck route and the sociology started ; Kreeky's more aero minus mo, Tina's podiatry problems pegged her in the rear seat, The Godfather serenaded "That's Amore", Joe (not Tony) was recovering from an ale ailment incurred at Adelaide's test match, Shorty reminisced rides of a 33 average, Kel's craving more hours in a day and Col ruminated the pace of passing time.

Felines in flouro faced River Rd as we turned north, sledges ricocheting at the rear along Boundary Rd as The Godfather delivered jibes to anyone who'd listen. How could you not listen?  Up to Channel Rd and the southwester freshened faces, after 21 k's in the draft it was time to earn my keep, sandwiched between Coggo and GiantAndy as the ChaCha drew near. Coggo was king to Central Ave and GiantAndy was probably at an idle to the Kinder when Col came forward.  I'd expected an explosion of speed toward Prentice Rd but it stayed surprisingly steady, Col and GiantAndy driving onward with wattage to burn it seemed till Trav opened the throttle and snavelled the chocolates.  


Week 48  273km    YTD 12,477km