Motivation ; the missing link.

Post #539
21/3  The isolation indifference.

It takes more than a pandemic to plug the passion of the possessed, so it was no surprise to find a fairly full grid ready for the spin south at six.  Tina, KillkennyPaul, Lance, Boof, TatPaul, Shorty, Rocket, Determined Dan, PistolPete, Softa, Bruce, GiantAndy, MyRideTrev, SuperMario, Grumpy and Vince had formed two lines behind Molly and Steve who'd berthed first, but they'd shied from the pole positions (it's that fear of the front that's the virus to be worried about!)  Playing a martyr to masochism, I took the drivers seat into that lovely south southwester (17-22 km/h) for the first shift toward Sanctuary's roundabout, the considerate GiantAndy co-piloting beside me at the city limits.  A rapidly depleting oxygen supply made me beckon GiantAndy to roll across just a bit shy of the roundabout, that headwind I figured a valid excuse for my shortfall.  Recovery was surprisingly rapid, by the truck route the social stuff was possible while far fitter engines drove the train to Mitchell Rd (pleased I wasn't too far off the pace prior).

Infection exposure was the chat with Col, TatMat's absence with Determined Dan, the depths of darkness with Rocket, speed derestriction with SuperMario and the week that was with The Godfather occupied the distance to River Rd.  A sudden hesitation at the front tsunami'd down the ranks to the rear, one shy pedal stroke at the pointy end translating to wheels rubbing and KillkennyPaul into to the gravel at the rear.  Highlights the importance of a smooth and straight standard at the front eh?  Catastrophe avoided, sphincters un-puckered and all still vertical, high 30's were resumed, the pressure off for me slipping down the ranks while nearly two dozen lined up for their moment of glory (or grief) at the front.  I wasn't rostered on till the kennels in Lemnos-Cosgrove Rd, Cats had cruised east (the work into the wind just around the corner for them) as I took the lead role with SuperMario to Boundary Rd then onward to serve with GiantAndy to the bridge.  That's that done! Recovery to enjoy now while hoping another turn wouldn't fall due.

Wanganui Rd was swift but without the tax of a sprint to the hill, Rocket taking charge in Rudd Rd to tear into town (payback for the prior pedestrian pace?) with bits breaking off the back of the bunch in the Boulevard.

My legs were like liquorice at Tarcoola's roundabout so it was easy to back off and lend a draft to KillkennyPaul, SuperMario and Superman in struggle street.  Docked at the Lemontree less than a minute in arrears, panic buying, staying smooth and straight and the devaluing dollar occupied the oratory over breakfast.

23/3 A social swansong?
I hadn't factored a slower speed into the 22-30 km/h southerly, so the 8 k's to the carpark was a trial of timing to arrive for the 5:45 Monday thing.  My rather breathless berth at the shop found The Godfather, Bo, Tina, Grumpy, Kel, Liam, PistolPete, Joe (not Tony) and Bruce ready to roll, a better than expected bunch given the imminent restrictions on gatherings.  This might be our social swansong for a while.  Riding solo  (or Zwift if you like sweat with static scenery) may be de rigueur for the foreseeable future.
Joining the back of the advance line to even up 5 pairs into Channel Rd, I'd lucked Kel's wheel for the promotion forward while The Godfather and PistolPete captained the crew.  Blinded by the bling of a sparkling cassette singled out Joe (not Tony) aboard a new bike, a disc braked Avanti almost Bianchi-like in colour.  PistolPete's Pinarello similarly sparkled, though the surrounding darkness might be to blame.  There's moments of focus on the wheel ahead when you're totally oblivious on location, but the moment you're in the drivers seat with that next roll-over point a spec the distance, you know exactly where you are.....a long way from respite!  Thanks to Kel's kindness and a little shelter from the pear trees, I survived the 1100 metre shift and slowed for the turn into Boundary Rd.  Relief....till acceleration north to the Pub.

The violation of Rule #86 by Joe (not Tony) was attributed to that new bike syndrome; no rattles, a purring chain and that perceived swiftness to justify the damage to the bank account.  Totally acceptable...for a week or so.  Grumpy's phone alarm and PistolPete's dismounting headlight slowed the rush north over the highway, that gentle roll in the high 20's for the crew to recongregate was most welcome, yet totally out of Monday's character. All were aboard again at Old Dookie Rd, resumption of the low 40's a sting I'd for a moment forgotten.  Due to a lack of lumens, PistolPete had taken charge of the caboose so the shuffle in order put me on Tina's wheel for the advance in Lemnos-Cosgrove Rd.  And wasn't that southerly cutting a chill across our flanks.  The cadence comparison was chalk and cheese between The Godfather (top gear) and Bruce spinning on the 53/17 in Ford Rd, any wonder cramp was cramping The Godfather's style by Grahamvale Rd.   Bo and Grumpy kept the pace percolating, Kel and Tina co-captaining to the highway.  Thoughts of shying from my shift were quickly erased by rueing Rule #5, Tina's tempo was testing but a short shift is better than none at all, right?  My focus was fairly fuzzy by the water treatment plant, Liam kindly donating a draft at DECA, hanging on till Mt Wanganui about the limit of my labour.  So Bruce's bolt into Rudd Rd got me digging the depths of determination, going ota at this late stage wasn't in my script.  The possibility of this being the last post-ride coffee for a while must have spiked the speed along the Boulevard, so it was with jellied legs I took my exit at the Tarcoola roundabout.

24/3  Safely separated.
I'd set off on a golf course circuit almost conceding to a solo spin in light of the impending blanket on massed gatherings, but swung by Friars at 6 anyway to see what Goats may gather. What's App had been strangely silent.  Snow, Dippa, Heady and Coggo rolled in looking for a lap, safe distances respected as Heady set our exit from town.

A subtle southerly (9-11 km/h) had the temperature gauge just into double figures for my fisrt turn to Dobson's bridge, mid 30's guessed as the pace to please all.  Snow towed us to Central Ave and Dippa drove to School Rd, Coggo capably making it to Boundary Rd for us to turn into the wind.   Heady's body language spoke labour and his speed showed likewise, struggling to the Fig Farm where his elbow called surrender.  Despite my ever-so-gentle increase in pace, by the bridge Heady had self-isolated from the bunch (it sounds so much more dignified than 'spat out the arse' doesn't it?)   It's a Heady habit we've grown accustomed to, and knowing he'd find his way safely home (and come back for more next time), we continued.  I had Coggo's wheel to One Tree Dam and was given the job to reach River Rd, Snow must have missed my cue to take over on the turn west so I stayed on for another k. Hopes of gaining a draft to River Rd's end came to nought as Dippa withdrew from driving duty and took command of the caboose, Coggo had dragged us to Laws Drive and I was back on duty again. Over the bridge and my chance to catch a breath was fast disappearing, a couple more white posts and it was Snow's turn to toil and mine to bank some oxygen before the solo short-cut back to town.

25/3  TTT 101.
The urge to tap a lap with others is strong, keeping company at a distance just as impulsive.  I wasn't expecting any takers for a tap at the carpark on Wednesday but Laura, Joe (not Tony) and Steve surprised me lining up for 5:50 duty.  That southerly still blows and I still manage to score that long 3k first shift to the roundabout, at least considerate company will share the Indian file load.  Joe (not Tony) took part two to the truck route and looked to be planning a double shift to Mitchell Rd till Steve jumped the queue from the rear to captain the crew (he possibly hasn't read the KPI's for a team time trial formation)

A surge of speed showed his enthusiasm, continuing the lead role to Central Kialla.  An education in echelon and the ability to read the wind is a trade often ignored (unless you're at the rear and in the gutter to find a decent draft) and I guess it's early days for Steve yet to fully appreciate.  It wasn't my turn (but suggested Steve take a breather at the back) and took the reigns crossing Euroa Rd to steer a path in Mitchell Rd's centre so that others might delight in a draft.  It's all about Rule #3.  Joe (not Tony) and Laura followed suit to set a smooth standard, Steve now tied in to the team effort to polish off Mitchell so we could all soak up the tail-wind in Coach Rd. A hint of west in what was now a south southwester spread us across the left lane bound for the Broken bridges, Laura fully focussed on oncoming trucks almost missing the left turn into Channel Rd.  Speed see-sawed a bit on Steve's shift, an un-lit speedo probably to blame, Joe (not Tony) seeing the ChaCha coming into view turned up the tempo for a thrash as the finale.

26/3  Don't you just love the serenity!
Motivation is the missing link now that bunch riding is all but banned, the brag factor of clocking k's when others don't is about the only lure left (besides forging fitness and preserving a pinch of mental health)       12 degrees and that relentless southerly didn't help.

The consolation of setting my own course and speed was a good case for the affirmative and hey, no strict start time either!   Off into the wild black yonder of Ford and Lemnos-Cosgrove Rd, I set sights on reaching the Big Ring (if I could see it in the dark) at Pine Lodge North Rd.   With my cruise control set on the crest of the cardiac Zone 3 ('cause there's no drafting when solo) I spun a somewhat serene 15k's east, save for those voices in my head and the hum of Michelins on the tarmac.  The worries of the world evaporated while engrossed in self propulsion but the wind woes surfaced turning south toward the Pine Lodge church.  That lazy 17-24 km/h southerly cut right through the base layer, inciting extra cadence as an internal heater.   Sadly the speedo still said sluggish....all that effort for no reward.   Time was kind to me arriving at Boundary Rd so I chartered a course via Channel Rd to town.  There was a bit more stress into that southerly for a few k's though a sheltered path west and a tailwind home made for an easy end to 40.

27/3  Doin' distancing duty.

At least there's still a modicum of motivation to rise at crazy o'clock and ride a few k's, that scourge of softness will soon be the pandemic 'cause going bunch-less just won't cut it for many.  My prayers had been answered as Friday's southerly softened to a breeze but I still mapped a course for a tailwind home. The streets were almost empty setting south, a rhythm found on Raftery Rd with darkness swamping the surrounds out of town (even the moon and stars had self isolated).  Accepting a sub-standard average is the reality of lapping solo (unless you're from the freakishly fast gene pool of Wozza, Rocket, Boof etc) so I was resolute riding in the lowest of 30's.  Mitchell Rd was easier on the effort, the point of exertion finely balanced in the quadrant of a pace that was fostering fitness / leaving enough in the tank to get home / loving (not loathing) the lap and preserving something for the 14,000 steps at work for the day.  Spinning through Central Kialla was strangely silent without the racket of 3 dozen wheels, constant conversation and The Godfather's cackle, the satisfying purr of the chain and hum of the wheels on the black stuff was a reasonable substitute though (easier on the ears too!)   An earlier arrival home appealed so the short cut via the truck route and Archer Rd got me back to base with the luxury of 10 minutes up my sleeve, beats that mad rush to ready for a day at the coal face.

This week  274km                 YTD 1,691km            

Fearless facing the front.

Post #538
14/3  Wind? What wind?!

Even a few of the hardcore had failed to front.  You can almost bank on PistolPete, TatPaul and Rocket to turn up, whatever the weather.  But today, only Bruce, GiantAndy, Tina, Trav, Lance, Steve and Liam had battled the 30+ km/h southerly to reach the 6am start line.  We'd even granted 2 minutes of grace supposing a puncture may have delayed the regulars.  But no, an empty Archer Rd was our answer.  Righteous to Rule #9, we declared ourselves officially badass and set south.  With gritted teeth and a tempered resolve, I took the first turn into that hell of a headwind, 30 was possible with a push but my shift would be short.  GiantAndy took pity on my predicament (and my pace) at Kialla Lakes Drive, taking charge of the charge to Sanctuary's roundabout (Indian file the fairest formation under the circumstances)  Tina and Steve were resolved to rest at the rear, Bruce and Trav taking tempo to Mitchell Rd.

Two lines formed on the east leg to Central Kialla and a tailwind heading north should have helped but my heart rate was way ahead of the hurry, Liam the consummate gentleman pegging his pace beside this dinosaur in distress.  River Rd was littered with sticks and leaves from even stronger winds last night, Bruce and Lance judging the eastbound speed that all could manage, any small diversion at the front translating to a substantial swerve at the rear so steering around the broken branches became a delicate operation.  Up and up (and up) went the pace north on Coach Rd, GiantAndy and Liam setting the standard almost too high for lesser mortals like me, but a k in the 40's soon became bearable.  Beside Lance to Old Dookie Rd then paired with Trav to the main eastern channel was about my lung limit, then Bruce drove with Trav to the Toaster for another treat from the tailwind.  Liam and GiantAndy took the reigns at the Big Ring to head west homeward, the velocity adjusted a little to keep all aboard.

 I sat second wheel to Giant Andy, sheltered from the southerly with all hopes pinned on the pair at the front holding station.  The two stayed put till Lemnos North Rd where GiantAndy exited for a days labour, Bruce taking his place in the co-pilots seat alongside Liam. I could grizzle about the work to do at second wheel but it was way easier than facing the front and the wind with it! On and on the train rolled, soon into the city's outer limits and preparing for Wanagnui's work.  Speed stepped up a fraction at DECA's test track, the bunch of seven thinning to the hill but still being classified united.      The mozz of March 22 and Corona's domino effect kept the sentences flowing over a somewhat shorter Lemontree breakfast table.

16/3  In the deep end.

Skipping the easy option of a Monday peace train, going on the 5:45 express was jumping in the deep end, but it was high time I got out of the comfort zone if performance was going to show a bit of improvement.  Cobbles, Rocket, The Godfather, Bo, BigBen, Wozza, Tina, PistolPete, Grumpy, Col, Kel, Sherls, Steve-the-machine and Vince congregated in the carpark, the eastward 8k to Boundary Rd most manageable (particularly in the draft) in the mid 30's.  Fingers crossed it was going to stay that way!  I happened to score Cobbles wheel when joining the advance line, a considerate character of similar vintage that could sympathise with a similar senior citizen.  The big engines warmed up on the front to the highway and I readied for my opening act at Boundary's channel bridge.  Confidence grew rolling along nicely for the first 200 metres with Garmin numbers behaving well.  And so it should have, a light breeze was blowing from behind.   I was considering a roll at Old Dookie Rd when Cobbles let me off the hook calling an early roll at the Fig Farm.

Trying to tame Tina was the tough part.  Just a k or two quicker and away went my heart rate into the heavens (and my hopes for a decent turn with it). My white flag was hoisted reaching Old Dookie Rd, disappointed in the engine's performance while recovery in the draft of second wheel seemed to take forever.  So much for improving performance! Capable drivers Kel, Grumpy, PistolPete and Sherls moved forward for their swift shifts while my head had me permanently placed at the rear.  It could have been the lure of latte at The Butter Factory or the boy in Bo that pumped up pace in Lemnos-Cosgrove Rd, whatever the reason another 3 k's added to the speedo made my rear placing the only option for the rest of the ride.  There was some consolation finding Tina, Kel and Cobbles in the same situation as we neared town, so my feeling of freeloading faded a fraction. 9 degrees of freshness was forgotten as muscles worked in Wanganui Rd, legs quite rubbery accelerating to catch the bunch on the turn into Rudd Rd .  40k's were done under some duress, performance was paltry but the positive was I didn't go OTA. Improvement and impatience seem to be interlinked.

17/3  Endangered species.

Does another chance intercept with commuting Cat LegalSteve now make him StalkerSteve? I was optimistically bare armed in 12 degrees for a lap with the Goats, so passing a parked populated peloton of Pussycats at Notre Dame made me rethink when I found three fronting Friars. (This would be a workout, Cats would have a cruise).  Phil's puncture had prevented an appearance so just Coggo, Heady and Snow at the grid made Goats an endangered species. Heady piloted us to the new Doyles Rd roundabout, JB joining at SPC helped our hopes and reduced our workload.  Darkness makes the Dobson's bridge invisible as a roll-over point so pacing my turn made it a difficult drive, handing the captaincy to Snow a bit more breathless than planned.  Coggo and JB divided the drive to Boundary Rd and I was looking forward to the northeaster's assistance but it disappointed swinging to an easterly.

Heady faired fine to the Fig Farm so on the roll I kept his tempo for a bit so he'd catch the tail.  Slowly adding 4 to the pace, I aimed at reaching the bridge but that felt a bit shy on arrival, so pushed on to the Pub.  Snow and Coggo did their bit south while my hopes hung on the help from that easterly in River Rd.  JB got wheels humming west but by the Angora Farm Heady was pickled sitting at 2nd wheel, retiring rearward.  I took JB's cue at the dip securing the speed  at 37 so Heady might survive (besides, I wanted a whiff of wattage left for my solo shortcut), so let Snow drive the last k of River Rd.   The spin homeward was done at an easier effort, into town setting the Cat-Eye on pulse to make sure those behind a steering wheel were awake at the intersections (3 months to the day I went horizontal to an inattentive imbecile)

18/3  The velo virus.

Pelly had the pace primed for Wednesday's first shift, there'd be no sedate start on his watch!  Telly, Joe (not Tony), Nick, Laura, MyRideTrev, Jase, Kenworth, Marion and Superman followed and it seemed only Jase and I were keen to advance till Superman finally stepped up to a lead role for leg 3 (somewhat slower but at least fearless facing the front).  That relentless length of Mitchell Rd is hardly motivational in the dark, Telly taking a short shift and Laura a little lighter on labour, but they still faced the front. I managed to match Pelly at the business end beyond the dog-leg, starting strong but it wore away the wattage in time. I rolled, thinking there was little left of Mitchell but that tarmac stretched longer and longer, labouring alongside Jase with my speedo seemingly slowing the more the effort was escalated.   I was bordering on breathless into Coach Rd, Jase's draft a medicine for my murdered muscles.  Superman too suffered the sinking speed syndrome at the front (but still faced it) and with nowhere to hide from that north northeaster, called a roll for Joe (not Tony) and Kenworth to suffer it.  The Broken bridges funnelled us into a wind shear from two oncoming trucks, even Kenworth was blown about in the blast amplified by that wind.  I co-piloted Pelly and Jase in Channel Rd (made a little easier out of the wind), those concealed pedestrians predictably positioned in McFadyen and Central avoided with generous gesticulations.

 I'd finished my contribution headed for the Kinder and banked a few breaths for the ChaCha, the advance line in fast forward as shifts shortened at the front.  Telly was running out of urge nearing Prentice Rd, so I made a gap that he could secure a draft in the downline.  No sooner than he was tucked in, my front wheel was almost amputated as a tail-ender  (un-named to avoid litigation) dived in for a tow.  It's that loss of spatial awareness for those on the limit. Buggered and blinkered you could call it.  Happily not horizontal, I found Nick's advancing wheel to guide me out, gradually closing in on a now tempo taxed Pelly to see Jase jump for the ChaCha chocolates.

20/3  The performance panacea.

Finding physical form is the easy bit (ride your bike, ride your bike, ride your bike said Fausto), getting your head around the effort is the hard part!  So Friday's mental mantra was "h.t.f.u. old boy!" en-route to the Couldabeens, their company would be the perfect performance panacea.  Boof, Tina, Bo, The Godfather, Kel, Wozza, Liam, Kreeky, Shorty, Grumpy, Col, Trav, Rocket, Oscar and Bruce amassed for the 6am flagfall and scoring Boof's wheel of super smoothness made an ideal start for me.    A more than subtle westerly (17-22 km/h) wasn't pegging the pace though I was managing quite nicely ….till that fresh air flared Wozza's nostrils.

Had I got the day wrong?  Was it thrash Thursday?  Speed subsided by Mitchell Rd and that tail wind help across to Central Kialla brought breaths back to normal.  The Godfather's guffaws (and the baits delivered by Rocket), Col's cackle and PistolPete's panache rekindled that Couldabeens camaraderie, many asks on my progress making it a warm welcome back.   At River Rd's dip our paths crossed with Pussycats, giving little response to The Godfather's jibes as they worked (and wilted) into that westerly.  I'd been progressively demoted to the caboose (and for now, that spot suited), keeping company with Kel and Tina a bonus as the workhorses toiled at the front.  Rocket had retired to the rear too (preparing for k's to come?) He's caught that Kreskas virus!

There was comfort in Channel Rd positioned in the rear seats (I reckoned it'd be a flogging at the front), I'll climatize here for a ride or two till my concrete cures enough to tackle a turn.  Surprisingly, the camouflaged pedestrians were absent to make our course less catastrophic, the pace brewing as the ChaCha drew closer.  A lean left at the Kinder, a blast down to Hopeful corner, Channel Rd straightens and the re-seal roughens the ride as Prentice Rd finally emerges from the darkness, the next 400 digging deep to hang on or preparing to pounce.....depending on your position.  The winner (Liam?) was but a spec on the horizon while I clung to the coat-tails, The Godfather almost ota as the finish line blurred under the thirty two wheels.  The tempo was keen passing the Wannabees toward town, my head in a happy place surviving the circuit (though the need to do some turns will drive motivation for a while)

This week 230km     YTD 1,415km    
         

For self's sake.

Post #537
7/3  The Creswick cruelty.

It would have been so easy to go straight back to bed.  Creswick had turned on a stiff southerly (24-33 km/h) and a "feels like 4" to welcome my weekend away, but something deep within said ride,  possibly proving to myself (or others) that I wasn't that soft?  The uphill start to Springmount wasn't horrendous but it was a heart starter, 5% incline a cruel climb straight off the bat for this flat-lander.   There was 3 k's of it till the road levelled toward Newlyn, then that wind whipped across the potato plains to make maintaining 30 a thorough thrashing.  Turning south into a proper headwind at the Newlyn roundabout was an ego crusher, it turned uphill again and I was in search for the little chainring already (the close ratio cassette had sacrificed the 28 cog I'd normally have relied on)

First light lit the dark red soil that spuds love in these parts and clouds brushed the hilltops as far as the eye could see; yeah, I was concentrating on anything but that snail-like 25 km/h the Garmin was tormenting me with.  I finally came upon Dean, more an intersection than a town, and banked breaths for Clarke's Hill just a little further on (memory of it's incline still sharp from a year ago).  Out of gears and almost out of breath, reaching the bluestone church at the top was my salvation, the 3k's of gradual decline toward Pootilla turning me human again.  Spirits lifted with that icy wind now behind me, heading north east 30's were now commonplace and there was just a few gentle ascents to go before the long gradual decline from Wattle Flats back to Creswick.  It was almost a pleasure to run out of gears at times on the last 10k's (average 43 km/h) through the State forest and back to base camp, though an eagle eye was open for wandering wildlife within it.  This Saturday was strange being socially silent, but ride restitution was taken at the delightful Le Peche Gourmand, partaking of rhubarb patisserie and an espresso as an epicurean end to the effort.

9/3  A crisp circle

That wintery wind up my 'whatsits' primed the pace out of Creswick, the 16 k's to Clunes would be covered quickly, though there'd be toil to come facing 23k of headwind to Miners Rest.  I had only myself to blame, I created the circuit!  "Belinda still lives in her little white house" was nominated for the strange Strava segment of the day, the 10k's of "Clunes-Creswick Rd" the one I was happiest with (average 37.4)   Don't get a big head Foss, there'd be lots of slow ones to come! It was still dark through the streets of Clunes, the turn southward toward Tourello turned up the torture, that southeaster (28-43 km/h) delivering an ice-cold (feels like 4.4) dose of reality (more of that uphill cruelty with a headwind too boot!)  The optimist in me had only packed a base layer, fingerless gloves and short knicks (One underestimates the Ballarat effect).

No sooner through Tourello (two houses) than Ascot appeared (five farms spread over three k's) so progress appeared positive despite the Garmin struggling to stay at 27 km/h.  A half k of gravel fine tuned my balance on 25mm tyres, roadworks soon ending to deliver a super smooth stretch of hotmix as compensation.  Passing the plains of potatoes, a steeper uphill to Coghill's Creek Rd called for the little ring to mount it, that wind relentless in trying to blow me backward.  Even with a 3% decline into Miners Rest, speed still struggled to stay in the 30's and the way east on Kennedy's Rd to the highway kept tempo tame.  All that effort for 10k's of tailwind home?  Better have words with that crazy course constructor, eh?  The head's in a happy place with the wind behind, even a long gradual uphill at Sulky didn't distress, knowing the last 5k was all descent.  Traffic was thankfully scarce as a 3 metre emergency lane suddenly went on a crash diet thinning to 500mm.  The p.r. back into Creswick by 8am finished 50 on a high, the Strava suffer score (361) was nothing compared to the pain of finding Le Peche Gourmand closed till 9.

10/3  The sermon on speed (read by the Rev. R. Bell)

Back on home soil, a chance intercept with LegalSteve (commuting to the Cats) chatted the virtues of the long weekend just gone, but how to make each one long was the perplexing problem.  The Friars roll-call was brief, just Coggo and I to call with a minute to go but Belly, Snowman, JB and Phil fronted in the last minute to reduce our workload.  A sermon on speed (directed at JB and me) was read by the Rev R Bell, hinting at his lack of training (and his hope Heady would front to promote him up a place)    Coggo set the standard to Dobson's bridge while I sat second wheel attempting to simulate the smoothness.   Belly had locked himself in as backstop while JB (sans speedo) crept up the pace touching 40 to Boundary Rd.  It was smelling a bit of the Wednesday/Friday POC's.  Snow and Phil towed us to the highway, Belly now braving an advance while Coggo breeched the Broken bridges.  Belly's shift was as short as Jodie's headstem, his elbow ushering me to the drivers seat way ahead of schedule.  A push to River Rd was in order though that hint of south southeaster was a handbrake, the weight of expectation extracting the energy to reach the corner.  Worth the effort though, I'd at least get a tow for most of River Rd to recover.  I was eased with that breeze now at the port-side and four ahead to slice the atmosphere, though the speedo-less JB stretched the team at the dip.  Thanks to long shifts by Snow and Phil, I was spared another sit in the drivers seat, my solo exit via the truck route and Archer Rd (without the expectation of others) could turn down the tempo a little. But not so much as to turn soft.

11/3  11 for 28 in 16 @ 32.

Rising to the ranks of the 6am squad is a longer road than expected, my impatience to find former fitness is only hampered by their ever rising average speed.  I should give thanks that the group's various factions of fitness will find me a suitable berth.  Siding with the Wannabees (MyRideTrev, Laura, Kenworth, Jase, Marion, Nick, Joe (not Tony), Telly, KillkennyPaul and Softa) for Wednesday gave me some worth if only by proper contribution to the cause (there's not a lot team spirit just hanging on the back)  The quirk of mild weather (16 degrees) might be the reason for Softa's reappearance, but to his credit he drove the first shift.  So in consideration of calmer company, I formed the advance line beside him on the exit of town.  Hey, his speed was pretty good! Well, to Hooper's Rd where the wattage waned.

Jase's pace kept me honest to the truck route where Kenworth paired with him for leg three.  River Rd was struck from the route today, Mitchell the preferred passage to Coach Rd, although an easterly breeze exacerbated the effort.  Speed slowed a whisker but (nearly) all were holding true to Rule #67, the effort finally easing on our turn north toward Channel Rd, anticipation amplifying for the tailwind home.  I'm well and truly over this riding through darkness thing, particularly when dark dressed pedestrians suddenly appear at the roads' edge right when pace percolates for the ChaCha.  I finished my shift at the Kinder and locked onto Jase's wheel for a tow, the bunch thinning toward Hopeful corner.  Lights behind faded fast leaving Joe (not Tony) and I happy to hang on, Jase digging deeper to reach the finish line.  He deserved the win.  The cruise to the truck route was slow to gather up those o.t.a., the spin back to town quite chatty for some while others overdosed on oxygen.

12/3  Bunch benefits.

Excavating any enthusiasm took an effort, the snooze function stretched to a maximum Thursday morning.  C'mon Foss! A mild morning, mates to thrash a lap with and you know you'll feel better for it when you finish!  A spin around the golf course loop failed to get more than 32 out of the old engine, so confidence wasn't so keen fronting Friars for 6am.  Pickings were slim again from a bunch once numbering 18 on a good day, only Belly, Heady, Phil and Snow on the Goat grid today.  (HG's standards are spreading!)   Coggo was dragging the chain this morning, to the delight of Heady's lead out of town, JB and Deep Fry joining from their usual SPC start line.

Phil set the benchmark toward Boundary Rd while I sat in his wake forgetting my prior pedestrian pace.  The humility of going o.t.a., the pressure to perform, participating as part of a team or just plain pushing the boundaries are some of the bunch benefits, seldom succeeded solo.    Whatever it was, I managed a decent drive at 37.  So go figure why that wasn't possible prior?  The tow from School Rd was comforting compensation, DeepFry doing the duty to Boundary Rd.  My heart's hurry had calmed accustomed to the draft, now into that rhythm with focus sharpened on smoothing the speed for self's sake (and it benefits the bloke behind to boot!)  I'll bet you can name a few that don't.  Belly drove a decent turn toward One Tree Dam (inspired by Heady's huffing and puffing?) and Phil steered a sensible line into River Rd sheltering those behind from the north northeaster. My shift to River Rd's dip nudged zone 5, handing over to DeepFry at the bridge where I could calm before my usual truck route exit.  A headwind home wasn't so handy but the hurry continued to get me to the coal face timeclock.

13/3  Kinda cruisy (till the end!)

I caught KillkennyPaul and Softa doing the old "relaxed-roll-to-the-start-line-to-berth-at-the-back" trick in Archer Rd and that pretty much set the tone for a tame tap around for Friday.  Don't get me wrong, I could do with a sedate spin. Strava suffer scores haven't been below 140 all year!  Steve, Marion, MyRideTrev, Jase, Laura and Joe (not Tony) had turned up for the 5:50 lap, Marion setting the speed sedate to the city's limits.  Joe (not Tony) charged to the front beyond Kialla Lakes Drive and was quickly chastised, falling back to a tamer tempo (less he suffer a lashing)   We'd barely breeched 32 even with a north northeast breeze at the backside so there was plenty of idle chat as we idled to Mitchell Rd.   I paired with Steve for the last 2 k's to reach Coach Rd, showing some tell-tale signs of being new to bunch riding, but he's smoother than some I know who've clocked up years of experience.  Signs are good we've hatched a smooth one.

Turns were long and short (relative to commitment to k's) up to Channel Rd, Laura just delighted to face that breeze that was fast becoming a wind.  Fortune favoured Foss, tucked into a draft till Channel Rd's calm when bearing west.  Joe (not Tony) and Jase turned up the wick and Steve took a back seat knowing the ChaCha was to challenge ahead.   We'd avoided the almost invisible pedestrians at the road's edge as we worked toward the Kinder, me placed perfectly at third wheel into Hopeful Corner.  I had MyRideTrev's tow to Prentice Rd where it was high time I opened the throttle, that finish line a spec in the 400 metre distance.  Sensing Jase closing in behind at the 100 mark, mental messages to the engine room found a whiff more wattage to hold him off though my recovery took a k to come back.  Strava said the suffer was 161, so much for that sedate spin! The pace homeward with KillkennyPaul and Softa seemed quicker than the circuit just done, a close call with a motorist on a mission to storm a roundabout we were already on recalled the ruination of ribs 11 weeks back.  Ride like all other road users have an IQ of 15 folks...….

265km this week                  1,183km YTD
     

 

Pass the Phendimetrazine my good man!

Post #536
29/2  Pressure (and the lack of it)

A flat front tyre (discovered just as I was ready to ride) put plenty of pace into Saturday morning, to reach the start line by six required a reasonable amount of extractum digitum.  Exerting energy early got me back onto agenda, arriving with a minute to spare at the rear of the grid gave me a moment to recover.  It was another good turn-up (TrekTrev, Bruce, Rocket, PistolPete, TatMat, GiantAndy, Trav, TheGodfather, Shorty, Bo, Wozza, Tina, Superman, Molly, TatPaul, Steve, Vince, Determined Dan, BeerMat, Kreeky, Dalts and Lenny meant it'd be a while before I faced the front.  That tyre was feeling a bit squishy though.  Happy to let the horsepower haul us south, I sat nearing the rear of the downline readying for the promotion forward.   Observing the rotational ritual, I joined the advance line at the truck route, Trav ahead and The Godfather behind, knowing the southwest breeze would be my bonus (should I reach the drivers seat with the wind prevailing)  I felt the care of concerns on how this old engine is running (post prang) and felt the faith from compliments, but I wished the physical feeling reflected the same sentiment.

The pressure to perform my part for the peloton was higher than that Michelin! (Pace was up on previous Saturdays, high time I hardened up anyway) My task of tempo out of the draft came at Boundary Rd's bridge, finding that 15% extra beside Trav (always the gentleman) to the fig farm then The Godfather (I made him an offer he couldn't refuse) to Old Dookie Rd gave a (short) sense of worth.  Colour bled into the horizon's sky as a sluggish start to the day, brief chats grabbed with Vince, TatMat, Rocket and Determined Dan as they advanced for duty in the drivers seat.  A calm was called nearing Lemnos-Cosgrove Rd, caution for Cats as our paths crossed right on Big Ring corner (vociferous greetings extended by The Godfather, of course)

Hard on the accelerator westward to catch the leading 8 stretched the bunch to breaking point, the low 40's attributed to the usual protagonists of pace.  By the main eastern channel, speed was still stuck at 40 and that stuck my position firmly at the back (along with Steve, Tina, MyRideTrev, Molly and Superman)  A dull thud as my front wheel struck the Grahamvale Rd rail line sank hopes, the bike now soggy in the steering would force a different finish than Wanganui Rd. I made it to the highway, telling MyRideTrev I'd short-cut to the café after an injection of CO2, safer than full steam to Mt. Wanganui with 30psi to guide me. Pressure in the tube relieved that pressure in the head, so a steady spin to the Lemontree and to talk on 'diminished responsibilities',  lawn and edging OCD and the variety of velocity the factions offer was a relaxed end to the ride.

2/3  Masochism Monday
The time had come to test my tempo rather than rest in a cruisy comfort zone, so Monday I made my way to the 5:45 grid. (an eye on the averages over the last two months said suffering was regularly served ; RIP recovery ride!)

Bo, Col, Tina, Lenny, Rocket, PistolPete, Kel, The Godfather, Bruce and Vince had assembled for the spin to start the week, so into the Channel Rd darkness we spun but right on the roundabout a fast deflating front tyre brought Tina hurriedly horizontal.  That carbon against tarmac grind is always a gut-wrencher, Bruce and Rocket expertly avoiding using her as a speed bump, but never fear, it was just a bit of bark off for tough-as Tina (she scores that title from now!)  Vic Roads would be called later to patch the big dent she left in the tarmac.  Puncture repaired, dusted off and away, the bunch made just a kilometre of progress before PistolPete punctured (thankfully remaining upright)   Yet another pause would only turn up the tempo for the rest of the route.

Remounted and reorganised, the bunch bore east and with Rocket ahead and Col behind, I was in quick company.   Just my luck, I scored the lead and that 30 km/h headwind in Central Ave.   Rocket paired patiently at my pace down to McFadyen Rd as I gasped my way onward to the cypress trees, Col the next to contend with.  In all fairness, Col was courteous to level with me to Beckham's bend but by then my head raised the white flag and called a roll. And wasn't that draft heaven! Trying to handbrake the heart-rate (170) was now the task, that wind blowing us into the 40's on Boundary Rd had it stuck in Zone 5 (and that stuck my position permanently at the back).  Pistol, Bo, The Godfather, Bruce, Lenny and Vince kept the swiftness at a simmer, a hope that the tempo would tame in Lemnos-Cosgrove Rd (with the wind at the left brow) was dashed as Rocket, Col and Kel kept the pace unabated.  These guys have got faster or I'm just slower, possibly it's both?  Pass the Phendimetrazine my good man and summon my Spanish Doctor!

Maybe I've been a bit too optimistic in my comeback calculations? Riding at the limit is supposed to make you stronger and Rule #5 says so, but enjoyment was evaporating rapidly.  By chance, The Godfather punctured as we breached Ford Rd, so the halt and some respiratory relief was certainly savoured.  The three minute pressure to perform was on and The Godfather (strangely silent) performed well, we were soon on our way working west again with a Verney Rd re-route to coffee.  For a silly second I reckoned I could cope with another turn, but that prior pace was primed again to make another shift almost life threatening. Just suck it up, sit tight and hang on Foss!   Even with the wind now head-on, there was no let-up in Verney Rd so with it timely to turn for work commitments, I thanked the folk for the flogging and headed homeward.

3/3  E is for echelon

A spin 'round the golf course loop at stupid o'clock soon told me where that wind was coming from, the south southwester  (26-40 km/h) certainly stifled speed back to town. There'd be a struggle east, south and west on the clockwise Goat circuit but at least it'd be heaven homeward.  Only Sandy and Hommie had taken a Friars grid position by 5:58, wouldn't I have some work to do if no other Goat fronted. The arrival of Coggo, Belly, Phil and Snow saved my bacon in the moments leading up to six, so with new found enthusiasm, I was happy to haul the troupe out of town.  Collecting JB and DeepFry at SPC whittled down the workload so I stayed on to Dobson's bridge as a worthy opening salvo.  Sandy took the drive to Central Ave but Hommie's hurry beyond it dislodged her o.t.a.  (Hommie'd be doing the dishes tonight!)

In the interest of unity I towed Sandy back to the bunch, Snow, Phil and Coggo setting a survivable speed to Boundary Rd (though DeepFry had stolen the bulk of the draft to put the rear four in the gutter).  JB was in fine form flying the fast flag down to the pub, DeepFry now in the drivers seat shot south toward the Broken bridges, totally engrossed in his personal pace and oblivious to the calls of "easy" when bits of the bunch broke off the back.  Goats became Brown's cows down to River Rd, gaps opening, the rearmost fighting to find a draft and several trying to keep the pack intact.  Coggo's captaincy got the bunch united and back into a rhythm with a long haul to the Angora Farm before flicking me an elbow.  It wasn't rocket science to maintain the prior pace and keep the crew glued together  (doesn't take much to spy the speed and set it the same).  I handed the helm to JB at the dip but bits were breaking off the back again. With the speed reassessed at the bridge, nine stayed as one to Central Kialla where I peeled off for the tailwind treat back to town.

4/3  Racing rain

Both hands seized the chance of a Wednesday lap, a delivery of damp was due and Thursday's forecast was set to soak us.  BeerMat, Pelly, Laura, MyRideTrev, Kenworth, KillkennyPaul, Nick, SuperMario, Marion, Joe (not Tony) and Telly had consumed their Kellogg's Kommitment and arrived at the Archer St shop, so clearly Softa, WhisperingJack, Temple, Jase, Hollywood et al have already thrown the towel of "too hard" into the ring!   A single line of labourers (led by birthday boy Pelly) launched south at 5:50 toward Sanctuary's roundabout, Telly taking the task of forming the advance line.  Eleven, well make that ten, seemed pleased to share the task of tempo and squeeze in a sentence occasionally, and that's a rarity riding at six!  Clouds cloaked the moon and stars darkening our drive to Central Kialla, I drew alongside KillkennyPaul serving a strong (albeit short) shift to roll at his request, then match Laura to River Rd.

Eastward, that dog sprints excitedly alongside on the opposite side of the fence, we crest the bridge for another turn to roll, past Laws Drive then the k to the dip.  Another change of shift, past the church and along the seemingly endless rough reseal to the Angora Farm, searching and hoping for the rumble strips to appear to signal another shifts end.  Barely a breeze was blowing but it was a bonus to the Broken bridges, shifts a little shorter than normal but progress wasn't pokey. West along Channel Rd and I was positioned perfectly (5th wheel in the advance) as we rounded the bend into Central Ave, it was just a waiting game for the pounce near Prentice Rd while Kenworth and BeerMat towed us to Hopeful corner.  Running out of time and tarmac with 400 metres to go, I pulled out all the stops to charge at the line, beckoning Pelly to follow (as if he needed encouragement!)  200 to go and with my energy evaporated, Pelly poured on the power (SuperMario swift to snatch second) so I was pleased to hang on for 3rd while Pelly tasted his birthday cake.

6/3  Head vs heart

Friday and it was high time I went from Wanna to Coulda, so I stepped up to the speed of the 6am crew.  It is slower than the toil of Tuesday / Thursday isn't it?  I was telling myself the hurry was all in the head, but would my heart keep up?  Oscar, Rocket, Bruce, Shorty, Grumpy, tough-as Tina, Kreeky, Wozza, The Godfather, PistolPete and Kel rolled in as the clock rolled nearer 6, a southwester guaranteed I'd be hiding at the back in this fast fellowship. Pistol, Rocket, Wozza and Bruce are far more suited to speed than I.  Besides, the company in the caboose was cosy.  Pace was primed to the truck route but beyond it there was a slow for Col to catch on. My hopes for a respiratory recovery was short-lived, Col took the short cut via the truck route for a Central Kialla intercept, so it was on the gas again to Mitchell Rd.

Even with a tail wind through Central Kialla it was all too easy to stay sitting at the rear, the moment I'd guess a turn at the front would be possible, the tempo would turn up (and my heart rate was high enough at the back).  Watching Wozza, The Godfather, Grumpy, Shorty and Kreeky go through the motions at the front was easy, but even sitting on the back at windward side in River Rd was a tough task.  One shoudn't get too comfortable, even in the caboose! It felt somewhat anti-social just calling the drivers across into the advance line from the rear seat, spare oxygen for a chat wasn't exactly in abundance, though the assisting wind toward Channel Rd allowed an extra breath or two.  Despite that southwester, pace persevered in Channel Rd (need I say who was responsible?) and the tempo to come through town kept me cemented into the caboose.  Results of the ChaCha sprint were but specs on the horizon for me to call, so I was greatful for the few seconds of calm to the school for the reformation. The pace to the Butterfactory was no surprise though legs and lungs regretted it, the chance of coffee and chat after (on a rare RDO) made the work worthwhile.

This week  226km           YTD  918km