Fearless or fairweather?

Post #543
19/4  Bell's Rd boredom.

Throwing the doona off was the hard part.  Breakfast and kitting up to roll out some k's was the easy bit, but the warmth in bed when it was 6 outside made that first step a struggle.  Move it Foss, the regret not riding will ruin your day!  Opening the front door chilled the bones in an instant, cadence would have to be the heater as I'd defiantly dressed in short knicks (no sense, no feel?)  The suggestion of a westerly breeze behind satisfied the speed standards early, my path out New Dookie Rd totally deserted, the silence slightly scary.  Almost a post-apocalyptic atmosphere? I wasn't breaking any records but the landmarks appeared sooner than expected, beyond the Pine Lodge church the sun showing it's colour to start Sunday (and provide a psychological warmth).   I forked off (to coin a phrase) on Kellows Rd headed for the camel farm, up close and personal to Mt. Major before steering south onto Cosgrove-Caniambo Rd.

The sun threw long shadows west to paint light across the paddocks, the hint of an incline at Dookie College Rd taking the slack out of my legs (unaccustomed as I am to hills), the slackening of enthusiasm yet to come.  Over the highway and to the fringe of Caniambo, I turned west onto that long thin goat track called Bells / Armstrong Rd, stretching into the distant horizon.

Like brussels sprouts amongst the roast dinner, you've got to endure the hard stuff to reach the desert. In the hapless hunt for H2O, the roadside gum trees had reached their roots under the coarse tarmac, replicating a Roubaix-like roughness, to the delight of my derriere!  That grey ribbon of road went on and on, and with a southwester fighting my pace, maintaining low 30's was crushing confidence for 12 cruel k's.  The suffering subsided as the roughness relented nearing the main eastern channel, so Coach Rd's billiard table smoothness was just bliss.  
The option of which way west was won by Channel Rd, it's few orchards left hoped to shelter me from the bracing breeze back toward town.  Tempo turned trance-like closer to civilisation, focus fixed on coffee and the Lemontree menu to get me to the end. (how different the mindset is to manage more than the usual 45 k's)  Back to base camp, the surroundings were silent and sparse (but at least familiar), so I imagined the bunch babble and camaraderie sitting solo and let breakfast reward my effort

21/4  Being bait.
A local lap was likely to lay eyes on another lad (or lass) on a bike, this confinement (courtesy of Covid 19) has me cookoo with cabin fever already!  Bare arms and mild mornings have been hurled into the history books, another 6 degree start to the day smells like winter is about to strike (that'll divide riders into the fearless and the fairweathers!) How many will become extinct this year?

Into the darkness of Raftery Rd, I set sights on an anti-clockwise tour around town, a breezeless morning (well, so far) allowing a pleasing pace.  Down to Mitchell Rd and through Dave's dip, the road was all mine with not a light in sight.  Surprisingly, Archer Rd was empty too.  Speed still satisfied through Central Kialla though legs began to labour facing River Rd.  That 6th sense of wind direction (it's finely honed not long after we take up this bicycle business) detected a southwester trying it's best to shatter the self esteem, digging the depth of determination just to keep 30's on the Garmin.  Motivation came to the fore when bike lights were spotted a distance behind, the competition compartment in the cranium lit up, stirring up the speed.  I'd become the bait.  Pace perked up with the breeze behind in Coach Rd but those lights loomed larger behind (two against one ain't fair Mum!)  I had a fair idea it'd be Couldabeens chasing each others tail-lights and sure enough, over the highway, PistolPete and Boof hollered their hello's and passed with pace.  That wasn't too demoralising, they weren't specs on the horizon in an instant.  Barely a k passed under the wheels when another pair of lights zoomed in, Bruce and The Godfather delivering greetings on their mission to catch the others.  Joining in was appealing though the distancing thing played on my conscience, so  I set a course to New Dookie Rd to deliver me from temptation.  9 k's back to town had a little help from the southwester, surfaces ranging from coarse stone to heavenly hot mix varying velocity back to home.

22/4  Lappin' local.
Different sights and sounds on a course contrary to regular routes was the inspiration to face Wednesday, yet another solo spin needed something to stimulate the senses in this Corona confinement.  Well, that was the plan.   That bane to bicyclists, the bindii delayed my launch with a flat front tyre, and with many minutes now missing, I chose to lap local on a familiar track to keep sweet with the employer's clock.

That well worn path of Old Dookie Rd, Boundary and River Rd's would satisfy the craving for k's even though it had all the appeal of parliament's question time (without a bunch).  There was nobody to speak to (but the silence was golden), no pressure on the length of the turn (there was one big shift at the front though) and no pressure on pace (just one's self to satisfy).  A distant tail-light in Boundary Rd said I wasn't the only crazy one out, the slow rise of the sun throwing light on the familiar features ;  The Pine Lodge Pub (that still isn't a pub), River Rd's rooster hollering it's hello to Wednesday and bindii are still rampant at the roadside.   Couldabeens presented as a disjointed string of headlights in River Rd as I pressed on westward, the hum of the wheels and purr of the chain my motivational music to the bridge.  I crossed solo paths with Snow in the last k of River Rd, and took a Central Kialla course to Mitchel Rd where time told me the Archer Rd exit would get me back to base on time.

23/4  The Tat lap
There's a great sense of freedom with an empty, open road in the headlight's beam, freedom too spinning solo in self propulsion as the world's worries are erased from your head.  But there's that sense of what the hell are you doing? while most sane people are tucked up in bed at 5:30am!

A sense of urgency drove me south on Toolamba Rd, the distance of this different course (the one I'd planned but abandoned yesterday) was vague and my mortal enemy time was ticking.  That'll push me out of my comfort zone.  6 degrees was a bit below that zone too and it kept the cadence keen toward Toolamba.  Over the railway line and turning west, the Rushworth-Toolamba Rd offered up it's coarse course toward Dhurringile, the channel bridges (mini mountains to me!) marking the efforts and ease to keep a steady speed.  Hardly interval training though.  Far from suburbia, the all enveloping darkness made aim at the intersection a bit blind, thankfully the distant glow of Tat's town lights made my bearings believable.   
Speed seemed strangely sublime, or was a breeze in my favour and about to punish my progress northbound?   The turn into Dhurringile Rd would tell all.  Have a little faith Foss!  A slow return to rhythm resumed the prior pace and kept a cap on the heart-rate (coping with the acceleration in a post lockdown bunch will take some getting used to!)   The k's back to Tat was better to be ignored, focus fixed on the few metres ahead instead of kilometres.  To keep a positive on progress, don't count the k's, count telephone poles instead an old Sun Tour winner once told me (you'll know you're cooked when you start counting fence posts!)

Tatura turned up ahead of expectation, the front wheel pointed east along Ferguson Rd confirmed a wind-less day.  Relish it Foss, there's all that bone chilling southerly stuff in the months to come! Traffic was flowing with 7am starters so I escaped up Craven Rd (the thinning Ferguson Rd minus the comfort of an emergency lane), the scent of apples and pears to enjoy rather than eau de carbon monoxide.  A diversion via Simpson and Downer Rd joined me to the A300 for the 8k back to town with the exclusive use of the stopping lane, the occasional snap crackle and pop of loose gravel as an acoustic accompaniment.  I chanced upon Kreeky commencing a Toaster lap, so the 1 social minute (suitably distanced) made up for the prior peaceful 90.

24/4  Ay Kaarimba!

Blessed with a day off work and a mild morning (14 degrees) I could feed the hunger for a different circuit without the constraint of time.  A 17km stretch on the Shepp-Barmah Rd had some subtle undulations (rare in this neck of the woods) and a north western breeze to battle, but I was counting on help homeward.  Traffic was sparse in the wee small hours (don't you love it when the oncoming vehicle flicks back to high beam the moment they realise it's only a bike facing them!), Bunbartha seemingly a world away in the dark, but the less you think about distance the sooner it arrives.  I was on the search for Walsh's Bridge Rd when a truck behind and a car ahead threatened to squeeze me thin so the truck courteously slowing to spare me some pace showed a ton of professionalism.  There was a 7k hunt northbound for Kaarimba (more of an intersection than a place) on unchartered ground, a few more undulations mocking my hopes of holding a steady speed.  The sun struggled to pierce the clouds and I nearly missed the east turn into Kaarimba Rd.

Thinner than thought (barely 3 metres wide)  but surprisingly smooth, the asphalt stretched in 10k's of emptiness to Wunghnu, that breeze almost behind lifting the mood and lowering the heart rate so up went the speed and down went the effort.  What luck to feel the wind slowly shift to a northerly, my plan to weave the way back via Zeerust was dropped for a straight spin via the highway.  The #stayathome workers lightened the load of commuting traffic, a wide and smooth stopping lane just for me making life easy yet a glance at the Garmin showed I was well into Zone 4.  Tell me it's a competitive spirit and not some manic masochism! Gust from the oncoming vehicles were countered by the draft from ones passing, back into hometown a dreary overcast day had begun and a decent ride had finished, covering territory rarely ridden.


This week  268km    YTD 2,654                  

The Corona compliance.

Post #542
12/4  Serene Sunday.

It's so easy to be selective when there's no bunch to set times and routes to ride, ditching a windy Saturday to choose a more serene Sunday is sort of straying to softness but I drew the line at a 50 km/h westerly, opting for the calmer Sunday.  I set a course via North Mooroopna, Lancaster, Merrigum and Byrneside, the payback being a westerly to fight for the first 30k.  (15 km/h gusts were better than 50)  Great expectations were soon evaporated by the effort needed to keep a respectable speed, up Echuca Rd with the wind at the left flank to take on the west stretch of Lancaster-Mooroopna Rd.  The headwind hurt as a scenic sunrise behind beckoned me to throw in the towel and turn tail as the easy way out, thankfully stubbornness drove this old bloke to persevere the pain to reach Lancaster, a long 13 k's west into the wind.
Silence was golden steering south toward Merrigum, past the charming "Karlsruhe" (built for Baron Von Swaine in 1893) and the apple filled orchards while 10 degrees chilled the air. My real focus was fixed on that tail-wind home, but that wouldn't come till reaching Byrneside.  Shifting between the 16 and 15 cog balanced burning legs vs high heart-rate (anyone got a fifteen and a half tooth sprocket I could use?)  The smooth stretch of hot-mix to Byrneside reminisced thoughts back to Beach Road, but we'd all have an arse like marshmallow riding smooth stuff all the time.  Wouldn't we all soften without the wind?  And our commitment  may collapse without the cold?

Onto the Midland highway and that wind went weak (just my luck) so working worn legs had little success with speed.  The highway was eerily empty for the 20k back to base, with just 3 cars passing a draft was a rare reward.  Twas timely that breeze turned up to treat the last 5k's to Mooroopna, and with traffic taking over the tarmac of the Causeway, I chose the shared path to tap to town (sticks, glass and a wandering dog challenged that choice).  The weekend fix of the Lemontree's coffee and breakfast was a fitting finale to 70k, a puncture as a post script (that glass on the shared path) took the shine off though.


14/4  Dodging drizzles.

Regrets were still fresh on Tuesday morning, I'd succumbed to a sleep-in on Monday so the urge to ride was strong 24 hrs later, shame the speed was so tame.  A clean bike is meant to add 10% to tempo isn't it?  Creative courses had caved in to ritual rides, out toward the Big Ring and let time dictate the direction home.   8 degrees had me dig the knee warmers, an extra base layer and winter gloves out of hibernation, feeling a little like Bibendum (Google it!) with these extra insulating layers.  Get over it Foss, there's lots of these months to come!

Kamikaze moths targeted the headlight as a red glow underlit the horizon's clouds, setting up a scenic start to the day.  Right into Pine Lodge Nth Rd and right at the Toaster and that headwind seemed to follow me 'round, a moment to check a tyre wasn't deflating proved it was the old engine that prevented a decent pace. Time, or the lack of it, dictated a direct line home via Old Dookie Rd, a surprise sighting of Baz and Deb  (unaccustomed as they are to regular riding) eastbound as I worked west.  Snow was spotted as I neared the city's lights, my halt in town spying a spread out squad of Boof, PistolPete, The Godfather, Tina, Bo and Kel chasing each others tail-lights into the suburbs.  Seems Corona compliance can't constrain competition. I'd been lucky to dodge the drizzle till now, the dampened streets undoing my contentment aboard a clean bike.

15/4  Finding Five Ways.
Riding a dark, cold and empty road at stupid o'clock has all the appeal of an appointment with a ham-fisted proctologist, it's now in this isolation imposition the real value of bike buddies is realised (not just for a draft or someone to sledge!)    Something stirred me to saddle up, perhaps plotting a course rarely ridden is the incentive?  The sloth that was sneaking into the skull needed stopping.

9 degrees got legs spinning to Congupna (I'd hardened up in short knicks today after cooking in knee warmers yesterday), the long dark strip of Katamatite Rd was spent searching for Jubilee Rd (finally found to bear east)  It's been ages since riding this route (a Fruitloop from years ago) and distances were blurred by the blackness of the surrounds so I was hoping the intersecting 3 roads at Five Ways would be obvious.  Speed had settled into satisfying considering there was a breeze at the brow, a bunny or three making random dashes across the tarmac keeping senses sharp.  I found Five Ways by Labuan Rd's reflective sign and steered south, the sun barely outlining Mt. Major way off on the port side.  A solitary tractor worked the paddock as I worked the 10 k toward Lemnos-Cosgrove Rd, the struggle subsiding now the breeze was out of my face.  The west way home did wonders for the spirits, ain't nothin' like a breeze up the bum to boost the ego!  Light filled Ford Rd and the clock was kind to my schedule, even got a greeting with a grin from Laura as our paths crossed at the town's edge.  Home with 5 minutes to spare and half chuffed I'd squashed the sloth.

17/4  Freestyle Friday.
Social distancing at least gives me the freedom to choose course and time, the rain during Thursday's breakfast had robbed me of a ride so Friday's forecast was fortuitous. Plans to ply a path out Raftery Rd were changed in the blink of a tail-light, old mate Archer Rd chosen when time dictated a shorter course.  Sensing a breeze from the west, the only real work would be homeward so I enjoyed the slow motion sunrise and the way south, east and north and left the worry of working west for later.

The bite of 7 degrees kept the chain in company with the 17 cog to spin some warmth into bare legs, the course through Central Kialla and along River Rd void of vehicles (and the bunch, the chat, the sledges, the draft, the hum of thirty plus wheels, the cackle, the hard work on the front, the mateship, a cracking average speed et al).  All being well, those days will return.   River Rd's rooster greeted the day as I steered north into Coach Rd, a couple of bikes southbound (no doubt on a mission of mental therapy to avoid the cabin fever of isolation)   With several options for my route home, New Dookie Rd was the less ordinary option, besides it prolonged facing that breeze in the face back to town. The reality of the ride west wasn't so bad after all, above the speed I'd aimed at even before getting there! Why do I do that? The curse of competition?  Thanks to a couple of Tina's trucks tootling into town, there was a tow or two to pick-up my pace (and the average speed), home on time to face the joy of the working day (when I'd rather be riding in sunshine).

This week 192km        2,386 YTD  

           

If my legs would let me.

Post #541
5/4  Sun day

It's normally treated as sabbath, but Saturday's saturation turned the regular rest day into a ride one.  The craving was keen after one day off.  A change to eastern standard time had gifted earlier daylight so I slackened the standard six am start time to lap up the lumens.  Reversing Saturday's circuit was an easy decision, not just for the different direction but because the northerly (18-30 km/h) would murder me tackling it anti-clockwise.  The intro to the headwind out to the golf course wasn't so bad so the east drive on Ford and Lemnos-Cosgrove Rd's put comfort in the cranium.  The hard stuff would be the 10 k's home.  The sun was up early to show scenery long forgotten, haven't we been kept in the dark of a morning for the last couple of months! A house or two with a new coat of paint, a missing orchard, a fence burnt here and a car wreck there.....some on the improve and others sliding backward.  I found myself in that comfort zone of zone 3 (144-156 for me), maybe it's a self preservation thing to go the distance?  The sun was giving only psychological warmth in 9 degrees yet I'd stuck to short knicks and fingerless gloves, as if to lengthen summer? With the wind behind the spin south to the Toaster was silent, a fight to steer a straight line in Old Dookie Rd then more serenity along Boundary and Coach Rd to psych up some steam for River Rd.

The willow still clings to One Tree Dam's island, there's a new house being built to the east and the Rooster strutted his stuff as I slowed for the west work in River Rd.  Distant bike headlights gave some credence to cranking k's in the cold, a little closer and the familiar faces of Bo and Kel came into view (a couple of weeks socially separated from bike buddies seems an eternity).  Delivered at a distance the greet was brief, focus shifting to the short spin through Central Kialla before the chore north in Archer Rd.  There was a brief g'day to Axel rolling out on his solo spin, Mitchell Rd soaked in thought therapy to conquer Archer Rd's aggravation.  Speed was of little consequence, it was finding the best gear to cope with that wind that mattered, spinning at 90 rpm seemed to stop the legs burning and make the effort easier.  The promised Lemontree breakfast (albeit take-away) kept the urge on the boil back to town, the wind all the while trying to blow me backward.  Again, the eerie emptiness of the cafe's footpath highlighted the strange state we're in, the comfort of a long black and a brekkie wrap dissolving all dramas.

6/4  Suffering soliloquy.
A little course creativity put inspiration into Monday morning.  With bunches still banned I'd need something to entertain enthusiasm. West was the way to keep Foss amused although the southwester wasn't so welcome, McIssac Rd toward Ardmona was at least a different stretch of tarmac to tap.

The Ardmona-Merrigum Rd stretched to the horizon, my decision on direction weighing heavily on my heart rate as the wind whipped between the orchards to squash the speed (saying to self ; it had better swing to a westerly for the way back home).   They say the first sign of madness is talking to yourself , but who cares with not a soul in earshot!  (is that why the cows look at me strange?) As pre-dawn light hit the horizon, a feeling of running late kept my cadence keen as I searched for the Tatura-Undera Rd by the reflection of it's intersection sign.  South toward the lights of Tatura and the wind did it's best to break me, thank my lucky legs there was only 5 k's of cruelty to reach the highway.  Adrenalin fuelled the 10 k's of tempo back to Mooroopna, mixing it with the commuters while eyes were peeled for the roadside garbage kept senses sharpened. The snap, crackle and pop of gravel over the emergency lane (scattered from the traffic's tyres), then a satisfying hum on the hotmix closer to town while vacuumed along in the draft of the occasional truck (professionally passing).  A pleasant end to the effort earlier. And a variety to the usual views.

7/4  Soak'n up serenity and sunrises, socially separated.
Motivation must be as rare as a Trump truth when Strava's starved of your mates usual posts.  Or have most resorted to secret training? Nah, sorry, Zwift doesn't count (reality rules ok?)  Creating courses has been the bait to get me out of bed at stupid o'clock lately, Tuesday's plan to plot a path to the quarry and back.  I even changed the first leg to head out via Kittles Rd, that golf course opening salvo has become blase'.   I settled into a rhythm on Ford Rd, missing the bunch banter but soaking up the serenity was sweet.  There were thoughts of nana saying 'count your blessings' as the sky set up a super sunrise, being allowed outdoors in these pandemic times was a blessing in itself.
 Hey, that eerie silence (without The Godfather's garble) was worth bottling!  I'd aimed at 45 minutes out and 45 back to stay employed, guessing I'd reach the quarry by 6:10 if my legs would let me.  The guesswork was good rolling past Boral's hole in the Cosgrove ground, enough gravel on the tarmac to tighten the sphincter as an aid to staying upright.  That fraction of westerly in the south southwester made work for the way home though the smoothness of the C364 offered little resistance to rolling.  (now I've praised that section of road they'll probably reseal it tomorrow in coarse stone!)The sky lit up behind to make the work worthwhile (how's the texture in those clouds) but being starved of social sentences is starting to take it's toll. Time took sympathy on my speed arriving at Lemnos on schedule, a couple of tows from passing trucks getting me home at 7 sharp.


8/4  The tap to Tally.

Victoria Rd was hidden somewhere along here.  Finding it was the challenge in the dark.  And that's what puts spice into a solo spin.  It's hardly the stuff of Burke and Wills, Lawson or Wentworth, but without the bunch to buoy the mood, at least a mystery tour gets you out of bed.  The southerly had propelled 10k's of the Katamatite Rd and finally the Cat-eye illuminated the east west strip of Victoria Rd, it was time to harden up and face the wind after 15k's of cruising.  A big yellow moon hung just above the trees, it's light showing the puzzled stares from resting cows while I aimed at the Tallygaroopna metropolis.  Some of it's 579 inhabitants were up and about but the reality of the headwind home and it's labour on lungs and legs was now my focus.  A couple of southbound trucks dragged me into the low 30's for a moment but the disappointment of high 20's soon returned as their tail-lights drew into the distance.  At last I'd made it to Zeerust Rd (my escape for a few minutes of recovery facing west), though the 5k's hurt of the headwind south on the Shepp Rd lay ahead.  The price you pay for creative courses!   What the head wanted and what the legs would deliver became a widening divide after a 4 k's, the last time labouring this length of tarmac was in 34 degrees (the Cider Ride 6 weeks ago), quite the contrast!  With velocity vanishing rapidly, reaching Nathalia Rd was a relief, back to the highway fifteen minutes ahead of schedule allowed a Wanganui Rd leg home.  I'd found JB lapping the Boulevard so it was great to chat a minute alongside, 2 metres distant of course. So why did I feel like a corona criminal?

9/4  Riding random routes.
Mapping a different daily course has become a challenge (something's needed to spike the enthusiasm in these testing times), there's plenty of roads to ride but time is my ever present enemy.  Isn't it criminal when work gets in the way of a decent lap!

 A dash across the causeway shook the metabolism into motion, my course set for Ardmona today in the desire for a different direction.  Between wire rope barrier and tactile edge-lining, I threaded the needle along the Midland highway, all quite comfortable with barely a handful of cars passing.  Ardmona Rd was found to be peaceful and deserted, and propelled by a breeze up the bum bearing north.  Fruity fragrances of apple, pear and peach in these parts certainly beats the bunch smell of sweaty armpits (and other bodily functions better left unsaid!), though I could do with a whiff of the peloton's conversation and camaraderie to lift the spirits (and my average average speed!)  Daybreak seemed sluggish glancing to the east, not even a week into eastern standard time and the darkness is closing in already (9 minutes of light lost in just 5 days!), the sun seemingly slipping into self isolation too.  North Mooroopna seemed a long time coming, eventually lights of the little school showing the turn for home was close.  Effort escalated on Echuca Rd, self strangely satisfied there was work to do, stops that softening starting.  A very subtle sunrise was a disappointment (spoilt by Tuesday's spectacular?), the rough edge of the road smoothing to hotmix to hurry me into Mooroopna.  With light filling the sky, the empty shared path back to Shepp was judged a safer bet, at least wildlife could be seen beyond the length of the headlights' beam.

10/4  Obeying obsessions.

The forecast wasn't flash but Friday's reality said ride, a dull grey day with damp on the track wasn't going to obstruct my obsession.  Local tracks were back on the menu to cure the craving for k's and tick Strava's 100,000km box.  (let's not ponder the 130,000 pre Strava k's shall we?)  Only one car was using my Knight St exit of town (even then he couldn't keep his big fat 4x4 rear view mirror out of the bike lane), otherwise Old Dookie Rd had only mist (from last nights 1.4mm)  to contend with.  Oh, and my lack lustre speed!  How we are humbled away from the draft of a bunch!  (Blaming that damp air as a handbrake is in chapter 16 in the Book of Excuses).   Refer Rule #5.   With one big turn at the front ahead, speed settled into survival mode to Boundary Rd, finding one sole headlight northbound fixed that feeling I was Robinson Crusoe.

With only the odd snail and worm (fractionally slower than me) as competition south of the Pub, I could claim tete de la course, hearing the familiar 'cock-a-doodle' turning west into River Rd I found another empty length of tarmac to tap.  Frogs croaked their good mornings and a Kookaburra cackled (at my speed?), this isolation thing is slowly testing what sanity's left!   River Rd finished faster than expected, Central Kialla asleep, the west way on Mitchell pondering the path home.    With just two missions (clocking the 100,000 and the lust for a long black as a reward) I turned for town up Archer Rd, I'd pulled the short straw for work today but 10 minutes spare allowed a caffeine fix.

This week 270km        YTD 2,194km.

             

Drowning in darkness.

Post #540
28/3  Strange Saturday, sans sociology.

Being in a bunch was banned but the standard Saturday ritual to ride wasn't to be missed (obeying an obsession if you like).  The ritual route was chosen, a few halts happening through an empty town with traffic lights frozen for want of traffic to direct.  Passing the empty carpark was weird bound for Mitchell Rd, a not-so-subtle east northeaster (24 km/h) guaranteed me work for most of the circuit, the saving grace being a tailwind home.  A bit of banked wattage was quickly worn on the push east to Central Kialla, those few minutes of respite headed north to River Rd hardly enough for the cruel 6 k's to follow.  Eyes were off the sluggish speed, focus glued on cadence instead to keep the spirits up and the effort down.  A glass half full philosophy said most of the hard yards were done by the Angora farm but that wily wind had swung to become a northeaster, extending the effort in Coach and Boundary Rd's.  Breakfast was going to be well earned today.   A few rows of trees offered shelter and comfort to laboured legs, those wide open fields giving no mercy where wind whittled down the average.  The end was nigh in Old Dookie Rd, just an obstinate spin to the Toaster where the northbound leg to Lemnos-Cosgrove Rd seemed easy.  Was that LegalSteve and Ed Dookie bound as I turned west toward breakfast?

At last, the tranquillity of the wind (almost) behind me instead of whistling between my ears, the ego massaged managing high thirties with little labour and just for good measure, a red led ahead (entering from Boundary Rd) to chase.   Gains were gradual and distancing needed careful consideration, so the overtake was planned for maximum separation.  Getting closer, that ride style was familiar and the stature was the give-away, MyRideTrev was passed with greetings given many metres apart. Feels so anti-social!
A collection of Cats, daftly defying distancing, crossed Grahamvale Rd while I headed for suburbia, any Wanganui worries evaporating realising there was only me to keep up with.  Hey,  I'd even manage a podium position!   Up Mt.Wanganui lapping up the last of the tailwind, the turn to Rudd Rd and on to the Boulevard was reality slapping me in the face, back into that wind again!   A craving for caffeine powered the push back to the Lemontree, an empty footpath where the long table once sat felt foreign but their coffee cured that.  TatPaul happened to front as I tucked into a take-away breakfast so we deliberated (at a distance) on how wearing the wind was, metal detecting and worthy wheels.

30/3  Tour de Tally.

Those miserable excuses to lay in bed grew longer, the need to snap out of the slumber becoming more urgent less I succumb to softness.  Mapping a lap less travelled over breakfast injected some inspiration but urging lethargic legs up to speed along the highway burned most of it up.  I'd set sights on Zeerust though a fog hung low on the tarmac from yesterday's rain, the dew point matching the 13 degree temperature fogging the view.  Several k's north and I finally found Zeerust church, the fog clearing to show a sky full of stars to guide my way to Bowey Rd.  Morning Col!  Farmhouse lights bordered the tarmac to Tallygaroopna, a westbound truck the first sign of life I'd crossed paths with.  Tally's half dozen lights dazzled after 19k's surrounded by darkness and time had ticked away reaching the highway so the planned course via Victoria and Katamatite Rd's was ditched for a swifter spin on the A39.  Many may rant the risks of riding a highway but a smooth 2 metres worth of emergency lane to yourself beats a narrow rough edged B road in my book.  There was just a handful of (courteous) cars to deal with anyway.  A breeze from the east wafted the fragrance of wattle and gum trees across the nostrils (how's that eau de body odour, sweaty Zwifter's?) as the k's clicked away toward Congupna, the feint glow of a sluggish sun in the Dookie distance about to herald another Monday.  Looking forward to next week's return to eastern standard time, I might enjoy a ride in daylight for a for change! For a week or two. Verney Rd was my way back to town, 80 minutes in Zone 4 a worthy workout to start the week.

31/3  Tour de Tat.

An enthusiasm to explore got me aboard the Baum on Tuesday, something was needed to stir the senses now that bunches are banned, and with no constraints on a course, the call from the creative corner of the cranium was "Go west young man!"   With worries about wildlife along the bike path I made tracks along the Midland (reasons explained yesterday) to Mooroopna.  Working west, those wire rope safety barriers were a little daunting but the tactile edge-lining is a good repellent for cars (shame  the emergency lane is rarely swept).  Traffic was rare as I settled into a spin toward Tatura, a little uncertain on distance but the clock ruled my turn-around time. On schedule at the Tatura-Undera Rd roundabout, I steered south to Tat, the fire siren sounded but few plied the streets.  I struggled with speed to escape the township, the promised breeze from the west of little help with my hurry.  The slightest suggestion of a downhill got me on top of the gear, Ferguson Rd feeling somewhat thinner than the tarmac previously tapped.  Not keen to thread the thinner Toolamba Rd home (competing with commuting traffic, building for the 7am starters), I chose Craven Rd for a quieter car-free course, but being alone with my thoughts was a high risk activity!  Despite increasing cars on the highway, the 2 metre wide emergency lane was vacant, so 12k's was spun safe and satisfied back to base, just a shame that eight hours of work now interrupted the day.

1/4  Tour de T'lamba.

Toolamba was my "Tour de" target on Wednesday, 9 degrees providing a nip in the air to keep cadence cooking toward Mooroopna.  The southwest strip of the C369 is skinny, with a rugged edge and patches on the patches to test your steering stamina.  Darkness swamped the surroundings and the k's seemed to crawl in search of the railway line that marked the imminent turn to Toolamba.  Only when bearing east did that hint of southerly strike me as the source of slowness, so the velocity was on the improve toward the township of 772, all but one of them asleep.  I wondered if  the Goulburn bridge was passable (and had a u-turn option if it wasn't), 5,600 new bolts have uprated the 100 year old structure to take 9 tons, but those old red gum boards still have gaps that would swallow a wheel whole, so walking it was the best bet.  A minute on foot was just the medicine for moaning muscles, the spin to the highway feeling rested and revitalised.

Just as well, Union Rd's roughness was to come.
VicRoads took a tired old goat track, sprayed it with tar then sprinkled 20mm stone on top, replicating a Roubaix-like roughness for all to enjoy. Thank my tormented toosh there was only 4k's of it to get to Central Kialla Rd.  The budget was better on this one, smooth hot-mix the reward though there was a sense of drowning in darkness with not a light in sight.  Welcome to the brave new world of social distancing Foss!  Aldous Huxley's dystopian society edges a little closer?  Mitchell Rd was back on familiar ground, the glow from distant city lights a reassurance and with time on my side I chose the Raftery Rd route back to town, eyes peeled for wandering wildlife.

3/4  Tour de Toaster.
The trouble with this social separation stuff is the sudden loss of schedule, there's no start times to motivate you morning, so left to your own devices the saddle-up time gets slack.  A 5:40 start was 20 minutes later than my ride ritual so a short course was created in the cranial cavity to get me home on time and preserve employment.

A hint of a northwest breeze blew me out Ford Rd, settling into that circadian rhythm a 15 year habit has permanently marked into my mornings.  The pace was pleasing (for this ageing engine) in Lemnos-Cosgrove Rd, mellowing the madness of the pandemic planet with a little Michelin music (played on the Craftworx turntables) refining the minds' metronome.  History filled the head en-route to the Big Ring, that day Killer came to blows with Ivan the World Champion, and the evening I glanced off the side of a startled cow that charged across the road. I won't begin to calculate the times I've tapped this stretch of tarmac. The reality might make this obsession a bit frightening.

South to the Church and that breeze wasn't so bad, down to the Toaster (needs some work on it's list to starboard) and pointed back to town the predicted push wasn't so punishing.  I'd ummed and ah'd on taking a Channel Rd route back but that enemy of time ticked a toll of 'late to work'.  A pair of led's flashed ahead in Old Dookie Rd but the challenge to chase was dampened by social distancing laws (the sheer lack of horsepower was the real reason!)  It was pleasing to finish a slightly shorter lap with a few minutes to spare, now to dredge the depths of motivation to inspire more solo spins for the weeks (dare I say months?) to come. What's that commandment?  Thou shalt not soften!

This week: 232 km      YTD:  1.923 km