Pace & possibilities, pain & punishment.

Post # 548
23/5  The Saturday standard.

An attempt (again) to highjack the Saturday start time to 5:45 failed, most siding with the 8 year old tradition of a 6am kick-off, so I scored a few more minutes snooze and time for a relaxed roll to the grid....but for an icy 25 km/h southerly to suffer getting there (so I was avoiding the heartache of a first turn headwind)   A few others circled the streets of the Archer St shop, many no doubt breathing that sigh seeing Wozza in the number 1 grid position.  Lenny, Shorty, Kreeky, GiantAndy, Boof, Rocket, Liam and Trav filed into the carpark, MyRideTrev and Col opting for team 2 to observe the groups of 10 distancing directive.  I was somewhat smug sitting third wheel in the single filed start, the two row formation would lower me down the list to face the front....or so I thought.  Beyond the city limits and into that feels like 0.6 degree stiff southerly, the squad stayed Indian file.  O-oh, that meant my number would come up at the truck route for the 2k shift to Mitchell Rd (with heaps of horsepower behind me just to raise expectations)

Wozza set a swift speed to Sanctuary's roundabout then Lenny took the reigns to the truck route, then earning my vote for the white jersey by driving the distance to Mitchell (saving me the hurt).  The turn east wasn't so cruisy, I was riding the empty oncoming lane to aid those echeloned behind, wind whipping at the wheels to keep the accelerator flat to the floor. A Garmin glimpse saw 178bpm so eyes were steered quickly to the road instead.  Satisfied but spent reaching Central Kialla, I peeled off to the caboose for rapid respite while Kreeky towed us to River Rd (lucky lad had the tailwind to keep the speed smooth).

Echeloned again in River Rd, recovery was taking it's time, Boof, Rocket and Shorty provided the muscle to make it longer still.  GiantAndy headed the hurry into Coach Rd but a holler of "puncture!" beyond the Broken bridges gave me (and others) a chance to catch up on oxygen intake.  Wozza tended to his deflation while the cackle carried on from the side lines.  A few moments of maintenance and the train restarted (a little out of order), gradually up to speed with Liam now at the front.  Hang on lads, this was going to be a long drive.  At least Trav at second wheel was providing a better tow than Liam (he's like drafting a matchstick!)  The usual change of leadership at Old Dookie Rd didn't happen, Liam pushing on to the Toaster instead.  (A 7k drive at the front like a walk in the park for the young fella).  Trav towed us to Lemnos-Cosgrove Rd but a whisker of westerly had worked it's way into that southerly, Kreeky copping the workload west into it.  Speed was slipping away by Woolshed Rd a k later, his elbow delivering me to the front

I was somewhat stoked to carefully raise the bar (but keeping Kreeky as part of the crew), faith at last restored in Foss's engine to provide an almost reputable rate of knots.  (for the first time since December last year).    2k's worth of that was about the limit, so handed over to Wozz for the serious speed to begin.   Rocket and Boof sat next in line to make that standard stick, maybe that's why Shorty was now staying at the rear?   It was a suitable spot for me too given the percolating pace.  There's no point flogging a dead horse so I played gate-keeper while the big engines fired off the front, Kreeky now struggling as the train steamed into town, breaking off the back as we crossed Verney Rd.  When a holler was sent to the front for a more sympathetic speed Shorty and I relished the rest....for a brief moment.  Into Wanganui Rd and we'd lost the back carriage again, Rocket & GiantAndy easing the effort to tow the tired home (Shorty and I there purely for moral support, ha ha!)  The team had reformed to 10 by the cemetery, the group gathering at the Butter Factory (Bo, Col and The Godfather berthed from an earlier arrival) chatting the conflicts of health and benefits of 50mm wheels while goading The Godfather's selection of start time.

25/5  Trial by tempo.
I'd scored Bo's wheel in the shuffle of positions as 8 sorted out the pecking order of the single filed attack on Archer Rd, Lenny and The Godfather behind me as Col captained the crew toward Sanctuary's roundabout.  I'd be trialled by tempo for the Monday lap.  Col did well to drive the 3k's  (just half a dozen rides in 2 months)  facing the southerly , Tina turning on a swift shift to the truck route and Kreeky putting in a solid turn to Mitchell Rd (already shaken off the Saturday sluggishness).  It was a foregone conclusion that Bo would drive a long shift (so we could witness the fitness?) and I'd be taxed at second wheel.  No respect for his elders!  Wozza had joined the crew from a chase when Kel headed our hurry to Central Kialla in typical smooth style.  With the wind at his back, a 2k drive to River Rd was just a warm-up for Bo, getting greedy in the drivers seat towing us to the bridge and beyond to the dip (to make sure I was well cooked before taking the lead?)  The first 300 metres of my turn at the pointy end was full of pace and possibilities, thereafter pain and punishment to maintain the momentum.  The quarter horse stud's white fence was blurry but my decision was sharp to flick Lenny the lead, reckoning there'd be a few stray watts to catch the tail if I was lucky.

Lenny hit the boost button and that growling bear suddenly with me made Bo look behind, the next 100 metres spent pushing pedals with what felt like al-dente legs.  Thanks Lenny!  By the good will of the draft I hung on, a moment of recovery on the slow to turn north into Coach Rd, then back on the gas, watching Lenny and The Godfather riding the bunch off their wheel.  Bo came forward to drag the half dozen forward, then resumed position at One Tree Dam when carriages connected again.  The Godfather poured power into that big gear to the highway but Col retreated rearward, his driving days done.  I couldn't help the guesstimations of who'd drive to where and when (or if) I'd face the front again (there's a bit of mental preparation required to get this old bomb performing in this sort of company), so with each long turn that likelihood faded.   Tina kept the pace percolating toward the fig farm,  Kreeky then Kel keeping heads down into Old Dookie Rd (and my chance of being taxed by another turn off the agenda).  Bo, of course, laboured another long turn from Central Ave, me hanging on in hope but having a little reserve now if called to duty.  I was ready to take the lead as we crossed Doyles Rd, but Bo retained the presidency of pace to SPC, my swansong a spin through the streets to basecamp (as if they needed direction to coffee!)

26/5  Hibernators ; on your marks, get set.....
Tuesday's tumbling temperature (feels like -0.8) would set off the starters gun for the hibernators.  Here comes that season of the few (and fewer) faces to turn up to tap a lap and commitment to the cause is tested by temperature.  Expectations were lowered on my zig zag of the streets (soaking up time before 6), there'd be fewer at Friars as Goats were gripped by winter's imminent arrival.  Coggo's despondency disappeared as I arrived, not another Goat had gathered!

Two minutes chat, hoping to attract another to the fold drew only Belly to the grid (hard man ; short knicks) so a short course to head home via Channel Rd was our consensus.  I'd been elected the pilot to thread our way out of town, slowly stoking the speed out Old Dookie Rd to guess the cruising speed (how to win friends and avoid knives in the back) toward Dobson's bridge.  34 seemed suitable (no complaints) so I drove an extra shift to Central Ave (after all, there's only 3 to share the suffering).  Coggo preserved the pace to Boundary Rd but Belly was playing free-loader today and shied from driving duty.  A red led flashed ahead to bait my shift toward the pub, I'd nearly thrown an elbow to Coggo when I reached the bridge but gaining quickly on the mystery man became an extra incentive.  It was Snow we'd rounded up, who happily joined the clan.  Over the highway, Coggo's turn had a calm beginning (while tail-enders tattled) then back to the business of mid 30's to take us to Channel Rd's S bend.  Yet another turn for me got to Kinder corner, Snow finally in the drivers seat for the Cha Cha.  That temperature gripped lungs and muscles as I retreated rearward but Belly was still the major shareholder of the caboose.  A sprint had all the appeal of the dentists drill, so a steady tap into town topped off Tuesday nicely.

28/5  Five facing fog.
Guilt got me out early on Thursday (time for penance for wagging Wednesday's ride), fog infesting my prologue to Lemnos and back.  A billion microscopic water droplets hung in the CatEye's beam, giving the perception of pedalling through porridge as damp dripped from the helmet and sparkled on gloves and armwarmers.

Back into town by 5:57 faith faded at Friars, the footpath was empty.  This might turn into a solitary spin on the shortcut back to town if the grid stayed Goat-less.  Luck had Belly and Coggo arrive a couple of minutes before launch time, a well placed sledge on Strava (about softening) attracting Hommie and Sandy to the start line. Coggo took command to lead us east, second wheel suited me while Hommie, Belly and Sandy finished the formation.  Smoothness makes Coggo an easy fellow to follow, the hum from that 80mm rear wheel was music to move by.  I was given the lead at the bridge, attempting to find Central Ave through the fog (windscreen wipers on the specs would've helped)   A peek back to see what held up Hommie taking the lead for leg 3 got me momentarily off course, a few metres in the gravel sharpening the senses.

A gradual build up to speed wasn't really Hommie's habit, but to his credit (and Sandy's pleasure) a considerate turn to School Rd kept the group together.  Belly joined Sandy in keeping the caboose occupied, so it seemed Coggo, Hommie and I were the only ones willing to work.  Back on the front again for Boundary Rd, pace came easily for a change (the hint of a northeaster the help?) so pressed on to the pub.  Hommie headed the pack to the Broken bridges,  a little longer than his first turn, Coggo the tow truck to River Rd.  The turn appeared sooner than I'd guessed, a damp road dictating a cautious entry, so I'd almost overshot the turn with care, the last few centimetres of tarmac my saviour.  Coggo continued the captaincy for another k, the handover finding me in fair fettle to reach the dip.  That was timed well, I'd get a bit of a tow before doing the solo departure thing.  Hoo-roo's to the crew at River Rd's end, I took the truck route short-cut to town with even more caution in the fog, that metre or so of tarmac left of the white line was better than the nothing you get on most other roads.

29/5  The post to Pistol.

Plenty assembled for Friday's special spin, a chance for Couldabeens to send get-well-soon wishes for PistolPete (courtesy of Nigel's videography and Chris at the ButterFactory).   Fog filled the carpark at 5:40 along with Rocket, Tina, Lenny, Kel, Bruce, Shorty, Kreeky, Wozza, The Godfather, Steve, Bo, Boof, Joe (not Tony), Col, even BamBam emerged from the depths of obscurity for the occasion.  The pack divided into eights (by chance) to satisfy distancing directives,   SuperMario, Kenworth, Laura and TrekTrev lapping the lakes a little later apparently.

By position on the grid I'd joined group two as the flag dropped, south into the fog of Archer Rd on Kreeky's wheel as Bruce set the progress toward Mitchell Rd, the red leds of group one blinking 'keep up' ahead.  Care was taken crossing the truck route that BamBam stayed stuck in the caboose, the remainder rolling the turns while second last kept an eye out for any o.t.a. moment.  A shuffle of positions into Mitchell Rd had me on Bruce's wheel while Joe (not Tony) drove toward Central Kialla. Steve's quickly climatized to the protocols, his smooth and straight turn to River Rd the beginnings of an asset to the team.  Bruce headed our hurry east toward the bridge but continued on to the dip, the fog clearing to keep us on the straight and narrow.

My contribution started with great intention (as always) till the heart rate (or the head) had other ideas, sight of the white fence at the quarter horse stud seeing me sign off the front.  Shorty, Boof and Kreeky did their bit while I regained composure, a little confusion in Coach Rd when some pointed to Channel Rd as the way home.  Straight on was the call, the surge in speed almost dislodging our caboose.  Bruce had the helm again heading into Old Dookie Rd, I should have known he'd push on to Central Ave before handing over (remarkably I still had something in the tank to continue the speed standard).  Happy I'd  done a decent turn to reach Doyles Rd, I retreated rearward while Boof took us into town, finding fog our enemy again, a gloss to the tarmac putting caution into cornering.  The gathering at the Butterfactory recorded our best wishes to PistolPete *, a chance to chat and thaw over coffee as Grumpy, Nev, Marion and BeerMat converged on the congregation.

(*There's been an inspiring recovery by PistolPete, the critical period for possible vaso spasm has passed, he's up and about, albeit carefully, and has been moved from high dependency to rehab. There's still a long road of recovery to travel but signs are good,  so all fingers are still crossed)

This week  248km    YTD 3,803km      

Suddenly surreal.

Post # 547
16/5  What the?!
Consensus was confused for Saturday's start.  Some suggested a 5:45 launch and others suggested 6 stay as is.  Not much in stone was set.  I'd stuck to the old school flagfall of 6am but only Shorty had joined me at the regular time, so we pondered a minute.....then pointed our path at Channel Rd with a hope of intercepting the earlier departure.  Side by side, I struggled to match young Shorty's speed, though a push beyond the comfort zone is probably what's really wanted (and what'll make you stronger?)  Driving the Orrvale Rd to the Kinder segment, I had to ignore the heart-rate 'cause reality would raise the white flag in the skull.  So wasn't it a relief when Shorty suggested single file turning into Central Ave!  The tow for a k to the cypress trees was just the ticket, my next turn to the S bend now bordering on respectable.  2 degrees had lungs in it's vice like grip as Shorty took the reigns to finish off Channel Rd, the blinking red led's of the premature peloton seen spinning north 500 metres ahead.  Unable to catch (or match) the wattage of 8, we'd settled on a shortcut up Boundary Rd to head them off at Lemnos-Cosgrove Rd, so I took to the front again at our mid 30's velocity, watching those lights steadily become distant.

Shorty took the lead role at Boundary's bridge at a slightly settled speed, we'd have a 6k advantage over the others.  Those lights ahead seemed scattered now, preparing (perhaps?) to turn into Old Dookie Rd.  Nearer to the fig farm, red leds parked left and right suggested it may be a puncture that'd be our chance to catch, but a headlight waved at us signalled all was not well.  Serious in fact.  Suddenly surreal.  PistolPete lay motionless on the road, Molly supporting his head, Col, The Godfather and Grumpy urging his eyes to open, but not breathing became the bigger issue. Suddenly surreal,  Pistol was rolled carefully onto his back, Col and Grumpy sharing CPR duties, guided by 000 calling the compressions.  Bo, Kreeky, The Godfather, Shorty, Brue and I, all feeling rather useless, could only stand sentry.  The stuff of TV drama was live in front of us.  Wozza arrived on the scene from his 5:50 start, discussions discovering Pete had passed out while heading the pack in the high 30's, collapsing like a bag of spuds to the tarmac.  What seemed like an eternity was in fact just a few minutes till reds and blues lit up the area from both north and south, bringing relief as MICA paramedics took control.  By good fortune the pedestrian partners (Kel, Simone and Jen) had brought Cate to the site.

 Protocols had police and fire brigade attend, paramedics assisted his breathing and soon had vital signs under control, preparing to transport Pete to Melbourne via helicopter. So as 2 degrees took it's grip on cooling muscles and with no purpose to serve standing there, us 8 headed to coffee and consolation (at a considerably calm pace).  Ambulance subscription and the importance of knowing basic first aid had re-prioritised, the bonds of the group's fellowship and advantages of being in a bunch had new and clearer perspective. Sun-up dropped the mercury more and the morning's drama had really rattled the nerves, a brew at the Butter Factory thawed  chilled limbs while the Couldabeens crew consoled.

PistolPete underwent emergency surgery that day, a partial aneurism was diagnosed and a coil inserted in the brain.  Sedated and intubated, he's expected to be in intensive care for three weeks then undergo a very long recovery.

18/5  Trainspotting.

That ability to spring out of bed has wilted with winter's early onset, to tap a lap with a bunch of bike buddies seems to be the only drawcard left! (I've served my sentence of solo's with hard labour over the past two months)  High-tailing it to Archer Rd's shop for the 5:45 fling was in fact in vein, seems that lap lapsed in lockdown and not re-started.  The car park was vacant.  I pondered joining the Goat train of peace when Bruce rolled in, realising his tardy timing too.  So it was a Saturday deja vu ; a chase on Channel to catch a premature peloton.  Bruce took turn 1 to the truck route, turning tempo to the high 30's, my slightest deviation left or right feeling a headwind that'd handbrake my attempt at hurry.  Suffering is a dish best shared, so I expended energy to Orrvale Rd, hoping recovery would come quickly in Bruce's draft to the Kinder.  Yeah....as if!  The push down Central Ave went ok but the eastern effort to the cypress trees had this old engine miss-firing by the bend.  Sounds of that growling bear were heard.  Heart rate wouldn't drop below 175 so I sat out the next turn while Bruce bore the brunt to Boundary Rd.  Cheers mate! Nothing northbound so we steered south, struggling to spot the train of led's expected eastward on River Rd while I overdosed on oxygen, readying for more to come.  At least the wind was in our favour now.  Soon into view, Wozza led the train of Kel, Kreeky, Tina, Joe (not Tony), Bo and The Godfather, Bruce and I climbing aboard at One Tree Dam.

Speed was swift (but made survivable with smoothness) aided to by the draft of 6.  Wozza peeled off the front at Channel Rd, Kel served up the speed to Boundary's bridge, Kreeky's leg likewise to Old Dookie Rd and Bo took to the drivers seat for the west way to town with the wind now helping the hurry (mental calculations had me serving one shift nearing town at this rate). Tina's shift was swift, Joe (not Tony's) cut short with insufficient oxygen and almost falling prey to the rumble strips from hell.  The Godfather was keen to keep the km/h cooking, driving past Dobson's while I watched expecting an elbow to flap, but it didn't wave till across the truck route.  I got the easy bit, the k to SPC on that heavenly hot-mix.

19/5  Wizards with the wind, average against it.

Wet weather to come caused a keen launch from bed on Tuesday morning, the opportunity to tap a lap wasn't going to knock often this week.  Believing the bureau's 10 degrees took a while to sink in, so short knicks had an outing (maybe the last for several months?) on the golf course loop, just for temperature's sake.  It's been a while since pedalling this precursor. A few Goats had made noises of re-emergence and a social spin with them was long overdue, so Friars was the 6am starting grid from my 12k prologue.  Heady, Coggo, Belly, Sandy and Hommie lined up, Heady shirking from his standard 1st shift gave me the lead role by fault of first arrival.  Reaching Dobson's estate was a test of tenacity, just my luck I had a northeaster to push into (I guess I could blame my tardy tempo on being kind to those on a comeback?)    Coggo kept a similar speed and I'd won a commendation for consideration from Belly, Sandy added a k or two to the pace from School Rd as Heady struggled in her diminutive draft.   His turn was shorter than a politician's promise (too many push-ups and not enough pedalling Heady!)

Hommie headed our way south on Boundary Rd, instantly in trouble for tempo as Heady grappled to catch the tail.  All back aboard by the fig farm, the pace pumped up a little with that northeaster's assistance, Belly taking his turn over the highway while I waited for his elbows message.  Given the drivers seat at the Broken bridges, my shift to River Rd was a breeze, blown from behind (ahh....we're all wizards with it but average against).  Heady had found his true calling on the turn west, hardly the length to slap an OMG on but the speed would put his head in a happy place.  Hommie had the helm at Laws drive and stuck it out to the end of River, so I started my solo shortcut home somewhat fresh.  That wind felt more like an easterly pointed north on Archer Rd so I could stay on schedule without bursting a boiler in pursuit of clock-on time.  A g'day to Sherls and Cobbles idling the streets of town (the only time I'll pass them!) got me back to base with a minute to spare.

22/5  Late and laboured.

I hate running late.  Just a bit slow out the door on Friday then every intersection was against me (as well as a refrigerated southwester) en-route to the start.  Head down and cadence up, I was still 5 minutes behind schedule at the city's centre.  4k to go with legs like liquorice already!  Backing off and taking a shortcut to intercept the 5:40 folk had a split second's thought, then the head lowered further and feet spun faster with a window of opportunity just ajar.  I might just make it.  This was going to be close....till the last traffic light turned red.  Clinging to optimism as the light changed to green, what felt like the last drops of energy were spent hammering the last 500 metres, but a line of seven strung from the carpark just 400 ahead.  Maybe I'd catch them if they were slow up to speed.  (Yeah...not likely!)  Thankfully, eagle eyed Tina had spotted me coming.

With just enough oxygen to blurt "thanks", I tucked into GiantAndy's draft as Bo turned up the tempo south to Sanctuary's roundabout.  Who else made up this pack? A peek right to i.d. the cohorts almost blew me o.t.a., never underestimate the draft (particularly if it's GiantAndy!)    Kel took the 2nd shift to the truck route and Kreeky suffered the southwester to Mitchell Rd.   The Godfather did a double shift to reach River Rd, though velocity varied in the last k as his tank emptied.  Tina restored the rhythm with a strong shift to the bridge, Joe (not Tony) making progress with a good turn to the dip.

I'd almost got my breath back when GiantAndy took the drivers seat.  Being in his draft has it's advantages but hanging onto his wheel when he's off the leash in the lead is the tax you pay.  A 3k turn was nothing for the big fella, towing us all to Coach Rd but  I was left a swift standard to uphold headed north (how lucky to have that southwester to make my drive to the Broken bridges look respectable)   Bo did the leg to the highway, Kel keeping heads down and effort up to near the fig farm, the hard yards of Old Dookie Rd into that wind being the short straw for Kreeky, The Godfather, Tina and Joe (not Tony).  GiantAndy had the reigns crossing Central Ave and I'd readied (mentally) to take my medicine at Dobson's, but that big engine kept running strong all the way to SPC (oh to be 30 years younger!).  A day off work allowed a post ride coffee and chat (suitably distanced) till the dropping temperature forced some muscle movement, topping off the short week with a quiet roll of the golf course loop.

This week 173km       YTD 3,555km

Facing facts on fitness.

#546
9/5 Mustering motivation.

The snooze button was nearly struck a second time.  Enthusiasm was at empty and the motivation meter was at minimum.  Peering out the window presented grey and gloomy skies and the radar reckoned the rain was due at 9.  Carpe diem old boy!  Legs were lamenting the long lap yesterday but Mr. Voight's words were quickly uttered to them.  Facing yet another socially starved Saturday did little for the resolve and a forecast northerly would soak the standard circuit in suffering, so I softened to take on the lap clockwise instead.  12 degrees felt almost tropical, the old engine gently prodded up to pace in Wanganui Rd.

There's been a gradual acceptance of a slower speed over these Covid constrained weeks, low 30's being the new norm brings a new found appreciation of the tow a bunch brings. We're maybe not as quick as we think when left to lap alone? (of course this does not apply to fit freaks like Rocket, Pistol, Boof, Wozza etc)   I was keen to reach Pine Lodge North Rd before the forecast swing to a northeaster but just as keen to keep a 145 cap on the heart rate (yesterday's 548 suffer score suggested a slow down was due) This obsession may as well be enjoyable.  To the Toaster and I reckoned I'd caught the wind's change, the 3k leg to Boundary Rd covered with increasing calm.

Southbound on Boundary was better again but the self preservation voice inside wanted wattage banked for later.  We've been spoiled by scenic sunrises in recent weeks (for those who've been out to relish it!) but a curtain of grey was veiling that vista this morning, and trying to kerb any enthusiasm with it.  I took a guess at the two bikes oncoming near Channel Rd, two bright leds cutting through the darkness kept identity a secret but the eau de aftershave gave The Godfather away.  (Bo his partner in crime?)  One Tree Dam was painted in a strong shade of sombre, happy I was running on endorphins to overpower it. That feeling of being followed was back when I pointed west into River Rd, the second crow from the rooster told me I was being tailed, but a hurry to hold off another wasn't on my menu ; the headwind home and the breakfast after was.

Rosella's flashed their colours against River Rd's monochrome and a little orange was squeezing through that grey curtain behind me, delivering a quick "G'day" to Steve steering east when I pointed south to relish the last of the tail wind through Central Kialla.  Hardening the head for the headwind occupied the mind in Mitchell Rd.  Up a sprocket set the spin into Archer Rd to keep speed respectable though I found myself chasing the few seconds of sunrise for a picture to prove something positive in the day.  Lust for the Lemontree's breakfast was all that was left in the tank to get to town, the average speed was so-so but overcoming the sloth that struck when the alarm went off was counted as a p.b.  Steve rolled into the Lemontree as I tucked into the warmth of breakfast, a chat at footpath's length soaking up some social stuff.

11/5  New kit, same old cold.

A taste of the temperature winter will bring arrived early to test Monday's resolve to ride, the mercury only managing to reach two, but the Couldabeens kit (mark 4) was hot off the press and that was a reasonable excuse to road test it.  The Antarctic rated base layer was left in the cupboard for a cooler day.  Rather than a random lap, I mentally mapped Monday's circuit backwards, to lead me not into temptation of the tail-light time trial but deliver me to the Covid correct compliance of a solitary spin.

Breath was drawn quickly outdoors, legs instantly craving cadence for a touch more temperature and any exposed skin feeling the bite of the atmosphere.  And I wasn't to the end of the driveway yet!  Fog filled the dips of Wanganui Rd, the speedo settling into the low 30's while lungs laboured in the chill of my eastward effort to reach Boundary Rd.  A solitary light approached, two tell-tale blue lights of heated shoe covers and gloves guessed Tina was toasty.  That most basic urge to keep warm pushed the pace up beyond the usual, a stronger version of having a tail-light ahead to chase. Questions on wind direction had answers turning south onto Boundary Rd, reasons for sub-standard speed couldn't be blamed on a breeze, not a twig was stirring, so fault was quickly put on the cold (to side step the reason of a worn old engine)

Sun-up has noticeably turned slow motion while this distancing has socially starved us, memories of riding in sublime Summer weather now slowly slipping away.  Suck it up Foss, there's 7 weeks yet till the days turn longer.  I kept the heater turned on staying on the 17 cog (should have added an extra base layer), the new kit certainly a stand-out and comfortable, despite what felt like a thinner chamois. To Channel Rd the subtle hues of dawn put colour into the sky, though my eyes were on the hunt for wildlife following Skippy's surprise last week.  One random rabbit kept it's distance. 8k's of very familiar tarmac back to town were tapped in strange silence, a relaxation of restrictions (craved by many) will change that to rowdy.

12/5  Sayonara solo's!

Sequencing all those insulating layers is a skill soon tuned as temperatures tumble ; don't you love it when you finally pull the gloves on to discover the heart rate monitor still in the cupboard!  Suitably layered like an onion, I felt the freshness of Tuesday's 5 degrees, hardly something to get excited about though with restrictions being relaxed tomorrow riding in bunches is eagerly anticipated.  Riding solo without any comparison for nearly two months would I be the Lada in a field of Lamborghini's?  Tomorrow and tempo would tell. The trip south to Raftery Rd stirred the circulation into action, surfacing the sentiment of what I'll miss about a solo spin ; changing courses on a whim, setting a speed to suit the mood, the possibility to pause periodically to snap the scenery, start and finish times to suit me and the freedom for flatulence without fear of reprisal!  Doing Conrod straight backwards always feels weird, somewhere in the roadside darkness the sound of a barking dog and the approaching scuttle of feet prompted a surge of speed to cover the metres more quickly.

Through the dark and the cold to Mitchell Rd and across to Archer found not a fraction of inspiration, a challenge for the winter months ahead.  Fellowship of the few that will carry on through the season might be the only lure.  North on Archer and back into town, time was on my side to have one last freestyle course home, a tap along Channel, Orrvale, Poplar, Central and New Dookie, just for the hell of it.  Ritual routes resume tomorrow.  One more scenic sunrise was worth a pic for posterity.

13/5  Group love (& labour)
Surviving the bunch speed simmered in the back of the skull but the camaraderie in Couldabeens company drew me to the carpark on Wednesday.  34 days doing solo's was sending me psychotic!  Familiar faces formed (almost) in distanced divisions of ten to comply with Covid's relaxed restrictions, so I joined Bruce, Shorty, Boof, Grumpy, Joe (not Tony) Kreeky, Wozza and Rocket while division 2 (Kenworth, Laura, Marion and MyRideTrev) assembled at the rear.   5:50 struck to send us 9 southward, others filtering in to form separate squads.   Complying with distancing proved difficult for most, getting into the draft an almost automatic reflex.  Bruce and Boof set a swift standard while I became draft dependant climatizing to mid 30's.  Crikey, reactions were rusty! Haven't had a wheel that close for ages.  Rocket was remaining at the rear sensibly spaced,  so I tailed Shorty in joining the advance line, hoping I'd handle the hurry.

Crossing the truck route was time to tell as Shorty and I faced the music, did we really ride this speed pre-isolation?  Ignoring the km/h (and definitely the HR) helped me reach Mitchell Rd, hopes now set that Joe (not Tony) hadn't been to a Spanish doctor!  He hadn't, opting to roll across just a couple of hundred metres later.  And wasn't the draft a godsend! Recovery was set to fast forward while Kreeky, Wozza, Bruce, Grumpy and Boof did their duty, my next appearance at the front would happen sooner than I wanted (this wasn't a two-turns-in-a-bunch-of-thirty ride)   Half way into River Rd and it was testing time again, I'd set a roll-over target a little shy of a proper turn but Shorty called it shorter still.  An elephant stamp to Joe (not Tony) facing the front again (the turn brief but brave), at least he hadn't resigned to the rear. Wozza kindly kept tempo when summoned to the drivers seat, a strong shift to Boundary Rd where Boof and Bruce took the reigns.  And they were in for the long haul, thankfully.  A north northeast breeze would have broken me at the front, so I appreciated the real wattage towing us to Channel Rd.  The next shift west of the S bend had some shelter though Joe (not Tony) had got his second wind to keep me busy till Jamieson Rd.  A solo Superman spotted eastward.  That charge at the ChaCha got me gasping, Bruce and Boof silenced us with speed and sent us single filed in survival, Wozza kindly keeping me in touch with the gift of a draft when I hit the rev limiter.  

15/5  Ff f fresh F F F Friday!
Concerns about keeping up are best cured by jumping in the deep end.  It'd been many months since catching the 5:40 train so Friday was to face facts on fitness.  I'd either survive the speed or suffer the silence on a slow solo home.

Tina, Joe (not Tony), Kreeky, The Godfather, Kel, PistolPete, Bo, Col and Grumpy had (by chance) formed a train of ten in Covid conformity to set forth south from the shop, PistolPete (the perfect pilot) carefully turning up tempo to keep all the carriages connected.  Me? Perfectly placed at 7th wheel thanks, climatizing to the long lost labour.  PistolPete proved his pace to Mitchell Rd where Kel capably captained to Central Kialla.  Hey, The Godfather's fitness has flourished (like the fur on his chin), a rapid ride to River Rd to hand over to Joe (not Tony) for a go.  But River Rd's bridge was too far, Tina taking charge as his wattage wilted.  My contribution to the cause was looming large.  For a moment I thought Kreeky was in for one of his long drives, but a flapping elbow at the Angora Farm handed me the helm.

That long smooth lead up to my driving debut eased me into the effort of the job as train driver, reaching Coach Rd cooked but content.  I wasn't going OTA....yet!  Col captained the charge north all the way to the Pub, adding a couple of clicks to the velocity ; how does he do that with just 6 rides in 8 weeks?  A partner prescribing pills of pace possibly?   Grumpy's another one on the up and up, making short work of Boundary Rd, Bo finally getting a turn at the front into Old Dookie Rd.  It was likely to be a one-turn-lap for me when Pistol commenced his second effort 3k's from town, I could have managed another go (moments in the 40's were manageable) but why should I stand in the way of Pistol's progress?  I was puffed but chuffed spinning the streets into town, I'd survived the speed, had a thrash with mates and found some form from way back in December I thought had been lost.

This week 226 km    YTD 3,381km

An insurance against softening?

Post #545
2/5  Doin' Dookie's damp.

Negatives were niggling Saturday morning, a west northwester played woe on the windchimes, the bed was warm, bunch riding was still taboo and had rain really been rid from the radar?  With those thoughts festering I was ready to throw in the towel so threw off the doona instead.  It can't be that bad, can it?  Coffee and a banana on toast lifted the spirits and kitting up committed me to turn the wheels, so out the door you go old boy and make the most of it!   I'd mentally mapped an HTFU circuit (tailwind out and a headwind home) with an escape route if needed, so set forth on an eastward exit of town.

  And didn't that 30 km/h tailwind enlarge the ego!  A 5th overall on the 'outbound Midland Highway dash' didn't take a lot of effort (hey, I'll take what's on offer) and with just 3 passing cars to deal with in 20 k's made it an easy entrée. Let's not get too comfortable, there'd be plenty of work to come.  An internal argument broke out as Caniambo-Cosgrove Rd neared (my escape route), should I / shouldn't I waged war for a minute but an extra 20k wouldn't kill me would it? (Hang on,  there'd be 10 more k's into the headwind. Oh, get over it Foss! Harden up!)

Further out the highway the gentle rise nearing Nalinga took the slack out of the gastrochnemius, the all-too-short downhill toward Dookie College feeling the wrath of that westerly on the port side.  A low grey curtain of cloud swept across the Stewarton plains, damp tarmac and a few spits from the sky setting a scene of struggle to follow.  Kookaburra's cackled for my 3k crawl up the 'Dookie wookie leg stretcher', determined as I was to honour Rule #90 with allegiance to the 53 ring.

Passing Gentle Annie's scenic outlook and over the cemetery's bump, what should have been the delight of a downhill had the handbrake of a headwind into Dookie, all the expense of the climb with no payback on the descent? It ain't fair Mum!  Dookie was deserted as a fine mist glossed the road, so much for the hour spent bathing the bike last night!  Why I'd set an expected speed into the wind I don't know (was it an insurance against softening?) but exceeding it to Cosgrove put the headspace in a happy place.  Now to grind out another 16 k's back to town.  Ignoring the speed and cadence, I made the H.R. my God to serve, in and out of the occasional shelter of trees and the gradual rises and falls, just hold that heart rate at 155.  On and on the grey stuff stretches to the horizon and on and on the wind blows, should I take a brief southbound reprieve on Pine Lodge Nth Rd?  Nah, push on to Boundary Rd ya softie! When Boundary finally appeared the focus shifted to reach Central Ave, protests from legs eventually turning me south there.

The final push to town on Old Dookie Rd needed the 17 sprocket as salvation, legs were just not complying with the head's demands to get to the warmth of breakfast asap.  The city's streets were vacant of vehicles, how are we going to cope when a post-pandemic "normal" returns?  Ah, but how sweet the social stimulation to be back in the pack!  The last 20 k's caffeine craving was calmed at the Lemontree, by chance to chat with Rocket (at a dutiful distance) just consuming his post 100k coffee.  Strava convinced me to correct the 1685 calorie deficit (and slake a 397 suffer score) via a brekkie burger upload (in just a few bytes), a fitting reward for the victory over those earlier niggling negatives.

4/5  Left right left right.

Another random route was required for Monday's spin.  This solitary confinement thing has me constructing courses to spark just a hint of enthusiasm.  With winter weather already at us (a month early) something's needed to muster motivation. Oh great! An icy south wester was brewing to chill the bones too!  Great comfort was found in Pedal Mafia's new knicks (blatant brand endorsement for no financial gain) and great comfort was found with the breeze at the back for the opening salvo on Pine Rd, Verney and Ford.  Beyond the city's limits the darkness was all enveloping, the glow from the street lights slowly fading behind.  South on Grahamvale felt the freshness of that wind, the old engine going ok given the wind's want to blow me backward.  East on New Dookie and south on Central was a left right left right variant on the traditional lap, so I continued (small things amuse small minds) steering east into Old Dookie south on School and east on Hosie to add alternative scenery.  Boundary Rd was back onto the regular route, a few bike lights northbound giving credence to my cause.  (The set of three lights together must have been related?)  Channel Rd had the full measure of headwind on my course back to town, a quick glance rearward (to check for cars sneaking up to surprise) was timed rather poorly.  No sooner than returning eyes forward, a 'roo shot out of the tabledrain's darkness across my path from the 4 o'clock position.  The front tyre rubbed on it's bounding tail for a moment, I blurted a primal exclamation and it sped stage left into the orchard. That got me into zone 5 pronto!  (What's that Skip? Bloody bike riders should pay rego?)  Counting my upright blessings, a moment of soft pedalling brought me back to earth, then resumed a steady tap to the S bend with eyes freshly peeled for wandering wildlife.  Under the cypress trees and north into Jameson Rd, a split second decision decided on the Channel Rd dog-leg rather than the ritual route to reach the Kinder.  North on Central then west on Poplar had me scribbling on Strava, north on Orrvale then west on the Midland making a proper job of it.  A drive on Doyles Rd returned me to Old Dookie Rd, enough of the different directions for now, time had me tied to a direct way home.

5/5  Cold comfort.

'Twas time to tap traditional trails if I was to remember the regular routes post lockdown.  Besides, developing different directions was difficult, I was running out of roads to ride!  Wintery weather got an extra base layer and knee warmers out of hibernation, 4 degrees was hardly a motivational beginning. (and won't that delight those who've used the Covid 19 isolation as a reason to to take a break from the bike)  It's only going to get colder folks!  South to the (empty) starting grid suggested a southwester was preventing pace, and rather than being drawn into the tail-light time-trail underway in Archer Rd, I pointed east into Channel.  Power to propel a pleasing pace was severely questioned for the 8k to Boundary Rd, maybe a headwind was holding me back (not a whisker of movement in the trees blew that theory) 'cause it was like pushing through treacle.  A soft tyre? Nope. Either the dew point was the drag or I needed a new set of spark plugs.  It had better get easier northbound!

A couple of k's added to the per hour calmed concerns of turning turtle, up to the Pub a little happier with my haste.  Across the highway the silence was deafening, I could go a bit of Bo's banter, Bruce's wise words, Rocket's speed standard, PistolPete's class composure, a Col cackle, a Tina grin, even a bit of The Godfather's garble would be a prescription for that peculiar peace that's haunted us for 6 weeks. Crikey, I could even pick the pitch difference as tyres went from coarse, not-so-coarse, smooth and super-smooth on Boundary's tarmac. A solo bike or two soldiered south as the sun slowly painted subtle changes of colour in Tuesday's sky, a pleasing distraction to the chill as galah's screeched overhead, frogs croaked their call and nostrils were filled with eucalypt under the trees nearing Lemnos-Cosgrove Rd.  (download that on Zwift!)   I took the west way back to town, speed still satisfying despite the bureau reckoning I was against a south west breeze. Not concentrating on the length of Ford Rd shortened the journey back to town with enough up the sleeves to finish the lap along Wanganui and The Boulevard before the employer expected me to clock on.

6/5  Meteors missed.
Lusting a longer lap (frequent forties won't teach the legs new tricks) had me out the door at stupid o'clock, overly optimistic in short knicks (believing the bureau was bold!).  6 degrees enthused the legs to labour, the slightest suggestion of a northeast breeze bumping me into zone 4 without much ado.  Into the darkness that enveloped Lemnos-Cosgrove Rd, eyes scanned the heavens for a show of Swan comet or Aquarids meteor shower but I'd missed it among 9,096 other lights in the sky (star-struck?)   Thoughts of the tailwind to come kept the effort up to Pine Lodge North Rd though the reward was a little shy on speed for the spin south to the Toaster.

The real relief came on the westward leg of Old Dookie Rd.  Lots of  'relatives' were riding close again, a pair headed west and another couple bearing south on Boundary (how convenient they're exempt from the two metre distancing thing)   I'd slipped into a reasonable rhythm (for an ageing engine) south toward the pub, the pair of 'related' riders ahead to chase but the feeling of being followed haunted the head.  Or was it a distant car or motorbike?  That temperature taunted my decision to dress light, to One Tree Dam where a peek rearward confirmed I had picked up a distant tail, so that dialled up a bit more pace.  The tail-light time-trial was on again eastward in River Rd, hard to make out the faces when a few hundred lumens cuts through the darkness into your face but the "Hoy!" and "G'day!" came from familiar voices.  That light was still behind and so were the signs of another scenic sun-up, but I fixed focus to finish off River Rd and get on with the rest of the lap.  The red horizon became a real distraction headed through Central Kialla, by Mitchell Rd it had halted me for a photo op. My tail discovered as being two Cats (obviously related too).  I resumed the route (suitably distanced 500 metres) feeling the freshness of the dawn, time now setting the pace to tempo into town.  The habit of switching the headlight to pulse when amongst the city's traffic has become automatic, there's more comfort among cars to be noticed, particularly at my favourite intersection (no inattentive van or distracted car today).

8/5  Yabba (dabba-do!)

"Because it's there" said George Mallory about Mt. Everest and that's about the only reason I set off to Yabba on Friday.  Yet another rostered day off presented time to tap a longer lap and this was about the last direction I hadn't explored in the confines of the Covid 19 solo's over the past 7 weeks.  The early exit of town via Ford Rd by happy chance found Kylie, Scott and Fee rolling out some early k's too, but my direction was to drive on Lemnos North Rd to find Jubilee Rd somewhere in the dark. Discovered 5k further north, I turned east in earnest, thank heavens there's a few slight changes in direction on that 20k to Yabba North 'cause a straight road would have me in a straight jacket over that distance.  
Passing field after field veering a little left then a little right, the old silo eventually came into view, at least giving some perspective on progress.  The turn south toward Dookie felt the west northwest breeze that had been at my back until now, and a rare chance to have an unobstructed view of both a moon set on the right and a sun rise on the left.  I could get used to this riding in the daylight stuff, stopping to snap the scenery at my whim.  Now, to get paid doing it!

Saddleback Hill appeared ahead, it's gentle ascent slowing me to take in the Dookie scenery.  Well, that was this flat-lander's excuse for the sluggish speed!  9 degrees chilled on the downhill past the church, enthusing legs to spin to regain some warmth, mandatory for the turn west into the breeze to maintain a modicum of momentum.  Now for the 26k back to town (isn't there always a head-wind home from Dookie?)  The somewhat psychological warmth from the sun on my back put a pinch more pace into the effort to Cosgrove, nothing to skite about on Strava but satisfying the average so far.
This Cosgrove to Shepp bit was faced only 6 days ago, the wind was a similar battle but today's sun made the world of difference over last Saturday's damp. Courtesy from the few passing cars and trucks was appreciated but gusts blown from the oncoming ones could go to hell, legs a little lame now from a distance I don't often do. The long stretch of tarmac past the tennis courts, the Pine Lodge church, Boundary then Central Ave was driven by the lust for coffee (and a rest for the rump after 2:44 on the Fizik.)





This week  291km  YTD 3,155 km



     

Mates maketh the memories.

Post #544
25/4  Kool Karramomus.
Still starved of the social stuff that satisfies a Saturday spin makes the reason to ride harder each week.  That tap with the team and babble with buddies soars above sliced bread!  So yet another different circuit was created in the cranium to motivate me out of bed and face 7 degrees.  A comfortable new kit made good bait to board the bike too.

The start was solemn seeing many at their driveways standing silent in salute to ANZAC day, rather eerie when I took a moment in contemplation at the town's war memorial with just 4 others there (how nice to find a dozen uniformed officers at attention out front of the police station as their mark of respect)

Mine was a standard southerly start in Archer Rd but today facing a fog, speed was well short of the Saturday specs but then I didn't have the draft of twenty others to boost my average artificially.  Windscreen wipers on the specs would have been handy.  Across to Central Kialla, I steered toward Meipol for a spin south.     A single northbound car broke the silence and the aroma of dead 'roo assaulted the nostrils. 7 k's of tarmac stretched almost monotonously into the darkness, hey this was once the standard Saturday circuit (yikes! that was 9 years ago!)  Other than a paddock of curious cows and stunned sheep, I was the only living thing in Karramomus Rd, the surface Roubaix-like as many D roads are in these parts.  Past the hall and tennis court (the only evidence of Karramomus) the road thins to a 3 metre wide strip, marking just a few k's to reach Euroa Rd.

My distraction from the cold became the rising sun, quite scenic as it struggled to poke through the fog, gold underlining the clouds to light up Saturday's solitude while the chill lapped at the legs and condensation dripped from the helmet's brow.  (I suppose Zwift has a digital version of this?)  Keep your riding real folks! 8 k's seemed short reaching the main eastern channel, Coach Rd's smoothness adding a couple of k's to the pace and a bit more chill to the skin.  The coffee craving kicked in.
The flouro figure of CatRuss appeared through the Broken bridges fog vindicating my doubts to be clocking k's in this stuff, my aim already set on an Old Dookie Rd bearing toward breakfast.  The bureau said calm but I could bet a breeze was blowing at my back, maybe the thought of hot caffeine injection turbo boosted my tempo?

The safety police have struck at Central Ave's intersection (among others of late) with a mass of rumble strips that could loosen fillings in your teeth, won't that cause a moment when bunch riding is off the forbidden list? Back into town and almost tasting the toast, Snow and Jan were just launching their lap east, my bee line was to the Lemontree for solitary sustenance.


27/4  Serve chilled.
The bureau confirmed the cold.  Excuses were quickly erased and an extra base layer applied.  And knee-warmers.  Long gloves too.  4 degrees bit hard when I opened the door, but there'd be tougher mornings to come when winter strikes.

 I spared a thought for those softening in their warm beds and pointed the Baum east onto Ford Rd, there was yet another different course to crank.  The speedo spasmed for a moment (47 was a bit much for my early effort) but soon settled like me into a steady spin.  Struggling to identify an oncoming bike, my headlight briefly caught the familiar curls of Tina tapping west, no doubt doing "a little bit more", distancing limiting our greeting to a passing g'day.   My destination was Pine Lodge North Rd, so settled in for the 15 min spin, mentally mapping an alternative return (for the want of variety).  Steering north toward 5 Ways the slightest suggestion of colour on the horizon forecast a super sunrise (I'll take anything resembling a positive to start the day).

I'd aimed to take Tank Corner East Rd back but found it to be gravel on arrival.  I haven't switched to the dark side of cycling and gravel rash isn't on my bucket list!  A string of farmhouse lights lit up Congupna East Rd as a more civilised alternative homeward, my Michelins+  making music across the well worn tarmac.  Light started to fill the sky, cows were up and about and a few "essential" workers began their commute.  The Col de Channel bridge ascent (a 75cm climb over 4.5 metres) was bravely tackled on the big ring, Congupna's skyline visible from it's dizzying heights.  Arriving at Lemnos North Rd I swung south, keen to try Knights Rd as a road rarely ridden.  Grahamvale Rd was filling with commuters, Ford Rd vacant of vehicles in comparison.  Timing was impeccable arriving home at 7, just in time to spend 8 hours at the coal face. (+Michelin is not an affiliate partner. Foss is not paid endorsements either financial, ex gratia, contractual or in kind by commercial parties...though I wish!)

28/4 Memory lane.
Does absence really make the heart grow fonder? There'd been many moons since I'd made a mark on the ubiquitous Channel-Coach-River-Mitchell-Raftery circuit so off into Tuesday's 4 degree darkness I went in search of the answer.  The opening metres of Channel Rd (once the starting grid in the early days of the bunch) are now layered in super smooth hot mix, so that put the head in a happy place (till Kensington's roundabout where the regular roughness resumed).  Out of the town's shelter the elements are at you and I could swear an east northeaster was brewing to bust me.  Crossing the truck route was clear and usually at this point you'd wonder where the wattage would come from to keep pace with Boof, Rocket, Wozza or their ilk but today it was only me to contend with.

To Orrvale Rd's left / right and another smooth stretch lulled me into a false sense of comfort, reverting to a rough stretch beyond Prentice Rd with gravel thrown in for added aggravation.  Kinder corner sometimes springs a car out of nowhere but today Central Ave was deserted.  At the point of accelerating to stay with the bunch Bruce'd be on for a chat while I be gasping for oxygen!  South to Jameson Rd (often into a southerly) and east to the left hander at the cypress trees (remember the pear pulp spill at the corner that turned Nev horizontal?)  that breeze had built to a wind.  Along the infamous 'rabbit row (did PistolPete arrange their deportation?) and across to the S bend that wind was wearing me down to slowcoach specs.  The halt for a car at Coach Rd detected not a puff, of course!

Bound for the Broken bridges usually has the protests of pace chirped from the rear ranks (no names to avoid litigation) so the silence spinning solo was overwhelming.  The lights of the tail-light time trial were clear as crystal along River Rd, crossing paths with Boof, The Godfather, PistolPete, Kel, Bo and Tina as I faced the west way back homeward.  River Rd recalls many an o.t.a. occurrence (and horizontal hurt if you're Coggo or KillkennyPaul) but it's a calmer karma on a solo spin.  The wind (that wasn't) was certainly helping my path toward Central Kialla and along Mitchell Rd, Blacky and Craig Lotsalumens expending their energy east.  Down through Dave's dip (hey, that was nearly five years ago!) where tactical thoughts brew about who'll be doing turns into Conrod straight, across the highway (usually gritting teeth for the tempo of Raftery Rd) and into Roubaix corner. Yep, it's still rough as hessian undies!  Those 3 k's to the finish line can be heaven or hell, either hanging on for all you're worth to avoid the shame of ota or the joy of a rare win (when I'm mixed with a lower division!)  There's the 'roo incident memory too, firmly embedded in the heads of Wozza, PistolPete, Bo and Kel.  It's a whole different finish solo, not gasping for oxygen while coasting to punch-up bridge, but then suffering the silence on the roll through town without the bunch babble.  Absence from the circuit is neither here or there, it's mates that maketh the memories.

1/5  Bit breezy!

The wind whistled in from the west (26-41 km/h) and common sense said a conservative course would be best (roads certainly soaked from 2 days of rain) but taking the orthodox option is so ho-hum! Something was needed to shake off the defeatist voices in the head.   Seeing the temperature on a phone screen doesn't feel too bad but it bites hard in reality, 7 degrees stirring up a spin to keep warm on the Midland across to Mooroopna for yet another route less ridden.  The odd passing car donated fine mist to my head-wind battle, but the craving to get back aboard the Baum after two days off counteracted that.

Headed south on Turnbull Rd got me out of that wind for a while and away from traffic into the bargain, the fire of resolve needing a fair stoke to face Ferguson Rd's 8k stretch of tarmac to Tat.  Ignoring a lack-lustre speed and keeping tabs on preserving a rhythm seemed to work, careful not to get too carried away in the shelter of a line of trees 'cause the open fields afterward delivered a swift slap of reality.  Just 2 Taturians were up and about as I battled the main street, focus set further west on Baldwin Rd in search of a northern tap along Donaldson Rd.

Concentrating on that rhythm worked well if I ignored the sluggish 28 km/h, 6 k's of suffering ending when the tarmac ended and gravel began.  And drenched gravel wasn't on my menu. About faced and relishing the tailwind, I took Winter Rd for a northern alternative to the A300.  The tempo was treated to that tail-wind up to Undera Rd for an Ardmona alternative back home (time wasn't my enemy with an ADO).  Wind whipped at the wheels till the turn east toward Ardmona, the chain dropping down the cassette as the speedo climbed the 30's.  Orchards have assumed the autumn aura and cows chomped the cool cud, not long and I was back into Mooroopna thinking how a hot coffee would hit the spot.  Back to town via the shared pathway but I'd picked up a hitch-hiker with 3k to go, a bindii making a marshmallow ride of the rear tyre. (how lucky to reach my driveway with just 30psi left)

This week  209km     YTD 2864km