Tantamount to treason.

Post #552
21/6 Bay by Baum.

A fickle forecast didn't help.  What promised to be a saturated Saturday set me a sleep-in...…..but the day frustratingly brought sunshine (and other tasks beckoned by 8am).  There'd be a soaking Sunday too said the forecast,  but that verdict was repealed in the early hours.  The effort of packing the bike, a kit, helmet, shoes, gloves etc on a Melbourne visit had finally paid off.   Mordialloc's morning had barely bettered 5 degrees, only packing a thin base layer motivated plenty of spin to warm up on Beach Rd.  The pro's of a billiard table tarmac had the con's of gradual uphills toward Beaumaris, barely a bike or car to compete with as the clock clicked to 6.

That snort of sea air spiked my speed to crest the rise at Mentone's Edgy hotel (sadly still no closer to restoration), a few bikes now spinning south but just one ahead of me to be bait.  A few downhills lifted the speed and self-worth, plenty of k's between traffic lights keeping the wheels turning while the city skyline sparkled in the distance.  An east northeaster stifled the speed but that red led ahead was steadily drawing closer by Black Rock's roundabout.

The 100's of Strava segments along this well worn route always amuse, Eau De Wet Dog, Questionable Architectural Taste, Love to Sylvia, and Peter Poo Fingers' Memorial Ride among the many of questionable distance or value (but there's always a few trophies to score to massage the ego)  A bit of shelter among the Brighton mansions soon gave way to the exposed straights in St.Kilda, passing two or three others keeping the pace primed.  Past Luna Park and onto Beaconsfield Parade, I set sights for Kerferd Rd to use Albert Park's 5.3 k Grand Prix circuit as a turn-around.  I was well off it's 1:21:64 lap record and a bit shy of the 292 km/h back straight speed but found the corners and lengths of straight interesting (new found respect for those daredevils who strap themselves in carbon fibre misslies for 58 laps in around 80 minutes)   The breeze was behind for my return trip, many now swinging a leg over two wheels from a variety of start lines to start their Sunday.  Care was taken not to become the un-invited interloper or worse, defy Rule #38 and play leapfrog, so I stayed back from those pedalling my pace and kept my social distance passing the slower.

But as dozens joined this Melbourne mecca I'd unfortunately inherited a haemorrhoid, one who just had to hang on the back and irritate.  Insisting on sprinting up the inclines but tucked in for the tow on the flats, Mr Specialized presence was a pestilence after a few k's.  I'd banked a few breaths by Black Rock saving a surge for the Cerberus lung buster.  He'd done his uphill antics then waited for my return so full gas on the downhill shook him from my wheel. Who needs haemorrhoid cream?!  I kept the momentum cooking for a k to the lung's lament and didn't risk a peek behind till legs buckled at Beaumaris.  Only wide open spaces behind.  Gently on the throttle to Charman Rd then a 2k blast to Mordialloc pier earned my banana bread and a long black reward at the Tour De Café.  Worth the 393 Strava suffers.

23/6  #9.

Numbers on a phone screen meant nothing, Tuesday's wet was better judged for real at the end of the driveway.  Melbourne's Monday showers had kept me indoors and hungry to tap a lap when back on home soil.  The reality of the damp was dismal, but being kitted-up and ready to roll meant turning back was tantamount to treason.  Rule #9 Foss, Rule #9.  The bike was grubby anyway.  What's App pinged the Goat withdrawals at the traffic lights so I set a solo spin with a course of my choosing.  Ford, Boundary, River and Archer would do.   With plenty of puddles to avoid, I set speed east, clouds rolling across the flatlands (stirred by a north northwester) almost low enough to touch.  Spits from the sky now begged "how bad-ass are you?"  Boundary Rd was better with the breeze, that soft part of the skull entertaining thoughts of a Channel Rd shortcut home for the warmth of coffee.  Harden up Foss! Time wasn't an enemy today.  Darkness consumed all but the CatEye's beam, even the stars were having a sleep-in, River Rd deserted but for the damp.  The north northwester wasn't as taxing as previously predicted on the way west, going ok past the quarter horse stud and on to the dip.  A change in the wheel's tone was guessed to be tyres on a damp track (I hoped) and not a loss of pressure, but fears were realised a k later when steering softened.  Mist descended and everything damp made a misery of the fix by the light of the headlight's beam.  A wet tyre covered in grit needed touch to find what holed the tube (nothing found) and now feeling the cold, another tube was quickly fitted. Fingers crossed. At pace on the truck route barely 2 k's later, pressure slowly vanished from tube two. Damn!  There wasn't another and there'd be no hope patching either on this dark and wet stop, so a wonderful wife came to the rescue.

24/6  Wednesday, wanting wattage.

I'd found myself in the ranks of the rapid again as a dozen sorted the single filed order into Archer Rd.  Bruce was in charge with Rocket then Wozza next to take the reigns for the Wednesday workout, me at 4th wheel right among the wattage and wanting some!  At least my shift in Mitchell Rd had a westerly to help.  The turn started with a passion for pace but soon sank to a struggle as what the head wanted and the legs would deliver were on opposing sides.   2k's seemed an eternity with the intersection sign just a spot in the dark distance.  The Godfather, Grumpy, Col, Kel, Bo, Boof, Joe (not Tony),  Tina and Kreeky were lined up behind so that set an expectation to live up to.   I'd made it to Kialla Central Rd where The Godfather took over, kindly keeping the speed steady so catching the tail wasn't taxing.  Already pondering the next shift at the front, the defeatist inside expecting it'd be into that wind, instead of enjoying the tow that Grumpy, Col and Kel provided in River Rd.  Pace picked up as Kel peeled off from the front, a peek to the pointy end finding Bo being the boisterous one.

Boof kept wheels humming north, that wind now making it's presence felt at the portside to fan the bunch's tail to the centre line.  A greeting was extracted from the few Cats spinning south as we crossed the highway, time now for Joe (not Tony), Tina and Kreeky to do their time of torment, reckoning they'd be chuffed to have avoided the headwind home (till Kreeky stayed on for the hurt into Old Dookie Rd)  Bruce set his spin for a turn to the rumble strips, Rocket ramping up the velocity to Dobson's bridge,'cause he can (wind won't weaken).  Holding Wozza's wheel as Rocket retired was a workout, how you drive at 40 into 15k's worth of westerly I don't know. (matchstick aerodynamics, youth and horsepower probably help!)  There was comfort in the speed's smoothness, greater comfort when the throttle eased 2k's later into town, the dozen driving to coffee while time turned me to home.

26/6  A crowded caboose.

In the depths of discussion with Slingshot Steve and Tina at the grid, somebody called "tick tock", discovering it was me elected to the first effort into Archer Rd.  Diving straight into the deep end was made easier without brooding about it beforehand.  Of course, the first shift is the longest, isn't it! (any wonder nobody turns up early)    Going easy on the gas for the first half k kept a little wattage to spend reaching Sanctuary's roundabout, Slingshot Steve taking turn 2.  Great! There'd be respite while 9 others contributed to the cause. Make that 8, Tina was sitting on.  Steve stretched his shift a little longer toward Mitchell Rd, Wozza likewise to tow us to Kialla Central, perking up the pace into the bargain.  Rocket's go to River Rd kept heads down (but more importantly, The Godfather silent), Steve now taking up permanent residence in the caboose as Bruce steered us into River Rd.  Dealing with variable velocities on Joe (not Tony)'s wheel was a touch taxing, I'd guess in time he'll smooth the speed when confidence lets him pick the pace a few more wheels ahead. Kreeky and Boof did the honours of hauling us to River Rd's end where Joe (not Tony)'s turn became brief.

I was back at the business end again (though this time there was little of the prior pace), speed slowly slipping away to barely breech the Broken bridges before beckoning Wozz to do the job beyond.  Joe (not Tony) called me into line as I retreated rearward, preferring to confine himself to the caboose.  (maybe in preparation for Wozz then Rocket's standards?)  Silence almost overwhelmed the speed as Rocket led us toward Old Dookie Rd, the few blurts of "big shot" from The Godfather only digging a deeper determination.  The call of "easy!" into Old Dookie Rd allowed Joe (not Tony) to get back aboard, Boof, Bruce and The Godfather ahead of me helped hopes of being towed to town.  A second wind had come to me so holding on as Bruce bolted wasn't so taxing.  Traffic lights calmed the rush into town and calmed my concerns at dealing with traffic at speed, most drivers are awake at this hour, it's the one's that aren't that alarm.

This week 181km  YTD 4,763km



     

Inches from implosion.

Post #551
13/6  Suffering swiftness.

The steering turned suddenly vague.  I'd hoped my prediction of a puncture was wrong, but within seconds the bike had the road handling of a marshmallow.  Just as well I was running 4 minutes early.  Under a Kialla Lakes street light the wheel was off and a sliver of glass removed when Kreeky rode by, promising to deliver the data of my delay to the start line.  Pressure was off to get the repair right.  Soon fixed and underway (although the CO2's dismal 80 psi would be a handbrake in my head), I found a long line spearing south from the car park, but traffic hampered a quick u-turn.   A sprint to catch the tail would be my heart starter.  Trav had dropped from the rear to kindly tow me back aboard (bless him) so I was soon on the team's tail trying to calm the cardiac crescendo.  The familiar posteriors of Col, CatKel, Tina and Shorty were visible (The Godfather audible anywhere) but the Indian file stretched into the darkness ahead ; others would be identified as they peeled off form duty and retreated rearward.

Speed was well stoked by an unseasonal northeaster, Wozza then Rocket had done their bit and tucked into the tail end, Bruce then TrackStan working east then north with wind now the real workout.  The tailenders battled for cover till GiantAndy took one for the team to tow a second echelon, River Rd's real estate fully occupied in the search of a decent draft.  Times like these you yearn the cover of two rows (and the shared pace of two at the front would be nice rather than some solo sprinters).  My turn wasn't due for a while but I couldn't help hoping it would come with the wind behind (yeah, this week's "as if" moment), so sit back and enjoy the tow Foss!

The Godfather appeared to be driving the train hard till Liam peeled off from his shadow ahead.  Promoted further forward over the highway my turn suffering the wind seemed more likely, thankfully Trav's tow took me up to Old Dookie Rd before duty called.  The reality of facing the wide open spaces was a slap in the face, sitting on the rivet and with chin on the headstem the old legs spun like a mixmaster to keep respectable rhythm, that 80 psi haunting my head with the heart-rate in the heavens to reach the bridge.  Called in to 2nd last wheel to sit on Lance's wheel, gasps and groans were gutteral for a k while Rocket ramped up the tempo.

I'd almost returned to coherent by Pine Lodge's church, so banked breaths for what I'd guessed would be a quick trip home.  Bo, Boof and Wozza guaranteed speed and silence to Lemnos-Cosgrove Rd and beyond, mid 40's all the rage toward Ford Rd.  6k's in 8 and a bit minutes would hand out Strava trophies for many.  Lance's body language spoke of hanging by the fingertips as the pack poured into Ford Rd, Tina stuck like glue to Kreeky's wheel while CatKel had no option to cling to the caboose with Cats yet to appear.  That feeling of  bunch belonging stoked up the wattage to hold on along Ford Rd to reach Wanganui (though Lance had let go to join CatKel and MyRideTrev to tour to town), there's pain to the pace but the pleasure of finishing with the pack has a happy ending.  Most returned to the ritual base camp of the Lemontree (some still favouring the berth at the ButterFactory) conversation on MyRideTrev's imminent retirement dominating discussion.

15/6  Morning masochism.
Best laid plans of doing the first turn (method in my madness, there was a tail wind to help) came to nought at the grid, while briefly chatting with Steve and Tina,  Kreeky, Rocket, The Godfather, Bo, Bruce, Kel, Wozza and Col lined up ahead.  Bo got the party started with a surprisingly sedate speed while I'd foot fumbled my way into 8th wheel, guessing the hurt would come later.  The Godfather turned the wick up a bit to Mitchell Rd, Wozza's wattage towing us to Kialla Central.  The northerly was nasty.  Rocket, unperturbed by the headwind to River Rd kept the speed the same (I hope this wasn't an expectation).   Steve stamped his strength on a long shift almost to the dip, Kel then Tina preserving the pace in slightly shorter shifts.

There's not a lot of Tina to tow from and that northerly wasn't subtle, so when I took the reigns as her elbow suggested it certainly dialled up the distress.  The last 1500 of River Rd was a bite a bit big to chew but a skull full of stubborn had set a Coach Rd target.  The heart hollered for a holiday and legs had lost the will to live ; and where the hell was the road's centre line that says the rumble strips for the intersection are near?  What drives this morning masochism is best left unanswered.  I'd given Col the chore of a headwind north (no Christmas cards from him this year!) so understandably the shifts had shortened, Kreeky next to sacrifice himself to speed at the business end.  Bruce continued with cadence on a dash into Boundary Rd, Bo back in the lead role flogging us into the 40's up to Old Dookie Rd.  At last relief turning out of the wind, and relief finding plenty of power ahead, I'd done my one and only turn so there was only hanging on to go.  The Godfather needed a prod to get up the road (dragging the tail into the gutter), Wozza then Rocket heading our hurry to town.  Coffee was calling.

16/6  A Tuesday tap.

Somedays there's neither the muscle or the motivation, and Tuesday it was an effort just to rise after putting porridge in the tank.  Bed beckoned me back but the commandment of thou shalt not soften echoed through the pre-frontal cortex.  A Tuesday tap would tick today's box.  10 degrees was working toward warm but drizzle had dampened the track (of course it had, the bike was squeaky clean two days ago!)   The tibialus anterior was giving grief (tongue surgery needed on a new shoe) and the right knee niggled (just to give it balance), a shoulder complained, another 2 hours sleep would have been nice, the ribs hurt and spondylosis was giving me gyp, otherwise I was fighting fit!   Drawn into the darkness of the Boulevard, Rudd and Wanganui Rd, foregoing someone else's speed standard was a change and I certainly wasn't putting anyone else o.t.a. today!  The knee had stopped knocking and the shoulder had shut up so I was now nearly relishing a ride that wasn't pushing any boundaries. Mice scurried across Ford Rd while I dodged puddles in the blind optimism of keeping the Baum resplendent (2nd "as if" for the week), that breeze feeling more northeaster than the bureau's north northwest. Reaching Pine Lodge North Rd, the turn south toward the Toaster eased the load, a steady spin got me to Old Dookie Rd where speed came naturally west.  I must have had a tail wind  'cause 2 seemed snail-like headed east.  Time wasn't taxing so I plotted a Boundary and Channel Rd tour to town, Cats in pursuit toward the highway kept my cadence keen. (Didn't want to be catpured!) The fellowship of the 5:40's flew north, I would like to have soaked up their sociology but not their speed.  Maybe tomorrow?  Channel Rd was deserted but damp, a few spits of rain at the Cha Cha turning to a brief shower into town.  Despite the now filthy bike there was a satisfaction of clocking a few calm k's, a restoration for this rusty wreck.

17/6  Slingshot Steve.
Boof led an Indian filed incursion into Archer Rd, Liam and Bruce next in line for labour.  Why I was at 4th wheel in that procession of power was anybody's guess, Steve, Bo, Kel, Tina, Grumpy, Col, The Godfather, Wozza and Trav had lined up behind so an expectation of effort was well upon me for my Mitchell Rd salvo.  It's all so easy for the first 300 metres, into a rhythm with a head full of hope......then reality strikes as energy evaporates with the end of the shift (Central Kialla Rd's intersection) but a spec on the horizon.

The slightest incline felt like Hotham's CRB hill (10%), a passing car's draft a godsend, for a short moment.  The briefest of Garmin glances checked the smoothness of speed, trying to avert eyes from the heightening heart rate. I reached the intersection almost inches from implosion, handing over to Steve for his shift.  Something had stoked Steve, with his slingshot north, blind to the headlights growing smaller behind him.  Let's call it enthusiasm.  Bo held station so there was a draft for the remaining riders, not till River Rd did Steve discover his disconnection.   Kel took the turn to the bridge, Tina towing us to the dip, Grumpy making up for his absence with a determined drive to the quarter horse stud. Col seems to time his turn nicely for Coach Rd, The Godfather varying velocity in his trademark turn toward Channel Rd.  Two rows of Cats rolled south receiving The Godfathers greeting, our single filed assault on Boundary Rd tempo'd by Trav.  Gee, Bruce's bike could do with a clean! (the things you zone in to as distraction from the hurry and the hurt.)  With Boof, Liam and Bruce ahead another turn for me seemed unlikely, though hanging on at 4th then 3rd wheel was an escalating effort (Bruce was providing most of the draft, Liam's leaness can't)  Heart rates peaked at Doyles Rd roundabout, the car that suddenly brakes at the last moment always alarms.

18/6   As good as it Goats.
Kittles, Wanganui and Verney Rd's didn't help with any heat, Thursday's 2 degrees bringing 'bracing' to my pedestrian paced prologue in an attempt to stir some circulation.

Coggo, Belly, Sandy and Hommie was as good as Goats get fronting Friars for winter, six a.m. had struck so Coggo led the line out of town.  Belly became delayed at Doyles and Coggo retreated to tow him back, so my shift to Dobson's bridge was a tame one, tempo turned up to Central Ave when the ranks reunited.  Sandy committed to captaincy to School Rd and Hommie was remarkably restrained with a controlled turn to Boundary Rd, maybe the cold constrains the tendency to toil?  Coggo led us to Boundary's bridge, a favour for Belly to take a brief sit in the drivers seat to the Pub but time was already chipping away at my agenda to take a Channel Rd solo spin to home.

19/6  Paired (& pooped!)

The car park was fairly full Friday, an almost tropical 10 degrees and the threat of a soaking on Saturday may have amplified attendance, so Kel's call to pair-up on the exit of town altered the headspace.  Climatizing to two rows would be a challenge following a month's Indian filed formation. There was comfort on Kel's wheel in the advance but Bo lurked behind (hopefully he wouldn't break me when duty called at the rushin' front)   A northeaster was blowing to break those serving their sentence at the front (does not apply to the likes of Wozza, Liam, Boof, Rocket etc), and apart from the three or four closest to the pointy end the cackle and chat was back in the bunch as conversation ping-ponged left and right.  What a change from the single-filed and almost silent string of huff and puff of distancing.  Effort slowly escalated nearing the business end, Grumpy, Joe (not Tony), Kreeky, Bo, Tina, Col, The Godfather and Trav doing their thing while I was trusting Kel's kindness at the front wouldn't cook me. Time came to serve my crew and country a bit beyond the dip and Kel thought I was joking saying "I'll try to keep up".  Barely 600 metres later and I'd calculated a cardiac arrest if I aimed further than River Rd's end.  Rolling across was worse, copping that northeaster almost head-on, I'd barely reach the rumble strips at this rate.  Bo was sympathetic to this senior citizen holding station as I struggled, the last 100 metres with lungs at full labour to blurt out a "yep" for Bo to take the reigns.  Now, how to hang on while he and Boof bolted north?!

Grumpy tried conversation but my want for oxygen made me unsocially silent, I should have taken a leaf from Tina's book and confined myself to the caboose.   Trav tamed the tempo a fraction over the highway so my ticker finally dipped below 170, don't get too comfortable Foss, Wozz and Rocket were about to take the stage!  The hurt of a headwind must be severed from their senses 'cause 40 was our flogging up to Old Dookie Rd, thankfully mercy overpowered them when we pointed west toward town.  It's weird when 38 km/h feels like a treat!  Effort had eased for the 8k leg back to civilisation (and coffee), news of "clear back" for the rumble strips hard to hear over the chorus of chat.

This week  280km  YTD 4,583km    
 

The few faltering.

Post #550
6/6  Fog, frost and fellowship.

0.1 degrees was a borderline positive, fog filling the streets wasn't so inviting but that lure of a Saturday spin (and the social stuff afterward) was enough to inspire a multi-layered insulation against the elements and brave the brisk 8k spin to the car park.  Legs whipped up a cadence to stir the circulation but that only amplified the wind chill factor, so legs spun a little faster, the breeze became brisker etc etc.....  The ups and downs of little blue lights ahead told me Tina was ahead in the 5:55 darkness, lights of her heated shoe covers and gloves pointing out her presence as I circled the block to while away two minutes before launch.  Grumpy, Kreeky, The Godfather, Gazza, Boof (and nephew Luke), Col, Bruce, Shorty and Rocket formed a slightly over-populated peloton but nobody was counting for Covid conformity, sensible people were still in bed!

Kreeky headed a single filed line south at a considered pace but Grumpy upped the ante to Mitchell Rd.   Fingers and toes were already numb but the 6k intro before facing the front had limbered legs for my drive to Central Kialla, happily handing over to Tina for the tow to River Rd.  Boof played guide at the back for nephew Luke, all on full gas east as Bruce tore into his turn to the bridge.  The draft wasn't so good for me as Grumpy was a length off Kreeky's wheel, though I guess it'd be a tougher tow behind Bo when he let loose at the front.  Those few seconds rest slowing for the turn into Coach Rd ended quickly, hard on the accelerator to catch the draft as Rocket stoked the fire north.  Col took his turn at the Broken bridges but was well done (roasted by Rocket?) reaching Channel Rd.  We savoured the silence as The Godfather gasped at the front to Old Dookie Rd, Shorty heading the crew to the pork palace (no wind today spared us the smell).  It's been many moons since Gazza graced us with his attendance and hadn't lost his touch driving to the Toaster and half way to the church (easy when you're a junior in the ranks).   Bo did his usual boost to the speed, Kreeky doing the captaincy west in Lemnos-Cosgrove Rd, toning down the tempo a touch (at least I could bank a breath or two before my next turn).

Grumpy surprisingly shortened his shift a bit beyond Boundary Rd, not from the lack of wattage but the lack of vision through the fog.  It seemed strange there wasn't a wind to battle, I just had that lack of temperature and a feeling of pushing through porridge aiming at Lemnos North Rd, like finding your way through a thick cloud glued to the tarmac.  Reaching the rumble strips took an eternity but avoiding them was easy, plenty of white paint showed where you could have fillings shaken loose, so the empty oncoming lane provided our smooth passage.  Kind words as I retreated to the rear did nothing for lame legs or the lack of oxygen, but they helped the head.  The old bloke wasn't doing too bad.   Turns rolled a little more often as the cold and distance showed their effects, Bo and Bruce guaranteeing silence with speed toward Wanganui Rd.  Rocket led the labour toward the hill, competitiveness gripping Gazza to launch an attack, though most were satisfied to sit back and watch while The Godfather entertained with sledges.   All but one were headed to the ButterFactory this morning so I followed for the fellowship, maybe the Lemontree is done being de rigueur?  Wozza's whereabouts, post lockdown sport and Col's pancake passion was the distanced discussion over a (now treasured) seated breakfast.  How civilised!

8/6  Feels like?  F F F Fresh!
Want's bounced between bed and bike and staring at the wall for two minutes wasn't going to resolve it.  A public holiday lay ahead but I'd drawn the short straw of work, the bait of a bike ride was there but the mercury was in the minus, the warmth of bed vs the regret of not riding the real battle to fight.  Best stop thinking about it and do what Fausto Coppi said,  "ride your bike, ride your bike and ride your bike".  The labour of layering all that insulation had better be worth it!  Anything lower than 5 degrees is going to be cold regardless of the number, so the first k facing the frost was treated tentatively, slowly stoking the speed or those microns of motivation may freeze over.

Streets were empty, the Garmin speed was showing a rather enthusiastic 43 km/h ("as if" and "I wish" rolled into one!) but soon settled into reality as I headed east out of town.  The solo spin flashbacked feelings to those lockdown months, not a car to contend with and even the wildlife were having a day off.  Expectations of speed had eased, the 155 bpm heart-rate saw to that, keeping the blood flowing to prevent it turning to ice.  I'd mentally broken up the 40k lap into bits of east, south, west and north to preserve a feeling of progress seeing as speed was somewhat sluggish.  Being bunch-less (most blessed with a day off had What'sApp-ed a 7am spin in the sunshine.....envious!) had the advantage of a personal pace but I had those voices in my head to listen to rather than the babble of the bunch.   Old Dookie, Boundary and Coach Rd were soon behind me, the turn east onto River Rd with only the moon following me.  I thought I was the silly one out in this stuff, cows standing naked in the fields chewing frosted grass almost made me look sensible.  A second wind came through River Rd's dip, a couple of k's added to the pace having a positive effect, though the feels like minus 3 was definitely a negative.  It's not often I pedal the path of Raftery Rd home (random 'roo sightings not a concern with plenty of moonlight beyond the headlight's beam), memories of many a rapid finish and the gasps to follow but only the competition of the cold to contend with today.

10/6  Clans combined.
The 5:40 and 5:50 tribes became one on Wednesday, numbers to team up for a tap were diminishing with the temperature so the clans combined to preserve some volume in the bunch. 

While others manoeuvred for their wheel of choice in the exit of the carpark, I'd got Rocket's wheel to follow (several rungs up the ladder but a fair player among us of lesser ranks).    Wozza captained to Sanctuary's roundabout, Boof boosting the breathing rate down to Mitchell Rd.  Kreeky took control for the drive east to Kialla Central, the ease of pace winning friends with many in the bunch keen to recoup oxygen lost.  The long line of a dozen drove north to River Rd with The Godfather as a guide, my turn looming as Rocket steered us east.  Hopes hinged on his conservative turn so I'd something left for my shift to look respectable.  Rocket relinquished the lead at the dip, it'd been a busy 3k's for me hanging on to his wheel but a bit of wattage remained to grind out a k.  Joe (not Tony) took his turn but the shift was short, peeling off the front before I'd even berthed at the back.

Tina and Col did their bit bolting to Coach Rd, a northeast breeze not such a breeze to ride into.  Bo turned up the hurt as the line pointed north, a few prompts finally getting him in the centre of the road to deliver a decent draft.   That helped the hurry to the highway nudging 40 (Bo proving his pace again), Bruce cementing that standard along Boundary Rd.  The breeze may have helped our west way home on Old Dookie Rd but Kel drove the train possessed with pace, Boof back in charge at School Rd.  A parked truck kept us on the rumble strips approaching Central Ave,  Wozza doing the distance to the truck route (though The Godfather's squeeze through the roundabout wasn't quite the example we'd care to associate with).   Kreeky found form for a sprint toward SPC, or was that inspired being nearer to coffee?

11/6  R.I.P. Goats.
A fraction of fog at Friars and optimism sank like a stone, Coggo the only dedicated Goat to turn up while the rest rest in peace.  It's been coming for a while now, the days of a dozen or more are ancient history, excuses slowly thin the ranks, the temperature whittles down the faithful to a few, then almost any reason finds the few faltering.

Chances of finding Belly on the exit of town were slim, so Coggo and I were left to uphold team tenacity working east on Old Dookie Rd.  Deja vu last Thursday.  Taking the front seat and aiming at Central Ave (that expectation of a 3k turn when there's only two to share the load), I kept the cadence cooking against the 3 degrees, mid 30's enough for this old bloke considering another turn would come up again quickly. A red led flashed ahead to tempt tempo, finding Snow our quarry as we dodged the rumble strips (oddly, far smoother eastbound than west).   Great, an extra player would motivate the ride,  but Snow was spinning slow and turned down the offer to join in, so two continued, Coggo taking the reins to Boundary Rd.   I'd banked few breaths in his draft for the turn on the front southbound, the battle of head vs legs see-sawing toward the pub.  Doing the River Rd leg would tax my time so the safer option (keeps me employed) was to exit via Channel Rd, Coggo understandably keen to tap the full lap, so our ways parted.  The temptation was to ease the speed home but I found the prior pace not so painful, wheels humming the 8k back to town with a slight sense of improvement massaging the ego (the next head wind will probably deliver the reality).    What to do on a Tuesday  / Thursday with the "death" of the Goats was the cranial quandry, 6 days a week with the Coulda's could be too much of a good thing?

12/6  Frosty Friday.

"Summer's just around the corner" quipped Col as 5 halted at Archer St's red light.  Minus 1 bit at the bare skin while I caught a breath during a hurried commute to the start line.  I wasn't going to miss the 5:40 train as feared, Rocket, Boof, Col and Joe (not Tony) would tow me there on schedule.  A minute had passed at the shop, Wozza, Steve, Bruce, Kreeky and The Godfather had tolerated the temperature to turn up too, so at the stroke of 5:40 Wozza led us into the depths of Friday's fog south to Sanctuary's roundabout.  Boof's wheel was my lucky dip as the mob fell into Indian filed formation, 4th position would suit me fine, there'd be time to "warm up" before I'd be needed to provide pace at the pointy end.  Where were Tina, Kel and Bo I wondered as specs fogged with the 100% humidity,  sleeping in if they had sense!  Rocket provided a quick tow to Mitchell Rd, Steve seemingly well toasted when his elbow gestured to Boof shy of the Kialla Central turn.

I'd guessed his lungs were locked in the atmosphere's grip when speed settled into the 37's,  Boof was kind not to cook me at 2nd wheel up to River Rd.  Allowing the tail to catch the head before setting the speed was the excuse for the sluggish start to my shift (rather than revealing the root cause of an old engine) so reaching the bridge (albeit breathless) was possible to hand-over to Joe (not Tony).  He's improved since Wednesday,  driving further today to the dip, a slight dip in tempo quickly corrected by Bruce in his characteristic spin to the white fence of the quarter horse stud.   For a rider "broken" at the start line, Col set a decent speed to polish off River Rd, The Godfather wrestling with rhythm on Coach Rd in a Bo-like bolt to Channel Rd.  Kreeky captained us on Boundary Rd passing Cobbles and Sherls on their tap north as a Goat-less Coggo slogged solo southbound (the orange helmet and twin headlight signed his signature through the fog).   Wozza's wattage took over a bit beyond the old bacon barn while I predicted if I'd face the front again; there was wattage aplenty ahead but let's not bank on expectations Foss!

Rocket predictably poured on the pace in Old Dookie Rd to Central Ave, Steve sustaining speed to Dobson's bridge, so Boof played pilot into town while I got the easy bit leading the line through the streets to The ButterFactory.   A day off work allowed me to soak up the social stuff, catching up with Coggo as he berthed for a brew when the Coulda's departed for work.  Half an hour swilling coffee built the guilt and a rising sun made bait to tap an epilogue to the week, despite the bitter cold, a spin south on a Raftery- Mitchell-Archer loop soaking up some rare-on-a-ride-these-days sunshine.

This week     256km    YTD 4,301km        

A moment for martyrdom.

Post #549
30/5  Saturday separations.

Rides restricted to tens in Covid conformity separated a generous gathering of Saturday's starters, my hopes hanging on a steady spin with like-minded lads and lasses.  I had no dramas leading the first team south (the northeaster would amplify my ability), maybe the crew of Shorty, Grumpy, Tina, Bo, Steve, Molly, The Godfather and GiantAndy would spin sedately?  Reaching Sanctuary's roundabout with breath to spare was a bonus, Tina and Molly were content in the caboose so I tacked onto GiantAndy's wheel (bonus #2) as Bo took the drive to the truck route.  Mid 30's received no complaints.  Would we suffer with speed into the wind or tame the tempo a tad?  Who had the helm and who would holler with hurt would tell.  Grumpy headed the hurry to Central Kialla with no criticisms called.

The Godfather took the team north, the line of leds of group 2 (Bruce, Rocket, Trav, Wozza, Col, Liam, Lance, Kreeky and MyRideTrev) a quarter k behind.  Our pack had stretched long into River Rd, acceleration at the front the enemy of those at the rear just rounding the rear.  Steve scored the shift from the dip, a new pair of Zipp's helping spice the speed toward Coach Rd.  A holler from the back soon handbraked the hurry.  Our slow to regroup soon had group 2 overtake (with several sledges swapped) our come-uppance coming at River Rd's end when Bruce punctured to halt their progress.

Tina, Bo, Molly and The Godfather jumped ship but we gained MyRideTrev to command the caboose in exchange, GiantAndy setting the pace north demonstrating his wattage with a long drive to the fig farm. (Can't help but spare a thought for PistolPete as we pass this point.  I'd guess I'm not alone)  My turn to Old Dookie Rd was a shortcoming in comparison.   Grumpy did the tow truck duty toward the Toaster as I tucked into second last spot, keeping watch on MyRideTrev staying aboard.  I reckon we'd all had enough of the relentless northeaster so reaching Lemnos-Cosgrove Rd for the west way home was a relief all round, GiantAndy taking a short shift at the front so we'd all get to enjoy the drive with the breeze behind. Exempting MyRideTrev.  I set a speed at 37 when facing the front, don't hurt the guy at the back that services your bike was the theory.  I peeled off the front nearing Boundary Rd, Boof raising the speed stakes into the 40's, silence as five had heads down to stay in touch.

Most weekday rides end before the sun gets up these days so sunrise was savoured on the somewhat longer Saturday lap, the team still united steaming into town.  MyRideTrev had his own puncture to repair just as we'd wound up wattage into Wanganui Rd.   I'd almost thawed from the 3 degrees in the 4 minute halt when Bo, Molly, Tina and The Godfather passed, 10 now teaming for the tap into town.  Boulevard bound for breakfast, we were passed again (somewhat squeezed) by group 2, so it was all for one with sights on the ButterFactory (let's see where allegiances lie next week as restaurant restrictions lift).  Long days in the saddle, PistolPete's progress and newcomer's habits kept conversations coming in the cool of the car park.  Hopefully it'll be a seated social breakfast next week?

2/6  Winter's welcome.
Winter's arrival only amplified the apathy, mustering motivation to ride as a westerly (feels like 1.5 degrees) chilled the bones was hardly a spirited start to the season.  My prologue habit was driven purely by the westerly down Wanganui Rd (after I'd hauled myself into the headwind to the golf course) but I still questioned why I was out in this testing temperature. Driving away the doona demons at least.

 A spin to Verney Rd then into town found the endangered remains of the Goats (Sandy, Hommie and Coggo), the party faithful to work through winter as the majority weaken and wilt.  Won't they pay the price of fitness lost on their emergence sometime in October / November!  Hommie was keen to head the tiny train out of town (peloton population growing 25% as Belly joined in Old Dookie Rd) but bits were busting off the back in his hurry east.  Eventually congregated at Dobson's estate, a rhythm to the ride was set, Hommie soldiering on to Central Ave.  I kept a soft foot on the accelerator when elected to the drivers seat (there's a need to keep all aboard at this time of year or there'll be nobody turning up to ride!) so a holler to halt half a k onward got instant attention.  Coggo's binding brake had him stop to investigate (possible broken spoke?) and withdraw from duty to head home, so 4 forged on to Boundary Rd.  Sandy then Belly took a short spin at the business end but soon returned to the comfort combined in the caboose, the labour now left for Hommie and I to share.  Time was ticking away for me as we neared Channel Rd, so I elected to head homeward there for schedule's sake, finding all now following.  Hommie hit the hurry button from the S bend but I slowed sensing the headlights behind me becoming smaller, getting the caboose connected again and easing up the effort to haul back Hommie.  We shared the shifts back to the suburbs without grievous bodily harm (that might see them return to ride again), a calm tap through town an almost forgotten treat babbling with Belly.

3/6  Rear vision?

A chat with Col on the commute to the carpark spoke the virtues of careful grid placement to avoid first shift into a head wind.....and that's exactly where I was when Tina, The Godfather,Bo, Joe (not Tony), Kreeky, Steve and Kel lined up behind for Wednesday's whip around.  They'd just have to suffer my slowness in the slog to Sanctuary's roundabout.....a mere 3k's away!  Pace wasn't too bad at the city's limits but I'd set a standard I should keep (in the interest of riding to a rhythm), so the next 1500 metres was spent turning myself inside out while keeping a lid on the gasps and groans.  The Godfather took over while I retired to the rear wrecked, plenty of kudos easing some pain while I took refuge of Kel's wheel.   Many took the "go" option in the touch and go call of car at the truck route, though Kel's caution was common sense to halt.  The Godfather, Steve and Bo steamed south regardless of rear vision but Kreeky captained considerately to keep the rest of the crew in a congregation.

The hurt subsided headed east, that southwester not so savage coming in from the side.  Tina drove the north leg to River Rd while the 3 oblivious ones continued on 400 metres ahead.  Steve's specs had jumped overboard, so their pause allowed us to bridge the gap (sledges served for their oversight).  Bo made amends by heading the hurry for the rest of River Rd in the 40's, Col the clever one positioned perfectly to be towed along for 15k's then have the wind behind for his first turn to the highway. I should have taken his grid position.  Joe (not Tony) faced the music beyond the pub ; he's learned well to drive straight and smooth then throw the elbow when implosion is imminent.  Kel had wheels humming past the fig farm, murdering my muscles into the bargain, at least the punishment prepared me for the shift into Old Dookie Rd with the SSW'er slicing across the port side bow.  School Rd's bridge was a bit blurry by the time I'd got there, last  gasps used to catch the tail as The Godfather ground the big gear toward Central Ave.  And wasn't he keen to keep the captaincy (befitting Bo) driving all the way into town, stoking the embers of energy with a surge or two to keep the tail-enders busy.

4/6  + Coggo ; a crowd!
There was little warmth gained on a 10k spin to Grahamvale and back but it loosened the legs in preparation for a Goat lap....if any showed up.  Cats had mustered a half dozen exiting town, but let's not get our Goat hopes to high Foss!  A minute or two's chat with Coggo and the answer was clear at 6am, it'd be a crowd of two today.

Focus quickly shifted to working a bit harder with just a single supporter.  I'd well and truly zoned in on Coggo's wheel (a spare standard set today replacing a split in the 80mm Roval on Tuesday) 'cause Dobson's bridge was well behind us when I peeked ahead for a roll-over point.   Central Ave was my cue to be captain, so I aimed at reaching Boundary Rd as a fair share to the cause.  There's a bit more enthusiasm in the effort knowing a tow follows a respectable turn, a lot more energy expended that the conservative cadence you'd give a solo.  Eyes were glued to Coggo's grubby seat post in an effort to concentrate my recovery, the 5:40 train headed north a bit behind schedule as Coggo pressed on to the Pub.  That enemy of time had me steer homeward via Channel Rd but I had Coggo as a partner in pace, turns swapped at the S bend, the Kinder and the truck route to get us to town.  Our ways were parted at Archer Rd, the headlight switched to pulse to get my presence felt through the 8k's of streets to home.  But there's always one driver yet to be fully awake at the wheel, a near miss as a small blue Nissan suddenly slammed on brakes through the give way. Missed me. Choice adjectives were delivered at the next red traffic light, adrenalin driving my last k's home.

5/6  Friday in the fridge.
Wozza faced the Friday freshness first, spearing south into Archer Rd with Boof, The Godfather, me, Tina, Kel, Joe (not Tony), Bo, Bruce, Col and Kreeky line astern, waiting eagerly to experience the feels like  -2.5 at the front (as if!)    Not even near Sanctuary's roundabout and I was already predicting where my turn at the front would be, there wasn't a wind to worry about but I was psyching myself up to the task in that temperature.

Boof paced us to Mitchell Rd and The Godfather went beyond the Central Kialla expectation to drag us to River Rd so my moment for martyrdom was to the bridge, somewhere in the 1600 metre distance.  Each breath gripped the lungs like a vice, the frosty air biting at any exposed skin and the heart rate soared under the effort and expectation (mid to high 30's was the kosher km/h today).   A moment's draft from a passing car helped.  Tina took the lead role at the bridge, Kel and Joe (not Tony) their turns thereafter, Bo unable to resist the long drive to River Rd's end.  I'd recovered rather rapidly from duty in the drivers seat but that temperature would test me (and the others) for the rest of the lap.  H.T.F.U. Foss, there's only 3 months of this to come!  Bruce did his spin into Coach Rd, Col (with newfound mojo) taking his turn to the pub.  Kreeky took a tad off the velocity along Boundary Rd, driving long to Old Dookie Rd, Wozza with the wattage to work west for his second shift.  Crossing Central Ave, The Godfather supplied the sledges to wind-up Wozza's hurry into the 40's, Boof continuing the tempo into town (tempted by the thawing effect of coffee?)

This week  237km    YTD 4,043km