Trial by temperature.

Post #556
The society of the swift.

Making up for lost time was the Saturday morning worry, Rocket's puncture at the grid had delayed the 6am launch and with the field heavily weighted with wattage (Wozza, Bruce, Bo and Boof), hard labour was likely on the lap's list.  I'll be so bold to rank myself in division two (downhill with a tailbreeze) and today's numbers were thin; Tina, Joe (not Tony), The Godfather and I were outnumbered.  Visitors Pickles and another unknown Cat probably didn't get voting rights.  I should at least attempt a turn (despite being hopelessly outranked), so sat on Bo's wheel as Boof set the Saturday spin south.  Was that an easterly niggling at the portside?  Just my luck I'd face it at the front. The opening k's were relatively kind, it was more than a tame little tap but well shy of a race on the rivet.  Bo had dragged me to River Rd's bridge, the reality of that easterly with 1 degree of cold clamping the lungs cancelled plans of another turn before I'd finished my first, all reserves spent reaching the dip.  There's not much pleasure in just hanging on the back but truth said it was my only hope staying with the pack.   Joe (not Tony)'s attempt in the drivers seat had the same result, only shorter.  Tina had the sense to stay put and the visitors had yet dared to advance.

The Godfather eased the pain of the pace by a couple of k's in the hour when he took a turn, but reaching Coach Rd he'd berthed permanently at the back. With the wind no longer our labor, tempo rose relatively of course, five fit lads swapping sessions of speed while the "passengers"  dug deeper into their limits.  The unknown Cat joined the advance in Old Dookie Rd while Bruce spun his speed to the Toaster, I was already readying my head for that trial of tempo with a tailwind expected in Lemnos-Cosgrove Rd.  Being the gate keeper between the driving engines and those resolute at the rear, I felt duty bound to keep an eye out for bits breaking off the back, the line lengthening out of corners and crossing intersections.  I did find a positive though, first light's arriving sooner, although it's a long road till warmth comes with it.  The tarmac blurred under the wheels and temperature zeroed, huffs and puffs from laboring lungs pumping little clouds into Ford Rd, steam train-like.  The good news was there was no turn at the front to do and we were closer to coffee, it was just that never-weakening velocity to endure!  Concerns for those at the back were now ditched, it was all about me hanging on as Wanganui Rd loomed large.  Joe (not Tony) had taken Verney Rd as his exit from exertion, The Godfather fading with problems of a posterior nature.   More than a metre off the wheel ahead would spell certain o.t.a., so determination kept me close to the draft of the 5 still driving possessed to the hill.  Tina had held fast and we both risked easing off the throttle for a moment into Rudd Rd, but full gas was called on for the dash to the cemetery and beyond to the Boulevard.  I chose the Butter Factory this week as base for breakfast, great to catch up with PistolPete (what an amazing recovery...but a long road still ahead), Jen, Col and Kel were there too to deliberate instant turf, magnificent memories and Henry Ford's genius (and eccentricity).  Thawed,fed and socially satisfied, the hard part was a frozen commute home.

20/7  Wind worn.

A westerly whipped in to chill the bones and accompany the 4 degree Monday morning, just to make sure winter wasn't forgotten.  Attendance at the grid reflected the conditions, just Rocket, Bruce, Kel, Wozza, Bo, Tina and Kreeky arriving for the 5:40 fling. Best laid plans of scoring a turn at the front with a tailwind came to nought, Bo had the pleasure of the breeze up the bum in Mitchell Rd, I got battered at the left side on the north leg to River Rd, thank heavens that passing car offered temporary relief.  Kel lucked the tailwind to River Rd's bridge but made us work to get there, nice to see Tina driving the train to the dip.  Kreeky's a bit rusty on his return but someone sharing the load shouldn't be sneezed at.   Is that line-up of Bruce, Rocket, Wozza and Bo by chance?  The likely-hood of all that wattage line astern seems almost orchestrated.  Not that I'm complaining, they're driving us faster than we'd attempt, left to our own devices.

My chance of avoiding the wind was slipping rapidly as Wozza drove fast and far to the highway, Rocket repeated that determination to Old Dookie Rd and Bo burnt me at 2nd wheel with his bolt west to School Rd. That headwind was meant to slow him down!  You know there'll be a tough turn ahead when it takes 50 metres to get past the one who's flicked the elbow, but now's not the time to give up.  Like wrestling the bear, you don't stop when you're tired, you stop when the bear is tired!  That theory worked for a while, legs and lungs worked at their limits to the rumble strips but an oncoming car forced the rough way through them.  That slight drop in pace was the undoing, legs wouldn't return to the prior pace and the head caved in to the signals of stress. Oh well, I'd nearly reached the expected end of the shift.  Kel, Tina and Kreeky braved the drive into town, the wind as wearing on them as it was on me.  I wasn't the odd one out.  Bruce turned up the tempo to SPC (just in case legs were lax?), my craving for a red light answered at High Street for a few seconds of calm. 

21/7  AHead behind.

Winter was wearing me down.  Thoughts of half an hours prologue was easily over-ruled by another coffee with breakfast, yet another icy morning cooling my heels. A slow cruise into town found  Heady (from the depths of obscurity) fronting Friars , his comeback must be serious to turn up mid winter, though he wasn't so serious about leading the bunch out of town. Coggo saved him that role.  Snow, Hommie and Sandy followed, trying to work up some warmth as a west southwester turned the "feels like" down to -0.3.  Coggo's elbow put me at the front at Dobson's bridge for a steady tap to Central Ave (sticking to the guidelines of the Royal Society of the Prevention of Cruelty to Heady).

Snow did the tour to School Rd, Heady next in line, putting in a very short shift that left him speechless.  Hommie was remarkably restrained on his turn to Boundary Rd,  Sandy putting her head down for the southern spin to the fig farm.  Coggo took charge but the yell went out that Heady had gone o.t.a.  This was going to be a rather quiet ride.  The idle toward the bridge allowed Heady to crawl back aboard, Coggo careful on the gas pedal to the highway to hand me the helm.  Time was definitely against me by Channel Rd so I  hollered my hoo-roo's and exited stage right.  Darth Vader's absence eased the stress, today's quiet tap a change from what seems like full throttle on most laps.  Age catching up with me maybe? The mind could go for a wander on the solo spin home, soaking up the serenity that's rarely experienced during a working day. How calming that chorus of carbon on tarmac is.


22/7  Suffering satisfaction.

Although it's not quite armour plating, rolling out on new tyres and tubes Wednesday morning felt secure, at best I'd be spared the puncture predicament for a week or two?  New rubber at full pressure hadn't helped the speed though, it was quite a push to keep a reasonable speed to the shop's car park.  A hint of a southerly was my enemy.  Boof, Wozza, Bruce, Rocket, Col, Kreeky, Tina, GreatScottSteve, Bo and Kel had tolerated the temperature (1.7 degrees) to turn up for the mid-week spin.  I hadn't given a thought to position as the team rolled out south, settling roughly mid-field between GreatScottSteve and Kel was more within my league as Boof, Rocket and Wozza showed how wattage works early.  GreatScottSteve scored the drivers seat for Mitchell Rd (meaning I had the northbound leg to River Rd), his pace somewhat conservative toward Kialla Central (a bit battered from hitting the deck Sunday).  Despite the quieter introduction to the front, I still found speed the struggle, it didn't help seeing the target a cruel 2 k's away.  Maybe I am the Lada among the Lamborghini's?

Kel's smoothness was next on show, so I had a standard to set, although it's hard to relax the thoughts (thereby smoothing speed) while legs and lungs are working overtime.  I can't have done too bad, there were acknowledgements in the affirmative as the pack passed me while Kel captained to the bridge.  Tina drove a decent follow-up to the dip, then Kreeky led toward the quarter horse stud.  Hey, this was a carbon copy of the Monday's procession ; gives credence to the theory that classes collect?  Bo took the tempo by the scruff of the neck to finish off River Rd, Col doing the northbound duty to the Broken bridges.  Hang on for the horsepower folks, the determined ones were about to face the front (and a light breeze was going to help their hurry).  Plenty of performers were ahead of me so I'd be spared another turn of toil, and there was just enough spirit within to hold on for the next 10k (it'd be a far longer 10k to ride it solo)  As much as the speed stresses the lower classes, division 1 doesn't complain.  Those of weaker wattage wind up the benefactors, we were back to town faster (and fitter?)

24/7  'Cause it feels good when you stop!

Why was I doing this?  To foster fitness? Maybe some sort of weird fetish for fitness? Because others were doing it? Whatever the reason, serious doubts arose as Friday's feels-like minus 3 bit hard, snap freezing the few exposed millimetres of skin on the cruise to the carpark.  What would it be like at speed?  Would others be as serious (or should that be silly?) as me?  Yep, Bo, Bruce, Boof, Rocket, Wozza, Kel, GreatScottSteve and Joe (not Tony) had turned up for a trial by temperature too.  Division 1 (Boof, Bruce, Wozza and Rocket) drove us south to "warm" us of weaker wattage for the first few k's, some doing double shifts (to inflame my inadequacy?), but I'd be claiming a senior citizens discount when I made an appearance the front.  Rocket's long drive to River Rd's dip (and his low aerodynamic factor) had me nearing the red line before I'd even faced the front (and it's freshness). 

I hadn't set a speed or a target to reach, and I didn't dare look at the Garmin figures of an impeding implosion, but dug deep toward the quarter horse stud, giving the elbow to Joe (not Tony) as heart failure felt moments away.  Joe kept the pace up, but like me, found it's maintenance the hard part, handing the hurry to GreatScottSteve then retreated to the rear to thaw his eyeballs.   Bo added a couple of k's to the hurry to Coach Rd, the line-up of division 1 behind him guaranteeing a tow back to town.  The long drives ahead were swift yet smooth, vision difficult at times as fog steamed the specs (I prefer my eyeballs unfrozen).  Wozza and Rocket worked us west on Old Dookie Rd to town, toes and fingers now numbed but a strange sort of satisfaction happening in the head.  The pleasure of a quick lap? The TGIF factor? Nah, it was the "feels good when you stop" syndrome!

This week 229 km      YTD 5,754 km