Staving off softness.

Post #561

22/8  The Toolamba test.

A closer look at the bureau's "feels like" confirmed that an extra layer would be a good idea.  Minus 1.6 would need it!  If it weren't for arranging to pair with Joe (not Tony), I might have weakened to the lure of a warm bed, but two days had already been abandoned to winter's wet this week.  Opportunities to clock a few k's were thinning.  Yeah, this obsession doesn't weaken.  A 6:30 start seemed civilized though a west northwester was rather rudely blowing at 26 to 40 km/h, so with me dictating direction the correct course was critical.  

A brief battle to Mooroopna found some comfort  steering south southwest toward Murchison, swapping sides at suffering the side-wind in our target toward Toolamba.  Joe (not Tony) is fairly fresh to this bike business and early experiences etch into memory banks (don't we all vividly recall first completing an astonishing 30k ride?) so I was careful to level wheels less I be likened to Atilla the Hun or Timur.  What's usually a long drag to the rail-line passed fairly quickly (seems relentless solo, company curtails that cruelty).   The way west to Toolamba township (873 residents, all sleeping) was with little effort and at peace without that wind whistling between the ears, the prediction of pain in Central Kialla Rd a little presumptious at this point.  What a difference to ride a road with a few curves and a rise and fall, the tarmac to the old Toolamba bridge chorused by birds heralding a grey Saturday.  

Walking the boards of the bridge took a little strain off the vastus lateralis, a second wind found tapping the 4k to the highway.  Union Rd's rough-as-a-rasp surface seems to have smoothed, or maybe the posterior has pondered rule #5?, it's 5k length spent comparing cadence and the characters that combine to create clan Couldabeens (our diversion to the task ahead).    North on Central Kialla Rd ceased the chit-chat and got us down to business slicing the wind for each other albeit for just 8 minutes.   Free from the bunch constraints on course, the Raftery Rd option was chosen to town (the most direct line to caffeine), now feeling the wrath of the wind and it's bone chilling blast on Mitchell Rd.  Heads lowered and shifts shortened.  I could read Joe's exertion quite clearly ascending Dave's dip so I drove a longer shift to Galbraith's gate so he'd get an oxygen overdose.   The flourescence of Vince bearing south east attacked our eyeballs as turns rolled toward Arcadia Downs, just the thought of a coffee's warmth put more push in the pedals.  A sprint finish would have been as welcome as a fart in a space-suit so tempo was tamed to smooth into town, passing traffic donating a vacuum effect to draw us along to the Butter Factory for the Genovese tonic to top off 50k. 

24/8  A spin with smoothness.

Mr. Pessimist argued for a u-turn headed for Sanctuary's roundabout at stupid o'clock Monday, not a bike to be seen, feels like minus 1.6 and I could barely top 30.  The woes of winter nearly got me.  Someone would surely turn up?  PistolPete's headlight pierced the darkness but continued north, so I circled the roundabout in the hope of catching a companion.  3 lights soon converged, Bo and Pistol headed north but Kel was pleased to pair, so we set south.  Smoothness was a certainty.  

The slow build up to speed to the truck route could hardly be called a turn so I pressed on to Mitchell Rd, spinning the 17 to hurry some heat into the legs.  Kel did the east leg to Kialla Central while I calmed the cardiac convulsions, soaking up that smoothness certainly sped the recovery.  I'd nearly returned to some sort of normality when my turn was due again, telling myself that breeze was a southwester got me to River Rd but I still needed my breath back.  Ritual shifts to the regular landmarks were in order so Kel did the drive to the bridge, here's me thinking the Garmin's frozen on 35.6 but it was just Kel's commitment to a polished pace.  These shifts are fairly even in length but the imagination lengthens 'em when you're on the front and shortens 'em in the draft.  All too soon Kel's elbow put me at the front for a contribution to the dip, it might have been an assisting west breeze but it did little to spike my speed.  

There were no lights behind to urge extra effort (Kel was doing that with her hurry), the white fence of the quarter-horse stud came into view, Kel steered slightly right, so I took the reigns for another shift but there hadn't been a signal for a swap.  Committed now.  What seemed an eternity to River Rd's end really emptied the tank, I'd sharpen the focus for that elbow now that wattage was a rare resource.  The tempo stayed glued on the Garmin to the Broken bridges while waiting for the definite sign of surrender, taking the lead to the highway seemingly a little easier.  Had I found a second wind or had the wind found my back?  A little light from the east gave a view beyond the headlights' reach, the focus still keen on that wheel ahead though cautious when I thought of the 9.7 metres per second reaction time.  (I was on one of the safest wheels in the business though)  With Old Dookie Rd's 8k to go, the measure of wattage left was better calculated, we'd split the shift to Central Ave so the last 4k could be spent to the velocity's value.  A wary eye at Doyles Rd roundabout and into town with none yet visible in pursuit, the relaxed roll to the Butter Factory finessed the finish. 

25/8  The baptism.

Partners paired at the carpark Tuesday morning with every effort to match wattage.  Bruce and Boof rolled away as Joe (not Tony) and I did the duo thing, leaving GreatScottSteve and Kreeky as last in line. (Wozza & Rocket, The Godfather & Col and Kel & Bo had paired prior)   I volunteered first shift watching Boof and Bruce draw gradually further ahead, thinking Sanctuary's roundabout would be a suitable aim to let Joe (not Tony) climatize.   The change of lead was welcome, tucking in for the tow to the truck route, GreatScottSteve and Kreeky with a bit more pace, passing us half way there.  The hint of a draft a few metres behind them was certainly a temptation.  Joe (not Tony) rooster-tailed me some damp, but hang on ; the road was dry!  Was this a pre-cursor to a puncture?  Unsure, another spray got my focus finer.  Was it a leaking bidon, dribbling down the frame, hitting the rear tyre and spraying me in his draft?  But it was a white fluid. Maybe milk?  Some special brew mixed by a Spanish doctor?  I didn't really want to ponder further, just move off line to dodge a drowning.  Each bump in the road started the spray again, so with spotted specs and a polka-dotted bike, I swapped places entering Mitchell Rd. 

The urge to take a tow from Kreeky and GreatScottSteve argued with the feeling of being labelled a parasite, so backing off a few more metres silenced my own critique.  It seemed fair to allow Joe (not Tony) take over when we steered toward River Rd, predicting a bump and avoiding a subsequent soaking proving impossible.  The baptism continued so I veered off-line again.  Turns swapped when we pointed east on River Rd but I was going to get greedy and do the 6k leg ahead, less I drown.  The bunch habit of holding a wheel is a hard one to break, closing in on GreatScottSteve's wheel while Kreeky captained to the dip, but that directive of distancing eased me back on the safe side.  

GreatScottSteve took a big share of the drive to finish off River Rd, both turns changing as the rooster crowed turning into Coach Rd. That spray continued, Joe (not Tony)'s seat tube dripping with it (along with my gloves, forks, bars, shoes and cranks)   Was it the milk of human kindness?  (turned out to be sealant leaking from the rear tyre.  I wasn't going to spring a leak for a long time!) The showering seemed to have eased over the highway , fog laid in the lowlands and the puffs and pants of pace made steam train-like clouds as the lap continued it's west way back to town.  Turns swapped again but the pairs held station, the sun was almost out of bed so there was comfort arriving back in town with more view than the headlights reach, though it seems black cars don't need headlights in the half light of 6:30.  

26/8  Lone lappin'.

I'd be dizzy doin' another circuit of Archer - Mitchell - River - Boundary - Old Dookie, so selected a solo spin for Wednesday.  They say the spice of life is variety, but the same sub-arctic temperature was there to greet me.  Out of town on New Dookie Rd was on a dark deserted highway (cold wind in my hair......) and despite no-one to chase and not being chased, I'd ramped up the speed to put me in the midst of zone 4.  Why do I do that?  Why do we do that?  Staving off softness? There were just two cars to steer clear of, one behind and one oncoming crossing paths just as that thin width of tarmac (to the left of the white line) vanished, of course!   It was a fight to hold a decent pace and darn it!, not a breath of wind to blame, but eventually Pine Lodge church appeared in the fog.  Getting back up to pace toward the Toaster was a test.  It had just clocked 6 so a hint of horizon light seemed like a gift from the gods. 

Distant city lights backlit a fog rising from the main eastern channel and with a little time up my armwarmer, I mentally mapped a return via Channel Rd.   Boundary Rd had northbound pairs of Couldabeens chasing red leds, g'day's guessed as Col, Boof and GreatScottSteve by voices behind the headlights glare.  Colour tinted the sky and the temperature dipped to raise the effort more, over the highway then homeward on Channel Rd hoping Darth Vader preferred bed over bikes.  He did.  It's a route rarely ridden these days since Couldabeens changed course to Old Dookie Rd but Channel Rd's landmarks were still familiar back to town.

28/8  Friday fractions.

A day off work gave Friday a feeling of freedom, that freedom amplified with a self propelled lap on the bike.  I teamed with Tina for a tap at Sanctuary's roundabout, a few minutes ahead of the usual paired crew.  A steady start suited both Tina and I, Tina on a comeback from a quiet week (less than 400k!) and me because of old age and rust.  Winter is still hanging on, yet another cold start (4 degrees, feels like 0 with that westerly at 15 km/h) keeping with the consistency of the past few months.  Distanced side by side, the social stuff was dispensed  down to Mitchell Rd, the business of the Indian filed effort commencing toward Central Kialla.   I had the easier easterly leg, Tina bearing the brunt of the breeze at the left side toward River Rd.  With the wind at my tail in River Rd, the turn to the bridge was most manageable but I was careful not to test Tina on her recovery.  Seems I was a bit shy on speed, Tina's tempo turning up a few k's to the dip and beyond.  

The precision of pace makes her's an easy wheel to follow, my shift from the quarter horse stud matching her momentum.  Lights behind have a motivational effect, Tina's speed similar in Coach Rd despite cutting into a side wind.  Our pursuants (Grumpy and Bruce) caught us at One Tree Dam, gradually opening a space between us and them toward the highway. Of course you then sneak a peek behind for others hunting your hurry.   Just darkness following.  Those flashing red leds ahead triggered more tempo, Tina towing me to the fig farm where another turn for me came due.  Old Dookie Rd seemed a bit shy as my target, so I committed to continuing west as a collection of 5 Cats cornered into Boundary Rd, seemingly exempt from distancing requirements.     Into that wind mustered more motivation, originally aiming at School Rd then extending the goal to reach Central Ave. 

Tina's response was reciprocal, spinning a great shift back to town, the bonus for me the social stuff afterward (dutifully distanced) at The Butter Factory's car park.   PistolPete, Wozza, Joe (not Tony), Rocket, Boof, The Godfather, Kel, Kreeky and Bo arrived in the minutes after, joining Grumpy and Bruce, Tina and I in chat over coffee on good books, wrestlers and craft beer.   As a pleasant change, time was no constraint, so I cranked a Congupna circuit afterwards to soak up some sunshine, the few extra k's as compensation for succumbing to a sleep-in Thursday.

This week 242 km     YTD 6,885km  

The therapy theory.

 Post #560

16/8  Mornin' Merrigum.

Covid constrains a lot on life but there's a freedom found without the bunch ride rituals.  Saturday's dampened road had dampened enthusiasm so I swapped for Sunday's dry, though paid the price of a west southwesterly to deal with.   It'd been a while since exploring the west (and it fitted the bill of a tail-wind home) so I set sights on Merrigum and left the route home optional.  13-22 k's worth of wind in the face on that 20k stretch of Ardmona-Merrigum Rd would start the suffering early.  "Do your time into the wind" says Rule # 67, but to be honest, my motivation was on being blown back home.   Orchards' blossoms had (prematurely) sprung and 7 degrees wasn't too tough but getting over that lack-lustre speed would take some cranial convincing.  Peaches and pears soon gave way to dairies and I was getting plenty of  puzzled looks from the cows as I passed, though they're the strange ones standing naked in fields chewing grass. 

Without company (and a speed standard to uphold) it was way too easy to slip into the comfort of zone 4, there was a fair bit of huff and puff but not close to meeting the man with a hammer (I wanted something left to get home).   "Flat as a....", "getting close to the black hole" and "smooth as butter" segments slipped by (who comes up with these titles?) on that long strip of black stuff,  Merrigum all but invisible till half a k from the town's edge (not that there's much of the town to see)    The turn south eased a little of the effort though that hint of south in the west southwester made it feel uphill, not till Brewer Rd did pace become possible and most of that speed was helped by the smooth, sublime surface to Byrneside. 

I ditched the easy way back to town via the highway for a tap to Tat via Winter Rd.  The town had a population of 3 outdoors and Ferguson Rd was empty, up and over the Channel bridges breaking the monotony till two bikes working west appeared.  Fleeting g'day's were exchanged with Lance and Nev to be swiftly returned to solitude, on to the dog leg at Turnbull Rd then northeast to Mooroopna.  A passing car erased the feeling of being Robinson Crusoe.  

That wind was properly in my favor for the few k's to town, the shared path taken to town for a refuel at the Butter factory.  GreatScottSteve and Joe (not Tony) had not long berthed too so a chat on wheels, welding and being mamil was a little social icing on the cake.  

17/8  Teamed wif Tina.  

Feeling the detrimental effects of frequent solos (those little voices in your head getting louder, and being able to tolerate your own singing) I paired for Monday's lap to exorcise a few demons and restore reality.  I'd teamed with Tina at Sanctuary's roundabout for the standard 5:40 spin (but at 5:30), a now familiar west southwester blowing to make a tail-wind out and a head-wind home. Not the best ride recipe but with the benefit of sharing the load.  A side by side chat sorted the social stuff for a couple of k's, the taste for tempo soon taking precedence.  Swapping turns from the start of River Rd soon pushed me beyond that zone of comfort and into competition (isn't that the point of pairing?) for a moment thinking I was well down the ladder as Tina drove toward the dip.  'Aint youth a wonderful thing?  HTFU flooded the pre-frontal cortex and the old engine started to fire on all cylinders, thoughts of Col, Bruce, Kel, PistolPete (yep, amazingly back on the bike) The Godfather, GreatScottSteve, Bo and Wozza paired behind injected enthusiasm into the pace. 

Northbound on Coach Rd felt the wrath of the wind at the port-side, peeking at the large yellow crescent of the moon on Mt.Major's horizon just a distraction from what was to come working west.  Tina towed me to the Broken bridges, my shift to the highway helped by the cover of trees at the roadside.  The preparation for pain was interrupted by Tina's elbow ushering the lead at the fig farm, the k to Old Dookie Rd spent bracing for the headwind home.  I must have had the resolve right and the correct sprocket for the job, finding a push to School Rd manageable (resting the chin on the head-stem helped!), the refill of oxygen taking some time when Tina took the reigns to Central Ave.  My turn again.  

Reaching Dobson's with an emptying tank, I banked on Tina to tow me to town, though I should fill her with pies so I have something more than a matchstick to draft next time.  

Distancing was honored in the Butterfactory's car park as The Godfather, Wozza, Kel, Col, GreatScottSteve, Bruce, PistolPete and Bo gathered for the caffeine prescription and to chat distractions on distance driving till work called their exit, but me with a week off added 'a little bit more' with a spin on Raftery, Mitchell and Archer in the sunshine, as if to summon spring, but that only attracted the Peppermill pie to swoop a couple of strikes saying it's already sprung.  

18/8  Bells / Armstrong therapy. 

It's about as compelling as a visit to a proctologist.  There'd be more fun re-arranging your sock drawer!  But Bells Armstrong Rd laid to the west just waiting to be ridden 'cause I wasn't about to tackle Tuesday's north northeaster head on. The roll out Old Dookie and Boundary Rd found a hundred reasons not to take on that 13k of monotonous and narrowing tarmac but there's therapy in a long solo drive, I just haven't worked out why.  The forecast of a northerly had a bit of easterly in the recipe, more apparent when I steered west over the main eastern channel.  Life wasn't meant to be easy eh Malcolm?  Still, it could have been raining, it could have been uphill, or I could have woken up in a wooden box.  

The target of reaching Cosgrove-Caniambo Rd was ignored, that was at least 25 minutes away, instead the head went down and the heart-rate up trying to preserve some sort of rhythm.  There's nothing to see but barren fields and the odd lonely sheep. Time spent cleaning the bike was all for nothing, last nights drizzle had dampened the road, but they're meant to be used (unless you're Fisky!)   

Thorn's, Jones and Keally's Rd's were crossed but I wasn't getting hopes up I'd neared the end, this was Armstrong Rd and there's plenty of it. Lowes Rd appeared after an eternity, it can't be long now ; eyes now searching for the line of trees that borders Caniambo Rd.  Legs went limp seeing it, taking a moment's rest in preparation for the battle north, though headed to the highway wasn't as tough as expected.  A chorus of cockatoos screeched my arrival at the highway, Mt.Major's patchwork of canola rekindling thoughts of spring and that wind (now more northerly) wore me down on the subtle rise toward Kellows Rd.  The sun got up and the wind eased more easterly to make the drive to town a treat, after and hour and a half of hurt there was 36 minutes of bliss.  All those reasons to avoid the suffering had gone missing from the memory, soaking up the spin at a satisfying speed now chiseled into the cranium.  Maybe that was the therapy?

20/8 Being bait : Chapter 2.

To reach Sanctuary's roundabout by 5:30 needed a bit of hurry, hoping to pair with one of the Couldabeens crew for Thursday's spin rather than being Robinson Crusoe.....again.  I'd reached it with 10 seconds to spare and barely a spare breath left, but I might need to change my deodorant, not a soul was waiting.  A peek back at town saw 3k's of nothing so I set south, looks like I'd be bait for all today.  At the truck route I found Pistol Pete then The Godfather headed north, so figured I'd continue, they'd be southbound in pursuit in a matter of minutes.  Being hunted would help my hurry.  Like most days lately, wind made it's presence felt, today a west northwester would help on the outbound and hurt on the inbound so there was tactical reason not to get too keen with Mitchell and River Rd's tempo at the tail (despite two lights now in pursuit) but to keep some watts for Old Dookie Rd's punishment.  

Slight shifts in wind had a noticeable effect on pace, one moment pleasantly propelled, the next I had to work for my living!  That might just have been natures way to prepare me for the pain later?  The rooster crowed at Coach Rd corner and those lights were looming larger, but I'd prepared for the punishment port-side and settled into a speed somewhere between tested and torture.  (Can't complete the second half of the lap on an empty tank)  Much like last week, I was calculating being caught at Channel Rd or the fig farm (or somewhere in between), I just hoped whoever didn't pass me at a demoralizing pace.  Surprisingly still in front approaching Old Dookie Rd, that bitter pill of the headwind's hurt was about to be sucked pointing west.  Settling for 30 into 30 km/h gusts was a bit optimistic, maintaining it increasingly difficult while Central Ave seemed still far away. 

The wind kept blowing and those lights behind were even closer, just a moment's ease to thread a path by the rumble strips and the legs loved it, refusing to get back to the rhythm they were asked till breath had returned on the wait at Central Ave (for one car).   Rolling again, and just up to prior pace, it was Wozza and Rocket to roll by, making the speed look easy drawing gradually into the distance.  The temptation to ease my effort was quickly abandoned noting two other lights behind, the push to get to town (and coffee) better than last place extracting a bit of extra.  Tina and Kel were hot on my heels to Th Butter Factory, Boof, Bruce, The Godfather, PistolPete, GreatScottSteve, Bo and Kreeky arriving in the minute or so after to chat kit co-ordination and reading a mood behind a mask.  Without the limit of time on a week off work, "a little bit more" tempted a few later k's, though the wind and threatening skies headed me homeward hurriedly.

This week 255km   YTD 6,643km

     

        

Pepper in the pace.

 Post #559

9/8  The Sunday serenity.

I'd been kept in the dark too long.  Deprived of daylight, and vitamin D for what seemed like months, I craved scenery and a hint of warmth (if that wasn't too much to ask).  The forced isolation of Covid's stage 3 restrictions at least gives freedom to start when and where you like, albeit socially starved.   So as Saturday was a wash-out, Sunday and it's serenity was selected to spin a few k's.  In sunshine!  But solo, sadly.  Starting at 6:30 seemed terribly tardy but it was a new found pleasure to see beyond the headlights' beam for a change, a course plotted to make the best of the breeze.  A tail-wind home of course!  New Dookie Rd was still soggy from Saturday's saturation with a mist in the lowlands to push through toward Boundary Rd.  Like riding through vichyssoise mentally.   That tiny hint of colour in the clouds turned up the enthusiasm and 6 degrees felt a touch tropical (well, compared to the last few weeks) though that breeze in the face made sure the southern leg wasn't going to be easy.  At least it was dry.  

I'd plotted a path to Karramomus (for that tail-wind home), the long stretch of gradually thinning tarmac needing distractions on it's distance.  Sun-up did it.  Colour painted things positive, despite the niggling breeze, magpies warbled their welcome to the day and sulphur-crested cockatoos screeched overhead (noisier than Hommie's chain!)   Legs labored south on the Euroa Rd, seeking the line of trees that flanked Karramomus Rd.  Nope, that one's Union Rd.  Nope, that one's Wilkinson!  Gotta be down here somewhere. (the legacy of a long straight road, eh?)   

Yesterday's rain had left behind a little eau de wattle and gum-tree, what a refreshing change to the carbon monoxide cologne the city's streets get soaked in.  Oops!, spoke to soon ; dead roo by the roadside put nasty up the nostrils.  Karramomus Rd finally appeared and I'd forgotten that rough way west, at least the tarmac eventually grows wider and smoother from it's 3 metre wide goat-track beginning. The metropolis of Karramomus (an empty public hall and tennis court) slipped by, the 6k's to the main eastern channel seemingly shorter, the tail-wind tactic to town now paying dividends pointed north on Central Kialla Rd.  The earlier slog south almost seemed worth it.  Happy days with the breeze at the back-side, smooth stretches of tarmac helping the hurry toward Mitchell Rd, the only vehicle to compete with, a solitary oncoming truck.  

The wind was forgotten till turning west toward the highway, original plans of returning via Raftery Rd shelved in favor of Archer Rd.  The wind wasn't the worry, breakfast beckoned!

I staved off salivating while thoughts scrolled through the Lemontree's menu, all those calories burned needed replacing didn't they?  Isn't that why we ride?  5k's north on Archer Rd rolled rapidly by with the wind in my favor, the city's streets eerily empty (Covid the cause?)   The bike was somewhat soiled and legs a little second-hand but the satisfaction of a lap in daylight erased all that, the bonus having the hunger rewarded. 

    

10/8  Random routes.

The incentive to board the Baum was at a trickle (Monday-itis maybe?), two degrees outside, bunches were banned and there was six weeks of stage three lock-down to go. 

Ah, but the rest of the week's weather looked a whisker wet, so I'd best strike a blow or the regret would ruin me.  Off with the doona, less I succumb to softening!  A clean bike and a silent chain put a bit of spirit into the spin, the exit of town on Ford Rd plunging me into the dark toward Lemnos.  Riding random routes mustered some motivation in the last lock-down so I'll try the road-less-traveled again as a poor substitute to the social stuff.  Lemnos North Rd was different in the dark, without landmarks as a guide I was relying on guesswork to get me home in time.  That put a bit of spice into the speed.  Oh yeah, a bit of southerly helped. A kink right, a kink left, past Jubilee Rd and on toward Katamatite Rd, fingers and toes were climatizing to the 2.5 degrees.  The turn south west toward Congupna put me into the breeze and into a bit of traffic, the metre or two of tarmac at the road's edge keeping me out of harms way. Threading a line between two (?) rows of tactile edge-lining was the trick. Congupna was mostly asleep at 6:20 and traffic thin on the other side, so 5k's on Numurkah Rd later I'd arrived back in town ahead of expectation.  A diversion via Wanganui Rd clocked a few extra k's, a little light on the horizon behind teasing thoughts of spring to come in just a few weeks.

11/8  A toil to Tally. 

Before the excuses had a chance to fester, I'd risen from the cot in the reflex response to eat, sleep, ride, repeat.  One moment longer under the doona and I'd have succumbed to softness.  There was a tank to fill and a course to plot.  North, east and southwest seemed suitable with the westerly forecast, well that was the bureau's promise....  Northbound toward Nathalia felt anything but, more like a northeasterly that hampered any form of progress toward Zeerust.  What seemed like 10k was really only 6 to the School Rd, the decision to plug on further made easier with the clock yet to tick to 5:40. Thoughts of a tail-wind home helped too.  I sensed a tail-wind to the church but that ease evaporated when northbound toward Bunbartha Rd, it's length feeling longer than the last lock-down. Landmarks hidden in the dark doesn't help. Regretting the route now, the turn west toward Tallygaroopna turned up the toil, it wasn't much of a wind (15km/h) but this old engine needed the 17 sprocket to make some sort of speed.   I'd better have an easier path home!  

Tally's two street lights were the salvation to focus the dwindling reserves, the long white line aside the highway stretching south back to town a happier sight. I found comfort in cruising the 2 metre emergency lane though few cars were about, comfort too out of that headwind headed toward the city's lights.  Into Congupna early, a drive down the truck route got me to Ford Rd, an orange horizon lighting up Tuesday's morning.  Ever so slowly, the days grow longer.

13/8 Being bait.

Day 8 of lock-down and I was already craving company, to be honest, craving a little competition too, so I set south to the car-park to seek out the tail-light time trial.  Streets were damp which usually draws out the 4 wheeled "mushrooms" (big heads, little stalks), some wanna-be Daniel Ricardo motoring north at warp speed (and lighting up the rear tyres) through town as I spun sedately south.  Delighted our directions differed!  Wozza and Rocket had teamed up to slog south as I rolled in to grid, Boof and Bruce arriving soon after.  I was happy to let these lads (suitably paired in pace) leave, so with the Ferrari's flown, I waited for another '97 Hyundai Excel with 480,000 k's on the clock (and a dodgy head gasket) to turn up.  Nope, not one!  So much for company.  

Taking the Channel Rd option was dismissed as soft, so sucking up the solo thing, I set south on Archer.  Watching Boof and Bruce's tail-lights hurtle to the horizon dampened the spirits, so I spun the truck route short-cut to leap-frog ahead.  There's nothing like being bait to put some pepper in the pace.  I'd made it to River Rd to find two red led's ahead ; was I really that slow or was I viewing a distant Rocket and Wozz?  Or would a pair of lights soon be chasing me?  Time would tell.  I couldn't agree with the bureau again, they reckoned a NNE'er but my snail-like speed said a head-on easterly.  Either that or I needed to fix that dodgy head gasket.  The third nervous peek behind found Bruce and Boof's headlights in pursuit, so that spiced up my speed. Being caught was inevitable, when was the challenge.  That wind now felt northeasterly, making it's presence painful between the few trees at the roadside, but holding off my pursuers had priority over making excuses about my effort.  The heart ruled the head when reaching the limit, no amount of determination would get me going faster, so I gave in to the ticker calling the shots.  Another pair of lights ahead were sighted north on Coach Rd, so that was probably Rocket and Wozz ; others were in the hunt.  Lights behind me were closing in though some enthusiasm was left, maybe I could hold 'em off till Channel Rd (if that wind would stop blowing!)  Surprise, surprise, I was still ahead at the highway but with a fairly empty tank, Bruce and Boof finally passing me at the bridge.  The offer to 'jump on' was declined, there wasn't the wattage to grab the wheel and they were better left to play at their pace.  Turning west into Old Dookie Rd eased the hurt, an almost tail-wind was payback for the prior pain so a couple of k's added to the tempo gave some satisfaction to the fact of being o.t.a.  A cruise through town and headed homeward needed a diversion for a police road block, a rather nasty crash ahead turned out to be the aforementioned "mushroom".  Lost control, struck a tree at high speed, car in three very separate parts.  27 years is way too early to end a life.

 This week   168 km      YTD 6,390 km                 

What I wanted was wattage!

Post #558
1/8  Saturday shenanigans.

Shirking first shift was only delaying the inevitable, sooner or later that fear of the front needs to be faced, so what better time than the early shift where you can control the cruelty to your own liking (then use the draft to hang on when the big guns fire)  Rather than going 'round the block a second time, I rolled into the empty car park at 5:57, my head convinced that the poor excuse for a breeze (a north northeaster at 6 km/h) would propel me on a respectable pace.   Wozza, GiantAndy, Bruce, Tina, Rocket, Boof, Shorty, Bo, Grumpy, The Godfather, TatPaul, Joe (not Tony) and CatKel had braved yet another 1 degree morning, the 25th day of 3 or below so far this year. (That beats the total of 2018 or 2019 already, and there's a lot more of winter to come!  Yeah, thought you'd like to know that) 

The inevitable 6 bells tolled so it was down to business into Archer Rd, but an approaching car divided the bunch, the call for calm had taken the pressure off......for half a minute.  Wozza had settled my nerves with news that 1st shift now ends at Adams Rd (halving the prior target to Sanctuary's roundabout)   The holler of "all aboard!" came at the bridge, the chill still gripped the lungs and legs labored to make decent speed but that pressure to perform was at least abbreviated.  (Would stubborness have driven me to the roundabout anyway without that news?)  The line seemed long as I rolled rearward, that collection of division one wattage as usual, line astern.  Tina called me in to 3rd last spot, CatKel already locked into the caboose as Wozza towed the train to the truck route, I could now battle the gasps for a few minutes and restore to near normal as others faced the same (?) suffering.  The gifted few could pretend punishment while cruising.

TatPaul seemed to struggle in the lead role, Shorty,by contrast, as fast as any fit fella, yet rides once a week.  How does he do that?  The banter became boisterous as The Godfather and Rocket swapped sledges , an amusing distraction from my task at the front, due soon.  Bo carved a path for me through the crispy atmosphere to Coach Rd, but it was my task north, surprisingly at a respectable pace till the lungs had had enough at the bridges.  Copious compliments took the sting out of the effort though the thoughts quickly sprinted to the stress of the next turn.   Watching while others did their duty hit home the diversity of drivers in the bunch ; aren't we lucky the parameters are fairly broad! 

Grumpy made light work of the northeaster in Old Dookie Rd, GiantAndy barely breaking a sweat to reach the Toaster, it was the whiplash effect at the corner that was testing the tail-enders.  Rocket positioned himself ahead of The Godfather (all the better for the banter) while Joe (not Tony) went on duty at the Church, the drop in pace while sledges were swapped testing reactions at the back.  Back to business in Lemnos-Cosgrove Rd, I was quietly confident I'd survive another turn, so advanced on Bo's wheel closer to the front, hoping he wouldn't burn what little wattage I had to spare. Drive time came at Boundary Rd and the spin on the 15 was ideal, a decent pace manageable without toasting the legs till nearly at the main eastern channel.   Kudos again eased the post traumatic stress but the effort had taxed me enough to cancel plans for further fronting.  Further displays of wattage by the young fellas were better viewed in their draft.  Wanganui Rd soon neared but concerns were unfounded, the charge to the hill was keen but not crucifying and the belt along the Boulevard bearable. Breakfast at the Butter Factory soon erased the hurt, chat on the whiplash effect, vinyl records and face masks socially satisfying. Braving the cold again a bigger challenge than the ride.

3/8  Us & them.

 GreatScottSteve was on a mission, leading the field beyond Adams Rd at a great rate of knots and I hadn't the horsepower to get around him, let alone the oxygen to tell him he'd gone beyond expectations of the first shift.  My only option was to hang on till Sanctuary's roundabout ended his term.  Bruce, The Godfather, Col, Tina, Kreeky, Wozza, Liam, Rocket, Kel, Bo and Trav were stretched out behind, a northeaster was helping us south but what I wanted was wattage for my turn to the truck route.  It might have been a Monday mood, but the head had slipped into defeatist mode ; if I was struggling with speed with a tail-wind, what hope would I have with a head-wind?  That expectation along with the wattage of Bo, Wozza, Liam, Rocket and Bruce to come, my plans were already set in stone.  Sit on and hope to survive.  Rocket then Wozza tweaked up the tempo to Central Kialla (the headwind of little hinderance to them!), Kreeky, Tina and Kel carved their way into the wind with Liam, Bruce and Trav lurking behind.

The Godfather made his rear presence felt with a blurt of "car back", Col content in the caboose too as the big calibre Couldabeens set the speed to catch a red led ahead.  Bruce kindly set a second echelon against the northeaster so the tail-enders weren't in the gutter, but sitting second wheel was taxing.  The bpm's finally dropped below 165 in Coach Rd, Bo cutting the wind en-route to the bridges as we absorbed the Rabbit (that red led ahead) into the fold.  Hasn't he been in a good paddock!  (A bunny with ballast)  Half a dozen of "them" rolled the turns to tow "us" along, I suppose I'd unwittingly stopped many from rolling through  as self appointed gate-keeper but I didn't hear any complaints from the enlarging caboose behind.  I was looking forward to the west leg home, if only to enjoy the peace instead of wind whistling between the ears (hoping nobody was about to set new speed records)  Oncoming cars kept us in the left lane to rattle us through the rumble strips, Liam kindly keeping tempo tolerable (a fraction under 40) into town.  The Rabbit bolted from the back to head the pack to SPC (for reason known only to rabbits) and the zigs and zags to Archer Rd, but was brought undone horizontally on the slick corner at SPC's freight terminal (pride the only injury it seems)

4/8  Rock & roll !

With lockdown just days away, Goats gathered in unprecedented numbers on Tuesday, a wonder for winter!  Coggo, Belly, Snow, Dippa, Sandy, AvantiAndy, AvantiLeigh, Phil, Ranso, Hommie and Furph filled the foothpath at Friars, and it's been a long time since that happened.  A two row formation exiting town was as rare as Zwift's reality, I'd paired with Ranso (a newcomer to Goats and way above their average)  to Dobson's bridge, a westerly pushing up the pace.  AvantiAndy and Dippa advanced for a turn at the rushin' front (that might not be the case for the headwind home) despite a sudden emergence from hibernation.  Shifts shortened a tad on the southerly spin along Boundary Rd, Hommie showed the strain but it didn't phase Sandy with a distinct aerodynamic advantage.   Ranso and I again headed the herd at the highway to the Broken bridges, I'd just settled into the draft near One Tree Dam when a gloved finger pointed quickly to the road, lucky to be on Ranso's line 'cause a fist sized rock suddenly appeared just centimetres to one side.

A few moments later the holler to halt went out, figuring a puncture was the possibility.  (In fact Sandy had struck said rock and hit the deck)    In the half minute to slow and u-turn, Sandy was up and rolling south again, a bit bruised and bark off the knee ; one tough cookie!  A minute's cruise for composure and the train stoked up steam for the work into the wind on River Rd.  In the reshuffle of the u-turn I'd berthed between Dippa and AvantiAndy, so was careful to stay level alongside ; let's not shatter the dreams of those who dare to make a comeback, particularly in the depths of winter (but lets see who soldiers on solo in Covid's lockdown)    I'd get in a full lap with time kind to me today, the southbound leg through Central Kialla  was a welcome respite from that westerly.  Shifts went short again along Mitchell Rd, Hommie had retired rearward tending to Sandy, others showing the signs of wind wear.

Arriving at Raftery Rd opened up the history books of memories but the details would have to wait as the pace percolated to Galbraith's gate and the advance line beckoned.  Hey, I was positioned well.  (don't get too excited Foss, there's serious horsepower among this lot!)  Belly and Phil made brief appearances, Dippa and Snow rolled straight over and Furph was in struggle street.  Two rows turned to Indian file as Arcadia Downs blurred by and Coggo looked to be left out the front to air.  My glance back saw an abyss to the rest of the bunch,  so in sympathy for Coggo, headed the hurry into Conrod straight (but spent most of my wattage to do it)    When Ranso, AvantiLeigh and Coggo drew past out of the dip I forced my rubber legs sprint to catch their draft.  Elbows flapped and AvantiLeigh had the helm with a 100 to go, Coggo wisely playing the waiting game to pinch the win on the finish line.

5/8 Bye bye bunch :(

Stage 3 restrictions were about to be re-introduced so Wednesday's spin would be the squad's swansong, so a chance to soak up the social stuff stirred the speed to the carpark, despite the 2 degrees and a bone chilling westerly at 28 km/h.  There'd be six weeks of solitary confinement to come; some will slog on solo, others opt for the digital delusion that is Zwift but some will succumb to the doona I guess.  

Boof, Tina, Bo, Rocket, Bruce, Kreeky, The Godfather, Kel, Joe (not Tony) and Col kept it real to gather at the shop, 6am struck and Boof rolled away, most tactically stalling their start to avoid that westerly on their first shift.  Sucker me took second wheel.  Boof drove the train toward Adams Rd as I prepared for the pain at the front, but he soldiered on to Sanctuary (seems few are aware of the new Adams Rd target for leg 1).   That suited me, the leg to the truck route has a bit better shelter.  I was well wearied by the end, happily handing the helm to Kreeky to drive a fine turn to Mitchell.  Tina's start strategy had paid big dividends, blown toward Central Kialla by that wind, but she kept it quick anyway.  Joe (not Tony) took the tough turn to River Rd (so much for his careful manoeuvring at the grid !), Kel keeping the crew silenced with speed on a windswept shift to the bridge.  The headwind home was the last thing on most minds as 25k's worth of westerly whisked us toward Coach Rd, the reminder of the toil not so subtle as the line battled the breeze side on while Bo led us toward the highway.  That pot-hole near One Tree Dam was well pointed (a proper look at it today saw several rocks within) though it was still a near miss for some at the rear ; there's not a lot of reaction time travelling at 10 metres per second; a point to ponder next time you're on the front of a train.  (In six weeks?)   

I had a bit of a light globe moment with just Bo, Rocket and Boof ahead of me ; I'd probably be the one to score Old Dookie Rd's headwind, so was swift to soak up the smoothness of Boof's draft while trying to bank a few breaths in readiness.  When the moment arrived I made a mess of my contribution at the front, way too enthusiastic with the energy and too much anger at the wind instead of pacing what little wattage I had, so the tank went empty well shy of School Rd, Kreeky given the task while I retired ruined to the rear.  Oh yeah, Col had coveted that spot.  Second last would do.  Kel had done her duty and Bruce lapped up the labor to Central Ave, Bo and Rocket driving their turns into town as if a headwind didn't exist.  38 into a 28k wind doesn't add up!  Parting was a sort of sweet sorrow at the Butter Factory, I'll miss that social sustenance for six weeks of lock-down though the legs will be happy to holiday from the hurry. 

7/8  The Covid confinement.

There was no fixed start time, no particular place to launch from, the course was totally optional (and subject to change on a whim), I could set the speed, didn't have to worry about the echelon etiquette, could clear nasal nuances without flack, even fire off a flatule (the singular of that oft used verb) without fear....and I'd win the sprint!  

Bunch rides weren't kosha in Covid's stage 3 regulations, so it was family pairs or solo only for six weeks, and almost instantly, the solo serenity was deafening!  East onto Old Dookie Rd and I was into a head 'wheeze' ; a bit less than a wind but more than a breeze.  That got the head down and the heart-rate up..... and here's me setting my own speed!  2 degrees didn't help.  Hopes were invested in some sort of respite heading south.  8k's passed reasonably quickly without a car to contend with, though a passing one or three might have helped. The turn into Boundary Rd was a let-down, not the help I'd hoped for but some shelter was found from the few orchards that are left, the push to the pub now banking on the breeze being up the bum in River Rd.  Eyes wide open for the chasm of a pot-hole at One Tree Dam, sights of leds in pairs plying north and east told me the tail-light time trial was back in action.  Was that Bruce who hollered a g'day on the turn?  The starvation for social stuff struck already!  The going got easy when wheels pointed west, varied road surfaces now playing their part in pace.  Ah, for a bout of Beach Rd!  Ol' mate Blackie plugged his way east, funny how each will almost sign their name by posture on a bike. Rather than push the envelope of time through Central Kialla, I chose the truck route shortcut to town, first light gradually getting earlier an inspiration that warmer weather may be nearing?  If we must go solo till mid September, give us some temperature to motivate!

This week 237km     YTD 6,221 km