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