The caboose calls!

 Post #564

19/9  Social sustenance.

A little like a class reunion, long lost faces appeared from covid confinement at the car park for Saturday's spin, most having fostered fitness during the restrictions in pairs or slogged it out solo, though some had put their fitness faith in a minor miracle.  It's been many months since seeing Team Tat, Nev had returned to town (on a flat bar, flying in the face of conformity) Lance, GiantAndy, Lenny and TrackStan had been long-term absentees but BeerMat's arrival was the big surprise.   The fit and familiar Wozza, Tina, Rocket, Bruce, Shorty, Boof, PistolPete, Grumpy and GreatScottSteve made the most of the mildness (16 degrees) and 2 new faces had fronted to see what all the fuss was about.   Two bunches formed in keeping with regulations on gatherings of 10, the first pack (Rocket, Wozza, Bruce, Boof, PistolPete, Shorty, TatMat, DeterminedDan, Tina, TatPaul and GiantAndy) set-off south while I joined the left-overs (Lance, Lenny, Grumpy, Nev, BeerMat, TrackStan, GreatScottSteve and the two unknowns) half a minute behind bunch one.  

Driving a bigger gear than the usual spin, TrackStan kept the line long beyond Adams Rd, Nev the brave one first to form the advance line beside him.  I'd almost become the seconder to join but BeerMat volunteered a moment earlier to follow the whine of Nev's fat tyres.  A keen east northeaster (15-24 km/h) wasn't an issue for the southbound legs but tactics told me travel on Mitchell and River Rd's would have tempo taxed.  BeerMat shortened his shift beyond the truck route, probably predicting the pain if he fronted the head-wind.  He'd kindly left that for me.  I wondered who'd followed me in the advance to partner in punishment for the eastward effort, the spotless wheel of Lenny drew alongside to answer my question....and promptly edged a hand-span ahead. (a kind soul in person but a force to be reckoned with on two wheels)   

I treated his pace as a challenge to labor on the limit to Central Kialla, and it was a chance to dish up a bit of hurt for the hibernating BeerMat into the bargain.    I survived the 3 and a half minutes with head lowered, legs at 94 rpm and the cardiac in crescendo but I won't repeat BeerMat's comments (insert gasps between each profanity)   Shift done, I caught Lenny's wheel for respite as he and GreatScottSteve towed us to River Rd ; I wondered how others would enjoy the work east?  There's comfort in familiar surroundings, particularly with wheels just centimetres apart, so doubts arise when a 'foreigner' comes into close quarters.  One of the unknowns had drawn alongside (black Avanti) but his path was straight and the stroke was smooth so I excused his failure to comply with Rule #19 (introduce yourself)  He was probably feeling his way among this weird mob.   At least he answered a comment about the weather (the safe subject to start with).   Turns rolled a little more often, pace calming as Lance and the other foreigner fronted, so my rest at the rear was really relaxed by River Rd's end.   Another short shift by BeerMat put me at the front in Coach Rd, and when he retreated to 4th wheel, Nev became my partner in pain to the Broken bridges.  I'd been clever enough to save a little in the tank for the pairing with Lenny to the highway.  

Recovery took it's time while Lenny and GreatScottSteve towed us to Old Dookie Rd, fingers pointing the way for our foreigners (but BeerMat turned escapee with a short-cut via Boundary Rd to Lemnos-Cosgrove), the first 'foreigner' was identified as Craig, the other named when  he punctured near the bacon barn.  Aaron was surprised we all stopped to assist.   Nev commanded the tube change (injected by bindii) on Aaron's early edition Pinarello (me thinks it was last cleaned in 2004), the advantage of CO2 over a hand pump demonstrated when Craig's "partially used" one was swapped for a new one.   Pace needed pegging till the Pine Lodge church for the congregation to re assemble, the thought of a tail wind home something to rejoice.  Between TrackStan and Nev on the post-puncture re-shuffle had me in the hot seat, thank heaven that breeze behind turned my turn into reasonable.  Surprisingly, TrackStan's shift lacked it's usual sting.  Maybe he has a case of Zwift-itis? (too much animation, not enough reality)  Aaron's reach for the bidon (a rather Scottish "Pump" water bottle) dislodged the frame mounted pump (Rule #30 violation), bouncing off GreatScottSteve's wheel to quiver a sphincter or two.  Could it be a sneaky ploy to force a halt for a short recovery? I think not ; he'd been the Cheshire cat lapping up the 40's within the bunch.  Not bad for a maiden effort.   

The brief slow into Ford Rd bonded the bunch together again.    The social stuff made a difference to the past weeks of single filed quiet, a chuckle shared with Lance and Nev before the business end and effort silenced us again.  Placed perfectly in the pack (5th wheel) as Mt.Wanganui came into view, I resisted the urge to sprint 'cause nobody else looked keen, besides, there was work into the wind on the Boulevard ahead anyway.  Two rows thinned to Indian file as Grumpy then Nev took driving duty, the majority Lemontree bound so I followed suit to be social.  There were laughs aplenty joining most of group 1 already berthed at the table, Tour topics and the woes of Karen the cackle over coffee.   A chance catch up with RetiredTrev and Goose an excuse for a second coffee.

21/9  And may pace be with you. 

Fuelled, kitted and ready to roll, and there the bike sat on a flat rear tyre!  I was about to pull the pin but the chance to squeeze a lap in before the rain kick started the enthusiasm to change a tube swiftly....and quietly. Don't wake the better half at stupid o'clock!  Then there was the charge through the streets to make up 4 minutes on the commute to the car park, scoring a few Strava PB's but arriving breathless with 10 seconds spare.  At least I was prepared for pace, Wozza, Rocket, Bruce, Lenny and Grumpy lay in wait.  I was pleased to join Joe (not Tony) to represent division 2.   

The hurry to get my breath back didn't match the hurry Wozza set for leg 1, single file meant business but the up-side was being the tail-ender (on Lenny's wheel) to give me maximum time before facing the front.  Rocket took over to drive leg 2, the momentary turbo lag allowed all to "latch on" before his boost bolted us to Orrvale Rd.  The smooth hot-mix of the ChaCha had wheels humming under Bruce's captaincy, that fraction less resistance was almost measurable on the muscles.  Joe (not Tony) made good progress to the cypress trees, maybe that northwester eased his effort?  The business end drew near for me as Grumpy put in a swift shift to the S bend and I was feeling up to the task till Lenny opened the throttle to Channel Rd's end....then drove harder into the wind to the highway.  Toasted before my turn!  The pressure was on to preserve the pace and I set focus on reaching the bridge as a (sub-standard) shift but the view was rather fuzzy just to get across Hosie Rd.  My elbow spasm was involuntary, the caboose was calling me!  Wozza made up the deficit by driving to Old Dookie Rd while the defeatist inside my head reckoned the pond was way too big for this little fish.  A thin slice of orange peeked under the horizon's cloud to make a mark on Monday, Rocket driving the train (and it's cooked caboose) to New Dookie Rd, then beyond. 

Bruce did that 'ease-before-the-effort' thing so he didn't break things off the back, then set about his spin to Lemnos North Rd in a blur of cadence.  I wondered how Joe (not Tony) was coping at 2nd wheel.  His tempo started tame when given the lead role into Ford Rd but never really raised above it, those signs of hard labor hinting he was cooked before he'd started.  10 out of 10 for trying Joe!  Grumpy took the hint of his hurt and dragged us back into the 40's, Bruce ever watchful that Joe stayed aboard.  I was back in the advance but by the look of the horsepower ahead I wasn't likely to get to the front anytime soon.  Midfield was somewhat smoother, those small variations from the front tend to ripple to the rear and amplify along the way. We're only talking fractions though, not the light and shade of others who shall remain nameless!  Lenny and Wozz did double shifts of speed to polish off Ford and Wanganui Rd's, Rocket had rest scheduled for later, the Boulevard fully booked for work till the circuit's end. Coffee was waiting for most but a time clock was waiting for me.  

22/9  Assisting an obsession. 

That routine repeats. Alarm. Coffee. Breakfast. Kit. Helmet. Shoes. Ride.   And the practice of a prologue Tuesday continued too, though the radical move of rolling a different course at least put the spice of variety into the morning.  Nosed north on Numurkah Rd to Radio Australia (a head wind wasn't part of the plan) then steering south on Verney Rd back to town had a sense of urgency.  I took a guess at the distance, so making it to the 6am grid at Friars was a stab in the dark.  Back and berthed with 4 minutes spare, Phil, Hommie, Snowman, Sandy, Belly, Dippa, Coggo and AvantiAndy arrived with a craving for k's, Sandy supplementing Heady's habit of heading us out of town. Two rows formed but nobody seems to call the configuration, it just happens by chance (although the chance of a headwind would have kept it Indian file).  A hint of a north northwester played no part in the pace.   I'd joined the advance line on Coggo's wheel crossing the truck route, waiting for the rotational routine to promote to forward.  It didn't take long, shift were short.  Coggo hit the front with vindaloo in his velocity, maybe to hurry Hommie along but it caught me napping.  And it continued over Central Ave as I tried to match his wheel ; looking to the distant bridge at School Rd didn't help, I'd be in ruin before reaching it at this rate.  Relief came when Coggo called the roll-over 200 metres shy. 

(Was that a hologram of KillkennyPaul and Softa riding west?  Maybe it was that early sun-up in my eyes?)
I happily eased the hurry to pair with Snowman's speed, just a couple off the prior pace seemed sweet with others.  There's an air of hope seeing Phil, Dippa and Snowman back in action populating the otherwise barren bunch that soldiered through winter, though the days of 20+ starters are unlikely, many will struggle just to throw a leg over a bike again.  I'll take a stab at a regular dozen when summer comes.  Two rows spun south and just as I'd settled into the rotation when the enemy of time called me to exit.  Channel Rd had plenty of daylight to show the way home but daylight savings in just two weeks may drag us back into darkness.  It'll take more than that to over-ride the obsession.

23/9  Smooth operators.

Southerners soon converged on Sanctuary's roundabout ; not wanting to miss the train, I'd rolled in a little early so there was oxygen to spare for the chat with PistolPete, Tina, Col, Bo, The Godfather and Kel before chocks were away.  Maybe I'd manage this mob's pace better than Monday's machines?

We're lucky to belong to a group of many divisions ; there's a few factions to find a tempo to suit and we're socially as one when the speed stops and coffee takes over.   A chance to be promoted up in pace or slip down the slide of slower.  Col opened the account of acceleration to Mitchell Rd, a west northwester inflating a few ego's on the way east.  I wish 40+ km/h could be this easy in any direction!  Kel smoothed the way through Central Kialla, my head full of reservations for River Rd scoring PistolPete's wheel to follow.  I was coping with his pace, it's the distance that destroyed!  Beyond the bridge and up out of the dip his elbow finally flicked, facing the front wasn't so bad (two red led's ahead as bait) but my tank was 7/8ths empty.  Trying to convince the cranium it was an 1/8th full had no effect.  That white timber fence of the quarter horse stud marks the ordinary change-over point so that was my 'ordinary' turn done, I'd need as much recovery as possible while Bo had the driver's seat to River Rd's end. The holiday was over turning north into Coach Rd, we'd swallowed up the fluorescent friends Vince and The Rabbit who climbed aboard as the train set an echelon into that wind, now blowing northwest.  Col's head was down for the drive to the Broken bridges, Tina turning herself inside out to Channel Rd. West into Old Dookie Rd wasn't going to be fun. I'd at least had time to prepare for the pain. 

Kel drove a hard bargain into Old Dookie, smooth as always but the wind shortened her shift just shy of School Rd.  PistolPete served a similar smoothness to Central Ave while I hung on diverting thoughts of the torment to come.  Off the Fizik to stoke some speed, progress seemed sluggish fighting the wind but a Garmin glance showed high 30's. Not so bad.  Trouble was, I'd now set a precedent.....now to find the muscle to maintain it!  The will wanted to reach the bridge but reality gave up 100 metres before it, speechless to answer the kudos passing me by retiring to catch the 2nd last wheel.  The Rabbit remained at the rear. It wasn't just me worn by the wind, Vince had emptied his tank a minute or so later, Bo left with the duty to drive us into town.  I'd survived, satisfied, delivering more than just one shift.

24/9  A six-pack before breakfast.

Friday's forecast looked fairly fickle, so a chance to clock a few k's Thursday was seized with both hands.  An early 10k tap loosened up creaky joints, reaching the Friars start-line to find Dippa, Phil, Snowman, Coggo and Belly ready to roll.  It was my turn to play Heady today (in his absence) and with just six to spin, it was a chance to have brief control on the single filed pace (somewhere between easy enough for those just out of hibernation and fast enough to prevent others falling asleep).  I took a guess at mid 30's to Dobson's bridge.  (no knives in the back, so it must have met approval)  Dippa took on leg 2 to Central Ave, my happy place was now in the draft of Belly (much like being on the back bumper of a B double!)   Well, look at that! KillkennyPaul and Softa out again on that ever-so-long road back to fitness, spinning west as our eastward path crossed theirs.  (At least they're trying!) 

Phil and Snow did their duty to Boundary Rd, Coggo raising the bar with a little more pace toward the highway.  Belly's turn was brief, from the bridge to the pub.  Every little bit helps eh Belly?   I felt compelled to tap a longer turn when given the role south of the highway, time was kind to me today to allow a complete circuit so I would make the most of it.  I'd decided it was "be kind to Dippa day" peeling off at the Broken bridges to give him a downhill start to his turn, the slowly strengthening southwester however challenged his chances of reaching River Rd at the helm.  Snow opened the River Rd's first kilometre, Coggo (the real HG) driving long to Trevaskis Rd where Belly took charge, shaving a little off the speed but doing the long haul to Central Kialla Rd (maybe to erase the guilt of his short shift earlier?).   There was enough shelter at the roadside through Central Kialla to make my turn manageable, Mitchell Rd waiting empty for Dippa to drive.  It's been a long time since riding this path. Ah, the memories of tactical positioning for the sprint (or the desperate gasps just trying to hang on!)  readying for that crescendo in Conrod straight.  To be honest, sprint theories were already underway for today.  

Snow struggled for speed up and out of Dave's dip, Coggo smooth and swift over the highway, 'round Roubaix and up to Galbraith's gate.  Maybe I'd get my turn done before the sprint started?  But would there be wattage recovered and ready for it? Belly's turn was shorter than Sandy, so I had the front well before Arcadia Downs (a k to the kink would do and trust I'd have time to recover).  I delivered Dippa to the first dip of Conrod instead, then hurried to calm the heart-rate at the rear, focus then fixed on Coggo most likely to launch the attack.  But Belly's butt blocked my view of Phil's early fling at the finish line.  Both Coggo and I couldn't catch Phil's draft, though a 2nd spot for me crossing Steptoe's finish-line was a fair finish to the week.

Wet did foil Friday's hopes to ride.

This week 247km     YTD 7,895km 

Shout out to Laura recovering from a case of using your head as a brake pad on the tarmac.  Can't keep an Irongirl down eh Laura?   

           

                       

The squeal about the speed.

Post #563

12/9  Heaven, then the hell homeward.

Lame excuses grew louder. The wind was blowing again, another Saturday of solitary covid confinement lay ahead, a puncture was probably on the cards and bed was delightfully cosy.  Saddle up quickly Foss, you're softening swiftly!  A possessed mind had already mentally mapped a different course (maybe my modicum of motivation?) so pigheadedness was all that remained to get wheels turning.  The only problem was it'd be a tail-wind out and a head-wind home.  A lesson in measured effort wouldn't hurt.  Or would it? The northeaster (15-28 km/h) put a positive into the west way to Mooroopna, even better steering south west into Toolamba Rd.  Darkness had quickly lifted to put a spring into spring, just a few minutes after 6 and the green of fields were already visible beyond the headlight's beam.  Orange smudged the horizon. The road to Murchison carried memories of suffering (a 30k solo chase on the Tat 200 into a stiff southwester) so today's completely contrasting conditions erased the nightmare.  

A few cows chomping the cud and just 2 cars to contend with to reach Old Toolamba made a peaceful opening quarter, south of the village a smooth stretch of freshly laid tarmac was respite for the rump.  In case I'd forgotten it was September, a magpie tapped it's reminder on the helmet (several times to make the point), the 6k length of River Rd spelling Murchison was near.  

A few spits from the sky spotted specs and dampened hopes but thankfully stopped without soaking anything, Murchison's welcoming committee tapping the helmet to interrupt the focus on a few federation cottages.  Heritage listed Thornebridge (1868) and it's 107 year old London Plane tree stood gracefully at the Goulburn river but history was soon swapped for suffering as the wind attacked the left brow.  Who's idea was it to push into this all the way home?  9k's to Moorilim had some sections sheltered by the eucalypts, patches of canola were a short-lived distraction but focus soon came back to the freeway's 28 k's of hurt home.  The shallow climb of the on-ramp into a headwind wasn't an inspiring introduction.  Does breathing in deeply lower your drag co-efficient?  (anything to ease the effort)  

That wish for a passing fleet of B doubles had as much chance as finding BamBam back on a bike, traffic has notably thinned with covid restrictions so a passing draft was rare.  The head went down and the determination went up, speed was sadly snail-like though, trying not to think there was almost an hour of this to get home.  I'd found the cog between spin and grind, made easy with a 16 in the cassette, so that played a part on progress.  Shelter from the few trees was few and far between so thoughts swung to fluctuations in the FTSE 100 or the plight of the black-footed tree-rat, anything rather than that wind!  Mood lifted when the freeway finally thinned and downgraded to a highway, closer now to town and part 2 of breakfast,but closer to the wind-shear from the few oncoming trucks.  

Union Rd finally came into view and I could almost taste the coffee, an inspiration to drive the final 7k's to town.  And the Peppermill 'pie was ready to greet me.  With a powerful peck.  Times 5.  Berthing at the Butter Factory, sentences were swapped with the pedestrian peloton of Kate, Kel, Jen and Sim, soon after Big Ben and Sherls arrived to talk carbon wheels and Cobbles' Scottish tendencies.   

14/9  Pushin' through porridge.

Familiar faces fronted a fresh car park on Monday, seems it's the same old soldiers who've worked through winter that turn up while the nameless many remain scarce till conditions are positively perfect (then squeal about the speed the soldiers sit on!)  Bruce, Rocket, Joe (not Tony), Kreeky and GreatScottSteve arrived for 5:40 duty, The Godfather, PistolPete, Kel, Col and Tina were the soldiers on an earlier shift.   Pairings (on performance?) put the procession at Joe (not Tony) and I, GreatScottSteve and Rocket then Bruce and Kreeky to follow, Joe and I departing first as bait.  

I took on the first shift to the truck route, guessing a tempo to suit Joe, while trying to guess where the wind was (should I believe the bureau's reckoning of a SSW'er?  Not a leaf stirred at the car park).  Joe (not Tony) had the helm for the leg to Orrvale Rd, GreatScottSteve and Rocket's tempo a touch faster as they cruised by.  Bruce and Kreeky were about 5 metres off our tail as I got the lead role for the ChaCha, and wasn't that hot-mix heaven! (10% tacked onto the tempo)  Joe's becoming steadily smoother in speed, driving well to the cypress trees while I wondered if Kreeky and Bruce were holding back out of respect or rest. Maybe they'd take the hard yards home if that breeze was from the south west? I took a turn to the S bend then Joe towed me to Boundary, that short leg up to the highway seemed shy so stayed on the front till the bridge. Bruce and Kreeky were still backward in coming forward.  

We swapped the lead a couple of times up to Lemnos-Cosgrove Rd, the way west feeling like it was pushing through porridge (though speed didn't seem to suffer), going the distance to the main eastern channel and a bit beyond for Joe (not Tony) to then tow me to Lemnos North Rd.  Kreeky and Bruce might have to pay by the kilometre.  I found Ford Rd a battle into the breeze, speed stayed the same but the heart-rate was escalating.  Joe delivered me respite into town, Kreeky advising Wanganui Rd was the preferred route to coffee.  Anything else we can do for you guys?  Polish your bike?  Peel you a grape?  I was beginning to enjoy the challenge they'd unwittingly (?) set, dragging them 'round gave both of us a sense of purpose, but was that the sound of snoring I heard from behind?  Wanganui and Rudd Rd drained the tank fairly low but the favorable breeze on the Boulevard topped it up for some tempo to the town centre. 

15/9  Cosgrove....'cause it's there. 

Motivation begged a different course, a blind poke at the map choosing Cosgrove.....'cause it's there.  There'd be no wear on the headset bearings today, 20k east, 2k's north then 20k west to home might sound monotonous, but lapping Channel, Boundary and Ford Rd 3 times a week felt a bit o.c.d.   New Dookie Rd's peak hour (6 cars for the 6am soup shift) cleared quickly, so it was down to the business of finding a rhythm out to Cosgrove with a hint of a south southwester the only hindrance.  The magpies were still asleep. Bonus!  

A solo spin clears the head of cobwebs, and without anyone's standard to keep up with (or slow down for) there's a feeling of freedom to set your own pace.  Doesn't take long for the head to set an expectation though.  Light lit the shape of Mt. Major on the horizon , arriving soon enough at Quarry Rd for the brief bolt north to find Lemnos-Cosgrove Rd for the west way home.  Sun-up put a little psychological warmth on the back, 6 degrees needed all the help it could get, but I guess it won't be long till we're grizzling about the heat.  Time was ticking against me to get back by 7, effort was raised a lot to get back on schedule but the speed only crept up a little.  Belly and a buddy were bearing east as I ran out of Lemnos-Cosgrove and got onto Ford, a check of the clock finding I was back on schedule, if I could preserve the pace.  Sad when work get's in the way of a good ride.   Paths seemed to be full of pedestrians back in town ; have exercise freedoms during lock-down restrictions promoted a few more to fitness? Maybe it's just the earlier light that's revealing them? 

17/9  The bunch belonging.

Would it be futile fronting Frairs?  One wonders if the ease of covid restrictions would lure any Goats (with guts) to grid for a Thursday spin.  Bunches of 10 were kosher again. Surely the chance of a being in a bunch couldn't be resisted?   I'd slipped quickly back to the ritual of a prologue out to the golf course, along Wanganui and back via Verney, so pondered the possibilities of a social spin (or sucking-it-up solo)  What's App had been strangely silent.  13k's had loosened legs (I wasn't expecting a whippin' but it minimises the damage to a well worn engine) and back into town Cats were congregating (ten never looked so big) so hopes rose that Goats may gather.  Belly, Coggo, Phil, AvantiAndy, Dippa, Furph and newbie Mitch almost broke an attendance record for the year, AvantiAndy and I leading the pack (at a pedestrian pace) out of town.  Andy was first to roll across as we crossed the truck route and hasn't he acquired some extra insulation over winter!  (Loved that draft Andy)  

Catching up with the social stuff certainly beats sentences with self solo, that almost long-lost art of bunch rotation coming back without so much as a hiccup.  Just like riding a bike really!  Phil forged forward for a turn (he's kept in tune through the testing temperature of winter), Dippa doing his bit till his once-a-week-winter-workout wore his turn down short.  Coggo and Belly did their dependable drives, Furph seems to have found his niche with the Goats and newbie Mitch had all the appearances of an aprenctice ; shirt flapping in the breeze, baggy shorts, borrowed shoes and an old faithful Giant TCR,  but keen as mustard! Introductions done, he tells me it's his fifth ride and the first in a bunch! To his credit, he advanced for a contribution at the front (probably driven by guilt?) in Boundary Rd, shoulders seeming to drive the pedals, but hey! we all start somewhere don't we?  With the two important tips of keep it straight and keep it smooth, I timed my exit well west on Channel Rd (I'm sure the experience around him would guide him well).  Daylight lit my path back to town, Darth Vader spied snoozing at the truck yard and rabbits fleeing early from the Cat-Eye's beam, making a comfortable spin to town, arriving only just on agenda. 

18/9  Suddenly solitary.

Early drizzle had dampened the circuit but it hadn't dampened the desire to get with a bunch. With 12k to get to the start line and 18 minutes to do it, cadence was keen to Sanctuary's roundabout, pleased to have arrived on time but disappointed to find nobody there.  I'd probably got the time wrong.  

Up and down the drive in expectation of others turning up was a lost cause, 5:37 passed so I turned tail to the shop optimistic I'd find somebody there.  5:42 and the car-park was as empty as HG's wine glass.  Maybe it was 5:45?  After a minute or two watching the spits from the sky the result was nil ; Well Foss, it'll be a spin soaking up the solo serenity!  East into Channel Rd's soggy half light with little rooster-tails of water up the nostrils made me question the addiction, but then I rewound to the 102kg bloke wheezing through a 35-a-day habit.  A light south southeaster blew between the orchards, so happy days choosing an anti-clockwise circuit free of a headwind. But the Baum was filthy. It had already collected 4 worms.  Bath time for bike booked in this evening.  Thoughts that others had succumbed to a sleep-in drove me onward (it's that Rule #9 effect) to Boundary Rd, the effort easing thanks to that breeze at the backside.  Eyes north and south only found a collection of Cats (conforming to covid limits this time) so plans of an Old Dookie Rd path homeward were set.  The turn west toward town showed that same-old same-old tarmac, so the freedom spinning solo allowed a deviation via Central Ave and New Dookie Rd back home.

This week 246km      YTD  7,654 km                     

Buying a bucket-full.

Post #562

5/9  The distance disorder.

So much for a clean bike!  The 4am drizzle had dampened the road but Saturday's freedom was waiting.  I didn't have tis bike built for me to wrap up in cotton wool, so I got the wheels turning on a path an obsessed mind mapped the day before.  Bunches were still banned and a different course was essential to distract me from the somewhat scary state of riding solo.  Westward to Mooroopna in the wee small hours then beyond Ardmona, I steered away from that track to Merrigum (it had all the appeal of rearranging the sock drawer) and pointed north to the metropolis of Gillieston (2 houses at an intersection).  The sun struggled to pierce the wintery clouds but there was enough light to search for McKenzie Rd (a road not ridden before).   

The skinny strip of tarmac was about to turn to gravel 1500 metres onward, the sealed Davies Rd appearing to save me from doing something dirty.   A k north found the Lancaster Rd to steer west toward Kyabram, the sun cresting the clouds lifting the mood of the day.  15 minutes worth of steady spin got me to Kyabram's outskirts to choose Bolitho Rd and spin south.  Proper spring sunshine and 10 degrees made life good, swapping a wave of understanding with a young lass keeping it real on a road bike as our paths crossed. 

By Brewer Rd there was almost a Melbourne moment, clouds had crowded to curtain the sun, quickly turning that sense of spring into a mid winter mood, now pushing into a bleak southeasterly breeze toward Merrigum Rd.  Something stirred  the emotions to fight the way home, could it be the Strava scrutiny later, the sense to stoke some self worth, maybe its the need to make the average less average or the craving for caffeine that's the trigger to to dig a little deeper than previously planned?  Those oh so subtle rises to the channel bridges felt like catagory 2 climbs, burning the vastus medialis and the tibialis anterior in the effort to maintain pace.  

Strangely, the odd magpie had stood staring at the roadside rather than assuming the role of Kamikaze pilot.  The smooth tarmac to Byrneside made a little peace with the posterior,  a few moments off the Fizik felt justified after 70k. I was soaking up the canola aroma when few taps on the helmet said magpies meant business, turning onto the Midland's glossy grey ribbon of highway stretching into the distance.  There was hardly a car passing but plenty oncoming did their best to blow me backward, the thought that this may delay coffee lowered the head and sharpened the resolve to drive on.  

The desire to draft a passing fleet of B doubles was answered with a single Nissan Micra overtaking (yeah, thanks for that!) but pig-headed stubborness kept the throttle open back to town.  Jase, Shorty, TrekTrev, Grumpy, Superman, The Weapon and Joe (not Tony) were found chatting over  Butter Factory's coffee, guesswork on the lifting of lockdown and a bit of MTB mumbo jumbo keeping tongues busy as I filled with fruit. 

7/9  Facing facts on fast.

The slim hope of reaching Sanctaury's start-line on time kept the pace up early Monday, so I was well warmed up (3 degrees that felt like 0.8 ; and it's meant to be Spring!) at the roundabout and on schedule.  But there was nobody there!  A quiet roll around for 3 minutes found Kreeky, PistolPete and Col, so Kreeky and I departed as bait for the followers.  

We'd changed order from Friday's foray, Kreeky doing the opening act to Mitchell Rd and my first appearance bearing east on Mitchell, just as a breeze sprung up to squash my speed.  I had better contemplate Rule #5 if the usual shifts were taken, I'd get 2/3rds of River Rd to suffer.  Sighting a pair of led's in pursuit as we turned east put the pressure on, though the line of trees to the bridge made pace possible.  A glimpse at the Garmin showed a reasonable rate of knots till Wozz and Rocket shot past ('aint reality cruel!)  Kreeky took charge and rove long to the quarter-horse stud while we watched the Rocket and Wozz procession hurtle to the horizon.  With a bit of breath back I could face the front when Kreeky called it quits, but that final 2k of River Rd looked way longer from the drivers seat.  Kreeky was kind in slowly building speed as he captained in Coach Rd so my rubber legs could catch his wheel, another pair of lights now following keeping us both keen.  Pistol and Col made good ground and passed us nearing Channel Rd, though we'd pegged them back when they were delayed at the highway.  I took a turn for Krreky to compose himself, the draft from Col and Pistol, even from 10 metres back, too hard to resist.  We had not protest to being towed.  Col's slightly subdued speed to Pistol's pace made it possible.  With 3k's of respite, PistolPete had plenty of wattage to drive west on Old Dookie Rd, Col appeared to struggle catching his wheel so Kreeky and I moved forward to donate a draft. You wouldn't think Pistol's fate was on a knife-edge just 16 weeks ago, his pace possessed to Central Ave before relinquishing the lead.  Kreeky offered his services to drag us back to town, though Col and Pete hung back till passing when we'd cleared the roundabout.            

8/9 Liberating legs. 

Had the tide finally turned? Tuesday's temperature gave a hint the season had swung, 13 degrees had liberated legs from the layers after 13 weeks of insulation, even finger-less gloves came out of retirement. (caution kept the base layer and arm-warmers on though.  I don't trust the season yet!) Sanity dictated a different direction, that same-old same-old circuit would cost me a fortune in therapy!

A 14k drive out Barmah Rd toward Bubartha almost into a nasty northeaster (19-26 km/h) would be a precursor to pain headed east to Tally.  I'd occupied the left 700 mm of tarmac when a truck performed a master class pass as I passed Zeerust Rd, plenty of space given, indicators right then left and wasn't that drag a delight! ; how pleasant it is to deal with a professional rather than the brain dead "pay-rego-ya-bastard" fraternity.   After a 20 minute slog, the optimist within turned me a bit early into what I thought was Bowey Rd, but it was a road too early, turning to gravel. Bit further old boy.    Two k's onward found the right way toward Tally, almost a mountain stage in the first 3k with ups and downs of a dizzying 3 metres elevation.   Hors catagorie 'round here!   The tarmac flattened beyond Zeerust Church Rd but it was exposed to that northeaster, a scarlet horizon a good distraction to the distress of maintaining 30 k's per hour. Those few k's to Tallygaroopna dragged on and on, but perseverance paid off as the little township of 579 grew large. 

There's something odd in the water here, cows have stripes.  The highway was sparse but my aim was further east on Victoria Rd, a route I was beginning to regret. That wind wasn't waning. Legs and lungs were.  10 minutes of torture to reach Katamatite Rd seemed much longer, maybe because a tailwind was waiting to carry me back home, the salvation in a line of trees stretched south west just that little bit further ahead.   30k's of pain to get 18k's of pleasure ; I'd messed up my mathematics somewhat.

  Wind will be September's curse, better get accustomed to it, or stay in bed! The chain made mates with the 14 sprocket and legs were finally in a happy place, 12k's to Congupna on the thinning edge of the road while commuting traffic were generous with their space. (I was mindful mind you of being sandwiched between southbound and northbound crossing paths)   Beyond Congupna a real emergency lane as smooth as Boof's head made the 5k home a fitting finale.

9/9  A change of course.

In a complete about face, spring winds turned to south southwest for Wednesday, so the commute to the car park was cruel.   I don't recall pouring premium unleaded on my porridge 'cause the old engine managed the labor fairly well.  I even arrived early.  Predictably, Bruce, Boof, GreatScottSteve and Kreeky rolled in, but odd numbers put pairing in a pickle.  Bruce and Boof were better matched so once they'd rolled away I took turn one with GreatScottSteve and Kreeky (responsibly distanced) behind. 

Mitchell Rd roadworks had returned us to the ye olde Channel-Boundary-Ford-Wanganui course, the slick, smooth surface of Channel Rd's hot mix making a svelte start to Kensington's roundabout, real wattage wanted for the next 2k to the truck route.  Again, the first shift's the longest!   The old engine ran ok to Doyles, handing over to GreatScottSteve to do leg 2 to Orrvale Rd (ahh, the memories recalled of the shifts of old).   Kreeky captaining the ChaCha leg made me realize I'd get the head-wind in Central Ave. HTFU Foss, it's only 600 metres of masochism! Good grief, I was still running on all cylinders on the east swing toward the cypress trees so the rest of the shift was almost cruisy.  GreatScottSteve took on the turn to Boundary Rd preserving prior pace, the recovery sitting a few metres back not the best recipe for respite.  All in the cause for conformity.  Kreeky called directions as this circuit was foreign to GreatScottSteve, and that got me thinking how quickly he's risen the ranks from newbie to knocking on division 1's door.  Boundary Rd was bliss, that south southwester sprinting our speed north though Bruce and Boof's tail-lights were just dots on the horizon.  A few other bikes had paired to push south, the ever earlier light almost allowing an i.d.    I was given a leadership role over the highway and really lapped up that breeze at the backside, just lovin' the high 30's with the ticker settled in the low 140's (usually right on the red-line)   Let's not get too greedy with that tail-wind Foss.  

I elbowed GreatScottSteve to the front as we crossed Old Dookie Rd, retiring rearward as Kreeky confirmed the course to town for the sake of GreatScottSteve.  Duty called on me again as we swung west into Lemnos-Cosgrove and I wasn't looking forward to the west bit of the south southwester.  Well, surprise again, I managed a satisfactory speed.  I felt a tad cocky making good pace, I hadn't felt this form in a long time, and wasn't sure where it had come from.  Perseverance?  Time into the wind?  Plenty of k's?  Premium unleaded maybe?  Wish I knew really, I'd buy a bucket full! Almost tempted to do a double shift, but reality suggested I give in while the going was good, reality would probably bite me soon enough.  Coggo and Belly appeared in the early light tapping east as GreatScottSteve took us to Lemnos North Rd, then Kreeky headed the hurry to Grahamvale.  Work at the front was due again and shelter was there to help, a pleasing push to get to Verney but Kreeky and GreatScottSteve played the caution card for a car approaching the roundabout.  I slowed to keep us at close (but conformed) quarters, the ease making an extended drive to Numurkah Rd possible.  GreatScottSteve took on Wanganui Rd, Kreeky left to draw the short straw of Rudd Rd's headwind.  Lucky me scored the shielded Boulevard to finish.

11/9 Girls and boys playing chasey.

Insomnia had me ready to ride early Friday, the chance to commute calmly to the car park savored as a treat.  Tina, Joe (not Tony), Kel and Kreeky arrived, pairing posing a problem again with an odd one out.  Kel and Tina played the bait disappearing into Channel Rd, Joe (not Tony) and Kreeky in pursuit a half dozen moments later as I fumbled a foot to engage in a cleat.  That scored me a sprint to catch  the draft at a Covid conforming distance.  The northeaster wasn't wearing down Tina or Kel taking turns at the front along Channel's 8 k's, Joe (not Tony) and Kreeky (a gap back) with just a hint of help from their draft.  That perfect pace (bang on my aerobic limit) continued, Kel swapping with Tina and Kreeky taking over from Joe, so I had breaths to spare arriving at Boundary Rd.  We'd been treated to a tow all the way to the fig farm, a sense I was turning into a wheel-sucker prompted me to the front for a contribution.  That wind wasn't brutal but it felt like 2 clicks of the handbrake on speed. 

I was a bit optimistic to cruise to New Dookie Rd, the throttle was nearly wide open to get there.  Joe (not Tony) took the lead to Lemnos-Cosgrove Rd, not quite positioned to shelter those behind but I guess reading the breeze will be a skill tuned with time.  And that breeze was shifting.   Kreeky had the drivers seat for the west way to town, the now east northeaster almost directly at our backs to hurry us home.  Kreeky had read it perfectly, poised up the road a fraction to counter the fraction of northerly.  Enthusiasm (turned on by the tail-wind?) drove him to Lemnos North Rd, handing me the reigns to reach Grahamvale Rd.  Kel and Tina had eyes on a short-cut to coffee via Verney, so safety in numbers turned all south (somewhat separately).    Oh, for the bonding of the bunch.  Sometime soon?

This week 259 km      YTD 7,399 km    

Compensation for k's.

 Post #562

29/8  Dookie's drawcard.

I'd pay a price riding into that west northwester, but Dookie's scenery would pay me back (and a forecast northeaster would ease the effort home).  Well, fingers crossed.  (Dookie's reputation for a headwind home is hard to ignore)  Westbound on the Midland was a road less traveled and a safe bet with covid's constrictions on traffic and the highway's wide emergency lane to use, though the gravel thrown from tyres tread, D shackles, bungee straps, the ubiquitous McDonalds packaging and the odd bolt and sock (?) makes for intense chicane training in the pre-dawn light.  Over the main eastern channel I chose the line a left wheel of a truck would track, cleaner and smoother than the neglected shoulder (but a sharp eye and ear open for traffic behind). 

Resigning myself to accept 30 k's in the hour took a while, the wind wasn't allowing any segment successes and some strength was being banked for the humble metres up Mt. Major and the way home.  Foss is flat-lander after all.  

Light filled the sky quickly, scenic fields of canola patch-worked around the mount were a visual distraction to my labored (and lame) attempt at elevation.  The ride's reward was an orange sun piercing the fog that laid in the lowlands, speed sinking on that oh so subtle climb toward Tallis vineyard.  But that vista behind was worth the work.  A pause to picture and preserve for prosperity (almost impossible in a bunch) was taken, the downhill toward Dookie's cemetery got the speed out of snail-like specification but a little rise on the Devenish-Dookie Rd quickly kerbed the enthusiasm.  The 328 of Dookie hadn't stirred and it's streets are all but empty anyway, so the downhill k's to Cosgrove were savored before the 25 flat ones to endure homeward.  

The help promised by the forecast northeaster was running late (my reason for a pedestrian pace) so I settled into a sustainable rhythm, uploading the blue sky, the canola's fragrance, the birds twitters, the patchwork of coloured fields spread across Goulburn's valley, soaking up a slowly warming atmosphere.  And some remain digitally delusioned, glued to Zwift!  Is reality that tough?  Maybe it's the need to ride on a pair of glowing pink wheels?   

Two thin silhouettes and their headlights on the quarry's horizon drew near, Boof and Bruce appearing on their path to Dookie while I was magnetised west toward town and caffeine.  Now I was beyond the ritual rides of 40k, protests from the posterior deemed a trial separation from the Fizik, how quickly the aches and pains amplify beyond the routine.  As winter fades (hey, don't quote me on that!) and a desire for distance grows, a journey beyond the comfort zone is probably quite timely.  New Dookie Rd straightens at Quarry Rd to labor it's 15k length back to town, thankfully a hint of northeaster had turned up to build a bit of tempo.  

Whack!  10 seconds later, whack again!  Oh yeah, the magpies are back.  A quiet chuckle to self as the the third strike whacked again, I watched the shadow of my feathered foe peel off and prepare for the next bombing.  At least he wasn't the claw-the-helmet-and-peck-your-ear variety.  The fourth hit was a lame one to see me on my way but eyes needed to focus for those little bitumen mountains formed when shifting ground and heavy vehicles pimple the tarmac. A better bet to get you horizontal than any magpie! The aim to town needed a change of scenery, Boundary Rd was boring so Central Ave was the target to steer south and break the straight line fever.  Old Dookie Rd's familiarity had familiar faces on it, Tina tapping homeward and Cats (still exempt from distancing?) heading outward while I was well into auto pilot, fixed on a long black and raisin toast to compensate for  the k's.  The sun warmed the back and coffee warmed the internals at The Butter Factory, a chance chat with Dalts,  TrekTrev and Superman  supplementing some social stuff after a silent 80k. 

31/8  Chocolate cake for breakfast.

I wrestled with the "go-solo-'cause-I-can't-keep-up" vs the "harden-up-they-won't-kill-you" arguments en-route to the car park on Monday, the concrete option chosen when push-came-to-shove arriving at the shop at 5:38.  Bruce and GreatScottSteve had converged too, the consensus that GreatScottSteve and I set sail and Bruce would chase if nobody else arrived.  I took the first turn in the hope of setting Steve the tone (way less than supersonic!), aiming at reaching Adams Rd at first, but Rule #5 said Sanctuary's roundabout would be doing a decent turn.  That west southwester wasn't so brutal.  Kreeky was touring north so Bruce would have a playmate in his pursuit, I'd got to the end of my effort at the roundabout so urged GreatScottSteve to the front with an elbow.  

I'd relaxed a bit in his tow, noting he'd preserved my prior pace and extended his turn to Mitchell Rd, though with those calves like Colbrelli's he must have been at an idle.  That wind helped my contribution to Central Kialla, that previous ponder about keeping up had been erased and replaced with smoothing the rhythm.  GreatScottSteve did the north stretch to River Rd while my head prepared for the next shift, the headlights of Bruce and Kreeky steadily gaining ground.  I'd lucked that tail-wind again for the 2k turn to River Rd's bridge, focusing thoughts on the moment rather than what the work would be west back to town. Voices of Bruce and Kreeky grew gradually louder.  GreatScottSteve took the reins at the bridge and settled in for the long haul, sitting second wheel wasn't such a chore so long as that wind worked it's magic. Well rested when I was promoted to the front in Coach Rd, the drive to the bridges bordered on respectable, mind you I had help from the trees with shelter from the side wind.  Bruce and Kreeky took the lead (maybe felt guilty?) so sitting in their wake a few metres behind slackened the stress, Bruce raising the bar a fraction with his hurry to the highway.  

Kreeky's contribution carried us to Old Dookie Rd, what the wind would do to us we would soon discover.  Two bikes ahead tempted Bruce to keep the pace keen, the effort escalating while Steve and I tried to keep a distance in covid compliance.  Vince and The Rabbit were caught at School Rd and jumped on the back for a free tow home, Kreeky doing the honors of final shift as the sun lit the sky just that bit earlier.  PistolPete, TheGodfather, Kel, Bo, Tina, Boof,  Wozza and Rocket congregated at The Butter Factory, Col and Joe (not Tony) arriving in other transport to collectively celebrate Chris' birthday.  Thou shalt honor the hand that crafts the coffee! 

1/9  AtaptoTat'nback.

A different course was craved on Tuesday, spring had sprung and set an inspiring 0 degrees on the gauge but that same old circuit had all the appeal of a chat with Sly.  Would I make it to Tat and back before work's time clock tolled?  

Doubting Thomas reckoned I had a few shortcut options if the curse of the clock shortened the course, so I set sail west with a Tat township target to inspire an effort.  September has a reputation for wind so luck was on my side giving me calm instead.  Down the empty Murchison Rd in search of Ferguson Rd through a thin fog finally found the west way, a moon set ahead and a sun up behind giving me views front and back with a soundtrack from the kookaburra's cackling (at my velocity?) from the orchards.  Speed was almost acceptable considering there's no rest riding solo.  

Only a handful of cars were headed my way most respectfully distanced, but one showed his half-wit credentials squeezing close by with a blast of the horn.  It must be difficult to use the 9 metre width of an empty road when I occupied less than the left metre.  (Oh, I just realised, breathing and driving would have been at full mental capacity)    With my plan of 45 minutes out and 45 minutes back to stay on agenda, touring into Tat's township 10 minutes ahead of plan kept things comfortable.   A magic morning brewed as orange on the horizon lit the fog in the fields and headed north on Dhurringile Rd it got better (ignoring the mercury dropped to -0.4).   The lighter it looked the later it felt, so that kept the pace percolating.   The highway home had some snap, crackle and pop of gravel in the emergency lane and the tactile edge-lining to keep those wrapped in motorized tin at more than arms length, plenty to view now that light filled the surrounds and the sun readied to rise.  Commuting traffic was filling the roads so the causeway path to town lowered the risk assessment, back home on agenda at the stroke of 7.  

2/9  Welcoming wind?

I told 'ya September would bring the wind with it!  And what a welcome it was, 30k's worth of northeaster.  We'd suffered winter's 12 weeks of chill, now to suffer the wind!  (that'll keep the hibernators hiding till mid October)  A quiet commute to the car park (anyone got a '57 right hand knee with low k's for sale?) found Bruce, GreatScottSteve, Kreeky, Boof and Joe (not Tony) ready to pair.  I joined Joe (not Tony) as Boof and Kreeky set off south, GreatScottSteve and Bruce behind to keep us honest.  Ahead was 6k of tail-wind pleasure to Mitchell Rd, 18k's of pain all the way to Old Dookie Rd for 6k's of help home.  We were doing it the hard way.  Joe (not Tony) did his duty to Adams Rd as an opening salvo, my response to take us to the truck route.  Joe's shift to Mitchell didn't come with the drowning he delivered last week, the Avanti now sparkling instead of soaked in sealant.  Our honeymoon was over headed east, I'd pegged back the pace a couple of clicks in expectation of effort but found that a bit too optimistic soon after. 

Bruce and GreatScottSteve took the reigns in Central Kialla Rd and we let a gap open in covid conformity but their pace was 10% keener anyway.  Joe (not Tony) labored to River Rd,  Bruce and GreatScottSteve slowing to wait, but we'd urged them onward, happy to suffer at our own speed.  I handed the helm to Joe at the bridge but by the dip he was in struggle street again, so I assumed the role of martyr to finish off River Rd.  Bruce and GreatScottSteve's tail-lights had drawn distant, the work still into the wind on Coach Rd for Joe (not Tony) while I had a wee rest at the rear.  By the Broken bridges his will was there but the wattage wasn't, so it was my turn to the highway.  At least he's out having a go, unlike a nameless few!  Knowing relief was just 4k's away probably drove Joe (not Tony) to the front again, a good effort to reach the fig farm before handing over the hurt.  Relief welcomed us in Old Dookie Rd for the luxury of a tail-wind to town, so of course speed accompanied it, sharing the lead (and the labor) back to the Butter Factory. 

4/9  Kreeky and rusty.

Pairing a partner for this now ritual weekday paced punishment is the proverbial "box-o-chocolates", you'll never know who'll you'll get at the shop (or Sanctuary's roundabout).  For a moment I thought I'd be riding solo arriving at the roundabout at 5:33, in fact I'd timed it perfectly as Kreeky arrived a moment later.  (Pistol and Kel, Bo and The Godfather teamed up soon after).  Kreeky's kind enough not to cook me and given my rusty state, I was comfortable to lead the warm-up to the truck route and then the leg to Mitchell Rd.  Opening pace wasn't too bad.    I couldn't detect any wind so that meant it was probably at my back and would taunt me later!  So soon the heart-rate jumped into zone 4 and for a moment approached zone 5 when a rabbit's random run looked like it would cross our path, so an ease of speed (just a fraction) meant I'd make it to Mitchell Rd.  It felt like Christmas to get Kreeky's tow to Central Kialla.  My next turn to River Rd felt uphill, assuming (correctly) a breeze was the handbrake I re-calibrated the cadence to go the distance.  Kreeky confirmed that "pedaling through porridge" feeling so my sense of inadequacy quickly faded.  His smooth speed, characteristically with the right knee at 4 degrees toe out (we all have our certain sit) got me to the bridge in a better breathing condition, and out of that breeze, with the downhill off the bridge and under the cover of trees allowed me to aim a little further than the traditional Trevaskis Rd target. Kreeky's response was to polish off River Rd but driving into that wind on Coach Rd wasn't on my wish list. Luck had it that some kind soul had pulled the plug on the breeze, the smooth tarmac to the Broken bridges music under the Michelin's. 

The crazy notion that I could carry on to the highway was soon overuled by common sense, handing the lead to Kreeky to drag me to the pub.  Pairs of Cats and Goats spun south while I called on uncooperative legs to reach the fig farm.  They stopped cooperating 500 metres shy.  (The further you go, the shorter the turns, the longer the recovery).  Kreeky came to the rescue to reach Old Dookie Rd, the west way home a little easier possibly knowing the hurt was nearly over. We'd managed to keep a pair of following lights at a distance, the final turns to town emptying the energy reserves.

This week  254 km    YTD 7,140 km