2020 : well, that was different!

 Post #578

There was a sluggish start to the year as nine ribs repaired, not till early February did wheels get rolling on a rather rusty return to the world on two wheels.  Finding fitness again would take time.  Barely five weeks into the groove and Covid called it's distancing thing, suddenly we were solo for the want of restrictions. Many couldn't cope with that solitary confinement, hurrying their hibernation for winter.  I'd actually embraced the solo stuff, as a better road to recovery and a chance to explore new courses.  The social deprivation was difficult though.  Restrictions lifted in May though groups were capped to ten and this set an almost permanent pattern of divisions within the group.  Segregation by speed if you like.  Barely a week later we witnessed a watershed moment, PistolPete's collapse (at speed) with an aneurysm (16/5) highlighted the tenuous grip we all have on life.  Bunch bonding came quickly under the spotlight.  Team spirit found new depths.  Riding solo suddenly felt risky. 

The swift, the slow and the supersonic all formed factions (and a new impetus), big bunches cast into the history books to favor more evenly matched and compact crews.  All the better for fitness and motivation I reckon.  It solved that great divide of the swift and the struggling in one bunch.  Like years gone by, the hardcore few soldiered on through winter; there were 34 days of 3 degrees or below (27 last year) to test the resolve, while others chose hibernation instead (only to face that long labored comeback when Spring arrived....or when Spring was nearly over....or Summer got going...or Christmas came close! They may find form by Autumn's end!)

Fluro was the fashion with an all new Couldabeens kit  (kudos to Kel and the Knights of Suburbia to inject class into the crew).  Another lock-down early August sent us solo again but mid September came and bunches of 10 were kosher again, but none of the Spring events that kick-start the warmer weather could happen.

If it wasn't one of the 63 solo spins, I divided my time between Couldabeens and Goats (prevents wearing out a welcome and put a little variety into the week) and tapped a bit of foreign soil (Beach Road, Ballarat, Castlemaine and western Gippsland) to stir up the scenery.  The Baum turned 5 and started clocking into the 70,000's, the usual 6 tyres, 3 chains and a bit of bar-tape (the only casualty from the crash) was modest maintenance I reckon.  Fuel for the tank to cover the 11,632 km was costly though ; it took 232,753 calories to do it!   That's 423 Big Mac's worth ($2,707!)  The car is cheaper to run!      

I'll remember 2020 for Tina's massive k's, the rise and rise of Rocket, the amazing comebacks of PistolPete and Liam, and the emergence of GreatScottSteve, Didak and in recent weeks, Emil.  Apart from the challenges of face-masks, lock-downs, suffering solo's, a Covid swab up the nostrils and trying to keep up with the young ones, it was a great year of finding fitness, fostering friendships and fast laps.  Next year is bound to be better!  Thanks for your kudos and continued views (100,000+) of all this blurb on the blog.  Should I continue? 

Stay safe, stay upright, reflect on Rule #5.  See you out the road somewhere!  

Delivering dividends.

Post #577

19/12  The forsaken few.

The shop bunch has seemed that "rung to high" since dragging me 'round to an 8th overall a few weeks ago, so I settled (again) for the Sanctuary roundabout crew as Saturday's spin.  A grand total of four fronted!  (All aboard a sinking ship?)  It would be a sentence of hard labor to work the 55k lap with just a few but a challenge into the bargain, holding off the shop bunch starting 3 k's behind.  The last minute arrival of The Godfather was a godsend, 20% less labor for all!  PistolPete's performance almost always puts him to front the first shift, today's gradually strengthening southwester his job description to warm us up to Mitchell Rd.  

8 degrees and 'feels like 5' made sure of the motivation and me at 3rd wheel behind Bo made sure I wasn't about to thrash a cold engine. The Godfather's tardiness tagged him onto the rear behind Emil, back for a repeat prescription of last Saturday's medicine.  This would be a task of tempo to keep the shop squad behind us.   The relief to turn out of that wind into Mitchell Rd was calming, though Pistol set a slightly higher bar toward Central Kialla to keep us from softening.  The feeling that long drives would be de rigeur didn't help my doubts of making a worthwhile contribution.   On past performances Bo wasn't about to do a turn of biblical proportions so his elbow shown reaching River Rd was no surprise.   I'd at least have prevailing winds to aim at the bridge.  A kilometre below prior pace was all that this old engine could muster, the head hand-braking any hurry when the rest of the lap was considered, so despite the urge to give more toward the dip, Emil was put in charge.  Legs hollered mercy to catch the tail.  

Finding that sweet spot of the draft had me on the last 100 mm of River Rd's tarmac as the sun back-lit Emil's charge east, ever so slowly the heart rate falling from the heavens to convince my head I'd be capable to captain again.  But a bit later..... more oxygen was needed first.  Emil was doing a "Kreeky" ; that determined perch aboard the La Pierre had Coach Rd marked as his target.  The rooster crowed The Godfather to the front as wheels steered north, but wind direction wasn't his honors subject as the rear almost brushed the mailboxes on the wrong side of Coach Rd.  Bo bellowed the "Down the road!" directive but defiance (and deafness?) set The Godfather's position in concrete.  He was out to prove something.  Those subtle surges in speed went on and over the bridges, crossed Channel Rd and continued to the highway.  And he wasn't done yet!  Boundary Rd was on the agenda too.  We were lucky that traffic was rare ; we'd taken up most of the tarmac but Emil knew the real role of caboose in keeping an eye rearward (headlights of the shop squad were just specs on the horizon behind)   Finally at Old Dookie Rd, The Godfather relinquished the lead, PistolPete now back in command to take us to the Toaster.  The effort eased getting back into that smooth groove of Pistol's pace despite the Garmin's growing numbers.  Concentration could relax a little and legs labored less, a little holiday for the heart-rate too if I wasn't imagining it.   

Bo was on duty to lead us to Pine Lodge's church but became a little possessive of the drivers seat to extend his stay till Lemnos-Cosgrove Rd.  It's the want of a tail-wind specialist I guess!  So I was first to suffer the southwester for the path back to town.  Not quite a position of privilege.  The pace wasn't too bad if I kept my head down, passing Woolshed Rd and making it to Pine Lodge Creek before leaving the labor to younger ones.  Emil's long shift to Lemnos North Rd was perfect respite even if it did humble my hurry.  A peek rearward spied the swift squad still some distance behind.  The Godfather led us into Ford Rd and Pistol drew us into suburbia, would Bo do the business for Wanganui Rd's length? ('cause I was running near to empty)   He did tow us the 2800 metres to Mt. Wanganui at a speed just shy of a thrashing so something remained as I was given the front seat into Rudd Rd.  That wind made hard work to reach the cemetery, convincing self to call Canterbury roundabout the conclusion, but out of that SSW'er and onto the Boulevard inspired extra effort.  (a pat on selfs' back making it the extra 2k to Tarcoola)   I was using energy not even eaten yet as Emil pumped up the pace toward the Butter Factory, the real relief coming as a traffic light finally gave us rest.   Karma, invoicing software and bedside manner made the breakfast conversation with the pedestrian peloton (Jen, Kel, Sim and Cate) joining in. 

21/12  The 5:40 express.

Throwing a leg over the bike 3 minutes earlier took the pressure off getting to the grid.  Even the wind had taken a day off to assist the 10k commute.  A slow roll along Sanctuary Drive found Kreeky, Bo, Kel, Tina, Col, Joe (not Tony), PistolPete and The Godfather lusting a lap, Kel the Cheshire cat aboard a new Specialized. Nice paint job!   I'd booked my berth at 7th wheel, a mild dose of Monday-itis needing several minutes of deliberation before expending effort at the front.  Joe (not Tony) behind me had suffered the dreaded adhesive doona syndrome!   

Yeah, you guessed it ; PistolPete brought us up to pace to Mitchell Rd, Col keeping heads down and cadence up to Central Kialla.  Despite the lack of wind, there was a sensation of pushing through porridge, no matter what direction we took (or was that just a side effect of Monday-itis?)  Kel steered the shiny silver / black Specialized toward River Rd, smoothness still her trademark no matter what the marque she was aboard.  Tina swung her S Works toward the bridge, Kreeky settling in for the long drive when he was given the leading role.   That atmosphere must have been porridge-like 'cause Kreeky handed Bo the helm at the quarter horse stud (most un-Kreeky like!)  Vince and The Rabbit had hitched a ride while I'd readied my head for hurt at the front in Coach Rd, but Bo had hold of the reigns firmly, this was the Bo of old on his mission of long labor.  It's ok for these young 40 something's to show their superior speed but I was suffering 2nd wheel syndrome beyond the Broken bridges.  

Facing the front over the highway, the hurry went fairly well, trying to make it look easy as the Cats spun south was another matter!  Doing the distance to Old Dookie Rd was out of the question as the engine rooms' buzzers and warning lights went off nearing the fig farm, Joe (not Tony) given the task to get us there but he'd pulled the pin just 200 metres later. The Godfather rose to the occasion to open the westward account, knowing that all this effort would be over in 15 minutes still didn't help my hammered legs.  Big engines were due to drive soon, so from somewhere I found a little more wattage to keep up. The pressure was on not to let a gap open, there was not a lot left in the tank to chase and those behind are probably depending on me to hold that wheel ahead.  Pistol was back on the front and forged fast to the truck route, the bigger task was to stay with Col's swift shift to SPC.....and beyond to the Butter Factory! Coffee called!

22/12  #9 & #5

Only when all kitted up, ready to roll and out the door did I see the damp road and random spits from the sky.  Rule #9 said continue and can you ever get enough of Rule #5?  A westerly tempted a spin out Ford Rd, little rooster-tails of water polka-dotting my view and making the bike look rather second-hand.   It was overdue for a bath anyway.  The ego had a good workout on Lemnos-Cosgrove Rd, mid to high 30's oh so easy toward Boundary Rd but there's always a price to pay for pleasure isn't there?  Pain for the return to town.  Southbound on Boundary wasn't so taxing and surprisingly, I wasn't overwhelmed with the urge to chew bar-tape into the wind on New Dookie Rd.  Offloading 5kg of ballast might just be delivering dividends.    Thoughts had turned to who may front Friars on this damp day, a short-cut already mapped in my mind for that (certain?) chance of finding the Goat grid empty.   

Into the slippery, shiny streets of town a lone lap looked more likely but hallelujah!, here was Hommie the only Goat with guts at the grid (or was he hoping he'd be the single soul and could quietly slip back home?)   Waiting for others seemed futile, but honor the start-time we did, setting east at 6 to ride an Old Dookie - Boundary - Channel  circuit under the low attendance circumstances.   Hommie headed a hurry through the streets but I played the caution card on corners ; it's that two thumb-nails of traction  thing that was concerning ; and I've broken enough bones for the year!  Hommie hurtled into SPC's roundabout but pushed the W(ab)=Y(a)+Y(b)-Y(ab) formula of traction and went hurriedly horizontal.  A bit of skin off, but nothing busted, except his pride.   (The tarmac worn super smooth from turning trucks and I'd say a fair dose of ripe fruit spillage made it a slippery character)  Up and away again, Hommie led the labor toward Dobson's bridge, no argument from me with the tailwind at our tails, a minute or two for rest and recharge for facing the music back to town fairly soon.  I'd presumed Hommie'd had enough with his early slow for Central Ave, a red led ahead the bait for me to do the captain thing to Boundary Rd (passing some guy who turned down the invite to jump aboard).  The side wind southbound prepared us for punishment to come, turns swapping each k or so to wear the wattage evenly.  Into Channel Rd and into the business bit of the ride, Hommie's speed was steadily sinking on his shift to the S bend ; and doesn't that give a new lease on labor when you find your partner in pace is cooked.  A bit of one-upmanship in the competitive corner of the cranium.  I took pity on him to the cypress trees (if only to recharge for the ChaCha), the wind unrelenting as his speed sank again toward the Kinder.  I had quite a push to reach Orrvale Rd then respite till the truck route, the last 2k taken into town turning legs to licorice. 

23/12 Partners in pain.

That last moment discovery of a flat tyre (isn't it always the back one) shifted me into top gear early, there's not a lot of free time to fix things when the ride starts at stupid o'clock!  I'd made the Emil rendevous a minute late but the bonus was 'sprinting out of the blocks' had primed me for pace.   That 20 km/h southwester to push into was barely a breeze!  Memory struggles to recall the last time riding with Temple, so finding him en-route to Sanctuary was a surprise.  Kreeky, The Godfather, Tina, Bo, Kel and Col formed for the 5:40 off and, sorry to sound like a broken record, PistolPete led the line south to Mitchell Rd.  Without any manoeuvring, I'd lined up at 3rd wheel today and, knowing Kreeky wouldn't cook me, sat for my number to be drawn at the turn north to River Rd.  The southwester would help my hurry.  Finding the right rpm needs the right sprocket, too big and legs hit the rev-limiter, too small and the legs burn under the load.  

(Just one tooth makes or breaks it sometimes).  The 16 was sweet for the task to make my drive to River Rd, handing Emil the reigns for his shift east (hoping heroics weren't on his agenda).  Temple took over at the Angora farm and expectations weren't too high ; he's been a long time in recovery from injuries so speed may not be his forte.  Wrong!  Into the 40's had heads lowered in his wake, and there's not a lot to draft from in that new aerodynamic profile.  Kel sped the last 2k to Coach Rd with Tina in tow behind, Vince and the Rabbit remaining elusive in the distance ahead (reckon they leave earlier  just to bait us?)  Tina did her duty to the bridges, Bo next in line to drive to the highway but extended his shift along Boundary to prove something. Maybe to give The Godfather the grief of the west southwester on Old Dookie Rd?   Grief he got and persistence he paid to reach School Rd, Col next to suffer the wind dragging us to Central Ave.  As sure as PistolPete drives the first turn he seems to score the last shift into town too, but when wind has little or no effect on his tempo, that's the role for him!  I wearing a little thin at 3rd wheel so was nearly at the red-line when Kreeky did the swift spin to SPC, what luck the traffic lights took pity to halt us for an upload of more oxygen.  

24/12  A Coulda's Christmas cruise.

Grumpy put the call out and Kel made it happen ; a gathering of the Couldabeens clans (from the Pro-Elite down to the Wannabee's) rostered on for Christmas Eve.  A Toaster lap, capped at 35 km/h to satisfy the slower (and rest the rapid) was almost like saying free beer!  A big A-Mart grid had some kitted in the Christmas spirit, others just satisfied to socialize.   The 6am start revived the ancient art of a two row formation to rotate turns anti-clockwise, some quick to join the rear to avoid an early shift.  Trav's challenge to roll-call a big bunch was a test for my recall, but (deep breath) here goes ; Col, Kreeky, Not-so-RetiredTrev, Tommygun, Kel, BeerMat, Molly, SuperMario, Bo, Tina, WhisperingJack, Trav, Kenworth, Jase, GiantAndy, Rocket, Lance, Nev, Bruce, PistolPete, Didak, Shorty, BamBam, Grumpy, Superman, The Godfather and guests Kieran and Jack (all of 13 years old).   

I needed to turn back several chapters of the history book to remember the last ride of two rows, chat bouncing left to right and a heart rate hardly over the 120's, I'd forgotten how relaxing a ride could be!  It had been many moons since seeing a few of these faces on bikes too, Kenworth, BamBam and WhisperingJack to name a few, but such is the evolution of a big bunch as time fosters fitness (or flattens it!)  Didak punctured like a pop-gun in Mitchell Rd, a tyre well past the use-by date unable to withstand a small stone.  Several social packs formed at the roadside while repairs (and sledges) were underway, some concerned the delay may cause that cap on speed to be thrown out.  

On the move again, over the highway and barely back up to cruising speed, Didak's paper-thin tyre had given up holding it's breath and dragged us to another halt.  The fix was futile apparently so the bunch was beckoned onward (The Godfather going on a spare tyre rescue), Mitchell Rd's length the chosen route (another memory lane revisited).   I'd been placed between young Jack and Lenny in the reshuffle, Rocket showing remarkable restraint at the front to stay under the limit.   The stars had aligned to gift me a tail-wind for my turn at One Tree Dam shared with young Jack then Lenny to the highway, pleasant to be at the front setting the speed rather than suffering the ripple effect at the rear (big waves at the back of a big bunch)   Back into the crowd of the drafted, and likely to stay that way with so many yet to serve their time at the business end, aquaintances were rekindled with riders once part of those big pre-Covid Saturday bunches.  

Lynda had delivered Didak and The Godfather ahead of the bunch to rejoin.    PistolPete's hat, Bo's big beard, The Godfather's glitter and Grumpy's baubles added the festive flavor while speed stayed somewhere near the limit promised......until headed homeward on Lemnos-Cosgrove Rd.  Shifts shortened (subject to fitness) as speed steadily climbed, hats off to the patient garbage truck driver passing courteously on what must have looked like a Brown's cows bunch scattered in search of a decent tow.    The sprint was suppressed in Wanganui Rd ('tis the season to be jolly.....kind to those on the limit), a cruise along the Boulevard most un-characteristic.  But time turned me homeward shy of a coffee and Christmas conversation, some suckers happened to be rostered on today!

This week 267 km     YTD  11,382 km           

                   

Erythropoietin encrusted Weet-Bix.

 Post #576

12/12  Saturday sustenance.

Our paths had crossed by chance several times in recent weeks, he knew me but my recall was struggling till a mention of a very windy Tat200 back in 2018.  In a flash, Emil's name rang true to the La Pierre he was aboard.  A spy on Strava saw his solo habits and a suitably handy wattage with it, so I extended him an invite to take a spin with the Saturday squad, taking a punt he'd fit in.  Bo, Col, PistolPete, Tina, Kreeky and Molly converged on Sanctuary's roundabout and with introductions done, Pistol set the speed south.  The somewhat anti-social single filed ritual began again.   The babble would have to wait till breakfast.  Molly sat second wheel and for a moment I thought she was going to brave the front but her retreat when Pete finished his shift said it wasn't to be today.  Tina fronted in Mitchell Rd but faced a brewing northeaster.  The body language spoke volumes of what we about to face.  A little shy of Euroa Rd, Tina had had enough but nobody was using a tape measure, each does what they can in this game.   

Bo polished off the remainder of Mitchell as a warm up to his 2k drive north to River Rd. Sun-up had stirred Col to labor long on an eastward mission to the Angora farm, Kreeky similarly inspired to head the charge to Coach Rd, but that was just the intro to his determined drive north on Coach Rd.  I don't think its a I-can-go-further-than-you thing, there's just an excess of fitness to burn off and the willingness to reward a reprieve to those who've yet to face the front. Still at it at the Broken bridges, Kreeky soldiered on to the highway before he sought refuge at the rear.  Big shifts become infectious and my goal shifted further north, Old Dookie Rd was now my target, aiming to pace rather than pickle myself to get there (aided by the roadside trees lending a little shelter from that building breeze).  Emil impressed with his maiden shift, a smooth spin to the Toaster earning an elephant stamp for preserving pace, kudos rightly deserved when he retired for PistolPete to take on the north assault to Lemnos-Cosgrove Rd.  

The strength of that northeaster wasn't fully realized till turning west toward Shepp, don't you just love that serenity with the wind behind, the ease of turning those cranks and the unusual tranquility of a group without The Godfather! Tina tapped her turn of tempo to the kennels, Bo diplomatically driving a similar pace long to Lemnos North Rd.  Col dragged us up to speed in Ford Rd just as the shop squad of 12 overtook on their mission to make breakfast an early one, so of course we hitched a ride to Grahamvale Rd in their wake.  The wish to keep our crew as a congregation and not to be scattered o.t.a. eased the pace coming into suburbia, Col still driving the train to the highway for Kreeky to captain into Wanganui Rd.  Knocking on 40's door past DECA at second wheel, I'd noticed just 3 shadows cast ahead, the tail-end had become disconnected. A call to Kreeky calmed the pace for the pack to re-unite, just enough respite for Kreeky apparently to do the distance of Rudd Rd and The Boulevard back to a Butter Factory breakfast.  Cobblestones, abrasive people and old school riders the talk topics while filling empty tanks.

14/12  Punctures and pace. 

Gotta love Summer!  3 minutes to kit up when it's 18 degrees.  Begone base layers, arm-warmers, booties, leg warmers, thermals, balaclavas et al, it's just knicks jersey, socks and shoes and you're out the door!  And today, a bonus breeze at the backside to speed the spin to Sanctuary's roundabout.  Joe (not Tony), GreatScottSteve, Tina, a somewhat fragile Gazza, The Godfather, Kel and PistolPete rolled in for the 5:40 off, me taking turn one to Mitchell Rd for a change (that northeaster provided the incentive)  Gazza may have been gunning for the top 10 shoot-out driving the high 30's toward Central Kialla, that northeaster (and certain indulgences at the Couldabeens pizza party) pegging his pace back within a kilometre.  Kel took the reigns and took us to the fire station.  Pace had settled to sustainable in River Rd, GreatScottSteve doing the driving to the dip as a somewhat softening sensation nagged at me.  

Trying to deny all the signals of a puncture worked for 200 metres, but the feeling of sitting on a marshmallow couldn't be ignored any longer, a halt for repairs had the group's support.  Some craved the oxygen!  There's little comfort when nothing obvious proves the puncture so trepidation followed for 2 k's after the fix.  The rumble strips at River Rd's end highlighted that deflation sensation again.  I'd be stretching the friendship this time with another delay and seeking a tube donation, Bruce and Lenny (the shop squad of two) arrived to lend support (and a tube), this time finding a tiny piece of wire (no bigger than a 2mm long whisker) as the fiend.  

Fixed, up and away again on Coach Rd, Joe (not Tony) kept the momentum manageable to the bridge but PistolPete had faster ideas when handed the lead.  That 1200 metres to the highway was merely an aperitif.  As he headed the line in the high 30's into that northeaster toward Old Dookie Rd, I recalled Pistol's predicament just 7 months ago (and who that were there wouldn't?!)   I could be forgiven thinking this wasn't the same guy.  Makes you appreciate the bonus of being in a bunch.  Bruce had many gasping to Central Ave in the low 40's but there's nearly always a little more left in the tank when the reality of going o.t.a. draws near.  

GreatScottSteve has hit his straps (his recent habit of hills and distance has tuned the engine to new levels), so there was no surprise that gaps opened heading to the truck route in the high 40's.   Lenny saved the day acting as windbreak in the lower 40's where all could keep in touch to suffer that speed to SPC.

15/12  Heading Heady home.

The guy wandering the middle of Fryers Street spewing profanities at full volume was given a wide berth, another lap of Friars block the option for many as the lap launch time drew near.  (and no, it wasn't Heady venting another o.t.a. occurence!)  Sandy, AvantiLeigh, Belly, Snow, Phil, Heady, Furph and Dippa cautiously converged at the Goat grid but that colorful character had vanished with his verbs.  Sandy called the 6am chocks away and with Heady hiding in the rear ranks, I was made martyr for the first shift out of town.  And straight into an energetic east northeaster.  JB joined and with a line of 9 behind, I had a performance review committee breathing down my tail-light!  Dobson's bridge was a welcome sight, giving AvantiLeigh the task of driving to Central Ave while I retreated my way to the rear for recovery.   

Furph, Dippa, Sandy and Belly divided the drive into short shifts to reach Boundary Rd so I wasn't imagining the eroding effect on energy (and ego) that wind had.   Belly got the bikes rolling into Boundary Rd to give Heady the lead, but his turn was measured in millimeters before Snow was put in charge.  I feel for Heady's struggle sometimes but the cure is so simple.....the words of Fausto Coppi summed it up when asked the 3 things needed to improve in cycling ; ride your bike, ride your bike and ride your bike!  

Snow seemed to be in struggle street at the bridge so handed over to Phil, setting a swift example to the highway.  Traffic cleared and wheels got rolling south, the temptation to continue the lap was keen but I was more keen to stay employed, so the Channel Rd exit was taken.  Heady had the time but not the inclination to continue, so took the Channel Rd option too, the least I could do was head Heady home.  With an eye on his shadow cast under my feet, I kept the pace reasonably keen for the lefts, rights and curves back to the city ; if he was going to sit in my wake he'd have to work for it.  Mid to high 30's was taking it's toll at the ChaCha's end and he dropped from the rear, so I slowed to get him back aboard, slowly turning the tempo up again to town. 

16/12  Wind worn Wednesday.

A head wind and quick company was the recipe for a workout before the 5:40 flogging started!  South to Sanctuary and paired with Emil would certainly get me prepared for pace but it was mentally cooking me before the lap had started.  PistolPete commenced considerately calm to the truck route, applying the throttle to Mitchell Rd with Kel, Tina, Kreeky, Emil, Col, Bo and The Godfather behind.  Out of that headwind and onto Mitchell Rd would make things easier.....or would it?  Kel kept progress pacy to Central Kialla, Tina tapping a great turn to River Rd ; and on the back of a hot 150 k's yesterday (I'd want a day off)   My turn to front came bearing east, that wind coming in at the 4 o'clock position was of some help to the speed but little help to steering a straight path to the bridge.  

2 k's worth of work was about  my limit of labor, I wanted to contribute more but disrupting the rhythm with a shift at snails pace wouldn't make me popular.  Kreeky would be perfect preserving the pace.  Retreating to the rear at the bridge, Kreeky took command toward Coach Rd as the sun peeked from the Caniambo horizon.  He's mastered the art of a long drive (though it will become an expectation if your not careful Kreeky!)   Emil made his appearance at the front in Coach Rd, forging friendships with a smooth shift toward the Broken and staying on to reach the highway.  He'll be invited back!  Col wasn't subtle with his speed north (here's me expecting an easy leg to Old Dookie Rd?!), a line of legs spinning the speed behind.  Bo had finally fronted in Old Dookie Rd, the days of his long drives seemingly over when he retired at School Rd.  The Godfather was quick to sledge as he assumed the Captaincy.  PistolPete took on a second turn to tow us to town, dragging many breathless to the truck route.  All that effort for a coffee! 

17/12  Thurs-day-javu.

That feeling of flogging a dead horse was back, the south southeast breeze was barely moving a leaf while this old engine was at full throttle just to keep above 30.  I can see further contemplation is required on Rule #5.  The roundabout had rounded up Kreeky, Tina, Bo, Col, Kel and PistolPete to ride, Kel setting sights south to Mitchell Rd with 6 in tow.  This was ride repeat for me, a second serve of the 5:40 fling in as many days.  If only to rattle the ride routine.  PistolPete played pilot to Central Kialla, the effort a little easier out of that head wind so the speed subsequently upped to ensure all would earn their breakfast. Or their second breakfast. Contrary to his prior announcement of "sitting on the back", Bo headed our path to River Rd (and a little bit more for measure), Tina working us toward the bridge with Kreeky poised behind, ready to drive us further.  It could be the scenery, possibly the wind in the hair or maybe it's Erythropoietin encrusted Weet-Bix that excites Kreeky to get into long-haul mode when he gets to the front ; to the dip then the Angora farm, the quarter horse stud wasn't enough so he pushed on to rooster corner while I mentally tapped the fuel gauge to see if there was anything left in my tank.  Too bad if it was empty, duty called in Coach Rd!  I couldn't sense any help from that breeze (supposed to be behind) while winding up to prior pace ; the aim to reach the bridges with as little hurt as possible.  Well, maybe just shy of a heart attack!  

Those bridges looked too far away till a passing car gifted it's draft to get me there, and still 10bpm short of a meltdown, I re-aimed my target at Channel Rd.  The downhill off the bridge and another passing car helped me to scale that 0.017% ascent to Channel Rd, so what the hell Foss, let's make it to the highway!  There was a sense of satisfaction to reach the Midland but immediate dread I'd go o.t.a. when Col commanded the rush on Boundary Rd (the fear unfounded as Col was careful with his wattage till passing Hosie Rd).  The tarmac blurred below as the pace stepped into the 40's, looks like I was saved from another shift sitting 7th wheel this late in the game but Kel drew the short straw to storm Old Dookie Rd for her 2nd contribution.  Good job too with that breeze niggling at the left side.  40's were commonplace as PistolPete's performance dragged us to Central Ave, feeling a bit stoked at that speed till the shop squad passed like we were the Muppets.  Wattage was weakening in many, Pistol playing the diplomat and holding station as the fast fella's drew into the distance.  The wish for calm toward SPC was denied when Bo kept us busy for the last 1500, Col clearly bored with Bo's effort when he sprinted the last 400.

18/12  Festive Friday (and a brewery breakfast!) 

A Goat Christmas ride was sure to draw a crowd (some making their first comeback since Autumn!) so a cruisy (and cautious) lap was guaranteed.   I put a 17k prologue on my to do list to put some work into the morning.  The bait of sparkling red (the Goat elixir of life) was on the breakfast menu to draw even the most rusty of Goats out of hibernation!  Brendy, Baz, Joey, Speissy, Belly, Sandy, Tina, Hommie, Dippa, Snow, Ranso, Macca, Phil, Heady, Principal Skinner, 'ol Pete, Roscoe, AvantiLeigh, Brother Andrew and even Joe (not Tony) jammed the starting grid for the 6am roll.  A giant of a Goat gathering.  

Sandy fired the starting gun to exit Friars, a most meandering, Brown's cows commencement to depart town vaguely resembling a formation of two lines east.  I'd activated caution control as some chose a path contrary to most.  The south southwester kept the effort easy although some chose to gasp instead of gossip.  Things became serious steering south, that (almost) headwind making work for those rare to riding.  Some dared not face the front!  Channel Rd was the chosen route for all (which probably was the distance limit for some), the shortest way back to the brewery for breakfast.  Priorities!  Sparkling red was first on the menu for most, but the coffee, eggs and all the breakfast trimmings suited me.  Coggo was welcomed as guest of honor (a lucky lad under the circumstances of last Wednesday), the ensuing social stuff topping off the week.

This week   278km    YTD  11,113km                   

                   

What labor does to your logic.

 Post #575

5/12 A quintet's quest.

That air of anticipation kept speed spiced to Sanctuary's start line, Saturday's spin is that chance for change with a longer lap and the sustenance of the social stuff after.  A chance that's denied by work's early start on weekdays.  A few were rolling Sanctuary Drive with a minute or two up their sleeves but by 6am the grid had only PistolPete, Bo, Kreeky and The Godfather attending.  There'd be little reprieve today with only 5 to share the suffering for the 46k lap.  The glass-half-full was the challenge to stay ahead of the shop squad, gifted with horsepower on tap, leaving at the same time 3k's behind us. 

Of course PistolPete led the way to Mitchell Rd.  Bo was behind, Kreeky, me then The Godfather doing the role of rear gunner. (gunna get a long tow before facing the front)  Long drives were on the menu, PistolPete in the hot seat to Central Kialla, up to River Rd and east to the bridge before letting Bo at it.  I sensed his spin would be shorter, an easterly making the speed sink.  Our line tracked a little straighter, no one dare deviate from the draft less they be blown backward by that wind.  Kreeky was handed the hurt when Bo retired at the Angora farm, here's hoping Kreeky was in long drive mode.  It's weird how you find focus on that bike ahead in pace-line, maybe to concentrate your efforts as a distraction from the duress?   For some reason, it was Kreeky' chain-stays that had me somewhat spellbound as his high 30's dragged us toward Coach Rd. (you missed a bit on the clean-up Kreeky!) 

 That second wheel syndrome started to strike me (heightening heart rate, an emptying tank and the "what-the-hell-am-I-doing-here" sensation flooding the head) but a sneak peek ahead, without getting my head blown off, saw the rumble strips that signal Coach Rd's intersection.  We'd soon be out of that headwind but my duty to drive was due!  Others had dug deeper for their contributions so a sense of duty tapped on my pre-frontal cortex to step up from a standard shift.  The easterly at the right flank was better than blowing head-on, the aim to reach the pub seemed a little far fetched but trees along the Broken River offered some shelter.  The old tank wasn't quite dry at the bridges so that shovel dug a bit deeper to get to the highway.  The Godfather debuted in Boundary Rd for his 2500 metre donation to Old Dookie Rd, PistolPete drawing the short straw to suffer to the Toaster.  I was already predicting the pleasure of the west way home.  Bo towed us north to Lemnos-Cosgrove Rd, that west way to town putting the head in a happy place. 

Kreeky set a sensible speed toward Boundary Rd (no point cooking the few contributors we had this far away from breakfast, drop one now and there'd be a 25% increase in workload!)     I was only too happy to conform with that pace when handed the reigns.  I just hoped I could keep it. 

Those rumble strips that wake the sleepy about Lemnos North Rd were nearing when the dozen of the shop squad passed us, (somewhat chuffed it took 'em 35 k's to catch us), I had no intention to catch the tail but The Godfather tried to get us in their slipstream when he captained into Ford Rd, the reality of that speed soon easing his effort.  Our little team would soldier on in solidarity.   We're lucky to have PistolPete in his prime to drive a long shift while recoveries were in full swing behind him, Bo doing the Wanganui work for Kreeky to head us into Rudd Rd.  I could almost taste breakfast.  I'd reckoned on Kreeky's elbow showing me the drivers seat along the Boulevard with that easterly to suffer but not a signal was received all the way to the Butter Factory.   Hand-built wheels, junk art and phone obesity kept the breakfast table noisy while calories compensated for the k's prior.  

7/12  Bit breezy!

At least it wasn't raining! Last night's peek at the forecast painted a picture of a damp Monday, but the day dawned dry....with plenty of wind in the rain's place.   The spin to the start-line was swift, that 30 km/h west northwester pushing me ahead of schedule to Sanctuary's roundabout.....but there'd be some hurt homeward.  Bo, Tina, Kreeky, PistolPete, Gazza and The Godfather lined up behind Kel who captained to Mitchell Rd, there was 10 k's worth of wind at our backs and about 15 minutes to enjoy it before the real work began.  All went silent in Mitchell Rd while Tina led to Central Kialla, just that chorus of carbon wheels at speed as the wind whipped up our whereabouts.  The temptation was too much for Bo with a big breeze at the behind, we expected the shift to River Rd, onward to the bridge was taking a liberty but Sir Selfish went on beyond the dip in the hunt to pass Vince and The Rabbit going easy east and waiting to join in.  No sooner had the pair been passed when Bo's elbow beckoned me to the front.  Low 40's wasn't blowing a head gasket as I aimed at the quarter-horse stud but I was happy to spin a standard shift and share the tailwind, I might need these guys help into a headwind home!  PistolPete taking charge took an effort to stay on board, it was head down and tail up for a while till I'd tuned in to that tempo, trying to suppress that growling bear.  The Rabbit was confining himself to the caboose.  Coach Rd, like most in this area is pancake flat so that little incline to the bridges could count as a catagory 2 climb, Kreeky dragging us there for The Godfather to take the lead.  Like a lot of Monday's, the shop crew (Rocket, Bruce and Lenny)  turned up seeking company (they were shy on numbers at 5:40), joining our line when traffic cleared at Channel Rd.  Gazza's debut came at the highway, the echelon now using too much real estate so PistolPete headed a 2nd line to keep the oncoming lane clear.  Kel bore the brunt of the easterly in Old Dookie Rd, her shift swift but short as Lenny volunteered his services to the speed.  It looked likely I'd have a share in this suffering with just Lenny and Bo ahead. Lenny dug deep to drag us to Central Ave but Bo wasn't so selfish to have the front seat now, a good effort to get to Dobson's bridge but he handed me the hurt.  Nearing a 100 rpm kept the velocity but it was revving a tired old engine just a few hundred metres later.  Better to peel off early and preserve pace than handbrake the hurry.  Vince was better equipped for the effort, driving us to the truck route as my legs went to jelly, the hopes of a traffic light going red to rest them almost answered. 

8/12  Solo - social - solo.

Eyes had opened well before the Passer Domesticus had flatulated, so rather than cook the cranium on Fb frivolities, I swung a leg over the bike and took flight (it was a tail-wind) on Ford Rd at stupid o'clock.   I was well overdue for a bit of solo stuff, there's way too much opportunity for a draft in bunches.  Out to Boundary Rd and back would keep the legs spinning to reach the Goat grid by 6am.  With time ticking away, the head-wind back to town ramped up my effort.  With no fear of filling Friars' footpath in "feels like 3.4", just Ranso, Snow, AvantiBelly and Furph had fronted to make up a (strangely) Coggo-less crew.  Ranso stepped into the captain's shoes to lead the town's exit, JB joining you know where.  Some wondered if two lines would form (remember those days of old when two lines rotated turns?  Seems like ancient history)  but my guess was Indian file would rule with just 7 players. 

Indian file it was crossing the truck route as Ranso applied the accelerator gently to Central Ave for Furph to then put his motion forward.  It was happy days to get the pilot's position when Furph gave the nod at School Rd, that westerly helping the work toward Boundary Rd.  AvantiLeigh made the spin south look easy, that wind hadn't hand-braked his style to keep high 30's on the agenda. Belly behind was probably pondering his place in the pace-line.  I was only just into the rhythm and with one easy turn done, that curse of time was already turning me back toward town.  Facing the westerly toward home meant work, but the bonus of two bikes to chase on Channel Rd incited an effort rather than a roll for the 9 k's back to suburbia.

9/12  Wednesday's want for wattage.

The slightest of southerly's played havoc with my head, it seemed a world of wattage was wanted to reach the starting grid.  Yes, I had got those tyres up to 110 psi.  And I did get to the grid with 3 minutes to spare. See what labor does to your logic?  Col, GreatScottSteve, PistolPete, The Godfather,Tina, Bo, Kreeky and Kel assembled, PistolPete setting the tone of tempo to Mitchel Rd of course.  I was trying to come to terms with the "feels like 5".  Where's my 20 degree morning with a tail-breeze?! We've been sold a suspect Summer!   I was witness to a rare event on The Godfather's wheel as he did duty toward Central Kialla, the chain was on the 15 sprocket and his legs were almost spinning (instead of that trademark torque he's famous for).   Some spin and some grind, each engine has it's own optimum rpm I guess.   

The 2k turn to River Rd was mine to drive, and it should have been cruisy with that southerly at my Khyber, but it felt like the uphill to Kelvin's View.  I'd reached River Rd a little short of a heart attack and definitely short of breath, handing over to GreatScottSteve.  Well, hadn't he had a big serve of Clenbuterol on his Corn Flakes!  Not content with a drive to the bridge, GreatScottSteve forged on to the dip and beyond while I took another minute to get things back into focus.  Maybe he'd been bitten by the Bo bug?  He was still going strong at the Angora farm ; I wondered how cooked was Kel at 2nd wheel?  Finally at River Rd's end GreatScottSteve retired, Coach Rd was Kel's and there was plenty left in her tank for tempo.  Tina, Col, Bo and Kreeky played patient behind, they'd yet to make their driving debut.  The Broken bridges was quits for Kel, Tina then making her move to the highway.  

Finally let off the leash, Col took to the front possessed with pace, bunch upon bunch plying their paths south.  There's some comfort in going against the grain of conformity, our counter-clockwise circuit not chasing (or being chased) in a direction with a little less traffic.  Bo scored the work west on Old Dookie Rd with that southerly to deal with, my guess he'd retire at School Rd was erased as he kept pace to Central Ave.  Kreeky got the leg to Dobson's bridge but extended his time to the truck route, the turns finally coming full circle for PistolPete to speed to SPC.

10/12  Get well soon Coggo. 

Wind whistling through the trees was quickly seducing a sleep-in, but Rule #5 made a bigger noise whistling between my ears!  Out of bed Foss, the regret of not riding will haunt the day anyway.  No prologues today, keeping it short might just make it sweet.  Straight to Friars found Hommie, Snow, Sandy and Belly all somewhat subdued contemplating Coggo's injuries from being rear-ended by a car yesterday (bleeding on the brain and a possible C4/C5 fracture for those not in the know)   Sandy started solemn but swift as our guide out of town, Snow slipping quietly into the caboose.  Guess who we found at SPC? 

I was given the driving duty at the truck route, trying to do that Christmas good will thing by squeezing the throttle gently and sitting "up the road" to shelter the following from the southerly. Most seemed happy with the speed standard set to Central Ave though Hommie looked to be in a world of hurt for his contribution to School Rd.  The last 800 metres of Old Dookie Rd were Belly's to drive and hats off to the giant on a Giant, he did well ; perhaps the performance was enhanced 'cause he wasn't into a head wind?  Snow poured his energy into the southern spin toward the highway but his force faded by the fig farm.  JB restored the rhythm rapidly ; only recently out of hibernation he's found form fast, making plenty of friends by forging on to the highway into the head-wind.  I thought there'd be a changing of the guard beyond the pub but JB made it Christmas by soldiering on toward the bridges.   How convenient for me that Channel Rd and the lack of time turned me toward town.  No bikes to chase today, but a ticking clock to keep the wheels turning.

11/12  The pleasure (and pain) of pace.

That struggle to the start line eventually found some incentive, a draft behind Joe (not Tony) and JJ (intercepted en-route) relieved some stress till JJ's elbow elected me to the pain of pushing into that 20 km/h worth of southerly.  There was a delight in the draft but there's nearly always a payback for pleasure.  So why did I do better towing two than struggling solo before?  The Godfather, Kreeky, Kel, Col, Bo, PistolPete, JJ and Joe (not Tony) formed for Friday's 5:40 fling, Col breaking the PistolPete stranglehold on the opening shift to Mitchell Rd.  PistolPete was second, most stylishly, to spin the second shift to Central Kialla. With a line of 9 able (some maybe not so willing) for driving duty you're almost guaranteed there's possibly just one shift to do on this circuit, so The Godfather did well to score the tail wind section to River Rd (so he rightly should score a second shift later?)   Kel's sublime smoothness towed us to River Rd's bridge, Bo showing remarkable restraint to keep the same speed simmering toward the Angora farm.

I was sitting quite confidently at 3rd wheel, predicting Kreeky would tow me to Coach Rd.  I'd need that tail wind to preserve this pace.  The rooster crowed as Kreeky steered north at River Rd's end and showed me his elbow, I hit the front with all the force of a Ferrari going in, but just the energy of an Excel came out.  Some days you got it, others you 'aint!  Did someone move the Broken bridges even further north?  It's barely three minutes worth of hurt to get there though it seems like hours, finally relenting at the second bridge to hand Joe (not Tony) the helm.  The pain quickly turns to pleasure in the caboose, and with only 12 k's to SPC, I was being towed all the way there.  JJ was captain crossing the highway (Waiter! A helping of horsepower please!) so the shovel came out to dig a little deeper; these young ones with the aerodynamics of a matchstick have a distinct advantage.  Each had done their bit arriving at Old Dookie Rd, so the labor had come full circle to Col for the task of driving westward home.  Maybe the respite of 26k's in the draft gave him all that energy to take us to Central Ave? The power of PistolPete dragged us back to town. 

            This week 284km          YTD 10,834 km