Purging pessimism

 Post #609

24/7  Lock-down lake laps.

And so arrived another Saturday struggling to satisfy the social sustenance of pre lock-down days.  I could count myself lucky Joe (not Tony) was craving company too, if not just to swap a sentence or two but just to motivate him getting aboard the bike and drag himself out of the Covid gloom.  Almost everyone has been lapping the lakes lately, so with it yet to be ticked off the circuit list, the change of scenery might spark a bit of enthusiasm too.  6 am begged a beginning 'cause showers were forecast for 8:30.  To hell with a respectably clean bike, overnight rain had dampened all the circuits but the urge to clock ks was difficult to resist. (the force is strong with this one)   We's spun south to Kialla, it's lakes circled by snaking streets to tempt a circuit other than the usual dead straight stuff, though the protruding concrete structures (designed to hamper the hoons a little), traffic islands and off-camber roundabouts would need a keen eye, considering the glossy tarmac.  

Around Waranga Drive's southern lake then Gordon Drive's northern one made a suitable spin, the turns rolling at will (or whenever the wind wore away the determination).   Lap two provided some urge with two red led's appearing ahead to bait a chase, I wasn't expecting to find PistolPete and Bo in cruise mode but it turns out Bo's new diet has worn away the watts with the kilos.   With greeting swapped, Joe and I (not Tony) continued the circuitry, darkness slowly lifting to reveal a dull grey day.  The lust for latte finished our going 'round in circles by lap four's end, a bee line made for a Butter Factory brew.   There was a little social satisfaction finding Wozza, Lenny and BamBam berthed from their laps of the lake, the conversation (suitably distanced of course) on Everesting, inclines and the bike vs car relationship.  Maybe there'd be proper Saturday sociology next week?

26/7  Damp, slippery, windy and a puncture.......great ride!

The front veranda was as dry as a chip but all kitted up and at the end of the drive found the road was as wet as a shag!  No turning back now Foss, it's Rule #5 time!  (So much for spending an hour cleaning the bike yesterday)  Finding the fortitude to reach the golf course was an early ask, a west northwester was making the drive difficult.  This would be version 173 of a lap within Covid confines, an adaptation to the usual Wanagnui Rd loop to incite a little interest into the mundane, using a little of Ford Rd to get to Grahamvale Rd then south to join New Dookie Rd for a west way back to the Boulevard.  Mud had been dragged across Ford Rd from somebody's off road excursion, so the road bike now looked like a cyclo-cross contender.  Tyres squirming for traction through the mud made for an o.m.g. moment.  Oncoming trucks in Grahamvale Rd carried a curtain of spray behind them, a far cry from what my imagination had painted looking at that dry veranda!  

Still, there was the Rule #9 factor to lean back on.  Facing the wind in New Dookie Rd questioned my thinking, but should the lock-down lift and bunch riding return, I'll need to acquaint myself with extra effort.  I'll guarantee  PistolPete, Boof, Rocket, Wozza et al haven't slowed down!  Most of Balaclava Rd required full throttle to keep the speedo in the thirties , one of two sets of traffic lights turning red for twenty seconds to grant me a brief bout of oxygen intake.  Just that brief break recharged the battery to get to the Boulevard.  Houses gave a little shelter to Canterbury's roundabout but the exposed kilometre to get to Wanganui required some huff and puff.  I could sense a swing of the wind more northerly and that pegged back the pace on Wanganui and Ford, wised-up this time though to avoid the mud pie section by riding the centre line.  A lack-lustre tail-light glow was an aid memoire to charge it, so I felt a little vulnerable given the poor visibility through the road spray on Grahamvale Rd  (not a vehicle followed as it happened)  Second time around on New Dookie Rd wasn't any easier but the sixteen cog helped.   I guessed I could squeeze in a third lap  before time turned against me but a subtle sinking feeling was creeping in.   Telling myself the damp road was sending squishy signals didn't cut it, it was a puncture right at the end of lap two to halt progress.  By the time I fumbled in the dark and damp to extract the sliver of glass and replace the tube, time was now the enemy.  Being just a k from home cancelled plans for lap three, (sure as eggs there'd be another puncture and I wasn't so keen to patch a wet tube in the darkness) so was content instead to be two minutes from coffee and comfort with just thirty k covered.

29/7  Early morning four-play.

It wasn't like Kim and Emil to be missing from the early rendezvous but I owed them the courtesy of giving them a couple of minutes grace (I'd had a morning or two running behind agenda).  Three minutes passed and with no message received I was now on a mission to get to the grid on time, a therapeutic heart starter to re-aquaint with bunch riding, now that the lock-down had lifted.  Kel, Joe (not Tony) and Tina had converged at the shop, keen to shake off the solo stuff we've been confined to under Covid, and get back into the fellowship of a bunch.  This little squad of "squirrels" would be a comfortable stepping stone back toward the standards of Sanctuary squad speed.  I was elected to lead the line from town, so set a velocity considerate to the few rather rusty to the pace of a pack (me included!)   A subtle westerly helped me reach the truck route and Kel had no trouble with tempo to Orrvale Rd, Joe (not Tony) keeping the speed kind to the Kinder.  

Tina had doubts on her pace to the cypress trees, two weeks of solitary confinement can skew your perception of performance (doesn't the bunch tempo seem supersonic vs your solitary speed!)  Despite her concerns,Tina did well (and we said so, if only to purge the pessimism).  I'd set my aim at the S bend on turn two, that tail breeze making it easy, but there'd be an effort homeward bound.  It was great to be among a small group again, and wasn't it pleasant to peruse a posterior other than Joe (not Tony's) for a change!  There's that bonus of a longer sit at the back (than the last few weeks) with more to share the load.  Headed north on Boundary didn't have the drama of the westerly I'd expected but being in the tow can be way beyond the reality of the distress in the drivers seat can't it?  Tina handed over the lead role at the bridge and with the task at the front shy of the struggle I'd imagined, my aim extended to New Dookie.  A little game of condescending kudos with Kel had put a positive into pace, though I'm far from the standard of smoothness she sets.  Good to have a goal though isn't it?  Joe (not Tony) and Tina shared the 3100 metres to reach Lemnos North Rd so those first length of Ford was my forth feeling of playing a part in progress.   Given the lead role approaching the suburbs, Kel was the cork out of a bottle with an inspired drive of three and a half k's back into town via Verney.

30/7  A lap unlocked. Luxury!

There was no slow down from lock down, PistolPete had a long line silent (aside from the huffs and puffs) toward Mitchell Rd as the Sanctuary squad reconvened following the state unlocking restrictions.  It was great to be back in the bunch, being dragged along at a speed you could skite about - the downside was the expected contribution to that pace at the front!  Sitting in seventh wheel allowed a warm up before facing that reality.  

Boof did the towing to Central Kialla as the pack stacked across the tarmac in search of shelter from a northeaster that would keep us busy till reaching Old Dookie Rd.  Greg's drive north to River Rd stoked up some warmth in the legs for the "feels like 0.1" (will this winter ever take the hint and leave?), Kel continuing the cooking toward the River Rd bridge.  Pain at the pointy end was drawing near.  Bo's new aerodynamics served up the sting I was soon to feel, then handing the hurry to Emil at Laws Drive. (yep, I was on that wheel again!)  Shifts were a little shorter than usual so I was expecting the task in the drivers seat wasn't going to be much fun.  Emil's elbow introduced me to the toil at Trevaskis Rd and trying to maintain the pace, I took each set of white posts passed as a minor miracle.  Aiming further would have raised a white flag up the mast.  Enough! said the old engine at the quarter horse gates, Bruce could cope with the wind while I complained in the caboose.  Bruce, Joe (not Tony) Wozza, Rocket, PistolPete, Boof, Greg, Kel, Bo and Emil flew by while I retired ruined rearward, but the holler from Tina and The Godfather of their permanent residency in the caboose got me off the seat (and onto rubber legs) to join in eleventh wheel.  

Bruce bolted to Coach Rd while I waited for things to come back into focus.  Joe (not Tony) didn't stay long in the suffering seat, Wozza doing the driving north to the highway.  I could have sworn I heard Rocket chuckling as he opened the throttle to tow us all to Old Dookie Rd, there was a strange silence in the squad he seemed to be enjoying!  PistolPete had made his way back to the front, but the flurry of energy and enthusiasm with the wind now positioned at eleven o'clock had loosened the caboose from the back.  PistolPete obliged by disengaging the turbocharger, much to my legs and lungs relief by the way.  Once over Central Ave and restored to a rhythm, the pace of course ramped up again, so the clean cross of the truck route put Kel on a hot tin roof to reach SPC.  We were close to the coffee and banter that has been off the menu for a while. 

This week  168 km    YTD 7,897 km          

Going giddy.

 Post #608

17/7 Solo, slow and silent ; strange for a Saturday.

It wasn't quite forty days and forty nights but three days off the bike felt like it!  Almost at the end of a wet week a window of opportunity opened on Saturday to feed the craving, a west northwester blowing in the thirties as if to make up for lost labor.  And just to test tenacity, the state's sudden lock-down put up a Covid constraint of a five km leash from home.  The urge to break this sleeping-in indulgence was strong, and forecast showers from nine a.m. said seize the day!  A solo spin excused me from an early effort, I could slowly introduce rusty legs to labor.   A five km boundary leaves little choice in courses so what's become the default lock-down lap (Boulevard, Rudd, Wanganui, Verney and Knight) was chosen, clockwise.    Feels like 0.8 was hardly inspirational but it did feel good to be back on the bike, the satisfaction of self propulsion aboard  Macmillan's invention somewhat sublime.....till facing that wind fair in the face on the way to the golf course.  Just a subtle reminder of Rule #67.  

Endorphins flowed to sweeten the scenery of Wanganui's dull and dreary sky, wind up the derriere putting a positive in it too. (Stick that feeling in the bank Foss, those k's from SPC 'round to Wanganui again wouldn't be beer and skittles!)  Steering straight became the skill southbound on Verney, the wind trying to blow the bike into the gravel that seems to grow in the bike lane (seldom swept).   There's just two sets of traffic lights on this lap and wouldn't you know it, both went red against me.  An opportunity for oxygen intake before being wind whipped back to Rudd Rd.  Lap one done, repeat dosage as necessary says the pharmacist and for the sake of sanity, I'd take a few more.  Some sort of decent distance was needed to justify the laborious layering for the cold.   So, much like lap one, around we go again with little traffic to deal with but the wind continuing to wear away the will (and the watts with it!)   The third lap was close to inducing dizzy spells and pushing the boundaries of that forecast rain, so I called it quits at forty k's.  Strange to end Saturday's spin with silence and instant coffee at home.  

18/7  Tour'n on a tether. 

Solitary confinement and Covid's course constraints calls on a ton of mental motivation just to swing a leg over the bike ; I do bang on about the strain to keep up with the bunch but their fellowship and inspiration to ride becomes a value even more treasured at times like these.   Dreaming up a different circuit becomes a challenge too, something's needed to fire up the enthusiasm and there's only so many roads within five km of home.   Sunshine and sensible o'clock finally got the positives primed on Sunday, maybe an east and west journey to the southern limits would energize a little effort?   

A west southwesterly artificially inflated the ego, propelling me along Parkside Drive and up the highway to Radio Australia; there'd be work to do on the westbound zigs but things would be easy on the eastbound zags (almost like interval training).    South on Verney Rd got the first real measure of the labor ahead ; without a rise higher than an ant's nest in these parts the wind at least provides some work (otherwise we'd all be as tough as marshmallows!)   The first teeth-clencher was Ford Rd - that familiar heart-starter for the work on Wanganui of a Saturday- so two k's of it wouldn't use up too many jellybeans in the jar.    South into Numurkah Rd then east on Hawkins eased the load, giving enough time to prepare for the watts needed west on Pine. 

And so the to and fro went on Graham, Balaclava, Rae, Knight, Nixon, Fryers, High, Vaughan, Sobraon, Swallow, Hayes and finally MacIntosh, with squirts south in between (MacIntosh was probably at the five k limit but I didn't bring a tape measure).    Strava shows plenty that have ventured well beyond the Covid confines of home but they're hardly playing germ warfare with the public out in the back-blocks are they?   It had been a challenge to hold a respectable average with all the slows for corners and intersections and even if the overall distance was a little shy of the normal but it had ultimately satisfied the urge.  Just stoking up the enthusiasm to ride had been almost a morning's work.  Feeling a fraction of warmth from the sun homeward bound was a positive, hopes the lock-down would be lifted sooner rather than later would make it feel like Christmas. 

19/7  Circling for sanity?

There was a lot of dipping into the depths of the motivational barrel Monday, darkness and starting at stupid o'clock made it tougher than yesterday.  A different course again might just provide a few drips of determination to knock over a few k's.   Lock-down day four and already the signs of isolation were beginning to show.   Heaven save me from plummeting to the depths of Playstation with pedals!   Eight degrees wasn't quite the Costa del Sol but it was better than the minus stuff of a fortnight ago.  (Could those days now be behind us?)   Even the wind cut me some slack, a mediocre 12 km/h west northwester wasn't worth complaining about, particularly when sheltered by suburbia.  (that'll trim a few sentences off this garble!)  The circuit of choice was Batman, Balaclava, Numurkah Rd and Parkside, a length or two with a few bends in it and wouldn't that be a welcome change from the arrow-like roads normally ridden.  Might even wear a little off the Michelin's shoulders!  The lap measured a whisker over five k's so six circuits would be nigh on going giddy before 7:30 duty called at the coal face.  Without a bunch to raise the standards it's all too easy to slip into the comfort zone just below the aerobic limit (not the usual bouncing off the rev-limiter keeping up with PistolPete's pace!)  Self preservation I suppose.   By lap three the rectus femoris and satorius were protesting and breathing labored.  So began that juggling act between the limits of lungs, legs and cardiac complaints ; one, two or all eventually reach that hollering for a halt moment.   Oops! Zoned out and overshot Batman so I was forced to annoy the o.c.d. side and opt for a southbound diversion via Ferguson to get back on track.  (Back on course next lap)  There's not a lot of movement at stupid o'clock, aside from one car (minus headlights) charging around in the darkness (just your friendly neighborhood drug distributor I'm guessing), the odd house light coming on as alarms prompted movement, old mate walking the dog or the steam rising from the drain vents as the early risers showered.  A sort of suburban time lapse of the start of the working week grind. I'd managed to squeeze a lap into ten minutes, dependent on the solitary set of traffic lights, the lap times turning critical as 6:30 struck if I was to keep to the employers agenda.  Again, the distance a little shy of the usual but something's better than nothing for sanity's sake.  Rain was going to deny the pleasure Tuesday. 

21/7  A jaunt with Joe (not Tony)

Ooops! Spoke too soon! Wednesday's feels like minus three was a not-so-subtle reminder that Winter's still with us.  But I had some incentive to ride, Jo (not Tony) was keen to pair-up for a few k's ; I'd at last get a ride without listening to that old bloke complaining about the wind and how hard he worked into it!  We'd made the Verney Rd bus stop the starting grid, and agreeing on a course (Verney, Ford, Lemnos Nth and Old Dookie)   set wheels rolling north, trying to suppress the shivers as a west southwester cut straight through the multiple layers of insulation.  Who did which shift and for how long didn't need discussion, just go with the flow and hope your partner doesn't set the benchmark too high...or too long!  I'd volunteered to face the front first up to Ford Rd, so Joe (not Tony) did the eastward bit to the truck route.  No measuring of shifts needed, it was a good change to step above the solo standards and share the workload.  It's been a barren week without the pleasure of sitting in the slipstream.  Knowing there's some respite at the end of a turn does spur on the speed, something your head is reluctant to do in a solo status.  

That westerly made it's presence felt on the turn south into Lemnos North Rd, Joe hadn't left me a lot of shelter at the roads edge for a good draft but let's not get too picky Foss, I was well and truly over the solo alternative!  (Hey, the soup at Campbell's didn't smell that appetizing)  My turn again crossing New Dookie down to Old, mid thirties seeming to be the standard to be suffered (but I was lowering the expectations for the Old Dookie headwind back to town)  An elephant stamp for Joe (not Tony) for slogging out the 2800 metres to the truck route, the speed slowly sinking in the last (exposed) 1000.  I took sympathy on his suffering and did the drive to SPC, staying on to do Hawdon St back to the bus stop to start lap two.  Shifts could now be opposite to lap one.   Another circuit of the same tarmac now had a different perspective ; sightseeing this time the sections that were previously blurred by being in the drivers seat.   For a moment I pondered the pleasures of being blissfully cocooned in the warmth of bed.....but that would be getting close to what's considered sensible ; what an insult!  Roles had reversed for the work into Old Dookie Rd's wind so there was a fairness in the workload (it wasn't the usual torment of a turn with the Sanctuary squad's speed but there were a lot more shifts to do as compensation)  The usual enemy of time didn't allow a third lap but a shorter spin of Ford, Wanganui and The Boulevard satisfied the time and distance worthiness.       

22/7  At the risk of repeating myself.

I'd even succumbed to reset the alarm to sensible o'clock.  The feels like minus 2.6 factor made the warm bed Thursday's nirvana, but barely a minute later a nagging voice in the hollows of the head kept repeating Rule #9, Rule #9, Rule #9.   I knew I'd regret the sloth-like behavior of sleeping-in, besides Friday's forecast rain would grant me a decent exemption tomorrow.   So harden up Foss, the fog won't bite you!  I'd concocted a different circuit to inject some incentive, inspired by Wozza's ride yesterday "hot-dogging" Verney Rd.  Mine would be a "cold dog" of the Boulevard between Tarcoola and Canterbury roundabouts.   I wouldn't call the conditions a "pea-souper" 'cause plenty of metres were still visible ahead, though having the security of street lights lining most of the way was a comfort,  just in case that soup thickened.  It didn't take long to sense a breeze blowing behind en-route north east to Canterbury, although that contradicted the bureau's stats of a west southwester.  Up to Canterbury's roundabout , an about face then south west back to Tarcoola, checking the odometer at the end of lap one (3.8 km) satisfied the o.c.d. inside so I could at least put myself against the clock to target reasonable lap times.   The squillions of microscopic water drops in the Cat-Eye's beam dampened everything facing forward, to the extent of creating a drip irrigation system on the brow of the helmet.  Each lap seemed to gain an extra half kilo of damp as ballast!  Each Canterbury bound leg soon became the recovery and the Tarcoola way, the work, that worn-smooth tarmac at roundabouts taken at snail's pace to avoid a horizontal hurt.   And repeat, repeat, repeat.  I'd lost count of the laps after nearly an hour, maybe because recall was now refrigerated.  The continued effort to generate some warmth saw the Garmin numbers rise (though the speed stayed mostly stagnant) so with the clock numbers now ticking beyond 6:30, I finished one more lap before turning for home.  Total distance confirmed ten laps were done. Tenacity or lunacy?  

This week  190 km   YTD 7,727 km    

               

Resuming the rush

Post #607

10/7  For Col.

I still expect to hear that laugh or a convoluted yarn, 'banging on' about the virtues of Campagnolo, a quiz of music history or what else goes well with maple syrup (and I though bacon was stretching the taste bud boundaries!).   It's still hard to believe that our Col won't be in the bunch anymore.  

This Saturday pondered those memories. It was kilometres for Col day , a fundraiser ride for Beyond Blue, helping their efforts to fight the Black Dog that plagues a third of the population.   

The Archer St shop car park filled with Couldabeens, Wouldabeens, '51's, a legend or two and a collection of Cats, all at some point captured by Col's charisma.  Point one of a degree was a test of resolve, but Col meant much to many. This was a ride of respect to those memories.  In the interest of familiarity and common sense, bunches of a dozen or so set off separately, spinning the standard Saturday circuit.  I'd collaborated with Joe (not Tony), TrekTrev, SuperMario, Laura, Shorty, Greg, Bo and Wendy while others grouped to follow a little later.  This ride was about the mental health message, not about speed (though I'm sure that would happen later!)  There wasn't much enthusiasm to rush through this temperature anyway.  

This bunch, with a bias of Wouldabeens out of their comfort zone (lower than 15 degrees) meant turns would roll short, but Greg, Bo and Joe (not Tony) would pick up the slack.   It would be a sedate lap but a chance to get up to speed socially.  TrekTrev was the surprise with pace (in light of his rarity riding) but his driving distance suffered shortness.  Are my specs rose colored or is it gradually getting lighter at stupid o'clock?   6:07 in River Rd and I reckon the eastern sky looked a fraction lighter than jet black.  Maybe I'm just optimistic? Wendy chose to roll through but shied from a drive at the front, Shorty's been trying to keep up the k's but early starts and late finishes at work aren't helping (Fitness goes into neutral with just the weekend to tune up).   Bo relished the relaxed tempo but nature was calling him to halt as we neared Lemnos-Cosgrove Rd.  He managed to find what he was looking for in minus 1.3 while the rest honored the privacy and went light on the throttle ahead. 

The pre-dawn light revealed a fog to forge through, the huffs and puffs of those working the front looking like steam trains under load.  There were a few nervous glances behind when we'd reached Ford Rd in expectation of being swallowed up the faster factions.  Duty in the drivers seat certainly came 'round quickly in a group of nine but a tempo less than flat chat made it most manageable (for some of us).  Funny how the priorities shift from the ride to breakfast as you near town, mind you the temperature (or lack of it) played a big part.  Anything to warm the engine shifted focus.  Wanganui Rd inspired all to come forward and make an appearance at the front, with just seven k's left in the lap I guessed most realized what was left in the tank.  The faster factions had caught and passed on the turn into Rudd Rd and with appropriate sledges delivered, drew gradually into the distance.  

The legs would have done it but the head didn't have the hurry, the chill factor as the sun came up confined us just to cruise in.    All the clans combined though at the Butter Factory for the comfort of coffee and banana bread (donated to the cause), the countless prizes gifted by local business drawn for the lucky ones.  A lot of background work by Kel, Rob, BamBam, the "pedestrian peloton" and BaristaChris along with a big raffle and great public support netted $13,087:70 for the cause.  Importantly, it's kept the mental health conversation out of the dark. 

With the day's success, what Col meant to us all and to keep the conversation of mental health going, this ride is likely to become an annual event.   

11/7  Tour'n Toolamba.

A forecast wet week tempted a Sunday spin, normally my sabbath but there's that bait to keep the k's up isn't there?  But why suffer in the dark and cold yet again?  (It's all we've been doing for a month or more!)  Sunshine and double digit temperatures at 11am  seemed so civilized, I can't remember when I last rode without a headlight!  Scenery other than the standard circuit was on the wish list too, so south to tour Toolamba gave some impetus (oh, and a strengthening north northeaster to blow me there helped too)!  It was hard to break the habit of umpteen layers of insulation so a single base layer felt almost like riding naked.  I was relying on the psychological warmth of the sun, strangely visible.  (couldn't quite come at the short knicks though, ye olde knees creak below 12 degrees!)  

There's little traffic to contend with riding at stupid o'clock so today was a re-introduction to sharing the tarmac with Sunday's drivers.  All was well with the world down the Murchison Rd but there's almost always a tax to pay for anything enjoyable, that wind would make work for the way home.  Turning east to Toolamba was the introduction, 10% wiped off the tempo and 20% more effort put in to maintain it, serious doubts questioned the stability of the course designer.  (Oh, that's me!)  Always better to have a tailwind home but I'd earn my lunch for the 30 k's back to town today.  Ascending Mt Toolamba's lofty 2.6 metres got me off the Fizik and into the township, thankfully missing peak hour.  

There's some shelter on the east side toward the old timber bridge so once ridden to and walked across (plank gaps would swallow a wheel whole!) I had that wind trying to blow me backward from then on.  Across the highway presented the backside breaker, Union Rd's coarse coat of stone and tar laid over the corrugations dampened the speed and pounded the posterior. The smooth surface of Central Kialla Rd was in stark contrast, though it was tempting to rest the chin on the headstem to fight the now north northeaster for the return.  

Rather than pondering the miserable pace, the six k's up to Mitchell Rd was spent mentally scanning the Butter Factory's menu.  (I was burning the calories to make room for it!)  Now, where was that passing fleet of trucks to tow me? Arriving at Mitchell took the wind off the nose but put it in the right ear headed to the highway.  The gradual steer toward north on Raftery Rd was the four k's to empty the tank (if only to maintain a respectable speed), the vapor left just enough to drive the main street into town to the lunch table.

12/7  Blame Bo!

Bang! Back to reality Monday.  Dark and cold was a slap in the face from yesterday.  An east northeaster was going to dish up some distress from Mitchell to Old Dookie Rd and there'd be no hiding from it.  The 10 k's of tail wind to the start-line was like being short-changed!   The grid of PistolPete, Tina, Emil, Rocket, Bruce, Bo, Wozza, Kel, Kreeky and Joe (not Tony) lined up at the roundabout and JJ had made a brief visit to the flat-lands from his whirlwind tour of the country.  Pain suffered sooner would be better than later, so I braved second wheel to PistolPete as he wound up the hurry south.   I was all psyched up beyond the truck route, ready to take on the hard metres into Mitchell Rd's wind when JJ collected some local flora (a bindii) and punctured.  What ride is without one these days? 

With Kel's eagle eye and JJ getting a diploma in wheel fitting, we were off again soon after to polish off Archer Rd, but PistolPete hadn't had enough and took on a second shift to Central Kialla (I'll send him a cheque!)  I'd inherited the drive north to River Rd but that wind had swung a little more northerly (just my luck!) so it was down to wringing out all the watts I could to cover the 2 k's respectably.  (An oncoming truck almost blew me back a week!)  Rocket's ease of acceleration to River Rd's bridge meant I could catch the tail and Wozza breathed a sigh of relief retiring rearward at the dip 'cause nobody had gone o.t.a.  Bo put heads down with the crew stacked across the black stuff in search of shelter but Tina's grip on the wheel ahead was slipping.  (There's a whole lot of drama when your head's given up holding on.  The legs would have done it but it's too late when the will won't drive them!)  

Rocket and Wozza became Tina's safety net while Bo backed off the gas and bore the brunt of the blame.  JJ was diplomatic in his drive to Rooster corner; he'll be welcomed back.  The north northeaster had little effect on Emil heading to One Tree Dam (the pot-holes are fixed but a layer of gravel continues the caution)  Bruce kept the tempo smooth and steady over the highway to Old Dookie Rd but Tina wrestled with the enthusiasm to continue.  A liberal coating of encouragement was applied to keep her aboard and a little slice off the speed helped her headspace.  

13/7  Bigfoot's back!

The regret would ruin the day.  Not riding crossed my mind several times as the alarm chimed at stupid o'clock, maybe lethargy from riding nine days in a row was emptying enthusiasm but I'd be kicking myself all day if I didn't feed the addiction.  Rain looked likely to lie me low over the next few days anyway.   Regulars Bruce, Emil, PistolPete, Bo, Wozza, Rocket, Kel and Boof swarmed Sanctuary Drive.  JJ returned for a second serve of the flat stuff.  5:40 struck for the train to steam south but Hark! what light through yonder southern scenes breaks?  The Godfather (aka Bigfoot) made his triumphant return.  The entertainment was back!  

Boof caught the last carriage as you-know-who led us to Mitchell Rd.  Being eighth in a line of ten blessed me with plenty of breathing time before the huff and puff at the business end.  Rocket as Act 2 kept the effort on an escalator, the agenda set in stone as Wozza dragged us to River Rd.  Kreeky arrived from the north in Central Kialla, a last minute change to the wet weather bike might just put the mozz on us!  Emil headed the charge to the bridge, the breeze evident from the northeast if I strayed a little left of Bo's wheel.  Kel championed the cause to the dip.  Reserves were dwindling closer to the front as the aerodynamics thinned, Bo's body language showing the strain pushing the last two k's to rooster corner.  Time to prepare for punishment ; my shift was next.  Common sense said set the speed to sustainable, but the competitive curse kicked in when 'comfortable' showed only 34, the push to 37 more like pulling my weight's worth (even if it killed me to reach the Broken bridges)   My elbow said duty done, but memories of last week's whippin' by Wozza flashed across the pre-frontal cortex, thankfully it was Kreeky taking command next, at the same speed.  

The Godfather was a bit out of tune after a week off two wheels (burdened by a big foot) so sledges came thick and fast at the Boundary bridge when he retreated to the rear early.  I'm sure I caught Wozza and Rocket licking their lips!  PistolPete captained us to Old Dookie Rd.  There's something about heading west that triggers a rush of blood to the head (and a rush of watts to the back wheel)  Is it to end the effort sooner?  Cross the finish line first? (if there was a finish line!)  Maybe to cure the caffeine craving?  Today it may have been about giving The Godfather grief!  It had turned Christmas for Wozza to serve up the speed to Central Ave, the silence from second last wheel (go on, you figure it out) was serene.  Across the intersection, the tsunami effect of Rocket resuming the rush was the straw that broke The Godfather (PistolPete went back to his rescue).   Rocket was now the kid in the candy store leading the hurry into town. 

Across the truck route my memory flickered ; Col would have launched a sprint to SPC about now.  And there'd be ice cream, pancakes (and maple syrup) as his reward.  Great memories. 

Rain stopped play for the remainder of the week  (so less banter to wade through this time!)

This week 200 km   YTD   7,537 km      

   

            

F..f..f..flabbergastingly fresh!

Post #606

3/7 Saturday sustenance.

Starting the Saturday spin from the shop recalled rides of old, some from those days are  now hibernating (or have been inked permanently into the history books)   But the dedicated arrived, GiantAndy, Wozza, Boof, The Godfather, Molly, Emil, Rocket, BamBam, Lance, Determined Dan, Bruce, PistolPete, TatPaul, Greg and Kreeky along with guests Knights, Andy and Luke from Melbourne's suburbia.   Wozza was on his best behavior leading the team south, due diligence in his drive so all stayed connected.  

It felt fresh at 'feels like 1.4' but the west northwester eased the way, Superman (lit up like a glow-worm) appearing at Mitchell Rd's rumble strips.   Pace was sorted and partners paired, seems the pack had just settled into the routine at River Rd when Determined Dan called a pause for a puncture.  At this time of year, what's a ride without one?  (No pressure Dan, 18 would wait in the cold for your swift fix!)  The back wheel had barely been fitted when the bunch rolled away, the fumble to refit gloves and engage cleats opening a big gap to bridge.  TatPaul and I played tow trucks to haul Dan back aboard.  Molly set her spot in the caboose, feeling she's the foreigner female while other gals have gone walkabout, Superman (feeling he's the ballast) keeping Molly company.  

With Greg's wheel ahead and Wozza's behind, I transitioned from demotion to promotion and joined the queue to do duty at the front, somewhat a speck in the distance.  It'd be a while.  Boundary Rd's well worn path held a few puddles from last night's rain, a few unwittingly putting their wheels through them, so the baptism made a mockery of cleaning the bike last night.  Greg played fair at the church as I paired to labor toward Lemnos-Cosgrove Rd alongside, hoping the turn at the front with Wozz westward wouldn't cook me.  How kind of him to leave his handbrake on till I resigned at Woolshed Rd.  There wasn't going to be a quick recovery in the draft  though, Bruce and Wozz turned up the tempo to their standard. (saves them snoring!)  But that's ok, it made me earn my breakfast.  Again the horsepower had lined up astern, Rocket, GiantAndy and Knight Luke guaranteed a swift trip to Ford Rd but BamBam looked the odd one out in the procession ; you could see the longing in his eyes for a spot in the left line. 

GiantAndy and Knight Luke lit the fire in Wanganui Rd, the expectation of a fast finish filling heads with concerns of what might be left in the tank.  TatPaul did the duck to the down-line but fears were unfounded, a blanket was thrown over the sprints of Saturdays past.  (hardly the weather for it....and hardly the company that craved it)  All went light on the throttle through Canterbury's slick roundabout but went back to a solid spin along the Boulevard to breakfast.  Wanganui sprints, winter's merging of the clans and facing the post-cafe cold kept the conversation cooking till the raffle was drawn (part one of the Beyond Blue fundraiser). 

5/7  Fun? in the fog.

Feels like 1.4, foggy, dark, damp and slippery, Nixon St's roundabout presented a decent sized lump of tarmac on it's apex to throw my back wheel off-line, and wasn't that a cardiac kick-starting, here-comes-a few-more-broken-ribs start to the week!  (Got lucky keeping it upright)  Why I was riding in this foul weather raises some serious questions about judgement, probably 'cause others would!  (They made me do it Mum!)  Wozza, Bruce, Kreeky, Tina, PistolPete, Emil and Joe (not Tony) appeared through Sanctuary Drive's mist, all probably cursing the decision to get out of bed (and that others had turned up to ride!)   

The consensus was for calm in these conditions, corners of particular concern to me......for some strange reason!  Pete set a sensible speed south, Bruce continuing the common sense for Emil to take over at Central Kialla.  Was that a fine drizzle anointing us or just the rooster tails of water off the wheels?  Whatever it was , the damp was beginning to soak through to make the morning a memorable one.  Slicing through the 100% humidity with the temperature chilling the bones, water spray and worms all over the bike and kit (and some up the left nostril) will be joked about some day....but not right now!   

Emil had kept a courteous calm to River Rd (yep, I was on his wheel again!) handing me the duty to drive to the bridge, the bureau's 2 km/h westerly wasn't much to rave about but it was a psychological assistance.  Tina (behind me) wasn't going to ignite the afterburners when I slipped back to the rear and Wozza kept his tempo tethered for the long haul to Rooster corner.  A bit of variety is a good thing so Kreeky's calm approach to Coach Rd settled a few heart rates but where the One Tree Dam pot-holes were on the dark and greasy tarmac had me a bit tense.  Joe (not Tony) led the damp distance to Channel Rd, PistolPete doing duty to the highway, but a short shift isn't part of his repertoire so he pressed on to Old Dookie Rd.  That got the guessing game going ; Bruce might take us to Central and Emil to the truck route, so I might get the short 1300 metre thrash to SPC?  Shouldn't postulate, take it as it comes Foss. Speed was snail-like on the turn west, Bruce (as expected) driving long to Central as the damp and dismal day turned us all water-logged.  Predictably, Emil towed us all to the truck route, so that short final foray to SPC was a long straw drawn for me.  Just on top of the gear nearing Florence St, a call of 'puncture' paused my rush, Kreeky suffering almost the worst conditions to deal with a deflation.

6/7  A Tuesday test.

A dry road, almost mild temperature (6 degrees) and the lack of wind made a pleasant change but Tuesday's tempo would be the test.  The grid (Lenny, ChrisA, Rocket, Bruce, Wozza, Boof, Kreeky, Bo, Tina, PistolPete. Kel and Emil) had a bias heavy on horsepower.  There was a bit of shuffling at the rear for that "wheel of choice" and D'oh! I'd scored Emil's wheel yet again!  As tradition demands, PistolPete led us south to Mitchell Rd, Boof then doing the 2 k's to Central Kialla.  Rocket got down to business for the shift to River, my moment of hesitation at the corner opening a big gap which obliged me to close.  A half k in the low 40's should teach me "he who hesitates is lost".  

Bruce headed us east to the bridge to keep up the hurry and Bo got away with (in The Godfather's absence) a short shift to the dip.   I'm sure Wozza is only running at quarter throttle but the bunch was silent as he idled to Rooster corner.  Lenny was put in charge of stress levels for Coach Rd but the call of "ease up!" said the bar was set a bit too high.  Tina had been tested to catch the pack out of the turn.  With tempo turned down a tad and Bruce heading rearward as windbreak to the rescue, Tina was back on again.  (Considerate lot this Couldabeens clan)  Was that a headwind as I moved a fraction off-line at third wheel?  Or was being closer to the front wearing away the watts too fast? I'd convinced the cranium it was the wind doing it, in the interest of positive thinking.  Lenny would head us to the highway and Emil had the horsepower to drive to Old Dookie ; Oh good! I'd get the westward path and wriggle out of the work into that wind!  Plans to reach Central Ave went on rewind as the effort escalated to keep up the previous pace, the target now reset to reach School Rd.    Ain't reality a cruel thing? (turns out that breeze was a westerly)  Kreeky kept the kettle bubbling to Central Ave and PistolPete kept it from boiling over to the truck route.  How civilised it was to steer the dry streets and corners into town to finish. 

7/7  Wozza's wheel.

A clean bike, an oiled chain and a brand new pair of tyres made a marginal gain in speed but a massive boost to the contentment.  It seemed so much easier to get up to speed, just wish the engine could keep it up now!  Wednesday's social spin attracted Rocket, Laura, BamBam, Lance, Bruce, Tina, PistolPete, Kel, Emil, Kreeky, Boof, Bo, Wozza, Greg and Joe (notTony) to the grid, a little cloud cover and a touch of west northwester keeping the forecast frost away.  

It took a while for the advance line to populate, as usual those with wattage started it and that troubled some at the rear to join in early.  Two rows were complete arriving at Mitchell Rd, the draft of ten ahead making life easy with the west northwester being the icing on the cake.  Chat was well underway at River Rd but Bruce called a pause when a puncture put the brakes on the Bossi.  Deflation seems to be the fashion at this time of year (some seemed to relish the oxygen intake)   Of course the order gets shuffled on the restart (though some weren't letting go of their wheel of choice) and I'd wound up between the wattage of Bruce and Rocket, just as well it's social Wednesday!  There'd be several k's to get accustomed before reaching the business end.  Joe (not Tony) and Bruce paired to the highway so I got prepared for a long one beside Bruce in Boundary Rd.  

I guess the lack-lustre CO2 pressure wasn't helping him, I was called across at the bridge.  It was tempting to ask for respite beside Rocket at the fig farm but my stubborn side said keep at it to Old Dookie, it was a social speed today after all (even if it felt swift)   Lungs still labored in the slipstream of the Wozza / Rocket combination on Old Dookie Rd, Wozza's enthusiasm showing half a wheel ahead of Rocket (I guess a lazy lap at an idle would give you itchy feet)  We're lucky really to have this division along to boost the winter numbers ; we all know what happens to the smaller factions as temperatures test tenacity (Not many want to ride solo in an Arctic atmosphere)   PistolPete and Wozz led a (constrained) charge into suburbia. 

8/7  Six squirrels

Nothing quite prepares you for it.  You can mentally psych yourself up and say it's only a number and don every layer you have in the wardrobe, but the reality of feels like minus four is f...f...flabergastingly fresh!   There's a moment when throwing your leg over the bike you think you've grown accustomed to the temperature but the chill when getting those wheels in motion, even at a slow roll, becomes literally breath-taking!  Thank heavens adrenaline kicks in to get you up to speed.  Minus two bit me hard on a sedate spin to Tarcoola, Emil and Kim's arrival was almost the only thing stopping me from u-turning straight home. 

The stupidity of riding in this stuff is almost cancelled when others are doing it.  No doubt there'd be others to blame for the torture by temperature at the shop! Tina, Bo and Kel turned up, Joe (not Tony) conveniently absent when a puncture prevented him from even leaving home.  Emil took first shift on Channel Rd, the order out of usual sorts ; me, Kel, Tina, Kim and Bo astern as Emil's efforts led us to the truck route.  For a moment I'd considered doing the distance to the Kinder but common sense (and the feeling of frost-bite on the lungs) made it sensible to aim at Orrvale Rd.  Kel provided the pace to the Kinder, Tina to the cypress trees.  Kim made a brief debut, wisely reserving the watts to catch the tail as Bo drove to the S bend.  I might have read Emil's thoughts guessing he was settling in for a big shift north (yup, I was on that wheel again!), I'd translated the body language aboard the La Pierre that said long haul when the Boundary Rd rhythm settled in.  Eyes glued to his elbow failed to make it flinch at the bridge, the fig farm or even Old Dookie, maybe both were frozen solid as we reached New Dookie Rd?    

"Clear!" shattered the silence crossing the intersection and that's where I'd been nominated the lead role, navigating the rumble strips that warn of the rail crossing, ironically now sealed over.   Another k to Lemnos-Cosgrove Rd seemed a little short so steering west, I reset the aim at reaching the main eastern channel.  Cranial cruise control kept a tab on mid thirties so I'd at least stay on speaking terms with Kim.  Kel showed what real smoothness was to Lemnos North Rd ; it felt at least three degrees warmer in the draft at the back.  Thursday's have become therapy from what feels like regular weekday thrashings, the break from the Sanctuary squad labeling us squirrels, but that variety in velocity (just a couple of k's) has been the salvation to survive the six day a week addiction.  The order had shuffled to put Bo in the drivers seat for Ford and Emil did the distance into town (swapping the lack of labor for a longer length?)  The Butter Factory's coffee thawed the internals as the mug un-froze fingers, the Sanctuary's five of Rocket, TrackStan, Boof, PistolPete and Kreeky joining in the social stuff soon after. 

9/7  Friday feels like?  Frozen!

The reasons become ever stronger.  Facing the cold puts up a hundred excuses not to ride, particularly at the end of a week of these lows.  The fellowship of a bunch seems to be the only flickering light at the end of a very cold tunnel.  Kit up before those reasons tip the balance Foss!  With what seems to be a breathless battle with the 10 k commute to Sanctuary done, a crew of Joe (not Tony), Greg, Tina, Wozza, Bo, Bruce, Boof, Emil, Rocket, Kel, BamBam and PistolPete lifted spirits from the doldrums, but it didn't lift the temperature from feels like  minus 0.8.  An invitation to spin south was extended by PistolPete (naturally) though Tina's Di2 dramas dictated a sympathetic speed.  In a sneaky manoevre, I'd managed to slot in at forth wheel behind Bo, evading Emil's energy.  I'd have about 12 minutes to harden up for a River Rd shift , if all went to plan.   

Bo's drive in the 35's through Central Kialla set a suitable speed for me to meet.  2100 metres to the bridge was my (tax deductable?) donation, Kel could smooth the way to the dip while I chilled out (literally) in the caboose.  Tina's turn was abbreviated by grief in the gear department ; I'm happy to be labelled "old school" as a fan of ye olde cable shift Dura-Ace.  (Low-tech reliability rules!)  It was difficult to see who was in the drivers seat with a dozen ahead, a long strong shift to Rooster corner was signed off by Boof when he retired rearward in Coach Rd.   And so the turns rolled to the highway with each playing in the partnership of pace (for richer or poorer).  At least the days of critics cemented in the caboose are long gone.  A turn at the front, long or short, swift or steady is a contribution to the cause after all.  Keep it up and you won't go blind, you'll go faster!  Joe (not Tony) got Bo's advice (don't f#%& it up!) but drove well to the Boundary bridge, Wozza then taking the reigns to deliver us to Old Dookie Rd.  Enthusiasm to reach the warmth of the cafe added a k or two to the west drive to town.  

This week   290 km    YTD 7,337 km       

                    

The brink of Boom!

 Post #605

26/6  Social swapped for speed.

A starting grid heavily weighted with horsepower painted a picture of pace, and that got me craving for a position more rearward than forth wheel.  Pop another concrete pill Foss!, I'd at least scored The Godfather's wheel instead of Emil's!  A hint of a west northwester chilled the right ribs so my predicted turn at the business end in River Rd would have some assistance (yep, I'd already guessed PistolPete taking us to Mitchell Rd, Emil to Central Kialla and The Godfather up to River Rd) but the thought of the work on the west way home later wasn't worth thinking about ; the negatives would have me throw in the towel before I'd even faced the front!   It was reassuring to have Lance on my wheel, us senior citizens need to stick together (these young guys have no respect for their elders!)  Predictions panned out perfectly as Boof arrived late in Central Kialla from the north, my two k drive to River Rd's bridge would be plenty at this pace (forties had become fashionable)  

Bo had drawn the whip in the drivers seat to keep the pace up toward Rooster corner, but the horse was almost dead shy of a k into his shift ; maybe his beer diet is to blame?  That got The Godfather's sledges started.  Lenny made up for the discrepancies with a spirited drive to Coach Rd.  I'd stupidly glanced at the heart-rate, banging on zone five's door while third last wheel was worth ignoring! (I'll bet I wasn't Robinson Crusoe though)  The social stuff would have to wait till coffee time, there was work to do today (and a lot of it was just to hang on)   So why do we do it?  The spirit of teamwork?  Proving something to oneself? (or maybe others?) Maybe because it feels great when you stop!  

Greg proved himself a worthy newcomer driving to Coach Rd while I prepared to suffer the speed of Rocket, Wozza and GiantAndy at the front, conveniently line astern to triple the torment.  Of course, The Godfather's sledges only spiced up the speed!  Puddles were pointed at in the blur of Boundary Rd's tarmac, the air heavy with moisture from an earlier fog dampening everything.....but speed.  East to the Toaster and north to the church, the though of fighting the wind back to town wasn't so inviting, hanging on to the hurry was becoming increasingly difficult.  Legs were tiring, lungs labored and we won't mention the heart-rate will we?  My mental meter was barely recording the crumbs of the toast and Vegemite put in the tank two hours prior.  

Something keeps you going though, stubbornness, stupidity or the shame of going o.t.a?  Another turn was due at the front soon, the sense of duty overpowering the sense of exhaustion.  The slow for the Lemnos North intersection at least gave a few seconds of respite before it was due.  Maybe a hint of shelter helped the hurry?  I'd managed a reasonable turn of pace for a k but little was left to drive further, so handed over the hurt for Lance to enjoy.  I had an urgent appointment at the back with breathing!  Plenty of power was ahead of me to get a tow back to breakfast, I just hope the excitement of seeing Wanganui Rd didn't incite a sprint.  Wish granted, but Rocket hunger for breakfast led to a hurry on the Boulevard.    Who's spending the big bucks, garden art and Bo's beer diet made the noise at the Butter Factory's table as a little more drizzle dampened the outdoors.  Bike cleaning day yet again!

28/6  The wind that wasn't.

It was at least a 27 km/h wind fair in the face! Scotty was hollering "I'm givin' her all she's got captain!" and still the Garmin would barely touch 36.  Kel had dragged me to River Rd's bridge and I was almost inside-out to reach the dip.  A bad case of Monday-itis maybe? Possibly a deficiency of concrete in the diet?  PistolPete had no drama with pace to Mitchell Rd and Emil nudged the forties to Central Kialla (of course!), Bruce made the north drive to River Rd look easy and Kel's no slouch. I'll have to chat to my 'supplement' supplier!  After much masochism I eventually reached the dip (a snail may have been faster), handed the lead to Tina and retired to the rear despondent with the drive.  

Tina did a great turn to the quarter horse gates and Wozza drove carefully to Coach Rd to avoid busting bits off the back.  (Still felt like a sentence of hard labor to me!)  Greg became captain north toward the highway, the easterly now more evident with the change of direction easier (though the echelon wasn't that extreme)  Must be Monday-itis.  Joe (not Tony) was given driving duty at the bridges but his legs weren't co-operative, his maiden voyage into the Strathbogie hills at the weekend had worn a lot of wattage away.  The Godfather donated his services at Channel Rd then generously continued the cause up to Old Dookie.  (Bruce kindly headed the echelon that The Godfather didn't)  PistolPete started his second shift west toward Central Ave and with Emil, Bruce and Kel still to serve I'd guessed I'd escape facing the front again.  Staying aboard took priority as Pistol packed some clout to Central Ave, Emil of course continuing the cruelty to the truck route.  Just as well Bruce took us to town 'cause I had nothing to contribute.  And that nasty easterly I felt earlier?  The bureau recorded it at 2 to 7 km/h.  Gutted!  Finding 60 psi in the rear tyre later said "There's the problem!" 

29/6  Serve chilled. 

What makes it a struggle to stay at 30 to the start line but then drive a turn in the high 30's for a couple of k's five minutes later?  The answer to that, how long a piece of string is and tomorrows lottery numbers to follow!  It says a lot for the motivation a bunch brings though.  Emil and I had come upon Greg fixing his first puncture on the way to Sanctuary's roundabout (note; your spare tube should have a valve stem long enough for your 50mm rim Greg!) so Emil drove on to put a hold on the start line till repairs were done.  Greg and I joined the parade as PistolPete led the line into the roundabout, so I was straight down to business in second wheel.  Who else was in the procession would be told in time.  It's a little daunting to drive second, especially to follow up on Pete's pace, but it's probably best to jump straight in the deep end without too much thought.  What could possibly go wrong?  Going o.t.a. with just 3 of the 30 k's done?  

Overcoming the bite of 1 degree was the biggest battle, it felt like Jack Frost had my lungs in the Heimlich manoeuvre.  I won't bang on with the usual poetry of the toil at the front but I got to Central Kialla, grateful to Greg for his slow build-up of speed to River Rd.  Bruce, Wozza and Rocket made the journey to Coach Rd a quick one and like yesterday, an easterly wore away my watts in the attempt to stay aboard. I'd prepared for the hurt Emil might dish up in Coach Rd but was surprised as he peeled off the front at the bridges.  Bo braved the front in Boundary Rd and got a bit beyond the bridge before calling it quits (and didn't that invoke the wrath of The Godfather!)   Boof and Kel kept the speed simmering, even BamBam had crawled out of obscurity to put in a (short) shift north.  I'd changed down a gear to prepare the legs and taken a few big breaths in readiness as PistolPete let loose in Old Dookie, though sitting on that smoothness made the tempo tolerable.  Only when slicing the air myself did the real effort sink in.  Dobson's bridge had to be the aim (if I didn't blow a head gasket before getting there), so good on ya Bruce for taking over to tow the team to town ; left to me it would have been at snails' pace. 

30/6  Swerv'n Skippy.

A solo commute to the start was a rare thing (carrying the news of Emil's valve malfunction) so  a couple of k's off the usual pace was almost like a holiday.  Boof, Lenny, Bruce, PistolPete, Bo, The Godfather, Kel, Greg, Tina, Lance, Laura, Joe (not Tony) and Rocket's arrival proved the social Wednesday thing has fueled plenty of enthusiasm in Winters' gloom.  Emil arrived barely a minute late, PistolPete setting the wheels in motion to the truck route.  

You know it's Wednesday when chat gets underway in the first kilometre!  Maybe the slightly slower pace drew Bo forward to form the advance line?  Wheels of choice were chosen (there's hardly ever a mix of divisions is there?  Almost without fail the A's B's and C's congregate together.  Comfort within the classes?)  and two lines toured south to Mitchell and pointed east.  I'd berthed between Kel and Lance in the advance line on River Rd but there was work to do at the front, that incessant easterly was at us again (manageable at the Wednesday tempo, murder any other day!)   Just up to speed in Coach Rd a caution was called, three 'roos bounding at the roadside weren't welcome in the bunch.  Instinctively, eyes strained the dark sidelines for their mates. (thankfully none)   

The seasonal downturn in tarmac quality is beginning to show, already early signs of a few pot-holes are lurking to ruin a tyre or wheel.  Trick is to find them in the dark! I'd convinced Laura to come out of the caboose and slip into the smoothness midfield, free from the whiplash effect at corners and intersections.  The Godfather relished reminding division one of the Wednesday cap on pace but that was ripped from the rule book when a wind at the backside stirred the speed in Old Dookie, it was almost back to the usual weekday hurry to town but no complaints were lodged. 

 

1/7 Light duties.....noice!

A fraction less fast cast a calm on Thursday....there's something about winter that throws a blanket on speed, let alone the urge to get out of bed!  With no qualms about breaking the Sanctuary squad habit, the lure of a lap with Tina, Emil and Kim was hard to resist ; a little respite from what sometimes seems a lot of weekday work.  Congregating at the shop found the surprise additions of Kel and Bo.  Thursday was hump day of the year and had painted Channel Rd dark, damp and dismal, the atmosphere like soup to push through. At least the company was co-operative.  

Emil elected himself first to face the front and that usually set the tempo for the lap ; if others are able and obliging.  His long drive to reach Orrvale school could have cooked Kim though. (It's that second wheel syndrome thing. A draft of five might have been a better introduction?)  To Kim's credit, she had a go. (elephant stamp for effort)  Tina took to the ChaCha while I waited in the wheel for my time to come.  I could have chosen a better draft though, Bo's co-efficient of drag would be four-fold!  

Facing the front at the Kinder was a breathtaking baptism, tougher than I though to cut through the 100% humidity though reaching the cypress trees wasn't going to burst a boiler.....but I was happy to hand the helm to Bo by then. He agreed when retiring from duty at the S bend, it was like pushing through porridge.   Kel had no drama to polish off Channel Rd.  Round two started on the journey north with Emil driving the distance to Boundary's bridge and beyond, but that had tested Kim's tenacity where a halt was called to halt her light-headedness at the fig farm. Good decision Kim, the best rides are the upright ones!  A few moments were taken to restore the balance, common sense and consensus changing our course to head to town via Old Dookie at a steady tap.  It's been a while since finishing a turn at the front with enough breath left to talk!

2/7  Cooked by the Croatian. 

A northeaster blew the fog about on Friday, just to remind us of the joys of winter.  Bo, Kel, PistolPete, Kreeky, Joe (not Tony), Tina, Bruce, Rocket, Wozza, BamBam, Emil and Lenny must crave these conditions, lining up for the spin at Sanctuary Drive.  I'm having a rubber stamp made up for the first on duty to Mitchell Rd (no prizes for guessing!), the breeze up the bum spiking the Garmin graphs early for many.  Bo was looking for an advance line to form but a dozen had glued themselves Indian file behind PistolPete ; nobody wanted to pair for pain, the wind (10-17 km/h) would give grief all the way to Old Dookie Rd.   

Lenny was first to suffer to Central Kialla.    Kreeky's comeback was a dive into the deep end, the drive north to River Rd a nasty north northeaster at the nose for two k's.  Shifts shortened in River Rd as the wind shifted a little more easterly, my promotion toward the front drawing near as Kel finished her contribution at the quarter horse gates for Bo to take us to Coach Rd. (There's no getting out of this Foss, time to take some suffering for the good of the squad and into the wind it was!)  This wasn't time for heroics, a turn to the Broken bridges was all that was in my tank.  Running on empty just shy of the first bridge I handed over to Wozza, but in a Mt. Vesuvius moment (almost all week off the bike had built up a head of steam to blow off) turned up the watts toward the highway.  I dug the depths of desperation to catch Bo's wheel at the back ; thankfully he'd heard the growling bear and dropped a couple of k's so I'd get his slipstream, so the scene turned suddenly blurry as I wrung the engine's neck in a bid to avoid an o.t.a. moment.  Fifty metres of torture and I'd caught the draft of a dozen.  

Wasn't I delighted Bruce had turned down the torture beyond the highway, I could breath my way back from the brink of Boom! and prepare for a guaranteed swift spin along Old Dookie.  That northeaster would now be friend, not foe.   Wozz conveyed his apologies as he rolled to the rear, I concur on his craving to get back into it, besides, a dose of labor at the limit is a good thing. The reality is there's more in reserve than the head reckons.   A damp and slippery road had polka dotted us with roadworks mud, formerly clean bikes now looking like cyclo-cross contenders.  Ain't winter wonderful!  Joe (not Tony) took us to Old Dookie Rd, and as the wind favored the forties,  Rocket, PistolPete and Lenny turned up the tempo toward town.  

This week  280 km    YTD 7,046 km