The Covid cannon-fire.

 Post #613

21/8 Sat'dy seven.

Rolling solo to Saturday's ride was strangely serene.  Just a k or so slower was surreal too! (I might need a few watts in reserve to keep up should the heavy duty horsepower turn up at the start-line)  Several of the regulars, close contacts with a Covid hotspot that had quickly surfaced in town were now out of the line-up and isolating, so Saturday's grid could be a luck-of-the-draw.  I'd be playing rushin' roulette today.  How odd to find Sanctuary's roundabout minus PistolPete, but Bruce was a most suitable stand-in.  GiantAndy, Lenny, Greg, The Godfather and Grumpy made up the squad, not too heavy on horsepower and full of moral fibre (just to keep me regular?)  Six a.m. set us south and forth in the (Indian) file bought me some time to prepare for the huff and puff to come. 

With his eye on keeping the crew intact, Bruce took us to Mitchell Rd and handed the role to reach Central Kialla to GiantAndy, the big diesel's torque adding a couple of k's to the tempo (I'm sure he can't help it!)  Lenny's leniency on pace to River Rd put a bit more oxygen in my bank, bless his little black socks - I was up next with sights on reaching River Rd's bridge.  Content I'd quickly measured up to the previous pace, now the task was to go the distance.  No pressure though Foss, two k's to go and the hope that those behind didn't fall asleep!  It was a relief crossing the bridge two and a half minutes later, the old engine was on the red-line and threatening to blow a gasket.  Greg was kind enough to keep tempo so I'd catch the last wheel.  A few foggy patches reminded us all that winter was still with us but that earlier light on the horizon is heart-warming (didn't make four degrees feel warm though)  

Greg towed us to the dip where The Godfather took charge, determination (or maybe just plain pig-headedness?) driving him on the three k's to rooster corner.  (I could hear the cries of "Mercy!" from the Merida's 11 tooth sprocket)  Coach Rd was Grumpy's domain and being midfield eased the workload of holding the wheel ahead, that tsunami effect at the back out of corners can catch the wary (or those weak on wattage).  Grumpy's start was considerate.  Bruce was back at the business end crossing the Midland and already I was predicting / planning  my second act ; if only to distract thoughts on the weather /  the next electricity bill / when the nanobots in my second vaccination will be activated by the new world order!   Past Old Dookie Rd's pork palace (oh, the pungency to come when the weather warms!) in GiantAndy's delightful draft, then Lenny's tow to the Pine Lodge church and beyond, it was odds on I'd score the first westward shift on Lemnos-Cosgrove Rd.   That's good ; I reckoned there was just a hint of a northeasterly to help with my hurry.  

The lights of three Cats (Wow! That's commitment!) at Woolshed Rd was something to aim at and it felt good to get up to pace the others seem to cruise at (though did setting that target create a cranial constraint?  The tank felt empty getting there!)  I wasn't about to enlist a sports psychologist to explain, a team of therapists are flat out treating a bike addiction!  Lenny had a sinking sensation nearing Lemnos North Rd so the halt while he dealt with the deflation was a welcome intermission.  Despite Grumpy's grizzle about the length of the repair, we were back in business along Ford Rd without a lot of delay.  

GiantAndy was tasked with the work on Wanganui Rd and did the duty to DECA, Lenny's speed sinking on his aim at Mt.Wanganui due to that dismal CO2 pressure.  Enthusiasm elevated on the Boulevard as breakfast at the Butter Factory begged, hand-made bikes, Covid criminals and baiting Bo the stuff of social sustenance.  

24/8  Solitary confinement.

Motivation wouldn't pull the skin off a rice pudding on Tuesday. The state had been thrust back into a Covid caused lock-down and that five k leash was back to restrain rides.  Bunch riding was banned and a bone chilling south southwester blew more negatives my way, but the regret of not riding would ruin me.  Monday's showers had only made the craving stronger.  Maybe a random route would inject some inspiration? (It would avoid dealing with the dizziness that multiple laps bring on)   Traffic's rarely a bother at stupid o'clock (as long as they're awake at the wheel) but the Covid restrictions seemed to have halved the metal boxes travelling the streets.  There's a strange sense of freedom choosing the direction at the drop of a hat (don't attempt that in a bunch!), a whim steering me south onto the Boulevard and east onto Knight but that south southwester made a convincing argument to turn the nose north.  

Progress had a far more pleasing pace on Verney though that leash would soon pull tight ; it was time to do the work west.  Just a k on Ford ('cause west on Wanganui unlocks too many demons!) then south through the middle of town was about as random as the regulations would allow.  The wind made thirties a thrash (there was quite a traffic jam for the nutritional time-bomb at the Scottish restaurant) down to Sobraon where weakness turned me east.  It felt a little aimless going this way and that, though it's gotta be better than laying on the couch eating Cheezels off your fingers!  (That fear of losing form from just taking yesterday off means there's issues)  West on Balaclava then a clockwise golf course loop gobbled up the last of the free time, a little shy on the usual distance but there's satisfaction just turning the wheels round.

25/8  Southern circlin'.

Dreaming up different circuits is about all that's left to enthuse a ride, the value of a bunch as a motivation magnet is worth even more in these crazy Covid times of lock-downs and restrictions.  For want of a better direction, south was on my agenda for Wednesday, and although a south southwester was against me, I was relying on a tail-wind home.  There's the curse of kangaroos on Raftery Rd so the CatEye's 1700 lumens were unleashed to scatter any loitering, the wind in the face raising an effort (with the heart-rate attached) to keep some sort of reasonable progress.  

It's Strava's fault, opening you up to scrutiny.  Getting to Galbraith's gate should have been the end of the effort but there was plenty of pain to get to Roubaix corner before the reward came.  East to Archer Rd was spent calculating if time allowed a second circuit but a couple of laps of Kialla's lakes would be a safer bet to keep to the agenda.   How weird to see Sanctuary Drive empty and there was a foreign feeling to work my way on Wendouree up to the lakes, the streets almost deserted with so many now confined to quarters.  I had a glass-half-full feeling seeing light in the sky at six, circling the southern lake to figure eight the northern one, then steer south again.  Two red leds way ahead  couldn't trigger a chase, arriving at the next roundabout they'd disappeared anyway!   One last lap and time beckoned me homeward, the main street just lacking a few tumbleweeds to complete a ghost town picture.

26/8  Sufferin' southerly's.

Sitting sends you soft! I've learned that filling the breakfast tank is better done standing.....seeing "feels like zero" and a stiff southerly on the weather observatory while seated comfortably in the favorite chair only festers a hundred excuses to take up the Wouldabeens winter training program of crawling back to bed!  I've been lucky to avoid the Covid cannon-fire that's kept many in their bunkers, so I should seize the day to squeeze the k's in.  So where to today Foss?  A road less traveled would stimulate the senses and relieve me of those mind numbing  k on the same old same old circuits.  East to Lemnos then north to Congupna would make a change even though that southerly would pay me back with pain all the way home.  Like Malcolm said (fifty years and thirty six days ago!) "Life wasn't meant to be easy".  That's well before e-bikes proved it could be very easy.    I'll admit it was easy on Lemnos North Rd with the breeze right up the back door, what it'd be like headed the other way on Grahamvale Rd made me conserve some jelly beans to Congupna.  Mr. Pessimist had conjured thoughts of an agonizing mid twenties speed on Jubilee and Katamatite Rd's but I was pleasantly surprised to keep thirties on the screen, so it seemed Grahamvale would be the stuff of nightmares once I'd navigated the urban sprawl of Congupna (population 616)    

Well, pickle my grandmother!, pace wasn't that bad steering south for the five k slog to Ford Rd.  Mind you, it needed cadence in the mid-nineties and a chin on the headstem to do it!  The passing draft from two B doubles was timely at the three k mark.  With a few breaths back in the bank along Ford Rd, a course was set via Verney then the highway for a bit more hurt to get home (not sure if it was the sadist or the masochist suggesting that?)    Football sized eruptions in the tarmac at the highway's edge (pavement pimples?) had the rear wheel airborne once or twice but generally the two metre wide verge is a safe haven from traffic (if only it were sometimes swept of the stones dislodged from the traffic's tyres)   Wanganui, Rudd and the Boulevard supplied the final suffering to get home and thaw out, sitting in that favorite chair sipping instant coffee (how I miss thee Butter Factory!) 

27/8  Lazybones laps.

Despite having both Covid vaccines I'd contracted a virus Friday morning....the lazybones variant that attacks velocity!  It's a sort of Monday-itis....on a Friday.  With no bunch to inspire pace and hardly a rider about to pair with, a sedate solo spin was figured to be a perfect prescription.  It would have been a great morning to put in a decent effort though, barely a breeze was blowing, but those little grey cells had already resolved to ride relaxed.   There was a short struggle to constrain that competitive corner in the cranium though, always wanting to see better than thirty on the Garmin has made a rod for my own back.  

Today the focus would be keeping a 130 lid on the heart-rate and ignoring the speed (hoping there'd be a new lease on speed tomorrow?)  Vaguely heading south, it was almost impossible to avoid the usual routes but the weight was off the shoulders without the urgency to get to a start-line on time. Down Archer has been done a million times but west on Broken River Drive was one from the history books. North via Welsford with Corio chosen as a curved ball north, heading back via Balaclava and the Boulevard was turning me into a travelling minstrel !  Hey, I could get used to this life below the limit.  There was a magnetism to tour the Kialla Lakes (if only to catch sight of a Couldabeens compatriot....if I could recognise one!) though four degrees was beginning to chill.   A higher speed would get the old engine running at a higher temperature! Home time, to warm to instant coffee!

This week 190km     YTD 8,845km  

         

Velocity gone viral!

 Post #612

14/8 The fog factor.

There'd be a few fronting Sanctuary Drive in the fog....otherwise the urge to stay in bed would have been overwhelming.  I could justify riding in this soup-like stuff blaming the madness of others, or fall back to that old faithful excuse of Rule #9.  The Couldabeen's commissioners had decreed that this Saturday was the resumption of two separate teams,  the combined crew had grown to unmanageable proportions (the shop boys couldn't manage the slower speed?) so who was I to let the Sanctuary society down?  Greg, PistolPete, Bo, Joe (not Tony), Kreeky and The Godfather had found their way through the five degree fog to the roundabout, the faster faction would start three k's behind and six a.m. would set the squads swiftly and separately south.  Race day had returned!  (even the Wouldabeens had called muster, but few fronted ; fearing fog!)  

Seven left Sanctuary forming a file Indian style behind PistolPete's captaincy (of course), concerns about position in the procession now nil with wattage more evenly matched.  It seemed strangely silent single file following the chatty two row formation when the clans combined, but this wasn't time for idle banter, the shop boys would be five minutes behind (and closing) to fend off!  (There's a reputation to uphold here!)   Bo dialed up the pace carefully east to Central Kialla, Joe (not Tony) inheriting the two k leg north to River Rd. so I had a kind introduction to my first shift, two k's to the bridge.  

There were doubts on bureau's statement that there was a westerly breeze at the backside, it felt like a headwind to me!  (A sensation of carrying an extra five kilos worth of the fog's damp was probably my handbrake)  Doing the distance wasn't a problem, I couldn't see the bridge to aim for!  (relief came when it appeared through the fog with just fifty metres to go)   Greg took charge while I did the asthmatic impression at the back.  It must have been a push through that soup at the front, Greg resigned from duty at the dip.  Kreeky contributed to the cause to the white fence where The Godfather guided a (wandering) path to rooster corner.  

With the first round of shifts done, PistolPete started round two in Coach Rd.  While most had burned quite a few reserves on their first turn, Pistol seemed to get stronger!  (All the way to the highway if you don't mind)  That must have baited Bo, he did the distance to Old Dookie and that's what half cooked Joe (not Tony) hanging on at second wheel.  His elbow showed me the drivers seat just over Old Dookie's bridge.  That most minor of downhill's toward the pork palace was just the ticket for my tempo to turn reasonable and manage the distance to the Toaster.  Greg's enthusiasm headed to the church opened up big holes in the procession, warranting a holler of "Easy!", but the ease was exaggerated and rapidly ruined the rhythm (it seemingly takes more time and energy to get back into the swing of speed again)   Hopes heightened taking a peek rearward, no signs of those shop boys.....yet!  The long eighteen k drag west back to town was spirited by Pistol and Bo's donation to blurring the scenery (already fuzzied by fog), those epic elevations over a couple of bridges (700 millimetres in height at least) the only reprieve from the drab arrow-like stretch of Lemnos-Cosgrove Rd.  

Joe (not Tony) led us into Ford Rd but his tank was running low a k later (slow cooked by Pistol and Bo prior?) so gave me the shift to reach Grahamvale Rd.  A hint of daylight only thickened the fog factor and it now felt like ten kilos of ballast slowing progress.  Thick winter gloves and arm warmers were saturated.  The Butter Factory's brew would be particularly savored today!  That westerly breeze had evaporated to put an extra few k's to the velocity and endorphins flooded the head along Wanganui with no sight of the faster faction behind.  Pace along the Boulevard was kept keen to put the icing on that cake.  Breakfast with the pedestrian peloton (including the injured Emil) chatted Joe (not Tony's) moniker and Couldabeens history.

16/8  Wind worn.

Like a cabbage only diet, I can't seem to avoid the wind!  Monday turned on a west northwester to keep us happy heading out but hurting heading home.  But why should we get it easy?  You need something to complain about facing winter's weather at stupid o'clock!  Clans had gathered again (for want of weekday numbers?), Rocket, Wozza, Bruce, Lenny, Emil, Bo, Kreeky, Kel and Grumpy circling the Sanctuary streets while PistolPete idled in the number one grid spot.  5:40 set the squad south to welcome The Godfather's tardy appearance.  Maximum draft at the back was short-lived as two rows formed, the social sentences started (for those who could spare the oxygen) drowning out the hum of  twenty six wheels rolling the tarmac to Mitchell Rd.  Soon into the advance line with Kel ahead and Grumpy behind, my task of providing pace at the front would come quickly with just five in the line ahead. Bo and Kel paired for the introduction to River Rd, from there I had the standard of Kel's smoothness to match to somewhere near the dip.  

Grumpy drew alongside when Kel ushered me across to the left line, respectfully leveled with my wheel while I distracted thoughts on how far this old engine would go before miss-firing.  That tail-wind (fifteen k's per hour) was some consolation.  So it was pleasing to see the white fence of the quarter horse stud (the usual and expected point of change-over) when watts went to a trickle.  Recovery in the slipstream was sweet.  The wind wore away at the port-side on Coach Rd while Rocket and Wozza delivered their horsepower to the highway.  

I'd smugly said to Kel we'd positioned well to be towed back to town, but hadn't calculated how quickly the turns would roll heading home.  Ever closer to the front in Old Dookie Rd said another turn of toil would come due.  Bo's half wheeling of The Godfather beyond School Rd drew the appropriate vitriol. Crossing Central Ave, we couldn't shirk the shift, Kel called a short turn nearing Dobson's bridge which suited me just fine, that's all my muscles could muster. I ran the old engine at the red-line with Grumpy to Redbyrne Crt and had no shame in calling my term toasted, I'd detonate if left in the drivers seat, so took delight in a draft to SPC.

17/8  We can be heroes...just for one way!

I'd entertained the idea of going back to bed when the observatory recorded Tuesday morning's wind (20 k's worth of westerly) but another session of suffering was sure to do me good wasn't it?  It's either that or go soft!  Emil and Kim had taken the squirrel option of Channel Rd, Boundary and Lemnos-Cosgrove but Rule #5 echoed in my head to slog it out with the Sanctuary squad.  Rocket, Bruce, Wozza, Boof, Kel, Kreeky, The Machine and BamBam were found rolling the southern streets till 5:39 called assembly at the roundabout, PistolPete ready and waiting at the front of the grid.  A two row formation meant choosing your partner carefully, but for dawdlers at the back (like me) there's often no choice.  

Kreeky reluctantly followed Rocket into the advance line (but I know Rocket doesn't bite!)  I'd slipped in behind Kreeky with The Godfather on my wheel, a pleasant position but not so peaceful!  So 'round we go again on this familiar circuit with the familiar faces (for consistency's sake?), worlds away from those clockwise days of being bait for Cats and running the Raftery gauntlet, kangaroos and Conrod straight (I wouldn't mind one day a week with different scenery though, if only to prevent going giddy!)   

With one a little off line, another who's view only gets one wheel ahead, the guy doing the shoulder thing, the other with a right knee six degrees toe-out and we all know the one who can't read the wind!   Ah, we're a varied lot!  (thank heavens) and just as well we've grown acustomed to it!  I got the turn from the dip beside Kreeky and our pace was just shy of sensational, that westerly amplifying abilities to the point of needing an XXXL helmet! Like David Bowie (almost) sang, "We can be heroes, just for one way!" (Those ego's would cop a hiding with the headwind home)  The Godfather sided with me for part two, well, half a bike ahead anyway.  Rule #86 says it's a great intimidation technique and it normally has no effect on me, but today the negatives worked, and how quickly the head rules the legs to give up.  (Better just to call him over and soak up the draft than flog the veritable dead horse to stay alongside)  

At full throttle the decision to brave one less layer felt right, but backed off  the gas a little in the slipstream and the cold crept in.  It's that want for warmer mornings to come, then those Antarctic rated base layers can take a long holiday.  Yesterday's lesson on counting your chickens came quickly back to me, estimating the turns would roll rapidly into Old Dookie's wind.  (Even those with wattage would have a limit, wouldn't they?)  There was comfort pairing with Kreeky at Central Ave (Rocket had softened him up prior) so I could conserve a little labor for part two's pairing with The Godfather, he'd be sure to have his bravado boots on with the sledges being served behind.  My shorter shift fixed that problem.  BamBam stepped up for an impressive drive (given his aerodynamic short-comings) into the wind to the truck route at an inspiring pace.  The competition of commuting cars and traffic lights needs a considered captaincy to get the crew carefully to coffee, so it was satisfying to take a calm course to the Butter Factory base camp.

19/8  Thus three.

Kel and Bo were a no-show, Joe (not Tony) was on home duties and Tina's ruptured a.c.l. was a fairly valid excuse not to ride, thus three squirrels became the sum total to tap the Channel, Boundary, Lemnos-Cosgrove circuit as Thursday's therapy.  Half the horsepower, double the workload.  

Emil took the first shift to the truck route (of course) so with low to mid thirties as an aide memoire, my drive to Orrvale seemed a little shy.  I set the Kinder in my sights but was keen to keep the speed at the status quo.   Kim must have consumed the Kellogg's Smoothies for breakfast taking us to McFadyens corner ; each week a little longer, each week a little stronger!  Isn't it a pleasure to be towed along with consistency rather than that staccato shift some do.   (Aren't we blessed to have weeded out those from the team!)  

Today was one of those rare rides where wind wasn't wearing us down one way or another and focus could be fixed on smoothing speed.   Emil took a long turn to Boundary Rd for the swing north, though there a sense of a breeze could be felt from the northeast.  That sat me up the road a bit 'cause putting people in the gutter doesn't win many friends.  It's a great way to deal with an unwelcomed one in the caboose though!  (A hemorrhoid cream that's easy to apply!)  Well into the groove of a long drive, I'd aimed at Old Dookie's intersection before flicking an elbow to Kim, five degrees (and feels like two) of little consequence 'cause I'd layered appropriately for the conditions today.  Emil did duty to Lemnos-Cosgrove Rd and  I didn't see a signal to take over but took the drivers seat anyway ; a three k shift to Lemnos North Rd wasn't too greedy was it?  With no complaints lodged, I  handed the reigns to Kim at Ford Rd and settled back into the rear seat for a tow to town.  Emil couldn't help himself doing that long leadership thing to drag us into town, though a reversing garbage truck rattled nerves when it seemed it wasn't stopping.

20/8  A frenzied Friday.

Was it me feeling more ancient or was it open throttle from the get-go?  Eleven had quickly tucked into an Indian filed line behind PistolPete to Mitchell Rd and JJ kept the speed stoked to Central Kialla.  This wasn't a social spin!  The slightest deviation from the wheel ahead felt an easterly fair in the face.   Boof headed the hurry through Central Kialla while I tried not to be pessimistic ; Bruce, Rocket and Wozza were next in line to serve speed.  (Kreeky and I were thinking we'd mistakenly joined the Tuesday shop squad!)  Forties had become the norm in River Rd ; velocity had gone viral!  

I'll always give credit where credit is due, but delivering kudos to Bruce, then Rocket, then Wozza as they peeled off the front felt like I'd be just pouring petrol on a bonfire!  My silliest mistake was seeing 178 bpm glaring from the Garmin.....and I was still five wheels away from the front.  The Godfather calmed down the cruelty when he was put in charge at the white fence and Greg had tamed his tempo a little more when finishing his shift at Rooster corner.  Emil confirmed my perception of that easterly riding the centre-line of Coach Rd, I just hoped that enthusiasm didn't get the  better of him.  Scenery started to come back into focus in the high thirties, Kreeky given the task to take us to the highway at the Broken bridges ; now to get my head around the hurt to come on the front.  Greg was the sensible one taking Channel Rd home, Kreeky doing well to reach the pub without detonation, so my quiet start into Boundary Rd allowed him to catch the tail (well, that's my excuse for a slow start and I'm sticking to it!)   

I'd stoked the old engine up to a speed something like respectable (by divine intervention?) and put the head down to see how far it would last.  The bridge was about the limit, so the legs and lungs told me.  But showing an elbow to Grumpy opened the floodgates.  Suddenly nine shot past in a heartbeat and I barely caught Kreeky's wheel, now five metres off the back.  (That's funny, I hadn't sledged a schoolteacher in days!)  Overdosing on oxygen for two hundred metres (sorry about those guttural gasps Kreeky!), duty soon begged me to return the favor, so loaned my wheel to Kreeky while the bunch eased (considerately two k's an hour slower).   Back aboard in Old Dookie Rd (bite your tongue Foss!) PistolPete got the pace perfect (watch and learn Grumpy!) so the line could at least look united.  Thoughts of the effort headed east made the westbound work a little easier (the bureau reckoned it was calm but I know a dozen who'd argue the point)  JJ took the reigns for the shift from School Rd to Central Ave and Boof did the Dobson's shift into suburbia.  The red leds of Vince and the Rabbit ahead must have been a fixation for Rocket and Wozza to speed the streets in pursuit (so strike out the last sentence on Tuesdays prophecy!)

This week  243 km    YTD 8,654 km                  

  

The home-run hurt

 Post #611

7/8  A Saturday selfie.

Without the social satisfaction of the bunch or it's 6 am agenda, inspiration to ride was sitting near empty on Saturday.  Setting the alarm later than stupid o'clock and dawdling over breakfast, I could indulge in the rare pleasure of riding in daylight for a change.  Chocks away half an hour late felt foreign and a light mist of rain for the first kilometre almost u-turned me homeward, so the sheer stubbornness to continue saved me....the rain gave up en-route to Kialla Lakes.  I needed the spice of variety, there'd be intensive therapy needed if I faced Wanganui Rd yet again!  I'd lapped these lakes with Joe (not Tony) a couple of weeks back, so today's twist would be circling clockwise.  Just like Spa Francorchamps, the circuit was damp one side and dry the other (so to hell with a clean bike again!) but this direction had the easier path through those off-camber roundabouts.  The state's lock-down had tamed traffic to a trickle.  A bit of west northwester was only a nuisance on a few short sections of the loop and houses lining the lakes offered some shelter so speed something like respectable was possible. No pressure though, there wasn't a bunch to keep up with (but something inside drives an effort doesn't it?  The shame of a sluggish Strava post possibly?)   

Lake lapping was in vogue, Emil, PistolPete and Bo were seen circling anti-clockwise so that put me against the grain.  With the southern loop done the northern (Gordon Drive) one lapped up the wind at the backside, the sun struggling to strike through a grey blanket of cloud.  Plenty of pedestrians plied the paths ; maybe that exercise is one of the five reasons in lock-down to leave home we're breeding a new wave of fitter folk?   Lap two and Superman appeared in Waranga Drive (again, an anti-clockwiser), the Bosi's titanium tainted by decals for some reason (some frenzied fit turning fifty?)   I had no idea what the lake lap measured but an eye on the clock guessed about 6 k's, figuring another lap or two would make all that preparation to ride worthwhile and draw me close to caffeine o'clock.  Besides, riding solo was beginning to take it's toll!   I found the familiar faces of Bruce and Leah (finding favor on foot) on lap 3 then TrekTrev and Superman cruising Kialla Lakes Drive on lap four, so to avoid going giddy, lap five was the last.  Those voices inside my head were getting louder anyway..."Quit for coffee" they cried! 

9/8  A spin for sanity's sake. 

Joe (not Tony) saved the day again, otherwise I'd be going gaga on a solitary lap or even succumbing to the stuff-it-I'll-sleep-in syndrome. The big challenge was to devise a different course to provide some variety.  The southern loop of Archer-Mitchell-Raftery seemed to be all the rage in lock-down, and although it may have been a bit beyond our 5 km threshold,  I reckoned I could blame it on a navigational nuance.  (And a tape measure that wasn't long enough?)   Dare I suggest the ravages of winter are behind us?  6 degrees felt mild!  There's something about a clean bike and a tyre pressure top-up that starts the week on a positive, so I was happy to do the first shift down to Kialla Lakes Drive then hand-over.  No complaints to Joe (not Tony) for the draft to the truck route.  My turn to Mitchell and Joe's to the highway, the breeze was barely noticeable (a 6 km/h easterly so the bureau said) so I extended my shift to Arcadia Downs.  

Two groups of three were spied spinning anti-clockwise in a subtle stretch of lock-down law, can't say it's a serious contravention so let's say they were appropriately distanced. (like Joe and I were 5k from home)   Lights were aimed up for Conrod straight and Raftery Rd's 'roos but it must have been their rostered day off.   Ah, those memories of sprint finishes in Conrod seem a millennium ago!  A second lap of Archer-Mitchell-Raftery would bite into my time limit so a loop or two of the lakes (both clockwise and anti to avoid dizziness) would round out 40 k's.  Bruce and Lenny were found loitering the lakes (I'm sure with good intent) so we took the liberty of their horsepower for a draft on Gordon Drive (appropriately distanced)    I'd run out of spare minutes so turned toward home, Joe (not Tony) in tow to the Butter Factory so he could quaff coffee with Bruce and Lenny while I had the joy of clocking on at the salt mine.

10/8  A family re-union.

It had only been a matter of six days under Covid constraints but most had missed the 'family' as if it had been six months!  With the rural restrictions un-locked, Sanctuary Drive appeared packed for the 5:40 ritual, Kreeky, Kel, The Godfather, Rocket, Joe (not Tony), Bruce, Lenny, The Machine, JJ, Boof, Bo and Emil arriving for the ride re-union.  A north northeaster had the speed swift to Mitchell Rd but labor was on the agenda for many till Old Dookie Rd.....unless your name was Rocket, Boof, Lenny, Bruce.....(you get the picture)   The squad's speed was a baptism of fire after a week of the slower solo stuff!  The start nearly caught The Godfather and I off-guard when traffic stalled us at the roundabout.  Two lines formed and several waited in the wings for their wheel of choice to advance with.  I'd almost forgotten that whiplash effect of a bunch out of corners.  Welcome back to bunch life Foss!  

Luck put me on Kel's wheel for the advance line with the amplified entertainment of The Godfather behind (hadn't I'd soaked up the serenity for the last six days!), our tasks to produce tempo at the front some time away at Central Kialla. (fingers crossed we'd be done and dusted before the headwind hurt in Coach Rd)   Bruce and Lenny set a swift standard along River Rd (it's a Tuesday thing with them)  and most felt obliged to follow suit - I'll play their game, but my donation to the drive will be somewhat Scottish!  Kel called a slightly shorter shift when I faced the front at the quarter horse gates and I was only too happy to comply 'cause that was my plan too with a heart-rate hitting the roof!  

No surprises seeing The Godfather doing a short shift (silently) too. Joe (not Tony) and JJ drew the short straw of Coach Rd's headwind with a reassessment  of speed, a little verbal guidance given on proper positioning so most could get into their slipstream. Horsepower hit the front (need I name them?) at the bridges to add 12% to the tempo, Joe (not Tony) coping well with the spike in speed at second wheel after just finishing a shift.  How good is seeing a little light on the horizon at 6:13, the coming weeks drawing winter to a close and welcoming a little warmth to our bones.  Or do I speak too soon?  The slightest suggestion of east in that north northeaster got the hurries up homeward on Old Dookie, Bruce and Rocket needing no encouragement to keep the speed simmering.  I had that split-second stop or go decision when traffic looked likely to split the bunch at the truck route - in the spirit of keeping the pack united I probably should have stopped but I wasn't willing to wear The Godfather as a backpack!

11/8  Echelon entertainment.

I must have slept in.  A mild ten degrees and a brisk north northeaster (20-33 km/h) felt like mid March but here we were in wintery August! (take it while it's on offer Foss!)  Needless to say the commute to Sanctuary was swift but the honeymoon would be brief, a want for wattage would begin at Mitchell Rd.  Two rows formed (again) and doesn't that get the tail-enders selective!  Finding that wheel of choice sometimes leaves few options.  I'll take it as Charles Darwin's theory that naturally selected me to score Kel's wheel after a little shuffling in the echelon at the back to keep Laura and Tina in the draft and out of the wind.  But that wind had little effect on some sections of the bunch, Darwin's theory had them grouped together too.  

Grumpy had made a bare-kneed appearance in feels like 5, JJ no longer the foreigner now attired in the team kit and The Godfather vociferous as usual (when not on the front).   I'd have a long wait in line for duty at the business end with 16 participants (Boof, Rocket, Bruce, Lenny, PistolPete, Kreeky, Bo, Emil and Greg, along with the previously mentioned)   The Godfather turned church mouse when faced with the flurry at the front with JJ (don't you just love the serenity?), a symphony of sledges delivered from the ranks behind.  Turns rolled at the Broken bridges where Kel sided with Greg to aim for the highway.  

The hurt of the head-wind (and maybe a touch of Kel's cooking?) got Greg into the red zone, the lowering of the head and the tell-tale grab for a lower gear spoke volumes of the velocity. (I could have sworn I saw Kel licking her lips!)    An approaching car from the blind side forced a quick choice at the highway, the first half dozen almost committed to crossing hollered the "Look left!" (possibly not wanting to be shunted by those behind?) , the remainder sensibly stopping.   Those through slowed to get the bunch re-united, those who stopped left with a chase to get back aboard. 

Hardly the stuff of squad solidarity.  Maybe a more cautious approach was the prescription?  (at the risk of being labelled a snail?)  The devil you do, the devil you don't.....  

A social speed was guaranteed with the headwind to Old Dookie but there the rule book was thrown out the window, ain't nothin' like the suggestion of a breeze (barely) behind to spur on speed! Ears were open for the sound of protests on pace or that Boom!, flap, flap, flap of an o.t.a. occasion, but silence was judged to be good news as the horsepower hurried us into town. 

12/8  Smooooth squirrels.

Thursday's therapy of squirrel speed was just the ticket for the week's re-introduction to bunch pace, but feels like two degrees was the note to say winter wasn't done yet!  The standard six squirrels (Kel, Emil, Bo, Tina, Kim and I) steered to the Archer St shop start-line for an obligatory inspection of Tina's new wheels (50mm Enve's wrapped in Specialized tubeless)   They'll prove themselves withstanding Tina's distances!   In a carbon copy of the last Squirrel spin, a tail-wind helped us east on Channel Rd, Emil doing a carbon-copy turn to the truck route.   It took a conscious effort to avoid the calculations of who would do what turn and when my shift was due and if the wind was with or against ; this was a lap to enjoy a moderate pace and not fret over the incidentals (that was for the other five days of the week!)  

The only concern came after my shift to the cypress trees - when those rabbits will return to the short straight between Beckham's and the S bend.  Kel piloted us past that point.  Kim was given the drivers seat and went well beyond a rolling turn ; so it augurs well she'll be smashing us Squirrels by summer (hey, no pressure Kim!)  Emil was back to the front for the northern leg on Boundary and almost did a Loius XIV staying in the seat of power (not quite 72 years and 110 days) but all the way to New Dookie Rd.  

Bo did the shift to Lemnos-Cosgrove and retreated rearward to give Tina the head-wind toward home (chivalry is obviously dead).   Determination, something swifter than a new set of wheels, drove Tina to the main eastern bridge, a turbine-like hum coming from tubeless tyres running a bit higher than peak pressure.  She set me a standard to tow the team to Lemnos North Rd.  Kel coped easily with Ford Rd's first westward leg to Grahamvale Rd (Bo's apparently exempt from headwind duty) where Emil sat again in the throne of tempo to take us to town via Verney. 

13/8  Swerv'n Skippy and a Friday Fondo.

A sudden slow at Central Kialla put reactions and brakes to the test.  Something on the road?  Another enlarged pot-hole?  No.....a live and loose kangaroo!  Fourteen scattered in all directions, Tina and Emil unfortunately with nowhere to go but horizontal.  Thankfully a lot of speed had been washed off but Emil had used his elbow as a brake.  The real concern was Tina's new wheels, thankfully unscathed.  With mechanicals checked and nerves slightly settled, PistolPete, BamBam, Greg, GiantAndy, Wozza, Rocket, Bruce, Lenny, Kel, Bo, The Godfather and Bruce started the train rolling carefully to River Rd.  

Friday's bring a sense of relief the working week is almost at an end, but mine was already done with a r.d.o. blessing me the time for the social stuff over coffee and maybe clock a k or two more.   Speed was well stoked by the time Bo and I reached the business end , there wasn't a wind to blame but lungs were almost at bursting point with barely a k covered at the front.  With apologies delivered, I rolled across and prepared for the pace with The Godfather (it doesn't help when the head's saying "cooked" before you start)  Another k and the alarm bells were deafening ; a draft was needed before an ambulance was!  Suppressing the gasps and groans was almost as testing as the turn itself.  All that drama was history a few minutes later, the tow from three or four ahead made Coach Rd Easy Street.  Wozza had the happy's being back on the bike after nearly a week off, GiantAndy had a day off and made a rare weekday appearance, BamBam continues his promotion of pace from the Wouldabeens and, starting prior to the flatulation of sparrows, Greg turned to town via Channel Rd. 

Tina's disc squeak seemed to be the only calamity from the clash with the kangaroo but Emil seemed unusually subdued (a chipped olecranon diagnosed later).  Away from the toil at the front, the speed was sufferable and with plenty of the crew ahead, another visit to the seat of suffering was unlikely.  So, sit back and enjoy the draft toward coffee Foss! Twas a fine finish to the lap where the much needed social stuff  could be soaked up after a week of Covid caused deprivation.  That rare occurrence (daylight) showed up as I chaperoned the injured Emil back home, so with that rostered day off begging, I added some k's to the day. (How easily we fall into the routine of a daily 45*)   A spin south to Channel Rd embarked on the Couldabeen's circuit of old (Channel, Coach, Mitchell & Raftery)  and didn't that rekindle some memories.  I'd realized why the mood was so etheral and relaxed at the bottom of Coach Rd, a breeze had blown me there and a wind had picked up to make the home run hurt. Why should I get it easy?  That'd be no fun!  

So it was head down and cuss the decision of this direction, trying to keep focus on the few metres ahead rather than the never ending stretch to the horizon.  Thought I was going ok till emerging from the tree lined part of Mitchell Rd and copped the full force of the wind.  Reality can be so cruel.   It was good to have the sun trying to warm my back and seeing the early signs of Spring's scenery.  Raftery Rd's gradual curve northward eased the effort to get back into town and I felt some sense of accomplishment at clocking a hundred till the Peppermill's pie tapped a premature Spring introduction on the helmet.

(* does not apply to many who shall remain nameless) 

This week :  331 km      YTD  8,411 km          

The matter of mind over muscles

 Post #610

2/8 Trial by temperature

Is this the coldest, wettest, most miserable winter on record, or is it just me?  Maybe it's global cooling?  Saturday was saturated and Sunday had more pressing priorities, so my Monday-itis was magnified seeing 'feels like minus one' on the local observatory.  The routine of applying all those layers of insulation is now an automatic ritual.  Thoughts swung to speed just a k down the road, temperature was no longer an issue when I considered the Sanctuary squad's velocity after two days off the bike.  Emil cruised the commute to Sanctuary while I nudged the red-line trying to keep up ; still, it's a great introduction for the pace to come.  

Things looked grim at the grid with just PistolPete, Tina, Bruce, Emil and I lined up at 5:39, thankfully Bo, Kel, JJ and Kreeky arrived at the third stroke of 5:40 to lighten the load.  I had a visual challenge of reflective socks and a tail-light aimed right at my eye in forth wheel behind JJ, so I suppressed going epileptic and zoned in on Bruce's smooth pace toward Central Kialla.  JJ took the lead for the northern assault to River Rd and trying to find the ideal slipstream (challenge #2 ; he's built like a matchstick with the wood scraped off!) the call of puncture ended my search for that draft.   How serene the pit-stop was with the Godfather missing - I'll admit the entertainment was left lacking though.  Emil and Tina tapped ahead.  JJ had the tube replaced and wheel fitted, then got the feel of the Pirelli with the puny pressure of the CO2 as Pistol did the driving north to River then east to the bridge. 

The post-puncture reshuffle had me at second wheel but Pistol's smoothness made the speed sufferable.  Luck had it that I scored the shorter shift to the dip, telling myself the downhill off the bridge should make it easy  (yeah....as if!) Jokes aside, progress was pleasing, so much so that I added 200 metres before handing over to Bruce at Trevaskis Rd.  Bruce bumped me off my high horse in a hurry, going the distance to rooster corner (without so much as a sweat raised) to humble my contribution. Some form of focus returned when Kreeky calmed the velocity on the north shift to the Broken bridges.  Tina and Emil's red leds ahead blinked a "come get me" to Rocket (not that he needs any encouragement) for his shift to the highway.   

With  just seven swapping the suffering there'd be a second contribution needed before the lap was done, little stress though with the pace considerately set just under the "I want my mummy" level.  Bruce drove the long leg to Central Ave and Pistol paced the turn to the truck route perfectly, so the squirt to SPC would be my swansong.  There was a surprise finding forty on the speedo when I finally felt the Garmin was worth a glance, sustaining the speed easy on the billiard table surface of Old Dookie Rd....till the Wheeler St traffic lights ruined the rush. An omen really, Tina and Emil had halted to wave a caution for a slick SPC roundabout.

4/8  The punctured predicament.

Full throttle and fast just wasn't happening!  Two rows had formed for a change for Wednesday's circuit and being berthed between Wozza and Boof probably didn't help the head, but it was "go easy Wednesday" where all the factions are catered for.   Half way to River Rd and I had to call Boof across for a draft, there wasn't the watts left to drive the next k.  I'd put it down to a dose of softness and the west northwester blowing at the left brow.  Bruce and Rocket led the line (Greg, PistolPete, Tina, Bo, Emil, Kel, The Godfather, Laura and Kreeky) east toward the dip so speed should have been easy with the wind blowing up the backside but I was still getting no output for my input.  The smallest bump at the quarter horse gates felt the rim kiss the tarmac.  There's your problem Foss!  The deflation sensation was both physical and mental.  

The sense of urgency is strong while 13 stand in the cold waiting (feels like minus 0.4) particularly when it delays the caffeine consumption, but with haste comes the fumbles locating the puncture and changing the tube.  An unseated bead with the first inflation didn't help but take two worked.  Now.....to lock in those cleats in the dark as the team rolled away!  Finally aboard near Rooster corner, the slower pace in Coach Rd let me get some breath back.  That westerly made it's presence felt.  Bo delivered a short shift to the Broken bridges (much to the displeasure of The Godfather), Kel and Emil putting the perk back into the pace bound for Old Dookie Rd.  Sledges seemed to silence as The Godfather played pilot into the westerly, Bruce and Rocket playing havoc with hurry when they'd inherited the driving seats.  My conscience craved the extra 30 psi that the CO2 won't deliver, the headwind and being second wheel to Rocket's low profile adding to the defeatist's argument.  I sought refuge in the left line rather than explode in the advance.  Excitement brewed with the bolt to the truck route (so much for the "go easy" theory) but the final fling to SPC showed some restraint (thankfully Tuesday's rain had cleared the roundabout of it's slick Monday coating)

5/8  Six squirrels. 

A calm has come over Thursday mornings of late, siding with the (slightly) slower Squirrels not only puts therapy into Thursdays but I reckon it's  motivating a few rusty ones to soldier on through winter.  In a few short weeks hibernators will begin their cautious comeback and that's when the soldiers reap their rewards.  Ain't nothing like the smell of a burning come-back kid in a bunch!  (well, a few short weeks might be a tad optimistic) The Archer St shop start-line drew Emil, Tina, Bo, Kel and Kim to assemble at 5:30, a single filed spin east on Channel Rd a sweet start to the 30 k course with a westerly behind.  I was guessing the way back to town would be work.  Setting a suitable squirrel speed was left up to Emil (directly proportional to the angst your partner serves up eh Emil?)  and he'd found an accord in the mid 30's to the truck route.  With a note made of the velocity, I stuck to it for my shift to Orrvale so surely Bo wouldn't f&#% it up?  He didn't, keeping the calm to the Kinder.  Kel opened for the ladies innings with a trademark smooth shift to the cypress trees, Tina taking the 1600 metre measure to the S bend without any trouble on tempo (those concerns about capability are unfounded. I'll guess considerate company helps along with a serve of tail wind)   

Kim quite wisely chose a short roll through ; riding has been rare of late and she'd be toasted staying on the front too long.  Emil started round two of the turns to take us to the highway and I was light on the throttle when handed the lead in Boundary but got the appeal to ease at Hosie Rd.  Call it a calm k for Kim who'd become the uncoupled caboose.  With due diligence speed was slowly restored to a simmer at the fig farm, crossing Old then New Dookie and up to Lemnos-Cosgrove to sample the hurt of a headwind west back to town.  It clearly had no effect on Kel, driving determined to Lemnos North Rd with wattage to burn.  No troubles for Tina too, surviving the second wheel syndrome then fronting for Ford Rd duty.  Emil was elected to tow us to town so I'd managed to avoid the headwind, but happily contributed the Verney Rd shift south, soaking up the smoothness of the  tarmac. 

6/8  Laboring lock-down.

A comfortable chair, hot coffee, feels like 4 on the weather app and with the state plunged back into lock-down, I could feel the softness swamping me!  There were a dozen reasons to go back to bed so just as well I'd arranged to labor a lock-down lap with Joe (not Tony) to get my lazy backside out of that chair!  20 k's worth of wind blew Friday's fog east so that amplified abilities to join Joe at Verney's bus stop.  The monotony of laps limited to 5 k's from home was already beginning to show, variety was requested to our usual Covid circuit to make life a little more interesting.  Anti-clockwise was the best I could come up with!  East on Old Dookie Rd was delightful but I didn't want to be labeled a tail-wind thief, so let Joe (not Tony) enjoy the second half to Central Ave (I was banking on his help into the wind for the return to town)   I could count on one hand the days of fog and wind combined: it was a weird sensation to be bullied by the breeze at the port side while wiping the specs to see the soup tin ahead at Lemnos.  In the spirit of sharing pleasure and pain, we did Lemnos North Rd 50/50  to reach Ford.  

Joe faced the headwind first, my eye peeled on his elbow for a flinch as his initial speed steadily sank.  Dogged determination drove him further than I thought.  Tamboro Rd became the hand-over and out of the slipstream reality had a capital R.  Was I carrying an extra 4 kg of damp from the fog?  (Felt like it!)  With an aim of reaching Verney Rd, balancing the watts with the willpower became a matter of mind over muscles.  Finally near and intending to swing south onto Verney, Joe (not Tony) had ideas of working to Mt. Wanganui, so took the drivers seat to DECA.  How pleasant to do that open section from the test track to Rudd Rd, being blown backwards with the wind whistling past (between?) your ears!  The relief in Rudd Rd inspired me to continue to Canterbury's roundabout, Joe (not Tony) happy to be blown along the Boulevard and Balaclava to bring us back to the bus stop.  Time allowed another loop, this lap with a change of duties from the first.  We'll be running low on variety soon! I had the second half to Central and carried on to New Dookie Rd, Joe (not Tony) making it to Ford for me to take the headwind first.  This loop forced a turn south on Verney, time was soon to be my enemy but at least I'd stirred from that comfortable chair and gone beyond the comfort of a solo spin.  

This week 182 km    YTD  8,079 km