The reason to ride.

 Post #616

24/10  Sunday in solitary.

I'm sure I'll get over the Robinson Crusoe syndrome.  4mm of rain had scuttled Saturday's ride so the nervous twitch, red rash and impeding sense of despair (bike junkie or what?!) was taking it's toll by Saturday evening.  The trouble was that laying a bait of a Sunday social spin on What's App didn't even get a nibble! (seems Sundays are for that dirty MTB habit)  It'd be a solo spin Foss.  The thought of another sumptuous sleep-in had crossed my mind but who posts a ride and then doesn't front?!  (Oh, there are a few aren't there!)   It was most likely a lost cause but I worked the west southwester down to Sanctuary Drive for the suggested 7am start anyway.  I'd have never lived it down should someone have shown up to an empty grid.   An empty Sanctuary Drive was there to greet me, so I was Robinson Crusoe for the circuit, but there wouldn't be a punishing pace to hang onto, just the standard that self sets (and Strava's data that bares all to inspire something above snail's pace)   Three more k's south to Mitchell Rd and the wind would help instead of hurt, though there'd be no records set to scorch River or even Coach Rd, the headwind home would burn most of the reserves I could hold onto getting to Old Dookie Rd.   

Mitchell, Kialla Central and most of River Rd was as barren as Boof's head till Blackie was found battling west at the quarter horse gates; not a car, truck, rabbit or 'roo was up and about, and that said something about this habit we've got.  I had a newfound appreciation for any building, fence or tree on Coach and Boundary Rd that offered a little shelter from the west southwester but that only dialed up the dread of what toil lay ahead in wait to wear me down on the westward leg back home.  At least I could set my own speed and bank all the biscuits I could.   Head down and on the drops, my speed wasn't so embarrassing on Old Dookie toward Central Ave, though the heart rate was on an escalator with effort.  The temperature was nearly at double figures (but feels like 4) so the sun on my back was probably the only good feeling en-route to town, promising myself a coffee as reward for effort spiked up the speed to the Butter Factory.  Sitting solo over a hot flat white contemplated Crusoe again.  I'll take it up with my therapist!

25/10  Monday menagerie. 

Young Didak had returned to the fold on Monday, keen for the Couldabeens company and clocking up the k's seeing he's taken the plunge into the under 19's state titles.  Talk about diving in the deep end!  Lenny, PistolPete, Rocket, Bruce, Wozza, Bo. The Godfather, Joe (not Tony), Kel, Didak and Greg braved the feels like 1.7 degrees on the Sanctuary grid.  Berthing at second wheel behind PistolPete seemed like a bold move till a second row formed nearing the truck route and that relegated me down the order to last shift and likely to face the headwind on the homeward leg.  I should have employed Bo's tactics to position for a tailwind!  The Godfather provided the free entertainment (and ear splitting brake squeal) while Chris A joined in at Kialla Central.  Bo and The Godfather took out a monopoly on the tailwind while the standard social stuff went on behind them for half of River Rd.  Emil arrived from the east to join in as Bruce and Rocket kept the tarmac blurring under 28 wheels.   

Those predictable shifts already spelled out my turn would fall due in Old Dookie, and with Emil ahead and PistolPete behind I was in the perfect position to be toasted!   Greg's in fine form the day after a windy Sunday spin of 160 km and Joe (not Tony) is coming to grips with the importance of preserving pace and the benefits of a back-light on the speedo.  Kel was stuck on the swift setting toward Old Dookie, relinquished the lead shortly after the turn west.   I'd fallen into the trap of  keeping-up-with-the-quick-guy thing instead of setting some sort of sustainable speed myself, so amid the gasps for oxygen, a sky-rocketing heartbeat and screams of Stop! from the legs, thoughts of being way out of my depth filled the pre-frontal cortex.  This would be an embarrassingly short shift (maybe it's the company I keep?)  Better than confining myself to the caboose I suppose.    As usual, all the stress of that moment is ancient history a minute or three later, back into the draft and being towed home, not much matters anymore! I ignored Bo's objection to my short shift - it only meant he'd have work to do into the wind too.

26/10  I'll have what PistolPete had for breakfast.

The head was shoved into a different gear.  The squirrel spin was off Tuesday's agenda and focus was fixed on a single filed suffering with the Sanctuary squad instead.  About time to transfer all that chit chat stuff to the Butter Factory and get down to bike business first!  Joe (not Tony), Emil, Grumpy, Didak, Kel, The Godfather and PistolPete rolled to the start line for 5:40 action and of course, PistolPete introduced us to the invigoration of speed to Mitchell Rd.   Emil in second wheel and me behind him was the familiar format.  I'd got all psyched up ready to lead the charge through Kialla Central as captain, but that was a bit presumptuous, PistolPete did an encore on Mitchell Rd to Kialla Central, like it so much and drove on to River Rd as well! Something special was in Pistol's porridge today, enough to drive him for a 6 km opening act.  Trouble was, it was bound to bait Emil.  (I reckon I saw him swallow the bait). Well, baste me in garlic butter, I was about to be cooked in second wheel!  Emil wasn't letting go of the reigns at the River Rd bridge, or at the dip, we were beyond Trevaskis Rd and the quarter horse fence blurred by before I got the promotional elbow to lead.  I wasn't quite cooked, more like medium rare!  

Stubborn set the target to reach Rooster corner and standards of smoothness would be scrutinized by Kel on my wheel, so I applied a senior citizens discount of 1 km/h off the pace to get that distance done.  It worked.  Kel kindly kept off the boost button till I caught the caboose into Coach Rd, building the speed toward the Broken bridges.  Joe (not Tony) had the "climb" to Channel Rd to contend with and drove it well, but faced a fading tempo for the 500 metres to the highway as a consequence.  Grumpy was elected to tow to Old Dookie Rd but the variables gave a few of us at the back a task till it settled to something smoother by the fig farm.  Didak was full of enthusiasm to head the hurry west but that long lay-off had eroded the endurance.  To be fair, the west southwester was against him and feels like -0.9 was hardly the right recipe.  The Godfather stepped into the drivers seat to tow us to Central Ave.  The shop squad had set their sights on chasing today, almost licking their lips as they passed, but PistolPete kept the Sanctuary seven together with considerate use of the accelerator.  Emil's enthusiasm to speed to SPC turned my legs jelly-like but someone took pity and changed the traffic lights to red for respite before we reached it.

27/10  A populated peloton.

Wednesday catered for a wider range of watts with a crew of Boof, PistolPete, Wozza, The Godfather, Kreeky, Emil, Kel, Kim, Bo, Wendy, Rocket, Lenny, Trav, Bruce and GiantAndy assembling at Sanctuary Drive, so prudent use of the accelerator and keeping to a social speed would win friends and suppress divorce proceedings.  I delivered an aide de memoire to GiantAndy and Pistol as they built up to cruising speed toward Mitchell Rd.  A few midfield acted as shock absorbers for some at the rear struggling with the speed out of corners, so bits didn't break off the back to Central Kialla or north toward River Rd.  There was a noticeable ripple effect in the long line of seventeen.  Lance joined the pack from a short-cut via the truck route, conversation now in full swing said all had climatised.  Bo and I took time  turning up the speed toward the bridge, but the call for Wendy's puncture ground the pack to a halt before we got there.  Kel's eagle eye found the tiny chip of glass and Lenny muscled the Vittoria (almost like fitting a 650 tyre onto a 700 rim!) into place once re-tubed.  Plenty of patience to get the bunch back in motion prevented any o.t.a.'s, the reshuffle of the order cancelled some conversations but opened different ones with others.   The Godfather's squeal of brakes at Rooster corner silenced all.  

We had a hint of a south southeaster along Coach Rd but a not so subtle hint of the temperature at feels like minus 0.7.  Speed was still stuck on social along Boundary Rd  so when my second shift came due in Old Dookie Rd, I could easily manage a pairing with Kreeky to School Rd and keep pace with Emil to Central Ave.  (Just a couple of k's off Tuesday's single-filed speed made all the difference)   Trav capped the tradition to storm the second last leg to the truck route, Kim and Wendy (wisely) seeking shelter in the left line before being promoted to the front.  A long table of talk at the Butter Factory recalled days of old, those solitary lock-down rides and sipping coffee in a cold car park now (hopefully) ancient history.

28/10  Doc's 5.

Knee niggles forced a morning off Thursday.  Tina's recent a.c.l. drama has turned me cautious, this old engine needed time in the pits.  Perhaps a cruise with Doc's crew in the arvo would be good therapy?  Feeling naked in short knicks and sleeves, a slow roll 'round the golf course loop kept the knock in the knee quiet though a less than friendly northeaster (22-35 km/h) required fair pressure on the pedals to keep thirty on the speedo (knee not so happy now).   Chilly, DeepFry, Doc and young Brian had gathered in Matilda Drive for the civilised 2pm start and DeepFry did the honors of first shift. He set the bar high, staying at the business end in Ford Rd till Lemnos North Rd.  (Puts the pressure on to duplicate the drive a bit!)   I set the original target to reach the main channel but that felt a bit shy arriving there, so stayed on to reach Boundary Rd (with a little more noise from that niggling knee).   It shut up when I got back to the caboose.  

Chilly took over the tempo and tapped out a shift stronger than last week's effort (he must have had less adventure this week?) Young Brian was full of beans to start his turn but that wind eroded the enthusiasm before long.  Doc seemed stoked to be towed to Pine Lodge North Rd without facing the wind. Christmas had arrived turning south toward the Toaster, the wind now favoring the next 25 k's, helping to haul the average speed into something respectable.  Tactics became the focus as we honed in on the highway from Dave's dip, who would do what turn (and for how long?) would play a part in who got the short straw of Conrod straight's head-wind.   DeepFry fronted the four to Galbraith's gate and continued toward Arcadia Downs, his elbow stayed frozen but I rolled to the front anyway to tow the team to the kink into Conrod (that way I'd get a minute of oxygen overload while someone else faced the kilometre of cruelty to the finish line).  Chilly braved the first 400 into the dip and out of it, handing DeepFry the reigns for the difficult drive toward the finish.  A glance behind noted the absence of Doc and young Brian, with Chilly disconnecting the caboose.  Tucked into the box seat, it was a short wait in DeepFry's draft before a brief blast on the last 200.  The chocolates was just like taking candy. 

29/10  A wee waft of wind!

When every forth rubbish bin has been tipped over in the street and the mailbox lid has been blown open by a savage wind, Rule #9 is about the only bait to get you ready to ride.  Maybe no-one would turn up? Yeah, as if! (PistolPete rides in any weather!)  56 km/h worth of west northwester had strewn the road with small branches and household rubbish (it was bin day in my neck of the woods) and sure as eggs, Emil was waiting at Tarcoola. I was committed.  (No backing out now Foss!) We'd see what legends / lunatics were at Sanctuary Drive and judge what circuit to tackle from there - River Rd was likely to have big branches down.  Rocket circled the showgrounds roundabout tentative about turning for home till we arrived, so we all now had the excuse of "he made me do it!"  to justify the reason to ride.  Single filed down to Sanctuary (wind gusts made a dog's breakfast of riding a straight line) the surprise at the grid was PistolPete's absence!  Bruce turned up though.  5:40 struck so consensus (and commonsense) set a few circles of Kialla Lakes as the circuit ; the safety of steering the suburbs beat the risk of River Rd.  Work into the head wind would be brief, but often.   

It didn't take long for pins and needles to set in gripping the bars (as if you were clutching onto a cliff face) 'cause staying upright depended on it!  A frown was cast into the brow as Bruce set a determined pace on Marlboro Drive and I'd positioned behind Rocket ; he's a little higher than my handlebars but being fourth wheel was definitely the longest straw!  Emil was eventually given the lead, so moving up a rung turned the hurt up a bit more.  Across to Sevens Creeks Drive Rocket took the reigns when Emil almost overshot the runway on Raftery, the turn south suddenly serene now that the gale force wind wasn't whistling between my ears.  An unexpected gust from the starboard side hurled the front wheel a metre sideways (cue sudden sphincter spasm!) but turning east on Cormorant made us all heroes (just for one way!).  I spent the distance on Sanctuary banking a few watts in readiness for the struggle north and west to come.  Second wheel would be work for this old engine.  Rocket kindly dragged me round the lakes (Emil bidding an early adieu to head to work) and across to Sevens Creek Drive again, kindly handing me the reigns with a tailwind to enjoy.  Sanctuary was spent banking again but there were few watts left to tackle Marlboro Drive in the lead role.  Barely a k done and I was cooked! Bruce resumed the captaincy and dragged us back round the lakes, time turning us toward the Butter Factory for coffee as compensation for the cruelty. 

This week 292 km        YTD 11,233km   

   

    

         

Tantamount to heresy?

 Post #615

16/10  Gone with the wind!

It's a twisted sort of desire to ride when the wind blows at 40 km/h.....you know it's going to hurt in one or two directions so it must be the (artificial) inflation to the ego a tail-wind gives that drives you out the door.  Seeing so many abandon on What's App in the early hours has an inspiring effect.  And Rule #9 is always a motivator as a last resort.  A degree of regret not riding Friday (a forecast shower than never arrived) fueled the fire too. 

There was a problem at the Sanctuary start-line though ; I felt like the formula V lining up on the V8 Supercar grid!  (Rocket, GiantAndy, Bruce, Wozza, Boof, Bo, PistolPete, Emil and The Godfather made up a swift Saturday's squad)   There'd be a social start (of sorts) with the wind behind, though the tempo with a tail-wind would render me speechless at the front with this lot.  (Harden up Foss! You're among friends)   I should be grateful pace didn't turn supersonic for the way east, something would be needed in the reserve tank for the way back home.   

Bo had locked himself in to the drivers seat using River Rd's tail-wind but finally relented to let Boof and I lead the last 1500 metres to Coach Rd.  Northbound with wind whipping the wheels port side, another k alongside The Godfather toasted me.  I was dipping into that reserve tank already.  Emil and Rocket had no problem driving the distance north, chatting away easily where I'd be flat out gasping.  And there's the difference folks.  Those with wattage and those wanting it!  Aren't we blessed to have a bunch that embraces the divide (flattering compliment inserted in the hope of being towed home!)    GiantAndy reckoned he was off colour but there's nothing off about the torque that the big engine delivers.  Many were focused on the work soon to face us on Lemnos-Cosgrove Rd while I served myself stern castigation just to join the advance.  

Two rows turned single as the reality of the headwind struck and I'd found myself in fifth wheel in the thinning process.  GiantAndy had the throttle wide open toward the Pine Lodge Creek and Bruce kept the equation equal (35 km/h into 35km/h gusts) to Boundary Rd while my head said hurry up the heart rate said help!  Time to tuck into the caboose or suffer the indignity of explosion and going o.t.a.  There's no point flogging a dead horse!  Coping with the variable velocity at the back can sometimes be worse than the smoother stress near the front, but the draft from nine ahead of me won the argument (would have been nice for Bo to hold his line though)   Wozza's speed wasn't so social but The Godfather relaxed the hurt a little when he was given driving duty (to a chorus of sledges behind)   

How pleasant it was to get the heart rate out of the heavens.  I felt a little like excess baggage at the back by Ford Rd but The Godfather joined me to ease the guilt.  Surviving Wanganui Rd was the next hurdle.   

Just because we'd turned out of a head-wind into Rudd Rd didn't mean there'd be rest, Bo made sure the legs still suffered to Cemetery hill.  The game was save your own skin on the Boulevard as GiantAndy drove the train into town, my rubber band at breaking point arriving at Tarcoola. (Was PistolPete dropping back to tow me or was he spent too?)  The signs of stress don't show on Pistol but I did a short shift with what I had left as a fair share, just in case. Traffic lights at Welsford St closed our ten metre deficit.  Replacing burned calories at the Butter Factory felt better, the chat on Covid criminals and the dark side of MTB distracted thoughts from spent legs. 

18/10 Where's the warmth?

Do I get a refund when Spring delivers constant Winter weather?  Feels like 4 half way through October has knobs on it!  Commuting to Sanctuary Drive with a hint of an east northeaster, and I had the standard struggle of coming to terms with a mid 30's tempo (but I know it's the perfect preparation for the speed to come). Bruce, Greg, PistolPete, Wozza, Kel, Rocket, Joe (not Tony), Emil, The Godfather and Kreeky's arrival almost guaranteed there's be two rows to tackle the lap at a social speed.  I'd hoped it was social, Greg ahead and Emil behind could be quick company (and memories of Saturday's wind still haunted).     

Bruce tamed the pace on Mitchell Rd (200+ km at the weekend might be the reason?) so that set a mellow mood to start the week .  The usual post-weekend chat bounced left and right, gradually fading the nearer to the pointy end I got.  That obsession with oxygen intake at the front would take priority.  Greg leveled fairly alongside in Coach Rd and the Broken bridges was already set as my target to roll the turn ; part two to the highway with Emil would be about my limit.  (I don't have the long range tank that these young ones have!)  A clunky knee was giving me grief anyway - yet another excuse for the head to wave a white flag.  It was easier (and faster) to leave Emil and PistolPete to drive Boundary Rd to Old Dookie anyway.  Each day gets a minute or two more daylight, today quite noticeable with plenty of orange in the sky rather than low grey clouds ; now for the temperature to do something positive!  That breeze at the backside boosted the pace to town though a rare halt at the truck route for traffic put the pressure on to dash to SPC.  I was in a hurry for the internal warmth of coffee! 

19/10  Teachin' tempo. 

Yeah, yeah.....the same old multiple layer insulation for Tuesday too, warm weather will come as a shock if it ever arrives!  The squirrel squad was on the stupid o'clock agenda and it's popularity grows ; Joe (not Tony) joining Kim, Emil, Wendy and I for the 40k fling.  Once the south southwester was suffered to Channel Rd it should be plain sailing from there.  Emil did the standard operational procedure of driving to the truck route, so with five to share the load there was little point for epic turns, so my small donation to Orrvale Rd seemed appropriate.  Wendy won the snooker-table-smooth section to the Kinder.  An Avanti fresh from a service had Joe (not Tony) performing well to the cypress trees but his command at the front was set to rival Louis XV.  Still in the drivers seat at Beckham's and still there at the S bend, he continued with a surge to Channel Rd's end, cooking Kim in the process in second wheel.  (A sense of deja vu from a few weeks ago?)  

Emil took the reigns to smooth the speed as Kim retreated to the caboose.  All were still aboard as Emil signaled his turn done at New Dookie Rd.  (Pressure's on Foss, dont f%#& it up!) Keeping the variables to a minimum was easy at a less than supersonic standard, not forgetting it could be close to supersonic for others.  That little 1800 metre stretch to Lemnos-Cosgrove Rd was selling myself a bit short, so I (gently) added the 1500 to the main channel.  (Bonus points Foss, no cooked Kim!)   Wendy kept the tempo tradition to Lemnos North Rd where Joe (not Tony) could try take two.  Riding the road's centre while a southwester blew in the left ear was a position The Godfather may take and with no back-light on his speedo, Joe (not Tony's) pace was in the dark too.  Emil and I provided a little guidance to assist Joe out of la la land and back on course (Rule #3 suggests it)   We'd arrived at Grahamvale Rd so Emil did his traditional drive to Verney and into town where caffeine could be consumed.

20/10  A mid-week mob.

Boof, Lenny, Emil, Grumpy, The Godfather, Kel, Trav, Lance, Bo, Kreeky, Bruce, Rocket, PistolPete and Wozza filled the Sanctuary grid for the mid-week addiction, two lines of lads (and a lass) making their way to Mitchell Rd as I battled an errant (new) chain not keen to keep company with a sprocket under load (better to suffer a mechanical misdemeanor on a social spin than on a rapid one!)   Forth in line till the advance line formed found I'd have a long wait till reaching the front. Plenty of chat was to be had in the meantime.  If I was easy on the accelerator the chain behaved, so there were moments of dropping off the wheel ahead so I didn't scatter sprocket teeth all over the tarmac.  Bo was nearly as slow as me to join the advance (and I'm sure he'd have a hundred reasons why!)  The standard circuitry took us via River to Coach Rd and facing the front for some sort of shift would give a hint of contributing to the cause.  Not yet though,  there was still a few wheels ahead in the advance.  

Shenanigans entertained on Boundary Rd as Bo and The Godfather went head to head toward Old Dookie and that probably emptied Lance's jelly bean jar.  Rocket played fair alongside me when Lance's shift ended and I'd nearly taken a long aim at reaching Central Ave till thinking an additional drive to Dobson's bridge with Grumpy would blow a head gasket (so a pairing with him to Central made more sense)  All this tactical pondering just for a social spin!  I'd better write Rule #5 a hundred times!  I can't have been in too much distress, I'd recovered enough to put a sentence together (without pregnant pauses) by Dobson's.  I've become rather partial to the post ride restitution over coffee and the babble at Butter Factory on a weekday, particularly not needing to rush home to ready for work when time can be better spent sledging Bo!

21/10  Suffer'n sunrises.

It was high time to suffer a single filed slog of the Sanctuary circuit  so bid my adieu's to Squirrels Emil and Kim at the shop.  Too much social stuff seems to soften!  It may have been tantamount to heresy taking PistolPete's first shift to Mitchell Rd but that was my price to pay for arriving at the grid first.  (Diving in the deep end helps the hardening up process anyway).  With only Pistol, BamBam, Bo, Kel and The Godfather behind, this would be a lap with more than one turn (and that helped the hardening process too!)  

Riding bare legged felt foreign and thirteen degrees had blessed us with bearable conditions, though a northeaster would provide hard labor for most of this lap.  I've learned to keep eyes off the heart-rate (the reality send signals to the head about raising the white flag) and focus on sustaining smoothness.  Commonsense would say to set the speed at achievable but it's probably the weight of expectation that sets the bar too high.  Thank heaven the northeaster helped me to Mitchell.  PistolPete compensated for his later-than-usual shift  by driving to River Rd when he'd dragged us to Kialla Central (more time in rehab for me)   

I could regain a few breaths when BamBam headed us into River Rd (he'd climbed the ladder to brave the Sanctuary squad when the bait to tempt Wouldabeens to ride wasn't even nibbled) although Bo was give the captains job a bit before the bridge.  Stacked slightly left to right in an effort to cut the northeaster, I felt the pressure to hold my line as smooth and straight as possible with Pistol on my wheel.  He's a master at it. I could only try to do likewise. (the urge to jettison nasal excesses would have to wait till being in the caboose again)   Bo towed us to the dip and put Kel in command at Trevaskis Rd, her determination driving long toward Rooster corner but gave The Godfather the duty to tow us the last k.  

Doing better than Bo got The Godfather glued to the drivers seat on Coach Rd too, and I wasn't thrown an elbow at the Broken bridges, he was all the way to the highway in the swift spirit of one-up-manship. We'd gathered Greg into the fold at Channel Rd.  With just enough shelter on Boundary Rd I could go better than aiming at the bridge, shooting for the fig farm was double my usual dismal effort.  There was bliss to be back into the draft to be towed to town as the sky dazzled orange behind, those months of winter's testing temperature blown conveniently o.t.a. 

21/10  Doc's three (minus the Doc) 

Twenty two degrees and sunshine....of course you go out to clock more k's!  Breaking the daily ritual of forty five k's is another part of the hardening up process and the Doc's ride would be tame enough to top a ton for the day.  (How I'd fair Friday would be the real measure).  With a northeaster to battle out to Pine Lodge, the rest of the circuit would be a breeze, so I was surprised that only Frizzy and Chilly turned up in Matilda Drive.  Even the Doc was missing!  Three players assured an Indian filed format and what I'd rate as a half turn seemed to be the standard ("when in Rome" as they say....)  

Frizzy's fairly keen with pace but Chilly seemed to have a taste for tempo slightly slower, so I settled on low thirties with Chilly on my wheel.  And didn't it feel weird with short sleeves and short knicks!  The sun's warmth has been a long time coming (there'll be complaints about "too hot" soon!)   Trust in the wheel ahead can be a risky assumption ; it's become a habit to sit just centimetres behind with the regular and reliable so I shouldn't put that trust in those I don't normally ride with.  A sudden uncalled (and un-signaled) freewheel from Frizzy (for no particular reason) came very close to contact, and we all know that bikes (and bodies) break rather easily....even in the low thirties.  Maybe I should apply Covid distancing?  The effort eased steering south toward Pine Lodge church but Frizzy dialed up the velocity in response.  Chilly went silent.  I'd been given the lead at New Dookie Rd and the temptation to drive a long shift with a prevailing wind was strong, but playing fair with Chilly's tempo seemed the right thing to do.  

With wind still behind in Old Dookie, Chily was happy to lead to the pork palace.  Frizzy crept the pace up to Boundary and built to high thirties to the highway so in the interest of Chilly's survival, I applied a little calm to reach River Rd.  Another unexplained freewheel and a quick change of line by Frizzy waved the risk assessment checklist at me as he led the last half of River Rd, a half k of calm needed a little more often for Chilly to gather more oxygen.  The lap neared an end but a sprint finish was off the menu, the appointment for a caffeine infusion at Degani took precedence over points on the finish line.

22/10  A lap less laboured.

I'd suddenly softened after a 110 k Thursday and with a little more lax in the legs and a suffering sit site, the Wouldabeens What's App chat for a Friday cruise suddenly sounded appealing.  (and I had a craving to witness a few emerging from hibernation.  Not to taunt, but to encourage.  Well, maybe just a little taunt!)   

The Kialla Lakes grid was somewhat packet with Laura, RetiredTrev, Nick, Shorty, Pelly, Wendy, BamBam, WhisperingJack, SuperMario, Paul and Joe (not Tony) filling the footpath, and true to form, some (who shall remain nameless) failed to front from last night's commitment.  Shorty led the line north at six bells with an enthusiastic velocity to Channel Rd though (captain?) RetiredTrev soon calmed that bold introduction as two rows formed (for convenience of conversation) while I'd scored WhisperingJack's wheel with BamBam behind in the procession. 

Elected to the lead crossing Orrvale Rd, I was reminded of WhisperingJack's disposition to half bike anyone who pairs with him, but savored the stress he was under just a k toward the Kinder. The gasps said it all.   BamBam co-piloted with me to the cypress trees, clearly enjoying the fitness he'd fostered toughing out the winter laps.  (The turns rolled at Jameson Rd and crikey he's a great draft!) It's been a long time between chats with Nick, Pelly and SuperMario (and a long time since they've been aboard a bike!), that little breeze we'd fought from the east nearly ready to treat us to a tailwind home. This wasn't the kit conformity Friday of the Couldabeens, just a few Woulda's in their Life Savers livery flying the flag.  My habit to swing west into River Rd was resisted, this mob prefer Mitchell for the course home.  I had the same half-bike deficit to WhisperingJack when fronting the business end again, though this time it was a shorter shift, BamBam more than keen to pair with me for a long drive from the dog-leg to Kialla Central.  And so the shifts swapped to the highway as I was demoted toward the rear, rejoining the advance line at Roubaix corner to be perfectly placed for the culmination on Conrod (should the mood suit)  Speed slowly simmered and shifts shortened, the line drew longer and rising out of Conrod's dip,  I was on the front again.  I could ramp up the stress on Whispering Jack now (and enjoy the show) but BamBam drew to my right to contend for honors while SuperMario did a sneaky up the inside line to claim an underhanded win. 

This week 349km      YTD 10,939km             

        

          

 

Hunting (and hurting) in packs.

 Post #614

9/10/21  Back in bunch bliss.

It was a Saturday to celebrate when the region was released from lock-down, bunch rides were back to break the week long confines of riding in pairs and on a distance limit.  The social stuff had been sorely missed but doubts loomed on surviving the speed.  Last week crawling around in the low thirties would do little to prime me for the packs' pace.  A northeast breeze eased some stress toward the Sanctuary start-line, I guess just diving in the deep end would give me the answer.  Rocket, PistolPete, Kreeky, Grumpy, Emil, Wozza, Bo, Greg, The Godfather and Trav assembled for the 6am off, so finding myself in forth wheel gave a bit of time to harden up for the work at the front.  Rocket led the line to the truck route and it seemed like we were destined for a single filed suffer and survive Saturday, so the appropriate mindset was firmly engaged.  

Leg two to Mitchell Rd and the menu changed, PistolPete formed an advance line, so what was thought to be swift turned to social.  And my turn at the front was moved well down the anti-clockwise order.  I'd survive this.  Mid thirties found favor and sentences flowed, this would be a gentle introduction back to the bunch.  (Fingers crossed!)  Lenny had short-cut from the Archer St shop to intercept in River Rd and joined us at the bridge, attaching himself at the back as I was promoted to the advance. 

 It's barely a week since the buzz of chat drowned out the hum of wheels; whether I'd be chatting away at the front was doubtful, I reckon the want for oxygen would be the priority! (it's easy for those blessed with wattage to burn, I have little to spare!)    But all's good when you're vacuumed along in the slipstream at 15% better than your solo speed using 50% less effort, but inevitably the reality of driving the train yourself will be the true measure of your worth.  And that time came in Coach Rd beside Greg.  To make light of my task I was about to say "Be gentle with me darling" so there was relief hearing his call for calm first (he was probably conserving jelly beans in the jar for a Sunday 150)  

As much as I wanted to drive a decent distance (just my luck to score a northeaster at the right brow for nearly four k's), reality decided the Broken bridges was far enough for part one; Lenny was the part two partner to the highway, though he kindly weakened his wattage to stay alongside to the highway.  With some sense of contributing to the cause, I could settle back into the slipstream and swap sentences, a comfort knowing that northeaster would help our 11 kilometres back to town.  East to the Toaster and north to the Church continued at a sociable speed but the velocity was bound to be turned up with the wind behind for the west way toward breakfast.  

The entertainment commenced as we crossed paths with the Cats nearing Woolshed Rd, The Godfather's sledges gushed at maximum decibels in some strange language that Google translator would struggle with  (something about phalic shaped skulls I think).    Speed slowly crept up as the distance to town diminished, Emil (apparently under instruction) turning up the tempo as The Godfather paired with him in Wanganui Rd.  That must have triggered Greg to launch his solo sprint to the (faded) finish line at the top of the hill.  I did get a second shift in the drivers seat alongside Trav (the consummate gentleman) on the Boulevard, questions being raised behind on the berth for breakfast (the Butter Factory had closed for the weekend)  Stellar's sufficed.  The rigors of Roubaix and the subject of snakes had talk filling the footpath, the real value of that social bond absorbed after a weeks' starvation.  

Let's hope lock-downs are now history. 

11/10/21 Feels like June in October.

The glass half full was that the southwester would help for a fair proportion of the circuit, the glass half empty was the suffering headed south to Sanctuary's start-line.  I'm convinced Emil has become the master at suppressing snoring ; he was considerate staying alongside at my snail-like speed to get there.  Bruce, Kel, Wozza, Kreeky, PistolPete, Rocket, Trav, The Godfather and Lenny formed at 5:40 with nobody but PistolPete keen to take on the first shift.  How kind he was to peg back the pace to the high 30's to Mitchell Rd while the wind kept the line behind skinny.    Suffering last weeks restrictions to pairs was long forgotten, we were back to hunting (and hurting) in packs.  Kreeky led us east to Kialla Central, Lenny taking charge to River Rd.  This was a different ball game to the social spin, heads were down, all lined up silently and waiting to exert the effort at the business end.  Don't you just love the serenity!  I'd hoped to get a turn with that wind in my favor and starting seventh in line I had a good chance - 

The Godfather did his unique turn to River Rd's bridge and Bruce towed us to the dip, Emil's excess energy however, delivered us all the way to Coach Rd, effectively toasting me at second wheel in the process.  Well, that was my excuse for a slightly slower spec shift north to the Broken bridges.  There was just enough south in the southwester to make my turn appear decent before handing the reigns to Kel.  With luck I'd get a draft back to town 'cause there were lots of good engines ahead as I caught the caboose.  Wozza made it look easy to dash to Old Dookie Rd and to keep the hurry happening, Rocket took on the wind west toward town (like it was a tail-wind) 

12/10/21 Four-mation.

The slightly slower squirrel squad has become a treasured weekday tap among the weekday workouts, a few k's below the thrash threshold for what increasingly feels like an ageing engine.  Spending an hour below a zone four flogging feels like Christmas, though in a somewhat twisted contradiction, I don't mind a lap on the limit to measure my worth.   Kim and Emil were at Tarcoola's roundabout at stupid o'clock, Wendy an addition, drawn to the parameters of pace. Joe (not Tony) was a late apology with his Avanti in the pits.  Four in formation would guarantee us all a couple of shifts (if Emil could contain his desire for driving a distance)  My turn was overdue when he stayed on as Captain to Orrvale Rd rather than the truck route change-over.  Reaching the Kinder and staying on to the cypress trees was my reply. 

Wendy acquitted her apprenticeship well to the S bend and added a further 1300 metres to the end of Channel Rd as an encore, so maybe that put the incentive into Kim's turn north to the highway with the extra k to the bridge?  Not suggesting any rivalry or a competitive retort, more like feeling an expectation to equal an effort?  The lure of being in a bunch essentially.  Going beyond what we'd do solo (but with the bonus of a draft after as reward)  Emil contained that desire to drive an epic shift and rode tempo to New Dookie Rd, keeping the speed steady (plus or minus a k) to aid all surviving.  My turn to Lemnos-Cosgrove seemed like short change so added the way west to the main eastern channel.  It was another day feeling more like June than October, four degrees kept the effort up to stop the blood freezing in the veins but "feels like minus 0.5" nipped at any exposed skin.  Wendy earned a red number driving to Lemnos North Rd and Kim should get the malliot blanc for the best young rider on Ford.  Emil, of course, did the distance from Grahamvale to Verney then added the extra stretch south into town so we could quaff caffeine to warm up.  The Couldabeens crews berthed at the Butter Factory soon after, Rocket cackling at the damage done in the shop squad, the Sanctuary's telling of close kangaroo calls.

13/10 The want for wattage (till the tail-wind home)

Spring gives you fifty seven different varieties ; cold and a southerly one day, mild and a northeaster the next!  It beats the repeated refrigeration of Winter I guess.  Wednesday had an assisted spin to Sanctuary's start but there'd be cruelty for most of the circuit from there.  Why should it be easy though?, this game's all about suffering.  Rule #67 says it.  So, every bit of the commute was relished, the rest wouldn't be so restful!  There was a struggle sticking to Wednesday's social standard with the (26 km/h) northeaster and nobody was keen to join the advance line behind PistolPete, Wozza, Boof and Emil till reaching Kialla Central while the long line of Kreeky, Bo, The Godfather, Kel, Greg and Rocket strung out behind. I'd taken The Godfather's wheel when he finally joined the advance, Bo hiding at the rear till the rotation forced him forward.  Wozza and Boof served up the horsepower to drag us to River Rd so the inevitable hurt at the front came due for me beside The Godfather at the bridge.  The effort into the wind wanted wattage....and plenty of it!  

My tank was running empty as early as the dip so the head was in the wrong place even before part two had started.  Rocket kindly leveled his wheel alongside but I waved the white flag well before the quarter horse gates.  I'd hit my use-by date.  (Insistent questions while I gasped for oxygen were most amusing Grumpy!)  Kreeky was clever dialing back the pace a touch so he could last to Rooster corner (yep, he's vocal again).  Lenny and Bruce joined the clan from the north and Greg provided the grunt on Coach Rd to the Broken bridges.  I could answer Grumpy's questions now but he was occupied with work at the business end.  

Bo had finally fronted for duty at the highway so Kel silenced him driving Boundary in fast form, most behind anticipating the ease of effort ahead in Old Dookie though the wind almost directly behind us would stoke up speed.  The worries of the wind before was quickly forgotten as Pistol, Wozza and Boof got stuck into the speed westward toward town, Greg taking his leave via School Rd.  A halt was called at the truck route for traffic (though The Godfather crept through ahead) so the charge to SPC had renewed pace to catch and pass him.  Cold crept in seated outside at the Butter Factory, but coffee warmed internally, the test of temperature on the first k homeward always a tough one.

14/10  Doc's 8 

With time no longer a thorn in my side, why wouldn't I ride in warmth and daylight?  Charging around in the pre-dawn dark and cold only has masochism with mates as the draw-card (Oh, and the status of toughing it out where others won't).   Overnight rain was my excuse for a sleep-in ('till a very indulgent 6:30am!) so Doc's ride on a sunny afternoon made the best of both worlds.  

It was a strange sensation to head out wearing minimal insulation and bare legs - I reckon I've been layered like an onion (or should that be a parfait?) for months.  19 degrees outside ; bliss!  The roll 'round the golf course loop rid rust from the legs to find Frizzy, 'lil Brendan, Doc, DeepFry, Irish Tony (not Joe), Minty and Chilly loitering at Matilda Drive.  The 2pm flag-fall was stalled a minute awaiting young Brian's arrival, but he failed to front. The widely accepted two row format taking anti-clockwise turns was the standard, the easterly drive on Ford and Lemnos-Cosgrove  having a north northwester to push against.  Turns at the front varied proportional to seniority and fitness, though nobody was putting a tape measure to the efforts.  Age excused a few. I could nearly count myself as a young fella in this lot.  

A different bunch shines a light on your regular ride ; funny how different habits and protocols develop and become the standard and expectation in other packs.  I'll go with the flow....but with eyes and ears open.  The way south to the Toaster was easy with the wind behind, though headed along Old Dookie felt that wind shifting more westerly.  The Doc called it quits to head homeward at Boundary Rd but shifts swapped southward for the seven remaining.  A concession on pace was granted for Minty to upload more oxygen nearing the highway...kudos to the octogenerian surviving mid thirties.  Frizzy was keen to keep a clattering Reynolds wheel half ahead of mine in Ford Rd (zip the lip Foss, you're a guest here) and DeepFry signed his turn at the front with a brief burst.  The forecast showers for 6pm looked doubtful as blue-grey clouds loomed way too early on the horizon ahead.  

Single file was called to thread the traffic at Kialla Central, but resuming the two row format didn't seem popular thereafter. I could sense some may be saving themselves for a Conrod straight sprint.  (Already?)     I paired with 'lil Brendan to Archer and with Frizzy to the dip, DeepFry rattled the tempo with his surge to the highway then the line turned single again.  Mid to high thirties kept the file Indian style with Frizzy leading to Galbraith's gate then DeepFry took a short-lived lunge toward Arcadia Downs.  I'd played right into the hands of 'lil Brendan (glued to my wheel) as I drove to Conrod straight ( Frizzy and DeepFry waiting in the wings, keen to collect the crumbs) and of course nobody wanted the lead role as we rose from the dip.  (Wheel suckers!) My only tactic left was to make them hurt but a brief visit in the mid forties burned all my biscuits.  'Lil Brendan bolted with 250 to go, DeepFry in the box seat taking the (cheap) chocolates.  The dot in the distance behind was Minty, so I waited to tow him into town as others kept headed to Degani's.  Irish Tony (not Joe) berthed a minute later for caffeine and conversation on big buck pedals and the science of wheel rotation, but chat was given a hurry up as spits fell from the heavens.   I copped a soaking on the 6k commute homeward as 2mm of rain and a wicked westerly (28-50 km/h) said Ha Ha! to the decision to ride with minimal insulation. 

This week 255km      YTD  10,590km                              

    

Justifying a latte later.

 Post #613

2/10  A ride retired.

Another sudden lock-down ditched ideas of a lap with Saturday's Sanctuary squad - we'd been plunged back into the restrictions of riding in pairs and on a leash just 15 km from home. So much for the liberation of the first day of retirement!  A deafening silence on What's App hinted my Saturday spin may be solo, so a few hooks dangled for company caught Wendy keen to clock some k's.  Bunch protocols could be ignored, a 6:30 start would be most civilised.  The default Covid circuit around Kialla lakes kept things kosher on leash limits, and a social g'day to others likely to be lapping would have a hint of being in a bunch wouldn't it?  

Social speed would suit me well today, I've been feeling the effects of extended effort lately or is softness sneaking up on me? (high time to add more concrete to the diet I reckon!)   Random routes 'round the lakes for the sake of changing scenery soon found BamBam and RetiredTrev working Waranga Drive in a different direction, a lap of the south lake then a lap of the north one soon became monotonous, so a diversion via Seven Creeks Drive changed the view.  The important stuff was chewed over ; position on the bike, how a headwind harasses the head and the bane of bland architecture got the critical issues of life resolved. Bruce and Lenny, Laura then PistolPete were discovered doing their Covid circuitry while the urge for variety took us to loop the Marlboro and Kerang Ave, though the streets were all starting to look like each other now.  50km loomed on the odometer and the desire for coffee had overpowered the senses to steer our path direct to the Butter Factory.  Covid constrains us to car-park conversation (something that's become second nature with so many lock-downs) but a good brew and chat on bikes changing lives made a satisfying Saturday under the circumstances.

4/10 Work? What work? 

With an hour of daylight shifted to the evening, darkness was Monday's welcome.  Though without a time clock to obey, the freedom of starting a little later than stupid o'clock felt positively opulent!  Joe (not Tony) was craving k's so a 6 am rendevous at the bus stop it was.  A circuit out to Pine Lodge church and back via Channel reached consensus so I volunteered to take the first shift to Ford Rd.  A west northwester had all but dried last night's 3mm of rain but I was silly enough to have spent an hour cleaning the bike as Sunday therapy, so each puddle was treated as a mortal enemy.  At Grahamvale Rd, Ford Rd stretched east into the darkness, the tailwind urging a long drive to Lemnos North Rd before swapping shifts.  Contagious stuff this breeze behind; Joe did a long haul to Boundary Rd before he handed over so I felt duty bound to reach Pine Lodge North Rd as a favor returned.  

The horizon's light was at least now guiding the way.  The tax of facing the wind was now due, a little of it headed south to the Toaster and a lot of it bound for Boundary Rd.  Joe (not Tony) paid the most working west so I applied a small discount to the speed south to the highway - rest and recovery at the rear might make him useful for another turn later - I hope!  Channel Rd can be sheltered from a northwester but today the wind funneled down it to make the homestretch hurt (count your blessings Foss, we were treated to a tail-wind out...and we gotta earn a coffee somehow!)  A casual chat over caffeine at the Milk Bar felt weird on a weekday and with no time clock to rule a rush home, this life of leisure will be a battle to bear......not! 

5/10  The wait......and the wind. 

6am came and went but Rule #87 seems to be foreign to BamBam. His digs are just a few hundred metres from the start-line so I gave him a minute.  The west northwester blowing at 30 k's per hour made it a wintery wait (feels like 3.7) so as minute two arrived it was stretching the friendship a little.  Minute three contemplated the solo circuits that were looking likely while a peek at What's App showed no message (someone had tripped over the extension cord to Facebook, Instagram and What's App anyway)  Minute four struck......so a cleat was engaged and I readied to turn the wheels.....just as BamBam fronted (apparently a serious search had been mounted  for a helmet)   With circuit options discussed, a Raftery, Mitchell and Archer loop got underway as an appetiser, the main course of lake laps would be decided later.  No dozing in the draft today, BamBam chose to ride alongside.  Darkness on Raftery prompted the CatEye being switched to 1700 lumens, all the better to spot Skippy on the roadside you see (none found)  The wind behind on Mitchell Rd was a brief blessing before facing the task north on Archer.  Back to the lakes, a little this way then that consumed the k's with a lap or two of Seven's Creek Drive thrown in for variety's sake (it's about all you can do under the constraints) , at least riding random paths kept senses sharp rather than that hamster on a running wheel syndrome of route repetition.    

6/10 .tiucriC yrautcnaS 

The search was on for that Antarctic rated base layer ; I'd relegated it to the back of the cupboard thinking it can be ignored till next June. Wrong!  You'd reckon something near warmth would arrive in October but two degrees turned the clock back a couple of months.  Just as well Joe (not Tony) was keen to clock some k's again, I may have succumbed to slumber otherwise.  Barely a week into lock-down and the want for a different course grows strong - the same old same old syndrome kicks in when a bunch is limited to two.  Covid constraints has caused most roads to be covered with restrictions on distance so spinning the Sanctuary circuit backwards might put a different view on things.  

There was a fraction of light at the end of Old Dookie's tunnel to aim at, a slight suggestion of a westerly helping Joe (not Tony) aim at Central Ave and me to aim at Boundary Rd.  Two westbound packs were at full steam toward town (weren't they lucky to have plenty from two households to ride to regulations) but our steam needed rationing to go the distance.  Joe was in the groove of distance today and I felt the obligation to drive likewise, he'd dug deep to reach the highway form Old Dookie Rd so I took aim at River Rd in reply (regretting the aim when I got to One Tree Dam)   There's plenty of patchwork done near the bridges but the craters at One Tree Dam were left untouched.  (Go figure!   Regional Roads Vic must have a tight grip on the purse strings)   Joe (not Tony) had a good grip of the six k's of River Rd's length and wasn't letting go, so why would I argue against a free tow to Kialla Central?  I quickly lost the obligation to do a similar shift.  South to Mitchell suited me.  Back to the standard drives, Joe towed me to Archer and I dragged him to the truck route, the length of Archer shared equally to go in search for coffee. 

7/10  At war with wind.

If that was a 10 km/h west southwester, it's time to quit and hang up the bike for me!  I'd allowed twenty minutes to ride the fifteen minutes to Kialla Lakes but only just made the time cut to meet Kreeky at the shop. The forecast on wind was rather shy of the 28-48 km/h reality!  In the effort to vary the partnerships in lock-down, Kreeky had taken up my call for a few Thursday k's but I hadn't banked on this much breeze.  Oh well, better to be suffering something rather than the guilt of not riding.  This would hardly be bunch speed but I'm hoping consistency will allow a gentle landing back into bunch speed when it's legal again.  

Kialla Lakes has been the go-to lap while on a Covid leash of 15 k's, even that course has turned into the same old thing. Not many alternatives really (and I'm certainly not being drawn into the Zwift circus!)  We'd settled on lapping the lakes with a Seven's Creek drive as a side serving, the real work felt on the southern and western ways, the longest just 600 metres thankfully   It only takes a lap or two to wear down the wattage so conservation was key on the north and east to ready for the cruelty south and west.  We'd taken turns to head the hard leg of Melbourne Rd (exposed to the elements) and that guaranteed a minutes silence after, otherwise the chat north and east was as therapeutic as the ride itself.  If only to justify a latte later, a third lap was added (or do we just like the pain?) but the chain wasn't wanting to stay on the big ring as I pushed the limits on the 25 sprocket on that Melbourne Rd leg.  A tailwind to the Butter Factory was bliss and so was the caffeine to warm the inside (feels like 2.7).   I scored the joy of a tail-wind back to base while southerner Kreeky sought any sheltered path homeward  I doubt he'd be bragging a PB for the Strava segments to get there! 

8/10  A social spin savoured.  

The wind had finally worn itself out by Friday and I was well worn with it.  In an effort to socially spread myself around, Laura accepted an invite to turn the wheels 'round, apologetic (hours before we'd even rolled a metre) for a slower speed but that was what I hoped for! Three degrees was a well below what I'd wanted for but I guess it was better than being blown to Upotipotpon!  Laura wasn't too fussy about the course (thank heaven it wasn't lapping the lakes yet again!) so the Channel, Boundary, Ford and Verney route made a refreshing alternative.  Neither of us were constrained to the clock so a 6:30 start seemed sinful....but the daylight was delightful.  Out of town and away from commuting traffic gave a sense of freedom,  and with cares about the average speed cast aside, all was at peace with the world.  I hadn't cruised a ride like this for a while and the enjoyment of it all could turn into a weekly habit!  The standard social stuff chewed up the k's north on Boundary Rd, lucky we'd kept clear of a car, minus number plates, bolting by at breakneck speed (stolen?)   A fraction of warmth on the back westbound toward Ford Rd fueled some hope that Spring may just be taking a grip on temperatures, hopes still high that we'd be released from a local lock-down to bring bunch riding back to life.  A brew at the Butter Factory topped off a pleasant 45 km and a more than pleasant week one of retirement.  

This week 289km       YTD 10,332km