Archive for February 2011
A mere 31 km of racing around the roads between Ballarat and Creswick had me smoked.
I was gapped, and subsequently dropped by Craig, my handicap partner.
When JP and Dave came through I jumped hard to stay on their wheels. Gaps opened and I’d push hard to close them, only to have them open again. All of this happened over a distance of maybe 700m, after which the elastic promptly snapped and I solo TT’d it in to the Creswick Bakery.
A casual roll home brought it to ~60km for the day.
Two strange feelings:
- To have travelled for a ride with mates that lasted less than five hours (JPSECT crew is not Jim, Neil and BJ crew).
- To be so smashed after such a “short” ride. Not that hollowed out, thousand mile stare smashed. Just from the waist down.
I couldn’t resist meeting JP and a few of his regular crew for a roll down to Frankston and back. Lung butter factory be damned, when you can wake up at 6 and hook up a measly 8k from your doorstep you fucking do so.
We managed to pounce onto the end of a bunch being towed by a team in black Syke kit, the man up front turning something that looked in the order of 70rpm into the wind. I was just glad to be out of it. Kath and Gill pulled strong turns into the wind before handing over to JP and I. Just holding 35km/h into the breeze tipped the lactate scales to the uncomfortable side without much hassle at all. And every time I crossed that 162bpm line there was that cough.
As people popped and fizzled things got messy. Somewhere between the turns, about a quarter way into the ride I found myself in the wind with a guy I hadn’t met before. Some-kind-of-Jacket Oakleys and a headband. He didn’t look overly strong, but when we closed in on a larger bunch he lead our group out wide and around. I followed suit and worked to keep up the pace. We’d cleared them, not easily, and when we did I spotted another, faster group up the road. I’d had enough of the wind, but knowing only the Jim and Neil Protocol of the Road (push!) I stepped on it in an attempt to bridge us over to the shelter of the other riders. Once there, JP drew alongside and reminded me that the pace was a little hot. Probably should have taken that rest by waving the others through but it looked messy at the time.
And that’s pretty much how it went. Kath and Gill would tow. JP and I would tow and we’d game each other (ok, he’d game me) in the great game of Lactate Chicken, which I believe I lost every time. Turns back along the Bay with the wind at our backs were fun times, with long pulls at 50km/h possible if you wanted them. We wanted them, and took them when we could. It was nice to receive a pat on the shoulder and a “thanks for the strong pull” from a stranger who pulled off as we closed on Brighton. It was nice that the guy whose name escapes me, but who was to race crits on Sunday offered a “Christ you guys are fit”, but the under current of the day’s fun was strong sensation that there is a lot of work to be done on these legs before I’ll be happy with them.
4-ish hrs including red lights and a servo stop.
1. I’d later find out that Neil had held a conversational 45 into the same wind.
2. See .
A busy weekend precluded any real riding, though it wasn’t lacking for fun.
I woke up at 5:30 this morning and pulled the pin on riding. I just didn’t feel up for it. I told myself to get the sleep and do the short, easy ride at lunch time. Didn’t happen. “I’ll leave work early.” End of day meeting. Then home and side project.
Just now I’ve cancelled tomorrow’s alarm on account of it being after 11, the cough’s return and constricted airway. It’s what I get for thinking I’d escaped Whooping Cough scott-free. And though it makes me feel like a big pussy who’s deservedly missing out on riding in the mildest mornings of the year, it seems like the smart thing to do.