red flashing lights clearly fading away

Flashing tail lights of the lead group disappearing up the road. The image comes to my head more clearly then the face of my first born child. Again I was dropped today, the 5th time in a row on the North road ride. Today it was traffic lights that broke up the pack but it is my fault that I was not at the pointy end of the bunch.

Even now as I sit at my desk I can close my eyes, lift my chin up slightly, my legs start to feel heavy and my hands start to get grip on imaginary handle bars. The red flashing tail lights of cyclists up the road syncopate together in a blob, tick, tick, tick-tick, t-t-t-tick, tick. The image is as clear as if it was burnt on the back of my retina.

Triathletes, one third cylcists . . .

Triathletes may be one third cyclists but they are two thirds machine. In Melbourne, anyone who rides a time trial bike, or a bike with aero bars along beach road is more then likely a triathlete. The majority of these riders are the gear freaks that you can leave for dead in the smallest of inclines, or by drafting behind other riders. They are not renowned for tactics, just good bikes and a constant pace. Every so often one comes along with a constant pace that is more akin to a motor bike or a steam train.

I had just 2 such occasions in the last few days. On Saturday I needed to get back to Port Melbourne from Black rock to get the car in a hurry. I was alone and time was of the essence. There was also a strong head wind. I started off and looked out for any riders or groups to give me some respite in their slip stream. Up ahead was a lonely rider on huddled over his tri bars. He was all in kit. Matching arm warmers, top, knick's, booties, all in black on a black carbon time trial bike. I was closing in on him rather quickly so I decided that I will just power past him and get on with finding someone my own speed.

I came in along side him moving a couple kilometers faster them him. As I rode on, I saw that I was not passing him. I pushed harder on the pedals, still no go. I got out of the saddle and tried to accelerate but still he hung on alongside of me like a dark shadow. By now I was outside my comfort zone so I dropped my speed. I let him take the lead and snuck in behind him. A short recovery for me and again I noticed his speed a bit slow for my rush, so I went out along side of him. Again he clung to me as a shadow and I could not get my wheel past his. As before I hit my limit and swung in behind him.

Now I started to think, what is the game? is he having me on? why doesn't he just put the gas on and leave me for dead? I looked at his relaxed body just turning the pedals, not an ounce of weight out of place. I could almost smell the EPO oozing out of his pores, actually it was probably some strong soap smell. I was happy to sit in his slip stream but his pace always dropped a bit when I was behind him. I got my breath back and saw a nice straight stretch of road on a slight downhill. This will be my next attack, I dropped back a bit, already in the right gear not to give it away with a messy gear change. I went out and started to sprint. The surprise and acceleration I put in ripped me free of the shadow effect I was getting previously. I now moved across in front of him and I had a gap. I quickly looked back and the gap was still there. His posture was unchanged, he was still on the aero bars just ticking his legs over. I put my head down and kept working. I was starting to tire, I hope I have enough of a break. I look to my side and there he is, next to me smiling with a thumbs up. I sit up and slide in behind him again.

Now I knew this was a game. Enjoyable in a way because I can attack all I want and then still get in behind him for some respite from the wind. I know the road pretty well having ridden it twice weekly for the last year. I started to plan where my next attacks were going to be, and spots for recovery. The next uphill, again I wound up my speed and rode past my nemesis. I rode as hard as I could and was happy to feel completely spent at the top of the hill for I knew I would have my trustworthy companion there to sit in behind for another recovery. 3 more attacks before I could do no more but yell out a "thanks for the draft" as I peeled off for my car.

Today was North road ride, the ride that I have failed to finish for the last 3 rides straight. I was the only one from our group to turn up to the start and the 3 degree centigrade temperatures seemed to keep the pack small at around 35 riders. I was determined not to get dropped but again I was finding it hard to keep up with the group from the beginning. In the first 10 minutes a set of lights split the bunch and I was now in the chasing group of around 15. And chasing we wanted to do as soon as this long red light turns to green. The main group was almost out of sight down Nepean highway by the time we got moving. Our pace was good but not fast enough to catch the main group. I sat in the slip stream not wanting to waste any energy. We caught some more badly timed lights and the lead group was all but out of site.

After Warrigal road a bloke with a backpack and time trial bars took the lead. We all kept our pace line behind him and were impressed with the speed. No one even thought of helping the bloke out. We took the turn around for the home run and still the bloke with the time trial bars was out in front. Around Mentone pub I took a stint out the front but only lasted 30 seconds before others took the lead. Again within a minute it was the same bloke on the time trial bars, a small backpack and pushing a large steady gear that took the front. By this time the rest of us gave up and just tried to hold on. We started to catch riders that had presumably dropped off the front pack and most of them could not jump onto our group. With ten minutes to go we started to loose riders who could just not hold onto the pace of our triathlete out the front. Five minutes from the end I think we got a glimmer of the flashing lights from the front group. I sat up and could not hold it any longer. My fourth north road ride in a row that I got dropped.

delivering that letter

We decided to give "Gmail: a behind the scenes video" a go last weekend. For 10 seconds of submission video and the object of the video, a gmail like envelope, which at times is hard to see, I must say that the effort required was a little too much. Anyway we will see how it goes.

An Alex of a week

Talk around the team was to have a training camp/challenge of sorts, 5 consecutive days of riding "The North Road". It was meant to be this week except we missed Monday. Lucky it wasn't as even though I rode it 3 times, 3 times I failed to finish with the bunch.

Last week I had a week off. A week to get energised about riding again, stretches, weights, controlling my diet. This ended in a feeding fest with no more stretching and straining then required to scratch my ear. One day I went out for lunch, had lamb shank and 2 beers. At 4pm that day I got the munchies and got stuck into a couple of pieces of frozen pizza from a stash I have. Seeing that jaffas are back in stock in the lolly jar, led me to get a couple of cups loaded with jaffas and stash them away somewhere for when there are no jaffas in the jar. Then I proceeded to fill my mouth and pockets with a supply for the afternoon. Thinking of my stretch/weights/weight loss promise for the week, I planned to skip dinner that night. This turned into eating spaghetti bolognese, seconds with 300 g of shredded cheese stirred through, finishing my son's meal to the disappointment of the dogs and 2 ice creams in cones.

Tuesday: dropped off about 80% through near the Brighton Savoy hotel. Just didn't have it in me. My lungs felt fine, my legs felt fine, just could not turn the pedals any faster. A gap of a bike, 2 bikes, I get back on, I fall back, the elastic breaks. I arrive at the end only a couple of minutes back on Alex and Joel who have the pleasure of seeing me fall of my bike as I try to balance whilst my chain drops off.

Wednesday: Recovery day. I go out with Ash. The pace a nice 36km/h out to Mordialloc. All is going well but I still do find the odd hill a bit strenuous. At the turnaround point the pace lifts and Ash has told me that on previous occasions this is where he gets dropped. He does a bit too much work to bridge a gap. By the time I give him some respite in the form of a wind break, it is too late. He is tired and the pack slips away. I decide that he will be right and I need to jump back on. I push hard but all I get is to catch more fragments left behind the main group. Although I felt strong bringing the dregs of the peleton to the end, I hit the wall on the way back to the office and can barely hit 23 km/h on the bike path. Mouth full of jaffas helps me get my recovery on the way.

Thursday: I am hyped, I feel I have recovered from the last 2 days. I do a final stretch, the group moves off the start, I finish stretching and ride in pursuit. I find it hard to catch up. What was I thinking, a bit of extra stretching has set me up for being last. The second set of lights catch me out as they go red, I ride on but a toot from a motorist stops me. I want to show that cyclists do follow the road rules. The last 2 riders make it through and there I am, the blinking lights of the back of the pack are starting to disappear in front of me and it has not even been a kilometer.

I chase. I can still see the faint red flicker, or is it just a car behind a fence, a tree, the obstruction causing the flicker? All I need is a set of lights to go in my favor. South road, and just that happens, I reach the back of the pack just as they leave. I am on, almost. Ash starts to drop back, I go past him, still 2 bike lengths back from the pack. I ride on. I am on, I am not, I am on, I am out! Again the flashing lights start to dim through the increasing gap. Damn, I get a red light. I ride on still with the hope of catching, I catch up to another rider who has been shed by the speed of the peleton. He moves in behind me and I keep riding. I am comfortable at 44 km/h. If I am riding this strong by myself, how was it that I got dropped?

My compatriot in the chase does a turn at the front. We see some flashing lights in the darkness of the morning peak hour, he ups the speed, is it the group, or just some more dropped riders? Yes it is the whole group, we are motivated again and start to take short turns at a high tempo of around 51 km/h. All we need is another set of lights in our favor. Warrigal road comes up, 3 sets of lights in a row set out like the net of a fisherman, damn, we get the red and the group disappears. Is it all over? as we move off, I am still in hope, worst case I can cut the final corner, maybe I should cut it here just to be sure?

Another set of lights at the base of a long downhill has netted our quarry. A whole pack of cyclists, just standing still, only their red flashing lights showing any sign of life. I can almost reach out to them. I chase, i put my head down, almost there. The lights change and they move off, I am only 200m behind them. I approach the lights and they turn amber, I stop. So close.

Again I ride on. With the other rider we switch lanes to cut the corner. We weave through some dense traffic, and point our bikes down a hill to beach road. On the way up the hill is a pack that rides a different route through the suburbs, beyond them there is the still empty road that will reunite me with the north road ride. I am half way down the hill, just 100m to go and a right hander and I am in. I look up and across flash the single file of riders, the North Road ride. Again I am behind them, again only 50 meter, 100 meters the head wind is impossible. I am barely able to stamp out 30km/h, 200 meters, gone.

I merge back into the suburbs to try and regroup with the pack that rides through the suburbs, I see them, but the wind is still just as strong around the houses and trees, I am 300 meters back. I never give up but I never catch them either.