(Warning, the cycling content that you read about is only about ME. If you want to read about someone else you may need to convince someone who can keep up with the group to write a blog entry)

Sunday started like my weekdays actually. I didn’t want to wake up. What really gets me up is my obligations to others that I don’t want to let down. What keeps me up is another matter – today the riding was going to be good.

I didn’t want to let Jerard (who was giving me a lift) down, so I got into my bike uniform and packed my bike lunch on my way to bike work (you see just like a weekday except more bike=fun).

I’d programmed the ride into the Garmin and actually checked it was the right route to avoid any fiasco like yesterday, as I knew that many of our usuals were absent and we actually had a high chance of getting lost in the hills. A month or so back we had done the same ride and I got superdropped (embarrasingly on a flat transport stage through Darlington on the way to Mundaring). I didn’t want to get lost today (I’d read that the 000 people still cannot track your mobile phone, so you have to try better than “under a Commodore ute” when giving directions to the ambulance).

http://www.news.com.au/dailytelegraph/story/0,27574,25411921-5006009,00.html

Jerard was keen for a ride, having missed it yesterday while avoiding a mjor foreign affairs incident. Having got to Coode St in the comfort of the CRV, we unloaded the bikes to find a core of (quite) hardened individuals, the superstars having racing duties (or sleep duties). The route we left on was familiar as we had done it yesterday for practice. We found the missed turn off past the golf course and were happy that the usual howling headwind had taken a lie in. It was only when we approached Ridgehill Rd that I started to feel less confident, as the leaders were not sure which way to go. You can always depend on someone to know on sight which route to take and I think it was Mark D. this time. After some backstreet manouevring we arrived at the bottom of the first climb. I wished everyone well as I engaged the lowest gear for the climb (Shimano are so clever to design reverse on my bike).

After some huffing and puffing I knew I was near the top. For those who don’t come on a Sunday, you know you are near the top when you see other riders circling around looking bored and doing the last 100m of the climb again and again so they don’t cool down too much while you struggle over the crest. It’s a bit disheartening but it reminds me of a story book I read as a child.

Having conquered the climb, and seen a lot of the road surface on the way up, it was time to move on. I gobbled down a weight watchers bar (less fat) and enjoyed the scenery. Those were pretty much the only things I enjoyed for the next 30 minutes or so. We had to take a detour around the roadworks which ended up being significantly more challenging as it headed up more steeply and for longer than the conventional route. No doubt it will soon become the conventional route when Punishing Pete finds out about this. Furthermore, after the regroup (more of the fast riders buzzing round), we (meaning they) set a cracking pace to Mundaring. I was however quite satisfied with myself to actually hang with the group until Mundaring and the descent part.

There was a bit of traffic around as there was a market on in Kalamunda that morning. As we were whizzing down the initial part of Mundaring Weir Rd one had wanted to overtake. By then we had strung out a bit but a nameless rider had made a move onto the opposite (oncoming) lane to overtake on the descent. The car had overtaken the back half of the group and narrowly (seemed to me) missed the rider. We don’t need more doctors on the ride it seems but insurance salesmen may be helpful. I took the descent quite easily as I knew that there was a bit of a climb out of the weir. Russel had joined us by this stage and I was following to check out his swerving. He seems to do OK for someone with sich a high centre of gravity. It felt like I was drafting his rear derailleur.

On the climb up, it was bye bye again to everyone else. I stuck behind Russel because I couldn’t ride faster, and his back wheel gave me something to look at besides the road surface. I learned that his hub was made by Tune, and that he has a long cage derailleur that still doesn’t have enough chain capacity if he is on the smallest chainring and on about the 15 cog. He also has quite a clean chain, but I couldn’t pick if it had 114 or 112 links.  Luckily I also had my power meter to distract me from the work at hand – pegging my output to a sustainable 230W. Mundaring Weir Rd is actually a spectacular climb as it goes up round curves, popular to motorbike owning organ donors. Not too soon the bit that goes up turned into quite a flat bit that goes up occassionally. It allways amazes me that this stretch always has some road kill on it. Today eyes came before nose in identifying it.

Russel really did a good job pacing us back to the unofficial regroup point. I say unofficial, because there wern’t the usual guys on bikes riding around. They were having a rest. We rolled past, and I knew what was happening – the preparation for the final timed attack of Mundaring Weir Rd. It was interesting to see the lengths that people took to gain advantage, like emptying their drinks before the climb on the descent. May not be very safe to have a puddle of cytomax on a bend however. All good things must come to an end however, and it was again time to fly up the road  (or flap about in futility). I was going to time it, so I chose a relatively sustainable 240-260W to sit on and actually was not being dropped the way I usually do. There is comfort in the familiarity of the turns of the homeward stretch so close to coffee and it seems easier than other climbs (also probably because it is). With a bit of a puff, I got on to the quite flat bit and continued the pressure. There obviously must be a bit of psychology involved because sustaining higher wattage on the flat seems mentally more difficult than when going up which seems absurd. The time speaks for itself – 10:28 (room for improvement), but in reality I don’t think there is much more without losing significant weight, or improving the power.

The shop was packed out as every cyclist in Perth had taken advantage of the weather and chosen to visit the market. After an all too brief break, we made for home.

(The story will now be retold in point form to cut down on employee slacking, reading the blog during work – and I have to get to sleep).

1) Ride back notable for an (Whinging English) pensioner in a Magna with a screechy wife who need to read the road rules regarding riding two abreast on dual carriageway. We appologise for making you 47 microseconds late to your pressing engagement. However you probably made up that time when the wheelspin form your tyres settled down.

2) Nev and myself inadvertantly leading the paceline down Welshpool Rd East. I don’t know which one of us was hurting who, but I’ll call it a tie until….

3)Timetrialin’ Mark had enough of going at 35 and made us go at 45 down the rest of Welshpool Rd until Leach Hwy – does make you tired following him round.

4)Always time for a sprint at the end (when everyone else has turned off home) – watch the traffic though.

5)My goodness – back in South Perth by 1130! Room for another cafe stop! (Must stop complaining about pace of ride)

LeKuan