Surges & White Spots

This week’s Hour of Power was split into two factions: Red Group and Blue Group. Orders from the General were clear — 38kph for red, 32–34kph for blue. Self-selection.

And surprisingly… the boys handled it with maturity. No egos. No chest beating. Just calm, rational decision-making.

Suspicious.

The red group rolled out and there was violence from the outset. Ethen and Steve lit the fuse early. Then Callan took his turn. I found myself tucked in behind him as we approached the first rise. Then.. in a move that I have only come to expect from Mick, Callan pulled off at the base of the rise and left me to take the group over.

Mick and I shared a chuckle as I rolled through… but that chuckle quickly dissolved into white spots and life choice reflection. Usually I joke about this scenario, having seen it play out as a spectator. This week, I can talk to you more about the complex emotions that you experience when someone you thought liked you does that does that to you. Almost all at once:

• Disbelief
• Fear
• Rage
• Regret

All compressed into about 20 seconds of anaerobic suffering.

Usually there’s a red light after that climb. A small mercy. A chance to question life choices as a weekend warrior and reassemble your lungs.

Not this time.

Just… more violence.

The rest of the session followed the same theme: high speed, high pain, and intermittent loss of vision.

No cracks in the paceline until there were cracks. The story is unclear whether Mick dropped back to help Marco or Marco dropped back to help Mick. In this instance there are 2 stories:, the truth, and then Mick's story.

Meanwhile, Neil deputised the general and took up a leadership position in the blue group. Which, frankly, would’ve been intimidating. Neil is typically the bloke we look to for protection when passing rival gangs on the road — just in case things escalate into a cleat-wearing fight to the death.

Steve's instructions to Neil were simple:
“Go straight down this road, then turn left. Then turn left. Then turn left.”

A foolproof plan.

Or so we thought.

Turns out, these instructions presented some challenges.

Neil blamed the fog. Said the roads felt unfamiliar. Claimed disorientation.

👀

We’ll leave that there.

Back at the café, we linked up with the WCG social group — big numbers again — and today we headed out toward the Mad Max bridge.

Rolling turns. Good rhythm up front, sketchy rhythm at the back.

At the end of Kirk’s bridge road, we regrouped and David, who was fed up with the state of the pace line, stepped up for a quick mid-ride lecture. The main messages:

• Smooth pace line
• Seamless transitions
• No surging at the front when transitioning from the drive side to the recovery side

He emphasised no surging. Multiple times. Really drove that point home.

After the teaching, we rolled off…

And almost immediately the group produced some of the most aggressive surging ever recorded in human history. The kind of efforts where you're asking yourself “watt the FTP is going on?”

Just as things began to settle…

Kenny — the elder statesman — surged like no one has ever surged before. He launched from the back of the pack and disappeared into the distance.

No warning. No hesitation. No explanation.

At some point in life, you earn the right to just… do whatever you want. Kenny has clearly reached that point.

Eventually, Steve and Ethen brought some sanity back to the pace line.

Smooth. Controlled. Civilised.

Simon pulled out the camera for a group shot…which was, of course, Marco’s signal to sprint and look heroic for the footage.

Impeccable timing.

As we rolled toward the end, there was one last opportunity to stretch the legs.

Ethen didn’t hesitate. Off he went. Steve followed. Then Dale. Then Mick.

Callan got caught on the wrong side of the pace line but gave chase anyway.

I also made the questionable decision to participate — briefly convincing myself I could hold something like 450 watts.

The white spots returned to my vision. My lungs turned themselves inside out. My mental state deteriorated rapidly.

And somewhere in the chaos, one truth became very clear:

If you want to run with the big dogs… you can’t piss like a puppy.

Lesson noted for next time the big boys go off the front.

Back at the café, things took a turn.

New staff at the cafe. 20 orders all at once. No names taken with our orders, and as a result, it was a bit of a free for all when coffees were up.  Nearly every order compromised.

Topics of discussion included:

• The horrific crash in the women’s Milano-Sanremo

* Callan still waiting for his coffee

• Marco’s post-ride nutrition strategy (this week: Hungry Jack’s)

* Callan still waiting for his coffee

• Steve’s concern that sugar water as fuel may result in an unfortunate mid-ride "incident" 💩
  

* Callan still waiting for his coffee.

Best dressed this week: Steve took the honours in the silver and white UKE kit. Give Marco a call if you are looking for kit.

Neil summed it up best:

“He has the physique for that. Only he could pull that off.”

👀

Uncomfortable.

And if you’re still buzzing from the ride, legs cooked, coffee in hand and stories getting better by the minute — don’t forget to kit up for the recovery phase. Our post-ride funny cycling t-shirts are designed for exactly this moment: zero watts, maximum laughs. Because the ride might be over, but the banter definitely isn’t 🚴☕️😄