Cape Epic - Stage Three

Date: 23 March 2010
Start/Finish: Ceres
Distance: 115km
Climbing: 2280m

Stage Three was supposed to be Dr Evil's masterpiece, his pièce de résistance, the tour de force of his ability in devising torturous cycling routes for mountain bikers. From the day the route was announced the only thing on many people's minds was the obstacle that Dr Evil had found for us - affectionately known as Mt Evilrest. Survive the stage today, and the rest of the Epic would be a stroll.

Dr Evil's magnum opus

Thankfully, some enterprising mountain bikers had pulled a fast one on Dr Evil and had somehow convinced the land owners to demand payment for access to Mt Evilrest. Never before in the history of cycling have so many owed so much to so few. Whoever you are - we salute you. Without Mt Evilrest, the route looked a lot more manageable, but still by no means did it look easy.

The revised route

The Target and I had once again had a team strategy meeting - we had flip charts, presentations and performance evaluations before we settled on a new strategy - go very slowly and survive the stage. It wasn't a strategy that differed much from the previous day's, but we had tweaked it here and there. Once again we set off through the not so glamorous neighbourhoods of Ceres, but this time I was on the back as the Target set the pace. We made good progress, and when we hit some tar I could see the Target cheer up quite considerably. It wasn't long before we took a left turn and started the first climb of the day.

The Target's date with destiny awaits

Our nemesis - The Girl in Pink - was sighted briefly as we slowly climbed the dirt roads outside Ceres, but before long had once again left us for dead. I was beginning to think that I needed to find a new nemesis - someone that we might stand a chance against, but none of the riders around us were nemesis material. There was a guy on a 29er, just like Craig's, but he was too friendly to be a nemesis. There were some foreigners, and they just wanted to know more about South Africa - certainly not nemesis material. Yolanda had pointed out some guys she knew with horns on their helmets, but we had yet to see them on the route. They would be suitable, if we could just up our game.

On the front and ignoring the Plan!

Back where I belong.

After what seemed like an age of climbing we finally made the first water point. The Target was struggling, so I  gave him an extra minute or two to scoff down the Woolworths rice cakes. We were near the back of the field, so not that many people would upset if he finished them off. My dad had made the trip out to the water point, and was one of a handful of spectators cheering us on. We had done 30kms, and had another 90kms to go. At our current pace we would be in for a 9 hour day!

Next month's dinner at the supporters accommodation

We continued to climb - nothing particularly steep, except for the odd technical climb strewn with loose rocks, ruts, and struggling cyclists pushing their bikes. I found these climbs quite enjoyable, the challenge of picking a line,  staying upright and avoiding obstacles (rocks, ruts and cyclists) made for some good riding. It also gave me an chance to show off my skills and boost my ego as I showed off my impressive skills to the walking cyclists. At least that's what I thought. As I stood at the top of a particular climb waiting for the Target, ego puffed, Craig came along with his DayTripper board and rode the whole climb as well. Suddenly I was just another rider who could ride up hill like a DayTripper. Damn him!

The Target wasn't far behind - I could hear his throat clearing noises getting louder and louder as he walked up the hill, his hill climbing reserves completely depleted. A quick Gu at the top and we were off - I was keen to follow Craig down the rather technical descent. On the way down we passed Mr Stander, and while in previous years I have passed people like Christoph Sauser, David George, Max Knox and Brendan Stewart (they all had mechanicals), this wasn't the famous Mr Stander - it was his dad. I think the technical bike handling gene skips a generation.

Even the supporters were getting hot, waiting in the sun

It wasn't long after the bottom of the climb that Mr Stander once again passed us, and so I found my new nemesis. I don't think we saw him again that day, but in the coming days would see quite a bit of him. With the  major climbs for the day behind us, we meandered around on the Swaarmoed plateau. Interestingly, the Target seemed to be suffering from a "Swaarmoed" (heavy heart), as well as heavy legs - he was really suffering, so much so that he wasn't even making his throat clearing sounds. It was around this time that the crazy talk started. He wanted to quit. Not even seeing the turn off to the Mt Evilrest that we were supposed to do, and then not taking it, cheered him up. Throw in some sandy patches and the Target was in a very dark place. One particular sandy patch got the better of him - he had approached it at speed and as his front wheel hit the sand his bike came to a complete stop, but the Target kept on going - a perfect Super Man impression. Thankfully he was in one piece, but his hatred of sand was growing.

After wanting to quit several times (I think I counted six times in total), and lots of pushing and encouragement, we made the water point at the halfway mark. We had been going for 4h30, and I was suddenly quite worried about the cut off. Any mechanical issues and we would be cutting it fine. We only had 10 hours to finish the stage. Being told by the announcer that the leaders had already finished didn't do much good either. After depleting another water point's Woolworths rice cakes, getting some chain lube from Speek (my local bike shop's mechanic) and saying hi to my dad we set off for the second half of the stage.

Ambulance == Danger!

We were immediately rewarded with 10kms of  fantastic downhill, although extreme caution was required - it was fast, loose and had a couple sharp corners. Several riders around us came short, and we later heard that Craig did too. Once back on the valley floor we hooked in behind Schalk Burger Snr ( a former Springbok rugby player) - a mountain of a man with the strength of 100 oxen, and a very quick temper. Another team had also hooked on behind Oom Schalk, and we let him do all the work for about 5kms. The other team then tried to pass him as we entered some farm land -  I thought we were about to witness some cyclist on cyclist aggression. Oom Schalk let the two riders know that he didn't appreciate their tactics, and judging by the way his arms were flying about was busy giving them a demonstration of what he would do to them if they didn't retreat to a safe distance behind him (my spidey sense had been tingling, and I had made sure that we were already a safe distance behind Oom Schalk, along with his partner).

What a fabulous downhill!

The temperature by this time had risen to around 43C, and there wasn't a breath of wind. The Target was taking strain in the African sun, having left the cold climate of his flat (and sandless) island not that long ago. We had a bit of a climb ahead of us - only 200m of climbing - but given the climbing we had already done, and the temperature - it felt like 2000m of climbing. It was at this point that the Target declared once again that he wanted to quit, and that he wasn't having fun. I told him to look around - to look at the faces of the other riders and see how much fun they were having. Each and every rider wore a grimace on their face, teeth clenched, sweat pouring off them. No one was having fun. And yet this was why each and every one of us were here - to suffer, to push through it, and make it to the finish. I had wanted to remind him of our team name the previous year, but diplomacy was needed.

A kind farmer had erected a shower of sorts - cold water flowing from a hose pipe - and the Target made a bee line for it. I don't like getting wet, and so had ridden around it and was waiting under a tree. While I waited I dished out some Mule bars to the locals, did some stretches, and have a conversation with a rider who had complained to me that the Target wasn't letting other riders use the shower, and that he reckoned the Target might be there all day. After what seemed like an age we were off again, and we had finally turned in the direction of home. That is usually enough to trigger white line fever in me. Throw in some tar and flat farm roads and all I want to do is get to the finish.

White line fever!

With the Target tucked in behind me, we made great progress - catching and passing several teams. Suddenly the day didn't seem so bad at all. And then the Target got hit with an apple. Some kids had been sitting on a dam wall. I had waved at them, and they had waved back. I was puzzled by some apple pieces on the road, as I was about to say something, the Target got hit by an apple on his right shoulder. If he had had his way, he would have stopped right there and possibly killed the apple thrower. Today was not the day to mess with him. I managed to get the Target to keep on cycling, but about 500m on we hit some sand. Not a patch here and a patch there, but about 2kms of continuous soft sand. Being so close to home I had hoped the Target would have gritted his teeth and pushed on through, but the Apple Incident had taken it out of him - he wasn't even going to attempt to ride the sand, and told me as much, using several words that aren't suitable for this blog.

Another one down.

he Target - alive, but only just

We eventually cleared the sandy section, but the damage was done. We limped home to an enthusiastic welcome from our supporters - completely knackered both physically and mentally, but in once piece. That night the Target got a special massage on his apple bruise, and I got a special massage on my arm that was cramping from all the pushing. Team Burger Kings were battered and bruised, lying way down the overall placings, but we were still in the Epic. The next stage was a transitional stage, and hopefully we would start to improve.

STG 3

197. Cat 291. GC 7:50.04,0

Cape Epic - Stage Two

Date: 22 March 2010
Start/Finish: Ceres
Distance: 90km
Climbing: 1625m

Just like Stage One - Stage Two promised to be a bit of a killer. We were going to be riding the holy grail of mountain biking - single track, and lots of it. However, like life in general, Dr Evil believes you have to earn the rewards, and so before we got to enjoy the fast technical single track, we would be made to suffer for several hours as we climbed relentlessly up.

Day Two underway 

The Apprentice and I had agreed on a new strategy - we were going to ride conservatively at first, and then see what happened. We believed that the melt down from the previous day was a once off thing (we are definitely a glass half full kind of team!). The first hour of racing (from now on I shall use riding - we weren't really racing) passed us by in a cloud of dust and patch after patch of loose sand as we headed off in the direction of the mountains. So far, so good - the Apprentice was quite perky, the pace was good, my morning banana went down well. And then we hit the single track.

Look at that view

This wasn't the beautifully flowing, mountain biking utopia kind of single track. This was the tax we had to pay - technical uphill single track. Nothing kills the legs (possibly with the exception of sand) quite like uphill single track. And to make it worse, it felt like we were riding around in circles - we could see where we had to go, yet we were going in the opposite direction, which doesn't do much for the morale. The Apprentice and I had agreed that we would ride/walk our own pace up the hills. This gave me a bit of time to stop and appreciate the view which was quite spectacular, to chat with the other riders, and very importantly, to rest.

Up, up, up

Before long, we had made it to the top of the first loop of single track, and some fast technical single track awaited to take us to the first water point. We did have a problem though - the Apprentice doesn't have any mountain biking skills, and was going to have to learn quite quickly if he wanted to get to the bottom of the mountain in one piece. And learn he did. Before long, we were catching and passing real mountain bikers, and I think I even caught the Apprentice smiling. He is a quick learner.

We grabbed some drinks and snacks at the water point - the Apprentice discovered the Woolworths Rice Cakes. I had to use all my powers of persuasion to get him back on the bike - he was attempting to eat ALL the rice cakes he could lay his hands on. We eventually got going again on the second loop of the day that would take us up and over a mountain, and then back around it, returning to the very water point where the Apprentice was currently feeding. Talk about motivation. The next couple of hours were filled with lots of pain and suffering as we slowly inched our way up the mountain through a combination of riding and walking. The Apprentice really doesn't like going up hill at all. I have submitted a proposal to the Jersey Government that they investigate the idea of importing a hill or two to better prepare their athletes when competing against the rest of the non-flat world. I am awaiting their reply.

DayTripper Edwards with Support Crew Betts

The great thing about the Epic is that no matter how tough you are finding it, you don't have to look very far to find someone who is suffering a little bit more. I think the Apprentice was that someone today. With the temperatures rising, so did the intra-team tension, and I witnessed several riders suffering from sense of humor failure. One rider was particularly annoyed when his partner who had been waiting at the top of a hill for several minutes whipped out a camera and proceeded make a video of him while asking such questions as "Are you having fun yet?", and "What took you so long?". Since this is a family blog, I cannot write his reply, except to say that it contained several four letter words, and a suggestion about someone's mother.

We got a pleasant surprise when my partner from the last two years, Craig, disguised as a DayTripper, caught us as we finally started to go downhill. We put his fresh legs to good use as he gave the Apprentice a good push as we approached the beginning of our reward - the single track. It was like old times - Craig was on the front, and I was right on his wheel as we flew down the technical single track, the Apprentice not too far behind as he grew in confidence. We caught and passed so many riders - this clearly wasn't going to be an Epic for people that couldn't mountain bike, and where we were in the field, there were lots of people like that.

DayTripper Edwards had fun

After an exhilarating descent, we found ourselves back at the water point we had last seen 3 hours ago. My Dad was waiting in the baking heat, cheering us on. I think the Apprentice thought he was cheering on his rice cake eating world record attempt. Woolworths will make a loss this year, stay away from their shares. Freshly fed and watered, the three of us headed off for what we thought would be a quick 30kms back into town. How wrong we were. Dr Evil had us messing around as we rode in circles up, down and around any little piece of single track that he could find. I had given a quick estimate to my father that we would be back in town in about 90 minutes, yet after 90 minutes we were back at the same water point, with 15kms to go!

The twist turny sandy bit near the finish

The Apprentice was starting to fade, the Dr Evil inspired pointless single track detour sapping his concentration and will to live, so much so that he successfully managed to ride over himself. Perhaps the Apprentice was becoming the Master, as this requires considerable skill. I am still not sure how he did it, but he got the tyre marks all over his kit to prove it.

Sixteen kilometers and an hour and a half later we were back at the same water point for the third time. By now, the Apprentice had had enough. I was suffering quite badly from White Line Fever, and so for the next 15kms tried to push and pull the Apprentice as much as I could. My plans were foiled once again by Dr Evil and his insane love of inflicting both physical and mental anguish on cyclists when we encountered patch after patch of soft sand. Nothing destroys morale quite like sand. We limped on, slowly inching toward the finish line, through one of the less glamorous neighbourhoods of Ceres - in fact, I think it was the rubbish dump of one of the less glamorous neighbourhoods. Not a great impression to leave after what had been quite a scenic day's riding.

The Apprentice, with me close behind

We had the same approach to the finish line as the previous day, and I had quietly warned the Apprentice that we would be riding it all - no walking was allowed, and to his credit, we rode it all the way, finally crossing the finish line.

As tough as the stage was, the massage was tougher, and by now a crowd would gather to watch the Apprentice squirm and writhe in pain as his aching muscles where prodded and poked. Quite a good laugh actually.

STG 2

252. Cat 375. GC 7:40.48,9

Overall: 15:36.15,1

Cape Epic - Stage One

Date: 21 March 2010
Start/Finish: Diemersfontein to Ceres
Distance: 117km
Climbing: 2190m

For the second year running, the Epic started in my backyard (I have a very big back yard, and Wellington is right on the edge, near the fence). Our first destination - Ceres. As far as first stages go, this one was going to be a toughie. Not because there were any serious climbs, but just the length, the heat and the terrain.

The Roadie and I

The Roadie and I got to the start line with plenty of time to spare, and found ourselves two thirds of the way down in the start chute. We weren't worried, we were going to take it easy and have a good time. It was here that we met our first nemesis - the Girl in Pink (and her partner, the Guy in Pink). Normally, I wouldn't bat an eyelid - these riders usually don't make good nemesis material, but with the Roadie fresh from a bender and on a mountain bike every rider was a threat.

The massive start chute

At 9am the 2010 Cape Epic got underway, and about 5 minutes later so did we. We had discussed our strategy several times, and the it was a simple one. I would follow the Roadie, and he in turn would ride conservatively. In that first hour I got quite worried about my levels of fitness - I was having to work hard (again - why to all my partners insist on riding like the clappers in the first hour). Thankfully, I was able to make up ground and rest a little on the downhills - the Roadie is absolutely useless when it comes to technical descents. On one such descent, with only one ridable line I heard this racket behind me and naturally assumed it was some hardcore downhiller having some fun riding off line through all the rocks and ruts. Imagine my surprise when the Roadie came screaming past me in what can only be called a crash in slow motion. There was no way he had any say in where the bike was going. He was a passenger riding over every obstacle in his way. Crude, but quite an effective way to get down a hill. I was to see this technique repeated over and over gone throughout the course of the Epic.

After messing around in the vineyards of Wellington, we finally made the climb up to Bain's Kloof Pass and the Roadies hallowed turf - tar. A quick stop at the water point for some snacks and juice and we were off. Once again I was having to bust a lung to keep up. We made good progress on the tar, and passed several groups of riders on the descent. What a great pass to ride. I have been threatening for years and years to ride Bain's Kloof Pass on my bike, and having total road closure made it even better.

At the bottom of the pass we made a sharp left onto a gravel farm road, heading away from Ceres. It was on this stretch that the Roadie encountered his kryptonite - sand. We had also been going for roughly 3 hours which seemed to be the Roadie's limit. The wheels began to fall off, and we had to drop out of the group we were riding with. We settled into a new tempo, and eventually, after several more sandy sections, made it to the next water point. My Dad and Yolanda were there cheering us on. The support, snacks and juice gave the Roadie a bit of a lift, but 500m later the wheels fell off completely.

First water point

It seemed that the flat island dwelling Roadie had another weakness - hills. We limped up the climb, feeling the full intensity of the Cape sun baking down on us. Slowly but surely, for the first time that day, riders started to pass us. A trickle at first, but by the time we got to the top of the climb it was a steady flow. The Roadie's legs were quivering as the cramps set in, and every rise became a major obstacle. The cricket players passed us, followed by the rugby players, and then the pretty boy, and finally, the coach.

The Roadie struggled on, pedal stroke by pedal stroke, gritting his teeth and groaning under his breath (much like Julian's moan). Just as it looked like he was coming right, Dr Evil played his trump card, and chucked in 7kms of railway line. The first kilometer went ok, and we caught a couple of the riders that had passed us. We hooked onto the back of a "train" of riders for a few minutes before the Roadie popped. I think it was the sight of the Girl in Pink on the front driving the train and riding away from the guys that did it for the Roadie. The remainder of the 6kms were spent either walking or riding slowly. Nothing I said would get the Roadie motivated to ride, and I had visions of us missing the cut off. Until the Roadie spotted a photographer. He was on his bike in a flash, game face on, and rode the 50m past the photographer like a Paris-Roubaix champ! If only I could have organised photographers all along the railway line at 50m intervals...

Not sure who is happier

We finally emerged from the railway track, bodies battered, legs aching, moral destroyed. I helped the Roadie over the last small hill of the day (on tar), down the other side and to the finish. Just to make sure the Roadie was completely destroyed, Dr Evil had thrown in some more sand in the lead up to the finish line. I was worried that we might end up walking over the finish line. But we didn't. We had survived, only just.

Still looks better than the tent accommodation

If the Roadie thought the pain and suffering was over for the day, he was in for a special surprise - Stage 1 had been the warm up. The real torture awaited in the form of the massage. Funny for his partner and other spectators, excruciatingly painful for him.

STG 1 227. Cat
           341. GC
           7:55.26,2

Cape Epic - Stage Eight

I awoke with great trepidation this morning - was today going to be the day that the tourist finally dished out the pain. I have been waiting all week and thankfully the threat of pain and suffering hasn't materialized. In addition, I have yet to have a good final stage of the Epic.

The tourist (also affectionately known to the support crew as the whining pom) put in a great effort today and dug very deep into his suitcase of suffering to finish the last stage of the 2010 Cape Epic in style. Well done Russ.

238th for the stage and 261st overall.

Cape Epic - Stage Seven

I suspect Russell was sabotaged in the night with his real legs being replaced by tree stumps. Thinking about it now, there were other signs that something was amiss. His repeated swearing at Dr. Evil had grown quiet and he wasn't even making his guttural throat clearing sound.

Maybe it was aliens or body snatchers. That pain in his bum could well been from a rectal probe. My investigationRr continues. I shall bribe it with cheap wine and see how it responds.

Cape Epic - Stage Six

This was a stage that promised to be quite a tough one on paper, but dare I say it - Dr Evil has a heart and was uncharacteristically kind to us. Russell had a god day - he is getting stronger with every day and soon will have me in pain. And he rides single track like a demon.

We finished well in the top half of the field, beating the coach, the rugby player and the soccer player, but losing out to the pretty boy by 2 places. 207 on GC.

Cape Epic - Stage Five

Captain's log, Star date 63696.4.

The little one showed great heart today in overcoming the obstacles before him. Our mission was to conserve energy and observe the opposition from afar, never to engage. However, due to unforseen circumstances, we entered hostile territory and were forced to defend The Federation's honor. We suffered minor casualties, but the victory was ours.

We placed 247th, and gained promotion to the D group.

Cape Epic - Stage Four

Team manager and spokesperson Yolanda had this to say: "It was a solid performance today. They got a lot of go forward early on. They were solid on defense, attacked well and did well in the loose. They conceded a bit towards the end, but I'm very happy with their performance."

245th place.

Cape Epic - Stage Three

The hills are alive with the sound of music - well, to be more accurate, the sound of Russell swearing and clearing his throat. Hills and sand are two of his favorite things.

We had as long tough day, and several times Russell threatened to quit. But somehow he pushed through the pain and suffering, and we got our best placing yet - 291st.

Cape Epic - Stage Two

What a great stage. We ride single track till we were sick of it. And then a little but more.

It was tough. It was hot. But it was fun.

7h40.

Cape Epic - Day One

Done.

With a bit of moaning, swearing, grimacing, writhing and cursing. And that was just Russell's massage.

7h55 and 341st position.

Cape Epic - Day 0

The nerves are on code red, man the battle stations, one minute to midnight, or whatever other analogy you might prefer. This is it, we have registered, sussed out the opposition (and they seem to get better each year), had the race briefing, got the goodies, packed the bags, ridden the bikes one last time, had the final supper with the family, and quietly died a thousand deaths. No turning back now.

Watch out - Team Burger Kings (Team # 74) is ready to deal with whatever Dr Evil can throw at us.

The Cape Argus Pick n Pay Cycle Tour Wrap up

The Results

With the Argus now a memory, the legs starting to feel a little better, and plans already being made for next year, I present the scoreboard:

Name	Race Time	Position	Gender Position	Age Position	Start Group	Group Position
Me	03:08:08	305/28817	282/22533	50/2210	VA	53/234
Craig	03:08:09	306/28817	283/22533	41/3071	VA	54/234
The Tourist (Russell)	03:19:16	810/28817	749/22533	114/3322	VB	151/229
The Greek	03:59:32	5460/28817	4934/22533	813/3071	GG	8/526
Bonte	04:17:22	8355/28817	674/5472	109/745	T	262/466
Yolanda	04:17:22	8358/28817	675/5472	105/712	T	263/466
The Runner	04:23:43	9422/28817	8316/22533	1306/3071	PC	9/375

What the scoreboard doesn't say is just how tough it was:

• I spent 50kms chasing the back of the VA bunch after getting dropped over Smitswinkel, only catching Craig right on the finish line
• Yolanda and Bonte had to stop for a puncture that took 8 minutes to fix (they still beat their nemesis, although Yolanda still bears the psychological scars of a good tongue lashing from Bonte!)
• The wind was howling - The Runner did a valiant job riding solo around the Peninsula
• The Tourist collapsed in a heap, cramps ripping through his legs as we tried to enjoy a rewarding beer in Kalk Bay
• The Greek crawling up into a ball in the beer tent, totally exhausted

A scientific investigation into performance at the Argus

The 2010 Cape Argus Cycle Tour has come and gone, and all that remains are for the war stories to be told. For the second year running the weather was rather foul, with a howling South Easter bashing the cyclists for the first half of the race. Hence the war stories - it was a real battle out there. This was another of those occasions that they should have handed out two medals - one at the start for just being brave enough to get out of bed and head off to the start, and another to anyone who persevered to the finish line.

In the ongoing saga of the Greek versus The Runner I have rather sad news - the Greek convincingly beat The Runner. However, with the wonders of modern scientific analysis, The Runner has broken down each performance and done an objective comparison in the quest to answer the burning question - who is the better cyclist (we all know The Runner is the better runner, hence the nickname)?

Here follows The Runner's analysis, and you are welcome to peer review his logic:

"By my calcs\\

There were 29000 riders and 75 start groups: this simply about 385 riders per group on average

Greek started in GG (group 17) he thus started in position 6 573rd

The Runner started in PC (Group 49) in thus in position 18 946th

So to work out from the start:

Greek only managed to finish in position 5483, this means he only passed 1090 riders or in other words a pathetic 17% of those in front of him. suddenly its not looking so good for the greek.

the Runner however finished in position 9462 which means he passed an incredible 9485 riders. This is an amazing 50% of the field in front of him at the start!!!!! OMF OMF, certainly and undeniably an insane effort. Further, to sustain this crazy objective the runner had to pass a rider every 1.6 seconds for the entire duration of the ride!

This, besides the realism of riding a mountain bike and not having any bunches to share some of the wind load, obviously gives the Runner a big disadvantage and we need to do some simple maths to equate the positioning.

Thus if we say that each person you pass, adds approximately 0.2 secs to your time, then we can recalc.

For the greek it would add on 3.6 minutes so his actual time would be around 3:55 which even the Runner can concede is a pretty good time.

For the Runner it would add a 31.6 minutes, so the corrected actual time should be 3:52!!!!!!!!!!!!!!OMG OMF

So in the end without any obvious penalties, but taking the realisitc issues of starting at the back in account, the Runner actually won this race quite comfortably which was easily confirmed by the beer tent crowd afterwards, who noted how casually and easily the Runner was moving around and chatting, whilst the greek lay about immobile on some dirty old newspapers.

maybe next year greek."

Lance Armstrong and friends trying to catch The Runner over Suikerbossie

While the scientific methods used in this analysis look sound upon first glance, a truly independent test is required to settle this issue once and for all. A test where each competitor has no advantage over the other with the only deciding factor being pure cycling ability. Luckily, such an opportunity is on the horizon - the Knysna Weekend. There is an old tradition dating back many years called The 3D Loser competition, and I think it is time we revived it. The 3D Loser is the person with the slowest aggregate time for the Knysna Mountain Bike race and the Road race the following day. For any additional details speak to Craig, as I do believe he is the current 3D Loser title holder.

NEWS FLASH!! The Greek is playing dirty

You heard it here first - rumour has it that the Greek is NOT going to be honoring the bet made with The Runner. See the comments of this blog post.

This recent development is sure to play into the hands of The Runner - sympathy will lie on his side and the Greek could well be greeted with animosity from fellow Argus riders on Sunday (after all, they all read this blog).

It is still unclear why the Greek has broken the deal, but there are some hints from an anonymous poster that The Runner has timed his training to perfection and has peaked perfectly for the Fun Ride World Champs. I have also heard through the grapevine that The Runner has recruited the services of several rather talented riders to accompany him around the peninsula in his quest to teach the Greek a lesson.

I'll post further updates as more info comes to light.

Hell's sweaty armpit

The annual pilgrimage to Boschendal Estate for the Argus MTB Challenge occurs one week before the Fun Ride World Champs (aka The Argus), and this year was no different. The event has grown quite considerably, so much so that it is now spread out over two days.

Weather for this event seems to vary from the extremes - either cold and wet, or hot and airless. This year was another scorcher. The organisers hd made several changes to the route in order to ease the congestion. The big change was the position of the big climb - in previous years it was right near the end of the race. This year the climb was going to be used to split the bunches up.

Click for a bigger image

The race got off to a fast start - possibly a little too fast for many, especially given the heat, and the approaching climb. I tried to ride a constant pace, and figure out how the new bike, now known as Nelly, handled. She climbs a little slower than Svalbaard, but on the gradual uphill drags and flats she comes into her own. She doesn't feel fast, but judging by the rate at which I caught at passed the smaller bikes she must be fast.

At one point I was towing a couple of riders along, slowly but surely catching the targets up ahead. Thinking I was towing all the guys I had caught, I looked over my shoulder to give them the evil eye when I had to chuckle - there were only 3 of us, and each guy was on a 29er. It was like we were hunting in a pack, picking off the opposition one by one. Eventually I managed to drop my newfound friends and go it alone, keeping one eye out for Marius (a challenge that never materialised).

I crossed the line in 2h51, relieved that it was over. I got a maximum temperature of 39C, and an average heart rate of 176 beats per minute. It had been a tough day out on a course that isn't that tough at all. I would have been happy with a top 50 finish, and was quite surprised with 25th.

While hanging around at the finish Conrad Stoltz came up to chat to me. I would like to think it was because of my awesome ride, but the truth is he was coming to ask about Nelly. He had just obliterated the competition, riding to a 9 minute victory on his 29er (I secretly had hoped that I would be the first 29er, but 2nd isn't that bad).

Yolanda looking fresh

Because of the heat, the race officials had decided to cut off the long route a little earlier than expected, catching Yolanda out. She had been looking after herself and was in good shape for the rest of the 55km route when she was sent back to the start after about 35kms. We suspect the Greek might have had a role to play in this - he did look nervous in the start chute about losing to a girl. On the positive side, Team Dulux will be nice and rested for next week's Fun Ride World Champs, while the Greek was put through his paces. We'll have to see if he can recover in time to mount a serious challenge. And don't forget the Runner - he has been resting all week, and could possibly leave the Greek for dead up the first hill. Time will tell.

Yolanda, Louis, and Nelly

Wilde Fruit - Wellignton

Just a quick post with a map of a road race I did last week in Wellington (Ignore the bits at the end - that was me walking around the parking lot with the GPS still recording).

It went quite well - did lots of work, split up the bunch nicely, and ended up coming 4th in a 6 man sprint - there is hope for me yet.


View Wilde Fruit in a larger map

More Niner pics

A gratuitous dump of more Niner photos.
(Still no closer to a name for her though)

 

 

 

 

My new bike

I haven't given her a name yet, but here she is, my new Niner AIR 9.

Crazy Stupid

After the greasy burger and the short sharp hills of the previous day's racing, I decided to head out to Paarl and see just exactly what my legs were made of. It promised to be a great day for bike riding - it was going to be warm with a gentle breeze.

Once the league guys had started, and the tandems had departed it was our turn. Looking around the start chute I felt rather nervous as the PPA officials had decided that just 11 riders would be making up the first group. We did feel kind of special in that we had a lead car and a guy on a motorbike. Glad to see the race entry fees going somewhere.

As we got underway it became quite apparent that there were two types of riders in the bunch - those that were going to put some effort in, and those that were looking to loaf at the back. I'm all for loafing, but with the Epic coming up and time running out, this wasn't the time or the place, and several other riders shared my sentiments. With about 30 minutes of racing gone, I took a turn on the front and without realising it I split the bunch in 2. We were now 4 riders off the front with 7 guys half-heartedly chasing. Two riders were able to cross the gap but that was it. We were now 6 strong with about 95kms of racing to go. Daunting to say the least.

Everything went well with each rider taking his turn on the front, until we got to Botmaskop just outside Riebeek-Kasteel. We quickly lost 3 riders on the foothills of the climb and suddenly we were 3 riders with about 70kms to go. We made for quite a rag tag bunch - an old guy, a youngster, and me. I thought it was a suicide mission to attempt the rest of the ride with just two other riders, but rather than sit up and wait, we gave it a go.

We got organised quickly, each rider going through for 30 seconds and slowly but surely the kilometers started to tick by. The old guy - Peter Barber - turned out to be one of the strongest guys on a bike I have met. I had wondered earlier how on earth he had an A seeding, but I quickly figured it out - he can ride a bike. We caught and passed the ladies first, and then the juniors. Shortly after that we made a right turn onto an undulating road - straight into the wind. Almost immediately our pace dropped and the going got quite tough. I had started to believe that we might have a chance of staying away from the rest of our bunch, and the chasing D bunch, but that belief started to fade.

We persevered, but after 100kms of riding a brief look over my shoulder signaled the end of our little adventure - the bunch, now consisting of the leftovers of A-C and the charging D, were breathing down our necks. Our little 3 man adventure was over, and while I was a little disappointed at having been caught, I was only to glad for the company. I was out of juice, and my legs were taking strain. Hiding at the back of the bunch suddenly didn't seem like such a bad idea.

We coasted the final 24kms back into Paarl, letting the D riders have their moment and their attempt at a sprint. I'd answered a very important question - my legs were feeling strong, and suddenly the Epic wasn't as daunting.

Needless to say I didn't do too much for the rest of the day, and had a very good afternoon nap.

The Greek, the Runner, the Bet and the Greasy Burger

It's that time of year for Somerset West's own little race, Die Wingered Breakfast Ride.This would also be my first road race in ages. While it is a short 62km route, it is always fast and furious up front. Just to spice it up a little, they take us over several little climbs. My memories of this race are always ones of burning legs and gasping lungs.

With the changes to the run into the finish including a rather horrible little climb, this year was going to be no different.Craig and Bonte had made the trek from the other side of the mountain, and brought some friends with them - a mini invasion of sorts.

The race got off to a rather manageable start, no one really prepared to dish out the pain too early. With the first couple of hills behind us, and the Lord Charles hill ahead of us, I was feeling a little relieved to have made it that far in the bunch. As we started climbing the lower slopes of the Lord Charles hill an attack came. Just one. And before we knew it, two riders were off the front and gone. There was no response. Everybody was looking around, hoping someone else would do the chasing. I wasn't complaining, and went along with the whole charade. From previous years, if such a move goes away and isn't closed down soon, it usually ends up being the winning move.

I had skipped some torturous training ride that my coach had dreamed up, choosing instead to do the race, and so didn't want to let her down. I went to the front and took several turns trying to get the pack into chase mode. The only other person helping out at the front was Craig - sometimes forgetting that he was in a race and just riding tempo on the front with two Maties guys fighting over his back wheel.

An acceleration came as we started climbing Polkadraai and Craif and I found ourselves shot straight out the back of the bunch. We teamed up, and slowly but surely inched our way back to the bunch, climbing at a solid tempo pace, and after a bit of hard work ande gear grinding, we both found ourselves back in the bunch, with about 20kms to go, and the uphill finish.The kilometers flew by, Craig and I doing the majority of the work on the front, and before I was ready for it, the hill loomed in front of us. This is one of those hills that I prefer to ride around, rather than riding over, and before we had even really started climbing it, I was out the back. Craig made better progress, and finished in 7th place. I made up some ground towards the end and crossed the line in 9th place. Another tough, fast Breakfast ride behind us.

The highlight of the ride came from the rivalry between the Greek and the Runner. Forget Armstrong vs Ullrich, Hinault vs LeMond, or Merckx vs Gimondi - this is the rivalry that will be talked about for years to come. And the root of the rivalry was a bet that if the Runner finished within 5 minutes of the Greek's time, the Greek would have to demote himself at the Fun Ride World Champs and have to ride in the Runner's group. It was always going to be close. With both athletes declaring a victory, it was down to the official results to decide a winner. Lies, counter lies and name calling filled the air, but once the dust had settled and the results were in, the Runner was declared the winner, managing to beat the 5 minute limit by a mere 16 seconds, and with that, relegating the Greek to his start group.

I am sure this fine sport of ours is only seeing the beginning of a feud that will polarise the cycling community. Stay tuned for the next chapter as the saga continues at the Fun Ride World Champs in 3 weeks time.

Oh yes - why is it called the breakfast ride? Well, apart from tasting your breakfast in the back of your throat as you gasp for air up the hills, they give you a greasy egg burger upon completion of the race. I took this rather seriously, and consider it part of my Epic training. After all - our team is Team Burger Kings.

Rest week

After a crazy week of work, training and studying, I am heading off to Australia for some work stuff. In other news, Mike had to unfortunately withdraw from Team Burger Kings. But the team lives on in name (and hopefully dedication to bankrupt the Epic by all the burgers we are going to eat). Russell, the sun burnt englishman, will be Mike's replacement. We should be in for a great time!

Lebanon MTB Trail - Red Route

Following our long ride around Grabouw, Craig and I did some hard riding on the Lebanon Red route. We managed two laps in just over 3 hours. This has got to be one of the best places to ride! The MTB fairy has been visiting me in my sleep, as my technical skills are much improved, and I was able to pretty much stick on Craig's wheel as we flew down the singletrack. It's also good to see that the training is working as my legs felt quite good. Should be on track for the Epic.

View Lebanon - Red Route in a larger map

Grabouw

Craig and I did a nice long ride in Grabouw, and I brought along my GPS. Check out the route below:

View Grabouw - All Trails - 23/01/2010 in a larger map