Table Mountain, Capetown, SA - With and Without Clouds

It has to be mentioned that just about everything about this race is EPIC. There’s an EPIC number of competitors (1200 = 600 teams), an EPIC amount of climbing (16,800m), an EPIC amount of hike-a-bike sections (so much that even the pros were complaining), an EPIC amount of time spent in the granny gear (not much faster than pushing but at least it meant you were still riding), EPIC scenery courtesy of the Western Cape region and last but not least an EPIC experience for everyone lucky enough to experience it. Additionally, the clockwork-like organization of the event was very refreshing after the lows experienced at the Crocodile Trophy 2011 (a race of only 100 competitors).

Mountain Biking in South Africa has reached EPIC proportions almost to the same level as road biking on our shores. It gets national TV coverage and big time sponsors are on board. One of SA’s biggest banks is the title sponsor who went all out and even had a tent (more like the Taj Mahal of tents) with lounge couches, free massages, free drinks, free internet, free fruit and free ice-cream for each and every rider from pro to straggler.

The race village is more like a small town with hundreds of tents, hospital, massage, chill zone, rider lounge, media centre, dining tent (for 1200 riders), vendor area and professional (and free) race support from SRAM, Shimano, Fox and Specialized. Also present was just about every bike shop of the greater region to provide support to their riders and customers alike. As I found out later the shops were selling “Cape EPIC support packages” in the lead-up to the race which most South African’s acquired. It entitled the rider to drop-off their bike after every stage for any required servicing or repairs much to the agony of the mechanics who were working into the early hours of the morning.

Tent City @ the Race Village

The food throughout the race was also EPIC. One could choose from multiple different dishes for breakfast and dinner from about ten or so buffets. Woolworth was supplying not one but two food packages after every stage on top-off an array of fruit, muffins, cookies, lollies and other snacks at the water stops. The spectators came in EPIC numbers almost every day and they did support the first to (almost) the last rider. The finish line almost had Tour de France like proportions (I’m saying this as I’ve never been on the Champs-Elysées in July – but Lourensford must be close!!!).

One of the most EPIC things the organizers have done is to issue each and every rider with a bib that displays not only their starting and rider number but also their national flag along with their first name. It makes for random spectators yelling your name and it helped Carlos to address some people by their first name rather than with “G’day Shagga!”.

Oh yeah, before I forget there was EPIC racing, too! Or should I say EPIC struggling on my behalf?! The Prologue was a hefty 900m of climbing in only 27km of racing, and we got a taste of the technical skill level of the back-enders. There was a guy who couldn’t even roll around a switchback without going over the bars which may have had something to do with Carl snapping on his wheel and yelling “TRACK!”. (This is what you get if 600 teams are sent off in 20 second intervals.) The day finished with an EPIC zigzagging climb to a hill top finish where Carl kept yelling from the top down “C’mon Shagga!” which resulted in the phenomenal crowd trackside echoing “C’mon Shagga!”. This went a long way to motivate me, however, it also forced me way too far into the red which made the following days a lot less fun. Nevertheless, we made it into the Start Group B (it went down to G) which may have been more of a curse than a blessing.

The only time we were in front of Duncan & Ash... for all about 20 seconds (Note: Duncan's determined look in the background.)

Start Group B started at the back end of A which had the seeded elite riders in front of them. Oh, and of course the start was “neutralized”. “Neutralized” meant that you had to be doing 50k+ on the road to keep-up with the massive pack. Needless to say that this was not at all what the doctor had prescribed after the previous day’s suffering.

Finshing the prologue - Carlos smiling, Me suffering

Stage One was touted as “a shock to the system” in the race program. And what a shock it was! 2,350m of climbing in 115km of racing with three monstrous spikes in the profile which had more in common with walls than hill climbs saw us pushing in close to 40 degree temperatures. At some point I lost it and I threw an EPIC tantrum almost calling it quits right there. My body certainly hadn’t expected THIS and I felt bad for Carl who was waiting a lot for me. On the other hand side it allowed Carlos to have a friendly chat with almost every other rider who came past if they liked it or not…

It was music to my ears when the MC at the start line at 7am in the morning proclaimed a ”rest day”. Well, on paper that may have been correct for Stage Two with just 119km and 1650m of climbing ahead of us but it turned out to be one of the darkest days on a bicycle ever for me. (Not quite as bad as Stage 6 of the Crocodile Trophy but close.) Massive cramps forced me to actually get off the bike and walk all the while doubting that I would have any chance of seeing the finish line in five days time.

Carlos was getting seriously short tempered with me and we had a discussion about my sweat rate whilst standing on the side of the trail watching at least 100 riders go past asking if we were alright. We must have looked like an old couple arguing. But Carl had noticed how much fluids I appear to be losing and questioned whether I was drinking enough.

At the end of the day something amazing happened. I went to have my massage seriously wandering if I’d line up the following day thus I didn’t hesitate to convey my sullenness to the beautiful massage girl. As she is massaging me she kept telling me that my legs felt absolutely fine, that she’d massaged other legs that were completely “frozen” and reinforced that we actually still finished well before the cut-off time. This was the closest thing I ever experienced to what people call a “pep” talk. It really seemed to have flicked a switch in my head right there.

"Thanks Carlos for not leaving me for dead!"

Stage Three was the big one! 143km and 2900m of climbing. I had decided to start slowly which was aided by us having dropped back into start group C, 10 minutes after the craziness of the front guys. I also had made the stern promises to myself that I would drink as much as possible which was at least two biddons between every water stop. On top of that I had double dropped GU Brew tablets into every bottle.

Amazingly we made it through the day although Carlos still had considerable time to chat. We finished in 8 hours which was still 3 hours below the cut-off, furthermore my rehydration tactic had paid off and I was very happy not to have cramped.

Enjoying some sweet single trail

The following 105km with 2600m of climbing on Stage Four didn’t actually feel that bad at all if it hadn’t been for a headwind in the final 20km which literally pushed you backwards.  Imagine going downhill and having to push hard to get up to 15km/h. The last couple of kilometers were on some funky single trail through the botanical gardens believe it or not!

Metal on Metal and almost to the piston...

Another “rest day” turned into 14 riders being treated in hospital for hypothermia on Stage Five. We started in pouring rain thinking it would change soon. And change it did indeed – into sleet when we got to about 1000m altitude. I was just lucky that Carlos had started with his rain jacket without which I would have almost certainly ended up in hospital as well. I also discovered what it feels like to go downhill with both brake levers pulled all the way to the bar without slowing at all which lead to a brief encounter with a tree. You can see the cause of it in the picture on the left. But all in all I felt that I was getting better with each day although it doesn’t quite look like it at the finish in the photo below.

Mud and relief to finish on Stage 5

Stage Six was probably the most amazing and enjoyable day as for the first time Carl and I were almost matched and I even managed to shut him up for a continuous 15 minute period while we were climbing. The scenery was absolutely stunning as you can see here and the downhills were fast, long, technical and an enormous amount of fun. There was even some sweet flowing single trail to top it all off. This was the shortest day (85km and 2200m climbing) since the prologue but it still took us 5.5 hours to complete.

The final day is more like a procession than a race. You get to walk the forced portage section along some world heritage listed wagon trail across a mountain pass with beautiful views of Capetown in the background. It’s seriously more hazardous to walk in cycling shoes than if you were riding but, hey, you can see the grooves carved into the rock by the early settlers driving their ox carts across the mountain pass. Now believe me this seems impossible if you’re actually standing there.

Forced Portage: It really was hazardous! (Note: The wagon wheel ruts!)

And there we were with the most amazing sense of achievement on the Champs-Elysées of mountain biking. At the end of an EPIC journey which made me realize a few things about myself I’d never known. I also learned that team racing is a completely different form of our sport which does indeed demand a lot more than just two strong riders. I can only say that this was one of the most amazing mountain bike adventures I’ve ever done and I will be back to try it again sometime. Albeit with hopefully a bit better form and more practise with my partner.

FINISHED! (Note: the crowds..)

Thanks very much to Carl Maroney for seven days of putting up with a cranky and bitching German. You seriously did an awesome job of motivating me to keep going. And thanks to the massage girl after stage two (unfortunately I forgot her name) without whom I’d never seen the finish line.

The Fitzroy Revolution Dream Team @ ABSA Cape Epic 2012:

Final GC overall:        138^th
Men’s Category:         96^th (yes, we got beaten by a fair few girls and old men…)

Cheers,
Matthias

Please note: All pictures except Capetown and my brake caliper are courtesy of Sportograf.de

I also like to race bikes. But boy oh boy do I get hot over working on bikes. What really makes me simultaneously bite my lower lip and grab the sheets is working on bikes in other countries. Luckily for me, Team Genesys Wealth Advisors gave a dog a bone & invited me to a few races to be their mechanic. As I write this, I’m at Changi International on my way home from my 2nd of 3 tours of the year – Jelajah Malaysia.

Malaysia kicked serious ass. That joint was breath taking, the racing was interesting, organisation down pat. The Royal Police Force not only looked sharp but they kept the public off the roads. The hotels were comfortable & the transfers were negligible. All this leads to a very serene Sean. Given that the working day starts at 6 & finishes at 8 if you’re lucky, I am surprised to feel like I’ve had a holiday.

A day on tour goes like this – wake up, inflate tyres, wipe chains, pack bikes for transfer/put bikes in lobby, shower, breakfast, check out of room, go to race start.
Once the race starts its all about mixing drinks, updating Twitter, changing flats, keeping details of the break. I always thought it’d just be sitting in a car moving slowly – i.e. watching grass grow. I find it fascinating. The tactics, timing, calling the shots, guessing the other teams tactics. There is no shortage of toil which makes the time fly.

After the race its about sorting the rider’s needs then hitting the hotel. At the hotel it is a race to the wash bay. He who gets the hose first eats first. Degrease, wash, regrease, tune every bike. I get this standard process done, have some dinner, then get on to the problem children – gluing tyres, replacing parts, etc. After that its bed time! It’s a busy day of many small tasks, but a day in another world none the less.

Jelajah was so well organised that all I had to worry about was my work. No big timely transfers, no mystery bike rooms, no working in the rain. For the riders it is much the same.
A few notes: Ipoh is one beautiful place, even NWA would like the Malaysian Royal Police & don’t go to Taiwan. My next race is in Japan. I’ll keep you in the loop.

Mike Tomalaris and I go way back…all the way back to October 2011 when he attended the finish and hosted the presentation ceremony at the Crocodile Trophy – more on that here.

He is certainly passionate about cycling and along with SBS TV’s Cycling Central program, has done a lot to help grow the profile of the sport in Australia to the point where nowadays we can watch every stage of the Tour de France live on TV for three weeks in July and also awkward interviews with Anthony Tan on Sunday afternoons.

I don’t like to give Mike Tomalaris too much of a hard time, even though he did take a swipe at my level of sobriety after the Crocodile Trophy, but it’s really hard to resist giving his unique brand of commentary a bit of critical analysis.

To be fair, Mike wasn’t at the Cape Epic and the SBS broadcast was basically a highlight package from the event organisers with Tomalaris’ poetic musings dubbed over the top. If you’ve got a spare 18 minutes and 43 seconds you can watch the 2012 Cape Epic Highlights package here.

What I love about these types of highlight packages is the way they manage to gloss over what is actually important and interesting in favour of other things more easily consumed by the wider audience. For example, at 1m:04s Tomalaris remarks at the extra prestige bestowed by the presence of “…four-time Formula 1 champion Alain Prost, who’s racing in this year’s event.”

Now sure, Alain raced the event, and sure, he is one of the all time great champions of Formula 1 racing, but the real story here should have been about Alain’s race partner, ex-pro waterski champion Sebastien di Pasqua…or more specifically about Sebastien’s biceps.

Waterski Champion Sebastien di Pasqua (578-1) seems to be carrying spare biceps for team mate Alain Prost (578-2)

Obviously, a guy built like this is not going to make for a very good climber, but Sebastien still managed to put his assets to good use:

Alain Prost walking one of the nasty climbs in the Cape Epic

Now, what you can see above is Alain Prost (and a bunch of other nobodies) walking up one of the tough climbs during the race. It’s hard to tell from the photo but this may or may not be the “Compulsory Portage” along a section of heritage trail on the final stage where competitors were forced to dismount and walk their bikes (also not mentioned). If you look closely, what you’ll see is that (unlike all the other nobodies) Alain is not pushing his bike, in fact his bike is nowhere to be seen. It was decided that Sebastien (and his biceps) would carry both bikes up the hill thus allowing Alain a much needed rest…from all that annoying portaging. Surely this in itself is a story worthy of publicising – a true team defined, mateship, giant biceps and all that garbage – but unfortunately there was no mention of this by Tomalaris in the highlights package.

But it’s not what Tomalaris leaves out that has made him so famous, it’s the things that he does say, and say incorrectly, that we have all come to love. He manages to cleverly mispronounce many of the riders’ names, even race winner Burry Stander, to whom he gives the illustrious honour of spoonerisation at 3m:41s. And while “Barry Stunder” might sound quite at home in Australia, I’m not too sure how this would have gone down in South Africa. At 7m:41s he gives the Swiss Stöckli Pro team the treatment with “Konny Looser has a crash costing valuable time.” You could be forgiven for thinking that Konny just has an unfortunate sounding surname, but being Swiss, it is actually pronounced Loh-zah, which sounds a lot less unfortunate. Tomalaris was clearly rattled at this point because not only does he mess up the surname, but he also calls him “Kenny”, which is just plain wrong, in any language.

Then there were a host of place names that Tomalaris got wrong, not by a lot mind you, but they all add up. He mispronounces the name of the prologue venue – Meerendal, the finish venue – Lourensford, ‘Kogelberg’ became ‘Cockelberg’ and then, at 8m:05s the second race village became ‘Cail-don’. It is actually pronounced Cal-e-don but Tomalaris is not deterred, referencing Cail-don again at 9m:18s, 10m:12s, 11m:20s and then finally again at 11m:36s. I guess it doesn’t really matter to an Australian audience but if I lived in Caledon I might have gotten a strong urge to punch Tomalaris in the face by this point.

It was then that I began to wonder if Tomalaris harbours aspirations of one day taking over from the doyens of cycling mispronunciation, Phil Ligget and Paul Sherwen.
This soundbite compilation from Bicycle Radio immortalised the climb up the Col du Platzerwasel from the 2009 Tour de France stage won by the Aussie/German rider Heinrich Haussler and provides an outstanding example of what Tomalaris might someday be capable of. You can also get a free download of the podcast on iTunes here – click on Podcast No. 150.

Another great moment from the SBS highlights package comes at 13m:16s when Tomalaris takes on “…the most famous mountain in the area, the Groenlandberg…”. In Afrikaans, which sounds quite similar to Dutch, the letter ‘G’ is handled very differently than in English. Here are a couple of samples of how ‘Groenlandberg’ might sound in Dutch or Afrikaans.

Prior to the start on race day, the announcer was having great fun trying to exaggerate the pronunciation of this ‘famous mountain’ and when he really nailed it, it sounded something like “Hhhhrrrooowlandberrrrgggghhhhhh”.

Now you can imagine how Tomalaris was going to struggle with this one. In fairness, I think he made the right decision by not even attempting to pronounce it correctly in Afrikaans, instead opting to fully Anglicise (or Ozicise) it to ‘Groan-land-burg’.

But apparently it’s not just words that Tomalaris has problems with because at 7m:21s he notes that Stage 3 includes “…four major climbs…” and despite the on-screen graphic clearly denoting the total climbing as 2900m he then goes on to cunningly depreciate the amount by ten times to a total of “…almost 300 vertical metres…”. 300m! From what I recall, we’d already climbed 300m in the first hour, and most of that was walking!

It’s at this point that I start to wonder whether there’s really any point trying to make the truth heard. Is the voice of the media just too strong? Does the real story even matter? Obviously this is a debate for another time, so until then I’ll just send my own memories of the Cape Epic off to post-production to add Barry and Kenny, the Cockelberg, Caildon and only 300m of climbing in a day. Hopefully now I’ll sleep better and stop waking up to nightmares of Sebastien’s biceps.

"Grow some man-arms skinny boy!"

Insight 2 – The second full length DVD covering the 2011 – 2012 Victorian State Downhill Series and the trials and triumphs faced by the competitors from Jake Lucas.

Mainly Featuring:
Tim Eaton
Connor Fearon
Jesse Beare
Dean Lucas

Filmed all over Victoria, Adelaide SA, Canberra ACT

Filmed by Jake Lucas, Darcy Wilkinson, Elijah Marinov, Rex Lucas

Edited by Jake Lucas

Downhill racing returned to the urban center of Valparaiso, Chile for the 2012 Cerro Abajo. It is pretty much the craziest venue on the South American circuit, with a mix of dirt, drops, wall rides, stairs and rowdy fans.

After much too many delays, the 2012 edition on Valparaiso Cerro abajo urban downhill race took place in front of over 15 thousands fans. It was Chilean Mauricio Acuña that took first place, beating two years in a row winner, Filip Polc by just under a second. Filip took second place, Cedric Grracia took third and Brazilian Luana Oliveira was the only woman on the track. VCA 2012 also celebrated it’s tenth year running and there is a three year deal worked out with the city of Valparaiso. 50 riders took part in this years race that included 25 international riders.

Here is a selection of videos that give you the idea.

It’s hard to watch this and not get just a little bit more excited.

Now it seems I have to prepare for getting very little sleep for quite a while.

AFRICA!!! Well…South Africa…but that’s still exciting and dangerous, right? Johannesburg is one of the most dangerous cities in the world, right?

Well, perhaps, but the race is held out of Cape Town, not Johannesburg. But Surely Cape Town is still dangerous and exciting, right?

Well, perhaps, but the event basically tours around the world’s longest winery route in the hills near Cape Town so there really isn’t that much to be worried about – once you get used to the stench of rotting grape flesh and fertilizer.

Well how do you explain this then?

Three items found on the counter of a Cape Town bike shop…one of them happens to be Pepper Spray!

If you can look past the bad photography what you’ll see (if you squint hard and focus about a metre behind your computer monitor, touchscreen or recycled printout) is that the item in the middle, sandwiched between the chain lube and CO2 canister, is a can of pepper spray. Enquiring as to why this was being sold in a bike shop, the helpful sales clerk mumbled something about “needing it in South Africa”, then giggled awkwardly and added “for the baboons”. Not quite sure what to make of this, I opted to pass on the pepper spray and get back to worrying about more important things like tyre pressure and energy gels.

The experience left me thoroughly confused…and eager to find out what this race had in store.

Flying in to Cape Town, everything looked very first world and middle class. It seemed like every house had a swimming pool and manicured garden…as well as a big security fence. And then, just before touching down, the view changes dramatically to an expanse of the ‘Cape Flats’ with its dense array of tin shacks and narrow unpaved streets. Seeing these townships again from the bus in to the city, they almost seem out of place because the area is so clearly separated from the rest of Cape Town with a huge fence and where this border ends it almost immediately gives way to the well-developed gated communities that were seen earlier from the plane (with the swimming pools and manicured gardens).

Anyway, all that sort of flashed by and before we knew it, my race partner Duncan and I had settled in to our luxury hotel in Cape Town’s harbour precinct, complete with Ferris wheel and giant Coca-Cola sculpture.

Cape Town's homage to the Black Doctor

This guy is constructed almost entirely from old Coca-Cola crates…held together by a staggering quantity of cable ties. The Cape Town cable tie manufacturer lucky enough to win this tender most likely got rich enough to make one last souvenir (see below), close the factory and retire early.

Don’t use these cable ties on your bike if you are interested in saving grams...or money!

The next few days consisted of registration and race briefing on the harbour front, but not until we were treated to a failed world record attempt by MTB Trials legend Kenny Belaey. Kenny was trying to break the world record for the longest jump between two stacks of pallets. The actual distance wasn’t explicitly mentioned by the announcer but Kenny failed somewhere around the 3m mark. In his defense however, he did appear to be jumping in to a headwind and his bike didn’t have a saddle.

Kenny Belaey fails to break the world record for the longest bunny-hop

Anyway, with the disappointment of Kenny’s failed jump behind us, Duncan and I could start focusing on the race, knowing that we had done everything possible to prepare for whatever was to come. This consisted mostly of practicing our South African accents at social events and watching “District 9” on DVD – which, in fairness to Cape Town, was actually set in Johannesburg, meaning that we were probably overstocked on cat food .

The Cape Epic is a massive event. Everything happens on a huge scale. There are 600 teams of 2 riders, a mass of media coverage complete with two helicopters and the associated marketing opportunities that come with that. There are about 30 UCI Pro Men’s and Women’s teams competing for the prize money on offer and then the mass of remaining riders ranging from those with top-20 aspirations to those trying to beat their mates to those just trying to finish before the time cut-offs. On the prologue time-trial start ramp, the organisers had been kind enough to start our team (The Fitzroy Revolution) directly behind our shop adversaries (Carl and Matthias from The Fitzroy Revolution Dream Team). You can imagine how this might have provided us with some quality bait to chase however, with only 25 seconds separating our two teams, all it really allowed for was a good photo opportunity.

Duncan and I were aiming for a top-50 finish in the Prologue to ensure we were well seeded in the “A” group on Stage 1 the following day. Unfortunately we just failed to achieve this due to some fairly severe traffic jams on the singletrack and a bout of mild heat stroke and dehydration.

On the bus to the race village that afternoon we discussed some basic tactical plans to try and make up the lost time. This mostly hinged on Christoph Sauser & Burry Stander getting multiple flats on Stage 1 and us cruising by without offering to help. The less popular “Plan B” basically involved riding fast for the whole stage.

Early on in Stage 1 we got a taste of what the Cape Epic is all about. Struggling to even walk up a rough, muddy track, 2001 Herald Sun Tour Stage Runner Up René Haselbacher asked jokingly “Is this what you imagined doing in the Cape Epic?”. “This is great,” I answered, “hopefully we’ll see some baboons.” A quick-witted South African gentleman walking beside me then put things harshly in to context – “We are the baboons!”. Touché.

Later that day we were introduced to one of the unofficial race categories of the Cape Epic – the Chicking Classification. This classification applies to all the male teams and is a measure of how often, and by how much, you get beaten by ladies during the race. There was no official jersey for this category, but if there had been, I imagine it would have looked something like this:

The tastefully designed "Chicking Jersey" proves there's no shame in getting beaten by girls

Sometimes there are very good reasons for getting “chicked”, for example you’ve had mechanical issues, flat tyres or you’ve been feeling the need to empty your guts out on the trail (which Duncan became quite familiar with). But sometimes the reason is that the chicks doing the chicking, the “chickers” if you will, are just extremely strong riders while the men getting chicked, the “chickees”, are spending more time trying to think up excuses for getting chicked rather than just riding faster. Getting chicked by the top ladies became a common occurrence for us during the Cape Epic, however, on a couple of occasions when things didn’t go too horribly pear-shaped we did manage to come in ahead of them. This filled us with an enormous sense of satisfaction on par, I imagine, with that felt by Christoph Sauser and Burry Stander as they came across the line in 1st place on most days.

Although we consistently moved up on the Chicking Classification during the early stages of the race, there were a lot of other teams getting chicked far more convincingly than us each day, so it quickly became clear we weren’t in contention to wear the fictitious leader’s jersey for this classification. Unfortunately, we were also way too far off the pace to wear the actual yellow Leader’s Jersey, too young to wear the Master’s Jersey, the wrong sex to wear the Ladies or Mixed Team Jersey and the wrong nationality to wear the African Leader’s Jersey – although I’m sure, if given a chance, we could have convinced the race organisers with our very authentic-sounding South African accents. All this left us to aim for, after a disastrous first stage, was the Most Improved Team – another unofficial and fictitious classification that we invented to help motivate better performances.

Most of the stages would start with a reasonably long section of bitumen, which we were advised was “neutralised” (no passing) and required all riders to stay to the left of the centre line on the road (which was open to traffic). As we frantically tried to move up from the “B” start group each day, the elite teams, always vigilant to the race rules, kept the pace to the gentlemanly speed of around 50km/h (mostly out of respect to the local speed limits) whilst fanning out all the way to the far right-hand side gutter.

Northern Combine race officials would certainly not have tolerated this kind of infraction – “Keep left riders!”

If the organisers had decided to put their foot down and disqualify the 1st 100 teams who crossed the centre line, we may well have ended up in the hunt for the race leader’s jersey…I guess there’s always next year – I shall arrive armed with a sternly-worded letter about rider safety!

It’s really quite incredible how well organised this event is. Half way through Stage 5, Duncan had already gone right through one set of brake pads. It was seriously wet for the entire stage, there was mud, slosh, goop, slop and in many places the singletrack had transformed in to brake-pad-destroying rivulets. Anyway, at the first feed/tech zone, Duncan managed to get a replacement set of brake pads (for a non-current series of brakes, mind you) installed in less than 5 minutes and pay for the parts by credit card! This occurred during the actual race! Out on the course! Incredible stuff! This kind of service would be akin to popping in to a mobile shoe store mid-marathon and buying a replacement pair of sneakers…in your correct size!

It wasn’t until Stage 6 that we managed to move up in to the “A” start group. This meant that we could start closer to the front of the pack, in the 1st 50 or so teams, and that we had at least 100 fewer wheels to try and pick our way through in order to get near the head of the peleton. It certainly made a huge difference and by the end of the day, we were finally able to smile, content with a much higher-placed finish and certainly moving in to a much better position on the fictitious Most Improved Classification. The day also included a couple of sections of fantastic groomed singletrack which made for some seriously fun riding, and some much needed respite from the previous 5 days of rocky double track and fire road. Despite this stage providing a rare chance for some fun riding, it was rumoured that many of the pro teams elected to take the faster and more direct route down the hillside.

There was a different vibe on the start line of the 7th and final stage. You could tell that riders were excited to have reached the finale. To really add to the atmosphere, AC/DC was blasting from the PA and we were treated to an aerobatics show from South African Red Bull stunt pilot Glen Dell that included a lot of spinning, smoke trails, loopedy-loops and whoopedy-doos. I realise that this probably isn’t the correct nomenclature however my knowledge of stunt flying is about as deep as my knowledge of action photography – as evidenced below:

The race finish, which resembled a mini-festival, was held at yet another winery and after attending the make-believe awards ceremony to receive our fictitious Most Improved Classification jerseys from the imaginary (yet still very attractive) podium girls, it was time to sit down and devour the Race Finisher’s Hamper. I say “devour” but what I really mean is “make minor inroads in to consuming”.

Even two days after the event and we still couldn’t finish it. In fact, there was probably enough food for one of those “x number of Olympic-sized swimming pools” analogies. But seeing as how I really have no idea what the “x” is likely to be, this is my best estimate:

Cape Town as viewed from the top of Table Mountain…and full of Cape Epic Finisher Food Hampers

A truly epic quantity of food awaits you on the finish line at the ABSA Cape Epic. So maybe allow for an extra couple of days in Cape Town to finish it off before heading home to quarantine-obsessed destinations like Australia…after all, you have been to Africa – who knows what kind of dangerous bio-hazards and parasites you’ve been exposed to!

I have spent 6 of the last 8 month detraining due to a defective immune system and a nasty tropical bug I brought home from the Tour de Timor last September. The lovely warm summer we had in Mount Beauty was largely spent passed out on my sun lounge – so while my tan was looking pretty good, every ounce of bike fitness I once had disappeared. Now it is time to get fit again.

The last 8 weeks have been spent carefully building up my weekly training to a somewhat reasonable volume and avoiding anyone with even the slightest sniffle. Much of this has been in the form of long solo rides with a fair bit of vertical, and as my times up all the climbs are falling and starting to resemble something respectable I thought it might be time to test this new fitness against others.

The Albury-Wodonga cycling club held its Road Champs on Saturday and with a perfect weather forecast, I bit the bullet and renewed my road license. After about 2 minutes of racing I was regretting my casual approach to the event and wished I had of warmed up…..

Even though there were only 5 of us in C grade, I was terrible. I very quickly remembered that road racing involves surging which I had done none of in training. Needless to say I was puffing and panting and not looking all that pretty for 50K until a slightly downhill sprint for the line. Thankfully my Timor bug has not affected my sprint – which is definitely the only thing left in my bag of tricks.

It is now time to add some intensity to my training and with a few more low key races one day I may see a glimmer of that magical thing we call ‘form’.