Apparently the world’s second largest mass participation bike event, at the start line of the Momentum 94.7 Cycle Challenge, with the throngs of nervous cyclists stretching back from the start pens for a good couple of kilometres, and their parked cars stretching back another couple, you can believe it.
In typical form, the day before the event was spent carrying out ham-fisted maintenance and adjustments to the bike, including fitting some new replacement handlebars and in the process re-routing the brake cables, which involved cutting them, ultimately shortening them so they no longer reached the calipers properly, cursing, considering taking it to a bike shop, then jerry-rigging it by having the end of the cable half-clamped into the caliper, but half-clamping it very tightly, which didn’t leave me feeling particularly confident. I decided I’d just have to avoid braking.
With this early mechanical success behind me I shifted attention to the wheels, which I was switching for some deep-section Zipps (it was a race after all), but wanted to switch the tiny sprint block to a slightly wider range cassette. I discovered to my slight dismay that the cassette seemed to have welded itself onto the freehub, which was slightly concerning, but by this stage I was getting a bit bored of bike mechanics so decided it was probably better being welded on than slightly loose. So I left it as it was. At this point I discovered I couldn’t actually get the back wheel on or off without completely deflating the tyre, given the brakes were so tight after my earlier jerry-rigging.
In the name of prudence I thought it best to pop out and test the gears and brakes – which I duly did, listening intently for any new or particularly loud creaks or rattles, and nearly got knocked off my bike by an errant and massively apologetic driver (the image stuck in my head is of the passenger leaning right forward in her seat with a look of horror and both hands planted firmly on the dashboard screaming for the driver to stop).
Everything was looking good for the next day.
The afternoon was spent watching 2 northern hemisphere teams (who shall remain nameless) lose at rugby.
We had a few folk round for dinner in the evening, and opted for a protein-heavy braai (barbeque for the non-South African readers) as the best pre-race nutrition.
A few beers (and hours) later, and I was pondering casually whether the earnest advice in the pre-race booklet about getting an early night and eating plenty of carbs might be onto something. No matter, it was too late for that anyway. So I had some pecan pie and ice cream.
The morning of the race was an early start – to get to my 6:55am start I was up at 5, breakfasted, suncreamed, race-numbered, helmeted and out at just before 6 for the half hour ride to the start line. Which would have been perfect (since my start group closed at 6:40am) were it not for the massive queues of cars and riders mentioned above.
Sure enough, I was a smidge late, but thankfully by riding down the hard-shoulder (mud) I got round the hordes waiting for the later start groups and snuck into the back of mine. In many ways it was the perfect strategy, I was fully warmed up (sweaty, after a half hour ride) and there was no waiting at the line, I pretty much turned up and we were off.
The opening stretch of the ride takes you down the N1 (on the southbound 4-lane section of this major highway) to downtown Joburg. It’s fast, smooth-surfaced fun, with huge groups formed and flying along, even though it’s a steady shallow climb.
Next, there’s a loop around town, involving a couple of descents. I very quickly established the same pattern any reader of any other post on this blog will be familiar with – grind past people on the uphills, and descend nervously with what felt like several thousand riders flying past on both sides.
The bit through town is fun, and shows another side of Joburg. The highway heading back north was where I discovered it was quite windy, and that the deep-section rims may have been a touch risky in the breeze. Nothing like a sharp gust of wind giving you a wobble at 40mph when hurtling down a motorway to bring you out in a cold sweat.
The next section took us back into the northern suburbs, and I have to confess to not being in too honest a mood as we tackled a couple of nice little climbs, only to be greeted with some sharp descents (with corners, as if going downhill at pace weren’t enough of a challenge).
Thankfully (for me), we emerged from suburbia (eventually) and began the final 30km (roughly) which is a delightful slog clockwise around the N14 which undulates its way in dispiriting fashion pretty much all the way to the finish. Steady uphill (usually into the wind) followed by short downhill, and repeat, with the uphill always slightly longer than the downhill.
Being a bit of a glutton for punishment, this bit I enjoyed, and could afford to give it some welly, knowing that I was into the final third. I made quite a lot of ground here, approaching large groups clustered together for wind-protection, and passing most when it became obvious I could eak out a bit more speed.
The only downside to my strategy was that I never quite managed to establish myself in a pack of similarly paced riders in order to share the work, but that was ok I told myself, since it made it all the better training for the Ironman next year (no drafting allowed).
The final section had a couple of final gritty climbs to get over, then it was back into the Waterfall Estate, round a roundabout (which I took in trademark ginger fashion) and over the finish line.
I clocked 2:42, which I was pretty pleased with (and a fair bit relieved after announcing I was aiming for sub-3hrs). It left me as first finisher of some 500 in my start group, and in the top 750 or so of 20,000 riders in total. Not a bad performance, and my ham-fisted mechanics didn’t let me down at any stage (although the bike is definitely going in for a proper service and to be re-cabled correctly).
It’s a really fun day out, and the atmosphere is what makes it – along with the sheer scale. Consulate organisation helps too.
So that’s it, the end of my 3 weekends of bike racing. Probably lining up a marathon in Pretoria for January (to try and qualify for Comrades, and to keep me honest over the festive period), but will be on the lookout for a couple more SA bike rides as well.
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