Black Runs are Ace

On Friday I took the road bike out and spun around the Cheshire lanes. It’s a familiar route, one that requires no planning or real thought and one that can be as long or as short as you want it to be. From Altrincham, you ride towards Alderley Edge and onwards to Macclesfield and up the Cat and Fiddle towards Buxton. I haven’t really enjoyed riding the road for a few years. I think part of it is to do with the traffic, but I think a big part of it is that there is no excitement. I know the roads. I know where they go. There isn’t much chance of getting lost or discovering something new. For some reason when you’re offroad even familiar trails give a buzz.

Saturday I caught up with the guys in Harry Halls. It’s been a long time since I spent much time in the shop and it was great to find out what everyone is up to these days. Of course since I stopped working there has been an increase in competition. Manchester now has an Evans and an Edinburgh Bicycle Co-Op, but despite the money behind both chains they seem to offer little threat to the depth of experience, field of knowledge and the genuinely ‘passionate about cycling’ attitude of the staff in Harrys.

This afternoon I headed back over to Llandegla. Since my last visit they’ve opened another 2km of black run. If it really is only an extra 2km then I’m surprised, it seems like a lot more. Either way the designers have done another great job of using the hillside to maximum effect to pack in as many swoops, berms, rollers and jumps as possible. The best thing about the forest is that it is so easy to double back and do the best bits again and again. I think it only fair to say that two or three runs on each of the best sections is now compulsory…

Cold at Home

After two weeks away the flat has a distinctive smell. Wood and fabric that has been warming in the sunlight. It’s strange to come home after such a long break especially when there is such a big temperature difference between Manchester and Cape Town. The bikes both made it home, so tonight I need to unpack properly and check them over and make sure they survived international travel. It looks like a lot has happened since I left a couple of weeks ago for the race.

Singletrack gave us some lekker coverage via a couple of updates (stages 1 to 3 and 4 to 5) and there has been support from a number of friends including Nick and Chilly. You know what I want to do this weekend? I want to go riding and try and forget about the Cape Epic. I want to see the green hills and lush forests. I want to get muddy. Wet. Cold. It’s great to be home in the UK.

An Epic Adventure

Two riders went. Two rode. They climbed and took tips from the pros. They showed the South Africans how to ride downhill fast and without using their brakes (and taught them something about good tubeless setups). One ended up being rescued from the side of the trail and was hospitalized. After two DNFs, one finished. Now it’s over what comes next remains open to debate.

Out

I am out of the race. Yesterday’s ride just exhausted any reserves I had left and I was running on fumes from just after the first water point. Although we made it over the last big climb, heavy traffic (which meant pushing rather than riding) and heavier legs made riding hellish.

Although we left waterpoint two, after about 50m it was clear that I was running on empty and turned back and dropped out. As one of the last competitors, it was a make or break decision and I decided to walk out rather than get med-evac’d again. Tyrrell rode a superb final section and finished in good time. I am finding it hard to come to terms with being out of the race. All I can think of are all those emotional clips of pro riders dropping out of Le Tour.

Back in the Game

After yesterday’s diabolical stage, I was given permission to continue by the fantastic medical team here. Tyrrell and I dug deep again to finish in the heat and burning sun. We are now half way and have each burned somewhere in the region of 10,000 kcal per day. The riding today was very dusty desert singletrack and jeep track and burned the legs when trying to power through it or gave added danger to cornering on the 30mph+ descents. Massive thanks go out to the Chris King distributor here for sorting out my rear hub after the race and working well into the night to keep people riding.

Evil

I dug deep today. Some where in the pain cave there was a determination to keep pushing or die trying. I don’t want to get too philosophical, but I found out a lot about myself and my mental toughness today. Unfortunately, as being stretchered into an ambulance and taken the last 30km of the race to hospital proved, my physical ability to cope with race pace in 40 degrees desert heat didn’t match.

Tyrrell earned legendary status for making it home under the 10 hour cut off. My time in hospital meant I missed dinner, so with another 6,600 kcal of spent energy coming largely from burning body fat today, I will be looking to get some serious carbs and protein on board tomorrow.

Tough Times

Two days, 15 and a half hours riding, 4,900m climbing and about 235km into this race, deservedly called an Epic. The pros are now some 6 and a half hours ahead, but our work today moved us up from 351 to 310 in the general classification. It’s hot, hot, hot here and suffering is high on the agenda. Right then, time for a massage…

Number Plates, Race Bags and Rider Briefings

So we’re registered, our bags have been sent ahead to the finish and we are now living out of the “everything must fit” Adidas kit bags. Food and drink, riding kit, post race clothes, sleeping bag and campsite gear. Everything in a bag each.

For lunch we stopped off in a local bar here in Knysna and chatted to some fellow riders. The combination of my Ti Deluxe and Tyrrells’ stickered up pseudo IF have caught a lot of attention. It turned out that the Californian guys we were chatting to were numbers 153-1 and 153-2, immediately behind is in the original listing. A bit weird! Tim is a fellow Indy Dan owner, but the two of them are riding 29ers here.

If all goes to plan and we wake up tomorrow at 5.30am tomorrow’s post will feature news of the days racing. Keep and eye out for Andrea’s Canadian bloke Karl Yeh and his buddy Mike Jacoby riding as The Weapons of Mass Destruction – 418-1 and 418-2. Tomorrow’s 2,660m starts with a 20km climb up from sea level, so we’ll soon find out how we match up to the rest of the field.

First Ride in South Africa

Yesterday after landing in Cape Town we had made the drive up the coast to Port Elizabeth. There were a number of stops along the way including Hermaneus for breakie, Knysna for lunch and Jeffreys Bay (home of Billabong surfing) on route.

After checking out the beach, getting some last bits and pieces and a bit of sight seeing, Tyrrell and I set out on our first ride tonight. We did a loop known as The Marine – a stunning coastal blast with the setting sun at our backs, but against an evil headwind. It was only as we approached the bend that took us onto the Sea Front after the University of Port Elizabeth that the wind swung around and pushed us home.

The whole ride on tarmac was big ring stuff that didn’t let is drop below 20mph and as we wound up coming into town our legs told is we were doing over 30mph. It was a good chance to practice some through and off work and share the tow, but as the sun quickly dropped below the horizon we still had a high speed 20 minute run through the streets of town and past the townships.

Stories over the last few days of riders being mugged for their bikes (or shot) along the roads which we were now making a lightless dash provided an added incentive to keep heavy legs loaded with lactic acid turning. As we pulled back into the drive of Tyrrell’s brother in law, it was pitch black. The sun sets quickly here, so there was no time for a leisurely cruise home.

Tomorrow we drive over to Knysna and on Friday preregister for the race. South Africa has a certain appeal, not just because some of us have just escaped from a northern part of England where there was still snow on the hills, but because there is a real sense of open wilderness here.