Sunday 21 Sept: OUTride PTA. "Cannon Fodder" is what I thought I heard someone call out when I joined the VA start group on the line for 7 vicious laps around the Union Buildings in PTA. Historically this cource has seen me, trampled under foot by the big guns on the first steep climb up to the Union Buildings. But this time I was confident the "cannon fodder" tag was aimed at the rider wearing takkie's and a set of draw string cycling shorts , who stood out like the short fat kid in class when it came to selecting the schools basketball team. If he wasn't wondering why he was lining up with some of the countries fastest licensed Vet's , then I surely was?? On the back straight when the first small attacks started to go, I did notice that he was still hanging in there and made a note that maybe your cycling ability was not directly linked to how high up your back your shorts sat.
The first ascent up the short Union Buildings climb onto the flat platoe atop was into a cold polar wind. Predictable the pace up the climb went off the scales as it became a free for all to get to the top first. I turned myself inside out to stay with the group as it crested the climb. If it where not for a few supporters shouting my name, I would never have known who I was , never mind where . . . I was gasping for air!! But managed to stay the group as it rejoined on the descent for a second lap.
Positioning myself for the second time up the climb I found myself elbow to elbow with Jaco Ferreira (TCS), pushing and shoving to go into the first switch back at the base of the climb. The attack was launched and I could hear the artillery firing by the second turn as I started to unhitch from the group. Behind the constant "beep beep" of a team car had started to become irritating as the driver tried to take the racing line up the climb and force his way through to the front. If I had not been in acute Oxygen starvation I would have shouted at him through the open passenger window, explaining why I thought his mother wore gum boots, but that would have been pointless because I suddenly became swamped by a chasing peleton of Elite/ VB / $ and # riders (I even think I saw a blind tandem pair in this group it was that big!!). This group was out for blood, and at it's heart was Andrew Maclain who was lapping the entire field and would go on to win the VB category. Thankfully I joined this cavalry charge over the top of the hill to be dragged back onto the tail of the VA category.
The next lap was complete pandemonium as the various racing categories became one large entangled ball of string traveling at 60km/h along the back straight. By the third climb , the insane pace, the cross winds and speed had seen me unhitched once again to join a small train lead by the Neotel team. They beat out a steady tempo up the climb on the fourth lap but by the fifth had any government official been in office (I think they had all been fired at this point, and the country was in a state of lawlessness) they would have seen a puff of white smoke from the artillery as I surrendered to the hill. For the final two laps I joined a five man train to steam towards the finish collecting 18th on the line.
Although the state presidents artillery was not out today. I had suffered at the hands of the big guns on the climb. They had taken pot shots on the first few laps and I had been unable to withstand the initial volleys. Cannon fodder . . . Ha!! . . I'll be back next year! (wearing takkies and draw string cycling shorts)
Monday, September 29, 2008
Monday, September 1, 2008
MTN Zoo Lake Criteruim
Sunday 31 Aug: It was a good thing that I turned around and went back to fetch my arm and knee warmers before heading out to Zoo Lake for the MTN criteruim series. On the ride to the start an icy wind pushed me along at 30km/h. . . . uphill!! Dust, dirt and grass blasted across the road making the ride unpleasant. This should have been a warning of what was to come.
Four weeks off the bike due to a chest cold had seen me forfeit 3 races and about R500 in entrance fees. I had rolled out three times this week on training rides in the vain hope of salvaging some form. Last year I had watched the series from the side line, holding a box of tissue's, coughing. There was no chance I was going to miss it again!! even if dark polar winds where threatning to dump snow on the northern suburbs of Johannesburg .
The MTN series is well organised, big prize money and strongly supported. The Vets race had all the big names and I was determined to survive. I had 30minutes to hang in, plus one lap to get to the finish. The cource had a strong climb up past the start/ finish, a right onto Jan Smuts avenue before another right onto a fast downhill section (which should cancell out the headwind) before climbing back up to the start line again for the next lap. A piece of cake . . . . if I could only hold onto the wheels infront. Sixty seconds into the race I realised this was going to be the problem !!
At the first turn the pack was already stretched out into a 5o metre long eschelon with me hanging onto the back. The 6okm/h downhill into the wind, ripped my lungs out and the the climb back up the hill for the first lap was done at a heart stopping 186 beats per minute. A brief slowing up on the second lap was only that . . .brief. . .as the guys on the front sat up to look back and gauge what damage they had done. The hammer was put down again on the second climb past the start/finnish and it was about here that I blew my last gaskett and started to suck in air and sound like my grandmothers 60 year old washing machine on a spin cycle. The next 20 minutes where miserable.
There was no hiding in the 5 man group that had become the ambulance at the rear of the cource. Each lap past the start was broadcast onto a giant screen for friends and family to see and a loudspeaker gave time gaps on the freight train that was about to flatten us from the rear. On my second last lap, I was forced into the siding as the express came barrelling past, kicking up dust to be blown into my face ... aaargghh . . .the humilitation of being lapped so close to the end. But there was little time to appreciate that humilation after finnishing, because I would spend the next hour trying to suck oxygen in through a straw and coughing my lungs up . Who would have guessed that O2 could be in such short supply on a cold, dry and dusty day in Johannesburg? My chest had taken a beating along with the rest of me,and left to battle against the headwind on the long, cold ride home. To add insult to injury, I couldn't even complete the onsite sms entry for the cellphone prize draw!! What a miserable day.
Four weeks off the bike due to a chest cold had seen me forfeit 3 races and about R500 in entrance fees. I had rolled out three times this week on training rides in the vain hope of salvaging some form. Last year I had watched the series from the side line, holding a box of tissue's, coughing. There was no chance I was going to miss it again!! even if dark polar winds where threatning to dump snow on the northern suburbs of Johannesburg .
The MTN series is well organised, big prize money and strongly supported. The Vets race had all the big names and I was determined to survive. I had 30minutes to hang in, plus one lap to get to the finish. The cource had a strong climb up past the start/ finish, a right onto Jan Smuts avenue before another right onto a fast downhill section (which should cancell out the headwind) before climbing back up to the start line again for the next lap. A piece of cake . . . . if I could only hold onto the wheels infront. Sixty seconds into the race I realised this was going to be the problem !!
At the first turn the pack was already stretched out into a 5o metre long eschelon with me hanging onto the back. The 6okm/h downhill into the wind, ripped my lungs out and the the climb back up the hill for the first lap was done at a heart stopping 186 beats per minute. A brief slowing up on the second lap was only that . . .brief. . .as the guys on the front sat up to look back and gauge what damage they had done. The hammer was put down again on the second climb past the start/finnish and it was about here that I blew my last gaskett and started to suck in air and sound like my grandmothers 60 year old washing machine on a spin cycle. The next 20 minutes where miserable.
There was no hiding in the 5 man group that had become the ambulance at the rear of the cource. Each lap past the start was broadcast onto a giant screen for friends and family to see and a loudspeaker gave time gaps on the freight train that was about to flatten us from the rear. On my second last lap, I was forced into the siding as the express came barrelling past, kicking up dust to be blown into my face ... aaargghh . . .the humilitation of being lapped so close to the end. But there was little time to appreciate that humilation after finnishing, because I would spend the next hour trying to suck oxygen in through a straw and coughing my lungs up . Who would have guessed that O2 could be in such short supply on a cold, dry and dusty day in Johannesburg? My chest had taken a beating along with the rest of me,and left to battle against the headwind on the long, cold ride home. To add insult to injury, I couldn't even complete the onsite sms entry for the cellphone prize draw!! What a miserable day.
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