So a week of good preparation went somewhat down the drain with a short night of 4 hours sleep and a bloated stomach from not so wise food choices the night before. What was I thinking?! So after skipping breakfast completely I showed up at the starting line with my group, I-K. As we jumped away I sat with about the first 12 guys rotating profusely with my heartbeat colouring the charts red. They were pumping along at 40k/h. I asked myself wft are these guys doing?! Am I the only one not warmed up?! Then, after hanging at number 6 for a while I turned around and suddenly realized I was in the breakaway and the main bunch was only but a spec disappearing in the distance. Yippee I thought but then quickly realized I was in way over my head as my lungs came looking for air in my throat. Is this pace going to settle down anytime soon, and if so when, is there an objective here or are we all just trying to get away from satan as quickly as possible? So I opted to do the sensible thing and sat up for the main bunch. Once neatly tucked in the calm safety of numbers I started feeling frustrated. My natural pace is 28-32k and these guys were doing 22 and I ended up pulling for several kilometers at a time even after adamantly offering the space up to any takers. These guys are biding their time, I thought. Anyway I then saw two guys come screaming past, C-E and L-O and myself being sufficiently warmed up, tremendously overconfident, and defiant of my "unhelpful" group buzzed off on the trail of the two muscle bound chasers. We blazed along at 35, 38, 40, 45 and at some point I wondered whether i made the right decision to latch on to these guys, but it was too late now. I-K were long forgotten when ripped up Helshoogte at 21 and down the other side at 60 odd. The pace was wicked but it was fun. I wasn't sure how long I was going to keep up but I was impressed. Number C was doing most of the pulling for his buddy in L and I was streaming behind like a sticky toffee wrapper. I didn't even have time to look where we were going. All I was given the opportunity to do was observe the wheel in front of me. These two guys were executing a brilliant plan and they were methodical about it, and they obviously had the strength to carry it out. As we caught up with a bunch they'd sit up for a few minutes, eat, drink, check in with each other and then just at the moment when I'm not yet recovered at all, they'd put the hammer down again chasing ahead with me hanging on for dear life. They did this repeatedly, each time using a group to feed and each time we dropped a bunch no-one bothered keeping up. At times they'd glance around at me as if puzzled by my determination. I'm sure by this time they could see by my body language that this wasn't the usual Sunday pace for me. I made it known that I wasn't going to be of much help in front. The kind of damage i would do in front would not benefit any of us. At an hour and half into the race, while these guys were on a racing/feeding frenzy I haven't eaten anything yet. I simply could not stomach anything and each time I tried to force myself I would nauseate! I wasn't sure whether this was from bad takeout the night before or whether these guys were riding me into puking mode but my stomach did not feel ok so I figured I was under the weather slightly. By this time I had about 4 sips of energy drink - against my will, and perhaps 2 sips of water - also against my will. We eventually caught up with a bunch of C riders. At this point the dynamic changed completely for me. These C guys were not to be shaken so easily and they muddled with my precariously balanced energy management and rhythm severely. I now no longer had the single purpose of latching onto the wheel in front but had to deal the with the constant acceleration and deceleration that comes with riding with a bunch. And each time someone new goes to the front the pace was fresh. Things got erratic very quickly and on one of the smallest hills, perhaps even a bump, i lost the wheel in front of me and watched it stretch away. It was the last wheel. Slowly and surely the gap grew. I frantically tried gearing up, gearing down, standing out the saddle, even brute force, but nothing helped and in a few seconds i would hear the birds chirping, and the crickets cricketing in the fresh farmland air. I was alone. Not a rider in front, not a rider behind. Just me and the R301. And the crickets. And birds. Tar I turned my ride computer to show distance (because I prefer that hidden on the ride) and what an utter disappointment it was! It showed I've only completed 53k. It felt like I've been in the saddle for a day! So on I went churning out my normal pace - 32k. I was still doing ok. Surprisingly. It felt like hours. I still could not eat. I knew my glucose had to run out at some point but I was not going to think about it too much. I tried another swig of energy drink -but no. After several decades F-H showed up and I was once again amidst the familiar purring of drivetrains and wheels. It could have been at the 65k mark but i'm not sure. The pace was doable, but i started to fade and they eventually spat me out on a small bump. Eventually I-K showed up with about 10k to go. I recognized them, the gear, the faces. I wondered if they recognised me too. I hoped they didn't. I remember being impatient with them. They all looked so fresh. Then I faded from them too as they spat me out on an even smaller bump. I was now churning at 22k. I still had nothing to eat. My legs were starting to ache and I was alone again. I started to question whether cycling is really for me. Perhaps I should just give it up. Perhaps I'm too old for it now. Maybe I must just stop exercising altogether. I questioned my purpose in life. Why the hell would I be doing this to myself? I feel like sh*t. I wished for a puncture so I can just have a reason to stop. No such luck! This is definitely going to be a race I will not talk about - ever. I eventually crossed the line at 3h13 and cursed the people who made me ride another 5k to my car. I imagined them sitting somewhere under a gazebo all morning having drinks and coffee in the shade. In the hospitality center I sat on the grass. Broken. Defeated. My stomach still aching. My lungs felt aerated from the activity. It felt good. My legs were engorged with blood and I could feel every muscle. It felt good. I listened to the people around me share their ride tales with excitement. It felt better. I decided to attempt eating again and took an energy bar from my back pocket and let it melt in my mouth - too tired to chew. It felt even better. My girlfriend arrived and after heaving myself off the grass we started towards the car. I started telling about the breakaway and the hectic pace, and the wheel in front and my tongue hanging out all the way. Basically everything I wrote above - but all the way home. And then suddenly I couldn't wait to do it again. But those two blokes, Mr C-E and Mr L-O, jislaaik, whoever you are, you are awesome. I won't mind riding with you again.
