360One race report part 2 We head out of Caliztdorp, and I reflect on the emotional and teary conversation I have had with Dianne my wife, it’s me who is the teary one, not her, she just sounds concerned and re-assuring. Dianne is my biggest supporter; I am so lucky to have someone in my life that epitomizes the philosophy of taking joy in other people's joy. When I am happy she is happy for me. Riding my bike makes me happy….most of the time. I hope that she gets the same support from me. Her voice reminds me of not being sore and the comforts of home, it’s a stark reinforcer of why we seek out these adventures, it provides real contrast and takes me out of my comfort zone. I watch Gareth ride, he’s pretty stoic most of the time, a tough, naturally gifted athlete who rowed for South Africa, there is no ego now, just the stripped down humble version of himself I was hoping to meet. The roads are dusty now; yesterdays rain hasn’t fallen on these parts, not surprising since the weather report for Oudsthoorn is unlikely to be consistent over a 361km loop. The occasional oncoming car reminds us that the roads are not closed for the event and the dust wall that is thrown up causes us to squint eyes and close our mouths, Gareth’s back tyre throws up a small plume of dust. A rider, noticeably smaller and fitter looking than us rides past, greets and mentions that’s he is not looking forward to the last leg, I don’t expect to see him again. My rookie mistake at the water point in Calitzdorp starts to bite and I suck on my camelbak and find that it’s empty… This is not good. It should be funny, but it takes its toll and we get slower, I switch my bike computer view from speed, HR and distance to something totally arbitrary like time of day and altitude because watching a couple of hundred meters of distance pass by at snails pace is like poking your eye out with a rusty nail. And then we are climbing again. Up through some of the loveliest countryside, past rural homesteads and weekend cottages and Karoo cafes, past the former glory that they once held, with faded signs promising cold beer and light lunches and boarded up windows ringing farmstead porches. I look at each house closely for a tap. Nothing The pace is now frustratingly slow, even for me, I get something to drink from Gareth, who can’t hide his mild annoyance, to be fair he is right. It’s no longer a question of tiredness, we are both tired and running on mental discipline and pushing our bodies as hard as they can go, the pain seems less relevant now and we start to speed up, maybe because we know there are less than 50Km to go, or because we have had a enough of riding our bikes. I remember riding my bike makes me happy, look down and read the slogan on the top bar. “Pedal Damm it” A few riders who are doing the relay, or the 180K pass us and congratulate us on our progress. Well dones and respects and how you feelings? and a water bottle fill from another traveller make way to the solitary sound of my not so well oiled machine ticking and grating along, we speed up and overtake the same riders a while later. We must be going faster and we zip into the 2nd last water point – Fill up this time. Morale and speed is improving, I drink some Coke – the “red ambulance” and we push on – nearly down the wrong road. A small course correction and we are off, but not before I see our noticeably smaller and fitter looking friend, parked on the ground at the water point. I get a small kick out of that. Gareth and I chat about our surprise in seeing him again. At least I think we did, it may have happened in my head. And once again we climb up alongside the beautiful and imposing Swartberg Mountains, with their dark black granite spines edging the green fields below. If you haven’t see this part of the Klein Karoo you would be excused for thinking you’re in the dales and mountains of Switzerland. There is even some snow on the high peaks, Gareth comment – “that’s crazy” This is the most special part of the ride and I am pleased to be able to see it. We have both ridden through our respective mental dark places and we are riding with determination. And then just like that the big climbing is done, its taken its toll, I have developed ITB in my right leg which is beyond my ability to describe, it makes me shout out loud as we put power down to climb the small rises, It is an incredibly pure pain, straight into your brain, you can almost enjoy it. It makes me laugh actually, there doesn’t seem to be another way to deal with it. Gareth’s right foot and calve are in agony, he keeps unclipping his pedal and shaking his foot, I ask him about it but he doesn’t really want to talk about it, or he does but we change the subject. We are going fast now, the last 30km has some good downhill’s as we lose some of the cumulative altitude we have gained through climbing from the last water point, brakes seem like something that will keep us from getting home quickly so we use them sparingly, if at all, I see 64 km/h and figure it would be fun to hit 70 km/h this is where faith in your machine and your ability to control it, all collide. Towards the last water stop, less than 30km to go and into strong and cold headwind, the road isn’t much fun either, rutted and stony there is very little smooth surface to find, I sit behind Gareth, but am not strong enough with my knee to take any turns on the front. I ride next to him so as not to take advantage of his slip, this seems more fair as I weave from his left to his right as we both look for smoother road. Gareth announces that we are not getting off the bikes at the next water stop, a formula one pit stop, refill my water bottle which is again empty as I make up for my rookie mistake is all I am allowed. We pull in, he holds my bike and 45 seconds later we are off. Back into the cold headwind and unforgiving dirt road and closer to home. Gareth is hurting and nauseous and is getting a sore throat; he keeps unclipping his left foot and shaking his leg. I start some story about swopping around our legs so that one of us has good legs and the crock knee and foot go together, it doesn’t hang as well together as I thought, its not that funny either and anyway I am starting to see things out the corner of my eye and this is more interesting, so I abandon my story. I am not sure Gareth notices. The final stretch is visible; I keep seeing things again, having forgotten that Gareth and I have worked out that it’s the long shadows from the telephone poles in our peripheral vision. Despite this I get surprised every time. We turn towards home 6km on tar to go. There is a tree on the left at the end of a very long stretch of road that stubbornly refuses to get closer, Gareth is playing a mental game with that tree, willing it closer, I feel like he is failing. We get passed by a man with one arm. We are pushing hard now, its getting dark and I realise the complications of riding this race if you are slower and need to prepare for a 2nd night of riding. Batteries for lights, another change of kit, nutrition would all have to be re-thought, Since we planned for a 24hr experience going much beyond that point would not be good. We pass the tree, the force is strong in that one… eventually. A small detour, a left and right kink, a jump onto the pavement a drag along past the military base and discussion around Gareth being surprised at the size of the base and a final right had turn and downhill for 500m and it’s done. 361km /(actually 362km thanks to a navigation problem I wont go into) the founder of 360 Asset managers greets and congratulates us as we cross the line. Apparently he has been there since 8 AM greeting every team. Its 6.07PM. I give Gareth a hug, awkwardly since he is 6ft5. Time to eat and have a beer and phone our wives and sleep. All of which we do.. Slowly.
