I reluctantly dragged myself out of bed this morning with the heaviness of yesterday's porcupine ridge MTB in my legs, muttering to myself about my proclivity for ambitious race entries, usually late at night after whiskey, and dragged myself to Windmeul, I congratulated myself for taking the N2 - R300 having spotted yesterday that the N1 was going to be closed but this only partially improved my mood. My dark mood exaggerated the thoughts I usually have when registering at any PPA event. Registration is a nightmare - slow and tedious. Then that perennial complaint - the port-a-loo situation. Perhaps the person who organises the potties for the PPA is anally retentive, perhaps they're just miserly in the fiscus but there are never enough toilets at the PPA events. I don't mind queuing for a little while - exchanging a few chirps with others to settle the chilly pre-race jitters, but when there are 6 toilets for a crowd of 600, early in the morning, all with the peristaltic stimulant caffeine in their systems, a 28 minute wait is unacceptable. Fortunately the desire to process the 450bucks a pop late entries balanced the time constraints of a 6:30 start and so I was able to relieve myself, using the last of the toilet paper in the one cubicle that still had. By that stage I was in an even k@kier frame of mind and gave the next oke in the queue a rueful smile as I joined group G. The PPA does not impress me at all at their races. The marshalls at the start of course must check every person's kit and number, and one very kind one pinned the bottom left safety pin back in place for me but this kind of attention to detail can be irksome. As GHI crammed into the lane in front of the blue mat, facing directly into the sun, with latecomers trying to squash in in front, one of the marshalls was shouting to another that one rider had his number on upside down - which galvanised his colleague into action. As he did so we were off and people were joining from the side as the group set off directly into the blinding sun. A dangerous situation but so long as the numbers are all the right way around we'll all be OK. Black mood indeed. We set off at a cracking pace down the hill, did my fastest ever 40k for the first 40 and managed to just hold on even though the lightest gradient made my legs protest. The bike marshalling was, as usual, excellent - our chap helped cars overtake us, kept the group in order, safely enforced the "left of the white line" rule. A pleasure to have such an expert chaperone. Thank you. Predictably I got dropped at the foot of Bothmaskloof - soldiered up the hill, tried to stay with a group of stragglers for 20k but by this stage my legs were finished. Cycling teaches many things - perseverence, stamina, endurance, the ability to accept suffering and while I'm still a beginner, I've done enough races to know that 20k into the wind alone with sore legs threatening to cramp is not so bad. In fact, quite enjoyable. But by all that's holy PPA - I'll accept your slow admin, the officiousness and bureaucracy that accompanies the stuff you do but please please please can we have 10 more potties?
