sani2c - newbie questions

[Kritzie]

Looks like rain for Thursday Mmmmmmm! Suppose it is fair as they have made the route sooooooo easy! Nudge nudge wink wink!

[jaxtun]

i use first ascent thermal underneath my cycling top and if its really cold i put some newspaper underneath - which i then chuck at the first water stop if not earlier. The top does not make you hot during the day so you can basically keep it on. that said weather is looking great!

Just done JHB2C with the last 3 days being Sani and the weather was HOT!! They offered the service where you could hand in your cold weather gear at the first water point and collect after each stage... am sure that will be available for the Sani

[Squier]

So, from what I gather the 86km and 1200m ascent that was published as the preliminary profile of day 2 was incorrect. Kevin Evans still tweeted about 2200m of climbing and from what I've read in this thread it's seems as if it is still a very tough day. I guess that's what we signed up for, right!

[dalem44]

Anyone know what's happening with seeding?

[rouxtjie]

So, from what I gather the 86km and 1200m ascent that was published as the preliminary profile of day 2 was incorrect. Kevin Evans still tweeted about 2200m of climbing and from what I've read in this thread it's seems as if it is still a very tough day. I guess that's what we signed up for, right!

Sani2C tweeted that the final profiles will be up today...think its on their facebook page...anyone?

[jaxtun]

Sani2C tweeted that the final profiles will be up today...think its on their facebook page...anyone?

Having done it on Friday in JHB2C here are my Garmin read outs... tot dist : 99.36km and total climbing 1609m!

[rouxtjie]

Having done it on Friday in JHB2C here are my Garmin read outs... tot dist : 99.36km and total climbing 1609m!

Ta thanks man!

[mojopup]

If its anything like last year, we clocked just short of 100km on day 2 and a mother load of climbing. Was a fun day.

[Stretch]

if anyone was planning on pre-booking massages and have not done so...it advise you to hurry. For the trail, Day 2 all booked out and day 1 only early slots and very late slots available

[_David_]

Not sure if this has been posted before but it is a pretty good read.

An Idiot's guide to the Sani2C

 

 

THE SANI TO C FOR YOURSELF

 

WOO HOO! I yelled as I tore down a hill on a fast section of single track. Grit and small stones flew off the back wheel of my partner’s bike and peppered me all over my already filthy face. My sunglasses protected my eyes, but my cheesy smile exposed my teeth to a mouthful of dust. My bike was hissing like a missile as the fresh tread of my tires gripped into the dirt track and my pumping legs catapulted me between trees and shrubs and other botanical things like a human cannonball. In retrospect, it is a small miracle that my oversized “bull-horn” bar ends did not hook onto something and send me careening head first into something harder then me. Oh, wait, they did.

 

Some time towards the end of last year my-mate-Dave arranged to meet me at a local pub for our once a month couple of beers. An event that usually ends up with us slurring incoherently like a bunch of road cyclists discussing the 94.7. After Dave had forced the sixth draught down my throat and I had started to flirt with the water-cooler, he proposed that I join him for something called the Sani-2-C. He described it as a three day mountain biking adventure race that is “the beshtethd mounthain bikingth eventsh in the worldsh”. He did warn that I would need to do some training, but that I would be fine and would easily complete it. Dave, if you’re reading this – HAH HAH HAH you freaking twit!

 

I initially demonstrated some reluctance - between mouthfuls of samoosas, gammon strips and potato wedges - and asked if he was sure I would manage. “On day one you ride over a lake dude!” he told me. After six draughts and the promise of cycling on water, there could only be one answer to the invite – so, resting a half (full) glass of draught on my beer belly, I agreed to partner him in the race. And so it was that Dave and I entered our team “The Erectile Projectiles” into the 2007 Sani-2-C.

 

My preparation for the race involved a lot of contemplating – and not just of my naval. I contemplated getting up in the mornings to train and I contemplated if I had trained hard enough. I did manage a few rides during the week (an hour here and there), but most of my training was on the weekend. I did some cross training too – three days a week of boxing training and quite a bit of running. I even did some sparring and suffered some blood noses and some bruising to my ego – just to prepare me for some of the pain that lay ahead.

 

Shortly before the event I ran a 21 kilometer half-marathon and excitedly called Dave on completion. He was not impressed. Instead he told me that “if I thought I had ‘kakked’ on the run, I had a big surprise coming at the race”. Dave had started to become hostile. I didn’t understand, but looking back I now know it was because he was starting to cr@p himself for day two – I was still blissfully ignorant! In any case, the run really had been very pleasant and as far as I was concerned, it would be brilliant preparation for a day or three of cycling.

 

Too much work became a real issue in the weeks leading up to the race and this combined with a few challenges such as a burst geyser, flooded house and destroyed kitchen meant that I spent more time off the bike than on it, so I tried desperately to fit in what I could when I had a few minutes. I even started skipping and can now skip like a complete wop.

 

I found some time just before the race to get my bike serviced (thank goodness for that bit of foresight), buy some camping supplies and about 15 kilograms of medical supplies. I treated the pharmacy shelves like a buffet at a government employee’s work function and packed as much into my basket as it could contain and then started to stack even more on top. I even went for seconds and thirds! I bought everything that was on the Sani-2-C list and everything that was on Terry the Spinman’s Epic list and then added even more to that. I even got the earplugs although I still have no cooking clue what the hell those were for but I suspect that others were supposed to use them when I started to scream in pain and sob like a wuss. Perhaps the earplugs were not really for me, but because of me? Or, maybe I was supposed to shove them inside my nostrils when braving the tupperware bog-boxes?

 

The first thing that struck me at the race briefing on the Thursday night was the fact that everybody had a sock tan. It was clear that 99% of the people there had spent plenty time in the saddle. I had no sock tan at all, although I am sporting one now! How intimidating! I became certain that Dave and I would not finish – or at least always be a few kilometers behind everyone else! My spirits hit an all time low, but then, we were announced as runners-up in the competition for the best name and my confidence grew. We took it as a good sign of good things to come. “The Erectile Projectiles” we chose the name because it sounds really rude, but it isn’t. Kind of like that clothing range “****”.

 

Off to the Himeville Arms for a quick snack and a quick beer and then off to the B&B where I proceeded to pack the contents of my suitcase into my black box. To my amazement I got everything in, including 15kgs of pharmaceuticals, my sleeping bag and the pillow I had brought along. Yes, I took a pillow to the race and I am man enough to admit it! I swear to this day that it was one of my most essential pieces of race equipment. In fact, I almost duct taped to my butt on day three! Next time I will leave the ear plugs at home and take another pillow instead. Another piece of essential gear was my lime green shower loofer. Trust me on this.

 

The first day of a three day race sucks. I was up at 04:00 – and felt like I had hardly slept. This was partly because I do not usually get up at 04:00 and partly because I had hardly slept. Instead I had spent the night lying in bed restlessly trying to anticipate what lay ahead. I was buggered by the time I had to get up, but methodically set about getting ready for the day that lay ahead. I say I am methodical. Dave says I “faff”. So I smacked him upside the head.

 

Layers of sun-screen, shammy cream all over my shammy and all over my bits that would be in contact with the shammy, energy drink, cramp block, energy bar and breakfast. I then had to wade through scores of beautiful scantily clad women screaming my name and rooting for me to win. Wake up, pack bikes, get in car, and reverse to gate. Disembark from car. Go to the crapper (take care of some business). Get back in car. Drive to start. Drop off boxes. Set up bikes. Scratch nuts. Cycle to start. Go pee in bush. Wait for start. Admire the helicopter hanging dead still in the air. Listen to some ridiculous song about being back in the saddle again. Start!

 

A piece of advice, unless you are a contender for first place or at least the top 100, there is no point in tearing the ring out of it when the starter yells “Start!” on day one at a three day cycle race. This is partly because you will tire yourself out way too early and partly because there is a good chance you will ride into the back of somebody in front of you. However, it is important to start at a pace that is conducive to maintaining a good steady flow of bicycles over the initial few kilometers. To most this pace was a lazy trundle along country roads. To me it was hectic. I was panting like a plump businessman in his kid’s school sack-race by the time I had reached the top of the first hill.

 

Day one was fantastic – reflecting on the day over dinner was not easy because the 85 kilometers seems to have flown past, but then, the more you discuss it, the more vivid the memories. It was a great day – with some challenging uphills and some super-fast downhills that were an absolute pleasure and provided a welcome rest for the legs. The single-track sections were great and good preparation for some of the challenging stuff that we encountered on day two. The lake-bridge was a highlight!

 

Shortly after the railway section and the railway line crossing I was starting to feel the fatigue in my legs and my left knee was starting to ache – a pain I have never had before when cycling (one of many “new” pains I would discover). I was ripping it up through a single track forest section with a grimace/smile on my face. Suddenly something flew into my face and hit me on my tooth. I instinctively clamped down on the bug with my lips and then proceeded to spit whatever it was, out. Unfortunately I spat the bee onto my left knee and it wasted no time in stinging me. Now I had even more knee pain – I could not believe my mis-fortune. It was such a happy pain though and the sting pushed me to ride harder. Later, the sting subsided and – I kid you not – the original pain in my knee had vanished as well! Just goes to show there is some truth in that whole bee-sting-therapy after all!

 

I usually ride with my mouth gaping as wide as possible allowing free-flow of air straight into my lungs (and ever ready to get a bit of tongue action with a USN chick) – luckily my mouth was closed otherwise I could have swallowed the bee and had much more to worry about – like Dave giving me mouth to mouth or something equally offensive and regrettable.

 

Day one ended with little incident and we had a very pleasant afternoon and evening with all the great food, USN drinks, icy Clover water, McCain chips and Max and Glen making us feel right at home with some brilliant chatter, great images and refreshing entertainment. Then, off too bed – the calm before the storm…

 

04:00 hours. Day two. Already f-ing hot. I got up and grabbed some breakfast – avoiding the main queue. After that I went to get changed into my gear. I had been warned of a tough day so dressed up in the most comfortable gear I had. Smothered myself with sun-screen and wadded on the shammy cream. I plastered it onto my body as well – it was like I was grease-packing a CV joint. We packed up our boxes and went to collect our bikes – only to discover my rear wheel was loose – so off to Hattons Cycles (who were open) and I got the hub tightened up (thanks guys!). Then off to the start where it was like groundhog day with “I’m back in the saddle again…” blaring over the speakers – it was a surreal experience.

 

We started off in group J at about 06:00 so it was a late start for us and we would bear the full brunt of that throughout the day. As soon as I slid onto my bike seat I was served a stark reminder of the exact location of my butt, but the initial pain subsided quickly as we started to tackle the first hills. Soon though, we flashed some locals (um I mean flashed past heh heh) and went screaming headlong into the first section of single track. A brilliant roller coaster of about 15 kilometers of some of the best single track I have ever ridden. I did some stuff I never thought I was capable of and almost plummeted down a few embankments!

 

Suddenly the track presented us a with a full view of the Umkomaas Valley and we could see mountain bikers negotiating switch-back after switch-back as the entered the valley down a steep hill that looked like one of those pictures from school that we used to view in 3D with those funny glasses called stereographs or something. Stereographs should not be confused with the Stereophonics whose brilliant track “Dakota” is capable of delivering many hours of four dimensional musical pleasure to the grateful listener.

 

We passed Terence Parkin on the top of a ridge as he received urgent medical attention after an apparent wipe-out. It seemed to be pretty bad and we all hoped he would be OK. It was a quick reminder that you can never stop concentrating when riding and perhaps the USN drinks delivered more in terms of concentration than energy to wary cyclists.

 

After many ups and downs and some pretty tame technical challenges we found ourselves spinning along a flat section of road that was the valley floor, the Umkomaas river steaming towards the ocean right alongside us. And then, we found ourselves at…

 

We found ourselves standing in the shade of a small tree at the bottom of a very big hill. I have given the mountain a Navaho Indian name “Umba loogah manubba nubba” it means “big shitty mountain to make you ***”. I lubed my chain and took the time to devour a chocolate that I had taken along for the ride from the breakfast buffet. A quick shot of energy goo, some water and off I went - determined to climb out of the Umkomaas Valley without walking once. Of course, when I set myself that challenge I was still blissfully unaware that the Ixopo Valley lay ahead. As far as I was concerned, if I could climb out of the Umkomaas, it would be downhill all the way back to the camp. So I climbed hard and put as much as I had into it, conserving a bit of energy for the rest of the ride.

 

Note to reader: yes, I know this sounds very stupid and yes, I should have checked the route profile. But, I didn’t. And, I didn’t have a bicycle computer either – so I did not know how much further I still had to ride. For some reason it had packed up and I decided that I would ride “blind” in respect of distance which was both liberating and obliterating. Not knowing how far you have ridden and how far you still have to go is like playing paintball naked whilst wearing a welder’s mask.

 

The entire route of day two, from the start, right to the water table at the top of the climb out of the valley is absolutely awesome. Completely breathtaking and unbelievably majestic. It rocked. I loved every minute of it and spend many hours hence, reliving the single track, the views and the high spirits of the other participants that I met along the way.

 

After the water table, my personal hell began. I don’t know if it was the heat, but I was exhausted soon after leaving the water table and climbing that hill before descending into the Ixopo Valley. Something in my body went horribly wrong. I had to walk for the first time. Granny gear just would not cut it. The heat was biting and I could not get my heart rate up because it was just too hot to move. I entered the downhill section into the valley with locked front shock and halfway down my elbows started to rattle like a trellidoor and I had to stop and release it.

 

We eventually got down to the river after some high speed downhill action and took the time to have a much deserved dip in the big, cool pool. Ahhhhhhh. Gooooood.

 

Writing about what happened next could prove to be too painful so I am going to downplay it all completely. The other reason for doing this is because I do not want to scare off any potential riders for 2008. Also, I now write with a British accent, which will give the paragraph/s that follow a slightly “matter of fact” tone, that will further serve to downplay what happened next.

 

Anyhoo, by the time we left the delightful pool it was somewhat warm – approximately 49 degrees Celsius I am led to believe. I started off cycling, however I was soon to discover that the combination of the 50 degree incline, somewhat warm weather and the fact that my granny gear was as hard to push as a jolly big jumbo jet, would render me a foot soldier and so off I trudged. Convinced that the hill would end soon and I would be blissfully eating Nandos and sipping on a USN soda pop.

 

Not to be. Not to be. Not to be. Instead, the hill never ended. In fact it lives on in my psyche even today. Halfway up the wall of the volcano the Voltaren I had been eating as snacks started to take control of the abdominal territory of the torso region. Thankfully I had the wisdom to pack a bog-roll and I scuttled into the bush to take care of some business. Feeling much better I returned to my journey of self-discovery, self-loathing and self-helplessness.

 

The journey up was like a surreal journey along the path of a hurricane. It was carnage. Bodies lay clumped in the shade of trees and bicycles had been dumped on the roadside, left to rot as their owners abandoned them in a last ditch effort to make it out of the valley alive. Motorcycles whirred up and down the slope as I trudged my way towards the summit, locked in my solo mission, oblivious to the goings on around me. “Get out. Got to get out. Must lie down and sleep now. No, get out you bloody fool.”

 

One memory does remain, that is of a young English fellow who was donned in a black vest and was perched on a rock in the shade, next to his Specialized bike. He was as red as a spanked bottom. He had obviously recently reapplied sun-screen because there was enough to build a fairly respectable snowman, but even so, the redness of his arms and face cast a haunting glow, even through the whitewash. He was miserable. His spirit had been broken by heat that he was completely unprepared and unaclimatised for. The only way he could have trained in England for day two would have been to make a suit entirely from hot-water-bottles and filled it with steaming water just before a ride. Then, he would have had to ride up and down the stairs of Big Ben whilst a dragon tried to burn the flesh from his body with puffs of giant flames bursting from its nostrils (just like me after an extra hot peri-peri Nandos burger).

 

I had thoughts of taking my big chain ring off at the cranks and putting it on at the back so I would have not so much a granny gear, but more of an ancestor gear. Like a great, great, great grandmother gear.

 

Finally I made it to the summit, just before the lava burst from the crater below. I dragged myself to the water stop and sat back in a pit of despair, exhaustion and oblivion. Nandos burger in one hand, sun-screen in the other. Dave had been there for quite some time already – he had ridden the entire section on his own. By the time I got to the watering point, it was already midday – I kid you not! Six hours to do 55 kilometers.

 

We waited out the compulsory 15 minutes and set off once again. I will spare you the gory detail of heat, dust, pain, agony, exhaustion and raw fear and unnatural terror. But I have to say that what lay ahead was one of the best and worst days of my life. I hit rock bottom. I bombed twice and almost quit about 100 times. Nothing I could do would raise my heart rate. Every hill seemed and insurmountable obstacle. From one patch of tree shade to the next, I made my way towards the finish line. Dave spurring me on and motivating me to keep going – even telling me that nobody thought I would make day two (that was actually what pushed me through). As team partners go, he was the best a man could have! Thanks Dave – I owe you one big time.

 

The straw that almost broke the proverbial donkey’s back was when, about 10 kilometers from the end of day two, I was hammering it down a long steep Subaru track (probably at 40 kilometers per hour). Suddenly my bike started to jump and lurch and I was convinced that finally my mind had cracked and I was losing all control of the situation, but seconds later, I realized I had a flat front tire and with that realization came the unavoidable wipe-out. I rolled and skidded down the road and finally came to a halt. I then stood, angry and sore and wandered into the forest to lie down for a little while. Which I did, but 5 seconds later I was pushing my bike down to level ground because as soon as I had lain in the pile of leaves in the forest, so too had Mr. Scary Creature decided to hiss and slither and scare the beheeberz out of me. I didn’t even look back to see what it was.

 

Well, we did make it after 9 hours and 46 minutes in the saddle. But, like I said, I could never have done it without my team mate – now a mate for life. We shared my agony and it tied a bond that I am sure will last forever.

 

The second night was a blur. Shower. Eat. Drink. Bed.

 

“I’m back in the saddle again…”

 

Day three: what can I say; day three was an absolute blast. It runs at such a frenetic pace that there is little to say. Wind up the hills and then swoop down them like fighter jets in a cold war dog fight. It was high adrenalin all the way. The cane fields were absolutely incredible and an experience not to be missed. I even had the helicopter hover alongside me, blowing the long leaves like something out of Platoon. I am not going to write more than this on day three, other than to say that if you make it through day one and two, then day three is like a prize – it is a day of pleasure that you win for all your previous effort and it is a prize like no other- it will make you love your bike and your sport even more.

 

The funniest thing that did happen on day three was about 500 meters from the beach. Dave and I found our 673rd wind and we were hammering it along the single track, when a lapse in concentration saw my bull-horn bar ends reach deep into the reads and with a thwack thwack thwack thwakka thwakkathwakka thwump I found myself face first in the path. So, giggling like a 7 year old I limped on my bike along the beach and finished a most awesome race with my-mate-Dave.

 

Will I do it again? Yes, like a shot. What will I do differently? Train like I am going to be in the Olympics. Put everything into it and prepare well in advance. With this I know that next time I will make day two a tough but pleasurable experience instead of a preview to the world we know as hell. See you next year and Glen and Max and everyone else who contributed – thanks for something really special. Oh yes, Subaru – whatacar – thanks guys (and all the other sponsors) for making this dream of a race a reality in our lives.

 

Gordon Malcolm (2007)

[slysi]

Brilliant, Gordon worked with me when he wrote this....seems like ages ago and now I am getting ready to start my first Sani. He convinced me to buy my first MTB and we started to train at Northern Farms. Never thought I would see this day, 41 years old and here I go........

[Darryl O]

We doing a Pre-Sani2c coffee ride on Sunday. Just an easy 20km ride on the Spruit; starting and ending at Conrad Drive. Just to turn the legs over and make sure all equipment is in working order.

 

CUBE will put some money towards coffee afterwards. You can then meet fellow riders,discuss what to expect, packing lists, etc.

 

All WELCOME. Start riding 8:30. Coffee around 9:45am.

[Stretch]

these two paragraphs are just brilliant. Oh to be able to write like that.....

 

"One memory does remain, that is of a young English fellow who was donned in a black vest and was perched on a rock in the shade, next to his Specialized bike. He was as red as a spanked bottom. He had obviously recently reapplied sun-screen because there was enough to build a fairly respectable snowman, but even so, the redness of his arms and face cast a haunting glow, even through the whitewash. He was miserable. His spirit had been broken by heat that he was completely unprepared and unaclimatised for. The only way he could have trained in England for day two would have been to make a suit entirely from hot-water-bottles and filled it with steaming water just before a ride. Then, he would have had to ride up and down the stairs of Big Ben whilst a dragon tried to burn the flesh from his body with puffs of giant flames bursting from its nostrils (just like me after an extra hot peri-peri Nandos burger).

 

I had thoughts of taking my big chain ring off at the cranks and putting it on at the back so I would have not so much a granny gear, but more of an ancestor gear. Like a great, great, great grandmother gear."

[MintSauce]

Doing the race. 10 days to go. Cannot wait. Still hurting after the last big training rides this weekend but getting SO excited

[deanbean]

Not sure if this has been posted before but it is a pretty good read.

An Idiot's guide to the Sani2C

 

 

THE SANI TO C FOR YOURSELF

 

 

Gordon Malcolm (2007)

Where is this from D@vid, it's a good report

[Ratty]

No profiles yet on the website or facebook :-(

I've been checking the whole day as they said they would load them today. oh well, guess they are exteremely busy getting everything ready for us.