My Momentum 94.7 Experience

The Momentum 94.7 Cycle Challenge isn’t called Jo’burg’s toughest race for nothing, as I would find out on Sunday the 20^th of November. Not that the 2011 edition was my first Cycle Challenge, but it was certainly a morning of firsts, and by far my toughest Cycle Challenge to date.

As the alarm clock on the phone chimed at 03h45, I knew that we would be in for one epic day out. Cycle challenge Sunday arrived with all of its fanfare, and we were ready to take to the streets of Johannesburg for a double lap. Yes, a double lap in aid of CHOC (Childhood Cancer Foundation). So there I stood, donning my Cows branded cycle kit, liberally applying sunscreen, and forcing down a bowl of breakfast, I had no idea of what the next few hours held for me.

As per the instructions, Team Apocalypse Cows congregated (most of us anyway) at the corner of Maxwell and the R55 waiting to head up to our starting pens for our 05h55 off, with the VD (Racing Vets).

Pictures in the pens taken, the countdown followed, and all hell broke loose. The bunch surged up the R55, past Makro, and onto the M1 South. The pace was violent. Survived the first attack. Fantastic. I thought I was the last man standing, back of the peleton, and so I put the hammer down to sit with the peleton, and try and hide a bit and recover. Where were the others, ahead?

It was not easy, and the pace climbed steadily, as did the M1 approaching Corlett, wait, Atholl, wait, no Glenhove, and the next thing we knew, we were at St Andrews. Yes, 20km in, in less than 25 Mins. You can average out the speed we did.

The climb up St. Andrews spat me out the back of the pack, and I was firmly on my own. Every kilo of carbs that from week before were depleted, and I was 20km into the race. Solution time.

Solo time trial to the M2, and at this point I caught onto the Paige Project Peleton. I managed to sit with the Paige Project all the way to Randburg, until the climb to Homestead. Spat out, but recovered a bit.

At Homestead, I merged into the VE Group of Vets, and survived VE downhill to Witkoppen, recovery. Once again, spat out on the Climb up to Malibongwe, the tank was really on low. Duncan and George, your words of encouragement were great, I just had nothing in the legs to offer. By the time that I reached the 70km Mark, the time was 1h55. Sub 3 could happen, so I thought. Then came the N14.

The N14 is a piece of Tarmac etched in the mind of every cyclist. Punishing, and a highway from hell, to hell. That’s where the tank ran totally flat. Passed by the Pro-ladies just before the turn off, felt as though I wasn’t moving, perhaps I wasn’t.

The end of the N14 is a point to breathe a collective sigh of relief. Not that Blue Hills is easier, it’s just less mentally draining. The Blue hills water point called for a stop, and for imbibing copious amounts of blue energy drink, like a bachelor the night before. Lifesaver.

The blue stuff got things going again, and there was Ian, pacing nicely, and happy to do a double lap, Not my day, I left on for the finish line, The ride down past the track was not eventful, and to be honest the finish wasn’t either, perhaps, I don’t remember it?

If I learnt anything from this baptism of fire, I learnt not to go out too hot. But that was not the main lesson. The main lesson to be learnt was to count.

If there were 10 guys in front of me, then where were the other 19?

Correct, behind me. The best racing strategy would have been to form a second bus, perhaps a 3h10 bus, and everyone finishes in one piece. Live and learn. Love living life.