Two lucky coincidences on Friday: 1) My Heart Rate Monitor arrived, LCD display crisp and clear once again, battery charged and ready. 2) I found the Polar mount, which had been hiding under my bed since my trip to Grahamstown.
Saturday was bright, and warm and windy. The field was slightly undersized, but the big names were all there, there was even an out-of-towner riding an expensive blue Cinelli. And of course, Jacques Greef, who can always be counted on to stir things up.
From the word go, the guys started flying (there were some complaints that the race was ‘just’ 67km ). I knew that going out on the Old Brandfort Road (passing near our farm incidentally) meant taking in two hard drags into a stiff headwind. I thought if I could survive that, I’d be able to stick with the guys for most of the way.
The leading guys split off the front in the first 3km, finally snapping the last hangers-on over the railway bridge. I found myself with them, my heart rate in the high 160’s, but I didn’t feel like I was struggling. The drag beside the silos was tough, with Jacques riding in front of me near the back and then jumping just as things got really tough. We reeled him in, but only by sticking together and crouching down to avoid the wind. My heart rate shot up to 175 in this piece, but at least I held it together. There were plenty of spurts that drained the legs.
Under the Sunnyhill bridge my bike carried me forward so that I was in front of the elite pack going down. Not quite intentional, but this happened again once or twice as they slowed the pace so that they could hurt everyone again with more bursts of speed. Near the Vodacom tower (where the N1 becomes a 1 lane highway) Petrus and I rode together off the front. Jacques attacked again and from then on our speed picked up to the high 50’s. I just couldn’t keep up. I didn’t expect to get dropped on a long gradual downhill but there it is. At just over 20km I fell off, and when I turned around – no one, for at least 1km, maybe 2km.
At Glen I picked up another guy who had fallen off, also on a Cannondale. We rode together until he skipped up a hill and left me behind. I was feeling really weary. So much so I was struggling to chew and swallow dried fruit because my throat was so dry.
Back under the ‘Sunnyhill’ bridge I slowly climbed up a steep little hill, half waiting for a chasing bunch. The next thing three riders pulled up beside me – a bizarre trio. 2 African guys and a small kid, with long legs. Barendine was apparently in this bunch which I was now tearing apart. Soon Philip, one of the Africans, threw in the towel while the three of us worked together so that by 47km we’d picked up Mr Cannondale. Not long after that him and ‘The Kid’ took off, and me and the one African guy, wearing a Mapei cap under his helmet, just maintained pace till the end.
In the final few hundred metres I thanked him, then let him pull a little ahead for a small victory. I finished feeling whacked.
Jacques had come in second, by a whisker, outgunned at the end by the out-of-towner.
Time: 1:54:51
Distance: 65km
Average: 34km/h (1:46m per/km)
Temperature: 24 C (average)
Altitude: 1300m
Heart Rate: 164 (Average) 175 (Max)
Kcal: 2295
Barendine came in 5 minutes later, as first lady. She won a Mountain Bike in a lucky draw. I won a water bottle. Benedictus also took part, and Andre was there, his spider bitten hand covered in a few plasters. He’s been given the all-clear to train again on Monday, so we’re going out for an easy 70km early Monday morning.
It’s been a good training week. I’m looking forward to building from here. I thought I did quite well, sticking with the best guys for 20km when I’ve only been training once or twice a week and missing a whole week 2 weeks ago. Going to work on weight, getting some running in and upping the mileage. Looking to get into great form now.
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