now go out there and make your day count….

Continue Reading →

Day 7:

It goes without saying that the day had gloom written all over it, from the get go. We woke up to a cold and threatening-to-be-raining Elgin. The sun was threatening but we heard it was 4 degrees up on the mountain with some rain and yes, loads of wind.

Amazeballs.

I get cold in general, so today I donned warm gear as I knew the pack would hammer it out, killing themselves within 30min and we would again be stronger than the day before.

Indeed, it all began to plan. Riding tempo up the first climbs we were again ahead of schedule, so we had a bit of time to take it a bit easier. The legs felt great after about 15min. After the first 5km which are all virtually uphill we descended into the valley.

Coming around a winding corner on some loose gravel I felt the tell-tale signs of my back end sliding out. I am not the absolute best descending machine so this is normal, I corrected myself (which I was becoming increasingly good at), held the line and was about to unclip my left foot for a bit of extra turn when the corner of my handlebar, firmly attached to the bar-end, managed to tangle itself in a branch, which in turn, was attached to a rather large bush.

Not a problem going 15km/h.

By all estimations we were going about 40-50km/h at that point. I was ahead of Brett but I remember being able to look him in the eye before making contact with Mother Nature. This means a full 180 degree flick of me and the bike. Brett was quick to comment a little later that it was quite an impressive maneuver. Avoidable, but impressive.

Crashes are quick and unceremonious and this was no different. Tuck, hold, and hurt.

I was sore, all over, and not quite sure which hurt most until the throb started in my hand. Looked at the right glove to see it had a big gash in the palm where the throb was emanating from. Not good. Remove the glove. Blood is flowing, profusely, dread crept in.

This was going to be a long day.

The only words that I could come up with were “Duct Tape”. I had a 4cm gash deeper than I could see on the spot where I rest my hands on the bike. The skin around it was kaput. My heart rate monitor was missing, my head hurt and my right bum cheek was beginning to hurt too.

Brett taped me up (thanks bra!), helped ease the glove back on and we got under way again, slowly. I was pretty shell shocked and at first it was slow going. We got to a medic about 10km later and he removed the tape and got some bandage on me, shortly after washing the wound out with some alcohol. In my mind, I punched him so hard I decapitated him, it hurt so much.

Moving on. Stitches were going to be needed for sure, so best to suck it up, get some painkillers in, and get to the finish quick as possible.

Some of the crazy obstacles we encountered on the day, after hitting water point 1 in 180th men’s team (prob about 230th overall team) were:

1. Freakish headwinds.
2. A wall of sand about 500m long. I. Kid. You. Not.
3. Climbs so steep I had to get off and walk.
4. My chain lodged itself in between the wheel spokes and the back of the cassette.

Slogged it out I tell you. Brett was machine on the day. Kept me motivated all day. The myprodols may have helped a little as well, but just enough to take the edge off. We pushed and pushed and pushed until my body gave in with about 8km to go and I had to coast in. We had no idea we had ridden ourselves back into 65th men’s team. Had we known, I am sure I could have found one last gear, but I was emotionally done by 92km.

The sight of my dad surprising me in the medical tent will long live down as a great moment. Family are so important and having them there on the day solidified my loss and gave me a bit of extra strength for the day. We even broke out the wine and had some great laughs in the afternoon.

By the time the anesthetic wore off the infection kicked in. It hurt far more than the crash. I was starting to get cold sweats by the time I went to bed and hoped it would work itself out by morning, going through 4 wet t-shirts through the night. I was almost sure it would be gone by morning.

Almost.

Day 8

It was not to be. I woke up with a fire in my throat and in a cold sweat at 6am. Every bone in my body was sore, like I had flu. I knew there was trouble as we had 75km to pedal over a huge, rocky mountain.

My hand throbbed as I ate my breakfast and I was contemplating how I was going to hold the handlebars as I was barely able to hold my cup in my hand.

Getting on the bike and pedaling to the start has to be one of the hardest things I have ever done. I was cold and hot, sore and had no power in the legs. Crisis. The end was supposed to be a victorious day.

To say that we struggled on the day is an understatement. You want to race the last day, blazing glory, all guns firing in a splendor of hail Mary’s, French Bulldogs raining from the sky and 30 Seconds to Mars – Kings & Queens raging on a volume so high even Mick Jagger would ask for it to be turned down.

I could however, only soft pedal. My hand, well that felt like someone was stabbing me in it every time I rode over a rock and the downhills were total murder. I walked/crawled/swore my way up the big climb in the mass of riders, a space we were totally unused to. It took forever. I felt useless. I was beaten down.

On the downhill I had to stop halfway down to recoup, my pain was unmanageable by that point and I was going to slow I was in danger of falling off all the time. I had a choice to make as I could see Brett was frustrated as well. He had been so good all day. Patient. Quiet. Calm.

I had to either walk the hill, or ride and become one with the pain. I chose the latter. Screaming and yes, crying my way down the hill all in what must have been a huge cause of concern for those around me, I went as fast as I could, hanging on for dear life itself, balling my eyes out screaming the pain out for the remainder of the downhill.

Thankfully, that was it in terms of the rocky stuff. I was spent.

The release seemed to perk me up somehow once we got through the aid station and we started picking off some guys on the smoother road. My legs were still nowhere, and wouldn’t come back all day.

The walk down Gamtoos Pass was amazing, quiet, finding the peace that we were almost home. The neutral zone was frustrating as we got stuck in a group. The last 7km was in fact, 4km and in the end, we sat up and let the group go. We wanted to finish alone in the shoot. It has been a huge adventure and the realization that it was about to be over in less than a minute sucked, for just a second, before the crowds cheered us over the finish line.

Family, friends, they were all there. The way they look at you is incredible. Yes, we sucked on the day, but somehow, they still saw us as heroes. We were 44th team overall across the 8 days. We worked our way back from 98th including 3 hours lost over the week.

We were tired, but happy. Very happy.

Epilogue

To paragraph the experience is just never going to cut it I am afraid. First off, as is tradition, I need to thank everyone who made the journey possible.

Fairbairn Private Bank, Morewood, Sludge, Sport-X, Whasp, Biosport, Puma, Jack Black Beer, Rok Media, Rockets, Suunto, Legacy Cycles, ATC Multisport. You make us look great and we hope to do our best for you in return.

To Brett, my partner, I need to give out a personal 1min bear hug. The guy is amazing. I have known him for years but our week together was without a doubt, the best we had ever done. Generally we are trying to kill each other out on race courses (the occasional tequila competition may also have happened) but for this entire week, we were a team. We remained calm in all situations and we sucked the best out of each other when the going got tough. Mad love.

To the Epic, thank you for taking us over amazing landscapes and providing unique challenges each day. We salute you. It really is the greatest adventure.

The finish line was never enough and never will be. Already, we have Ironman in 2 ½ weeks time to keep our minds busy. After that I know I am intending to learn to surf ski and keep growing my MTB skill set.

This part of my journey was amazing, so amazing I had to split it into 4 posts. I urge you to find an adventure of any magnitude that involves physically challenging yourself. I am not saying go and do the Epic. We come from years of physical challenges. Build up. Start small. But make sure each one is a challenge.

Your life will never be the same.

See the light…

Continue Reading →

“I never found the companion that was so companionable as solitude. We are for the most part more lonely when we go abroad among men than when we stay in our chambers.” ~Henry David Thoreau

Post written by Leo Babauta. Follow me on twitter or identica.

You don’t need to be a monk to find solitude, nor do you need to be a hermit to enjoy it.

Solitude is a lost art in these days of ultra-connectedness, and while I don’t bemoan the beauty of this global community, I do think there’s a need to step back from it on a regular basis.

Some of my favorite activities include sitting in front of the ocean, still, contemplating … walking, alone with my thoughts … disconnecting and just writing … finding quiet with a good novel … taking a solitary bath.

Don’t get me wrong: I love being with loved ones, and walking with a friend or watching the sunset with my wife or reading a book with my child are also among my absolute favorite things in the world.

But solitude, in these days as much as ever, is an absolute necessity.

The Benefits of Solitude

The best art is created in solitude, for good reason: it’s only when we are alone that we can reach into ourselves and find truth, beauty, soul. Some of the most famous philosophers took daily walks, and it was on these walks that they found their deepest thoughts.

My best writing, and in fact the best of anything I’ve done, was created in solitude.

Just a few of the benefits I’ve found from solitude:

• time for thought
• in being alone, we get to know ourselves
• we face our demons, and deal with them
• space to create
• space to unwind, and find peace
• time to reflect on what we’ve done, and learn from it
• isolation from the influences of other helps us to find our own voice
• quiet helps us to appreciate the smaller things that get lost in the roar

There are many more benefits, but that’s to get you started. The real benefits of solitude cannot be expressed through words, but must be found in doing.

How to Find Solitude

You start by disconnecting.

Take every means of connecting with others, and sever them. Disconnect from email, from Facebook and Twitter and MySpace, from forums and social media, from instant messaging and Skype, from news websites and blogs. Turn off your mobile device and phones.

Turn off the computer … unless you’re going to use the computer to create, in which case, shut off the Internet, close your browser, and shut down every other program used to connect with others.

The next steps depend on which of two strategies you use:

1. Holing yourself up. This can be done in your office, by shutting the door and/or using headphones and the calming music of your choice. If possible, let coworkers know you can’t be disturbed during a certain block of your day. Or it can be done at home, by finding a quiet space, shutting the door if you can, or using headphones. The key is to find a way to shut out the outside world, including co-workers or those who live with you.

2. Getting away. My favorite way to find solitude, actually. Get out the door, and enjoy the outdoors. Take a walk, find a park or a beach or a mountain, find a quiet coffee shop, find a shady spot to rest. People watch, or nature watch.

Other tips:

• Try taking a quiet, relaxing bath from time to time.
• Curl up with a good novel.
• If you’re married with kids, ask your spouse to give you some time off to be alone, and then return the favor. Make it a regular swap.
• Take a walk every day.
• Get into work earlier, and work in quiet.
• Have a nice cup of tea.
• Try a regular time each day when you’re disconnected.
• Consider limiting the stream.
• Trouble with self-control? Use one of these tools.
• No time for solitude? Try these tips.
• Try sitting still, and focusing on your breath as it comes in and goes out. As your mind wanders to thoughts of the past and future, make a patient note of that, then gently return to your breathing.

“I live in that solitude which is painful in youth, but delicious in the years of maturity.” ~Albert Einstein

Continue Reading →

Welcome back. Here the story continues with the tale of days 4-6, what I would have considered our “Golden Period” at the Cape Epic. The disaster of Day 2 avenged on Day 3 where I narrowly avoided total meltdown. We move onto Day 4, where we had a change of location and a crazy day…

Day 4:

Determined to exact some revenge from the previous day where my body had a near #BOOM I ate extra and packed in a protein shake 30min before the start of the day. We were told to prepare for 45km of flat road, then some long, winding climbs into the winelands of Worcester before we hit the sand. We were not told it would be a mass start out of Worcester for 8km where we would hit a sand dune going at 15% for about 300m. We missed the split as I was caught napping (sorry Fretten!) and consolidated that the day would be another of waiting to pounce.

By now my hands were getting a little better and I was ready to rumble. We rode with the group, who were more than willing to work between km 8 and 30, especially the Brazilians who had their personal TV crew there. They were hammering on the front! Once we hit the first hills, however, we were bridging groups on the climbs and consolidating on the flats. It was loaded with short, steep climbs (not my best).

The long climbs were great and we just rode tempo outdoing ourselves, only for my tendinitis riddled hands to let us down a little on some of the steep downhills as I couldnt even grip the bars in places my fingers would just lock out when there were too many bumps in the road. Frustration was creeping in.

My hands went totally stupid again at about 60km and the extra work my lower back was going meant that my back was seizing from over compensation. I did find a great outlet for it. Its called shouting. Works like a charm. Release is everything. I moaned, screamed and gritted my way through the sandy patches, even if I had to stop once to stare at the sky for just a few moments to let my back release as my legs stopped working for a moment.

Brett was super solid on Day 4. Applause it due as he had to put up with silly falls from my side and general miff behavior from the Ninja.

I know we motored the last 40km and came in 35th, I think. More important than winning, we hung tough and stuck to our plan and it worked out again. It was a pretty uneventful day with the main goal being transition before the time trial on day 5.

Day 5:

We woke late and were off very late. Instead of a 7am start, we were off at 12:34:30. why? Today was only 27km and would take us roughly 1h20min in total vs the normal 6 hour day.

Now, Brett is a 40km TT specialist. 1 hour is his thing. He lives for it. It is rumored that the Red Mist earned its name from the color of the haze of sweat that explodes off his competitors as he blows by in a 1 hour time trial. You are getting the point. He rocks at 60min.

He was licking his chops on this day. It was a potential nightmare for me as I only warm up around 40km into the race. I was very nervous. I was so nervous in fact, that I forgot my gel before the race, forgot to take my 2 yellow pills on the start ramp and may have left common sense at the door as well.

I took off at what for me, was a furious pace, somewhere just short of having a bit of vomit in my throat and being able to lick my eyeballs. Like a mastiff after a long run, it wasn’t pretty, but it worked.

It hurt. I am not going to lie to you. For 1 hour and 23minutes, I hurt non-stop, flat out. It was the hardest effort I had ever put out on the bike. Brett was flawless, pushing me emotionally the whole way. He knows me so well. He kept me going for sure and I was riding as hard as I could, wanting more, more, more. We struggled through some teams on the technical downhill section which cost us our sub 1:20 but we were going as absolutely hard as I could.

We came in 38th, which was way above what I thought I was good for on the day. I was afraid of letting Brett down at his specialty but for me, this was a huge victory.

Day 6:

For many months it was promised to be THE day at Epic. I have to say, we were ready. Very.

By now there were some teams making a comeback like us and even though we were riding ahead of team we had not managed to hang onto the day before, each day, we were very consistent in overall results.

Day 6 began like any other day. Moerse breakfast, protein shake, in the start pen an hour before the race to secure position aaaaaaaaaaaaand GO!

There were 2 big climbs on the day. Both looked open, wide, etc i.e. perfect for me for a change. I tend to do better on the longer, less steep climbs. What I lack in torque I make up plenty in economy and what Brett called “The Metronome Pace”.

Again we were riding in a select group that included guys 10 places higher than us in the overall quite easily. It was amazing to ride in the group with Thomas Frischnecht, past world cup champion. I learnt quite a bit from following down just two hills. His lines were different to what I was used to riding, but twice as fast and without a doubt, smoother.

I felt particularly good on the day and the hands were recovering better each day. I helped set tempo for the group for long stretches and was waiting for the climbs, eager. A freak accident where a rider just lost balance going 40km/h on the flat was narrowly avoided. I have no idea how Brett got out of it. NO>IDEA>. It went slow motion for a second, maybe two, where it seemed like an eternity before he emerged from the dust unscathed.

On the first climb we dropped the group and solo’d ahead to the next few teams. Great. All was working well. The legs wanted Groenlandberg. It was to be a long, sandy climb up the back side of the beast, but the tempo was good. Every 2min or so one rider would drop off the group until we were alone, riding in scorched earth in the middle of nowhere. It took my breath away it was so beautiful and I had to remind myself there was a race to be had.

Up and over the top and into the valley we went, 15km of single track awaited us and another new destination – Elgin and Oak Valley and the promise of steak and red wine from Brett’s dad who had flown in to come support.

I am not the most technical single track rider and I was doing what I could. I was disgusted at the European teams who were taking short cuts in the forest. Once in Oak Valley we were energized and rode as hard as we could. We were exuberant as we felt we had conquered the day, evident by the photo above at the finish.

We came in roughly 45min earlier than we thought, testament to the synergy of our work together as a team. It was our best day out there. One to never forget when the legs felt amazing.

Steak, wine, dinner. Day 7 lay ahead, full of suprises. More on that later in the week, along with the Epilogue and the overall emotions of the week…

Continue Reading →

Real change rarely happens without a crisis.

Crisis is only as much of a crisis if you let it be, so even that is a relative term, however I don’t want to be telling you what is a crisis and what is not.

Given that my life is very unstable, as I am busy but not where I want to be financially just yet with lots of commitments that don’t relate to cash flow just yet! It’s a useful technique for you to consider if you have a very stable life – learn how to create your own crisis, even if its just in your head.

When we train, change happens slowly – so slowly that, most the time, we fail to see it. It can be the same in business – progress seems so slow that we might not realize the value that’s being created (or eroded). I am particularly in a space where progress seems slow, however if I am honest with myself I have to see the value that has been created. It just needs to become really real now in the really real world.

I have a team of people who I have to fall back on who provide services, advice and inspiration to me to get going, all necessary considering I am a one man operation. They gave me a few tips that I will share because they are fundamental to creating a team, and building value.

• Do you know why people are on your team?
• Why would a team member stay on the team?
• Who are the people that want to help you succeed?
• Where are these helpers most capable?

There is something to be said for focusing on our strengths and letting a good brand build itself. However, the “crisis” of time & email is a daily factor for me.

With the right help… the cohesion of our team is enhanced. Cohesion creates value, value enables me to succeed at my larger mission of helping people help themselves. This is of particular value to the Fairbairn Privae Bank Multisport Team. This is a service I provide as it results in no positive cash flow, but creates a great opportunity for the members of the team to outdo themselves and hopefully boost them into professional contracts in the near future. We are currently collecting and readying for the 2nd half of the year with the team to create more value for sponsors, athletes and people around the team.

I have recently asked myself those 4 questions about the team and its sponsors and was very happy with my answers.

Essentially thought, what is the one thing that could happen today that could change your world, and how are you driving the forces that be towards that one thing. It might not happen all by itself after all.

The inspiration for this post came from Endurance Corner, who asked the same question with regards to their coaching team.

Continue Reading →

click click if you can’t find Whasp products in your local. Whasp Shop is finally here. Free shipping on orders over R200.00

Click the image for a bigger version.

Continue Reading →

“Have you been to see the ass doctor.”

It wasn’t the first time I had heard these words this week, but they rang true to one of the key truths about this race. Look after your bum young man. It’s a vital commodity here at Cape Epic.

There are currently only 3 races in the world awarded with Haut Categorie status. Only one is a race where amateurs can compare. Its reserved for the really tough races. The other two are races you may have heard of. The Tour de France and the Tour of Italy, commonly referred to as the Giro d’Italia.

The poor Vuelta (Tour of Spain) can’t even compare in toughness to the Cape Epic, and that’s only for the pro racers of the world.

To explain the toughness is one thing. To go into detail as to the level you have to be prepared to go to every day in at times, your darkest places, is another level entirely. The euphoria of finishing a stage strong could easily be compared to a nirvana like state that lasts almost entirely until 15 minutes before the start of the next day. This is a place of extreme highs and lows, almost zero middle ground, but with a reward at the end that cannot be comprehended.

I guess you need to go in so far over your head at times that you cannot jump to touch the ceiling. These are the really rewarding situations.

Such was the Cape Epic for us, and for many others out there. Months of preparation (some would say your entire life) lead to the start where we were lined up in 400th odd place out of 1200 riders. Not having a pro seeding meant we had to start a way back. This despite being in the best shape of our lives, Brett and myself were ready as can be for whatever the week brought.

To go the race in a measured effort is certainly not the way people are looking at Cape Epic from what we can tell. The general plan for most people seems to be as follows:

“When the gun goes, I go as hard for as far as I can, then hope for the best.”

This rang true every single day, where I would be dropped at the start only to slowly and methodically claw our way back (I am a particularly slow starter) throughout the day. It would be something we would get quite good at during the race. It however, guarantees no TV time.

I hope to accurately describe the emotional race that this was in the following posts. I hope you can enjoy it…

Day 1

The pace was furious at the start, none more so than my brute Brett who was determined we could ride from about 200th team to 30th in the first 30minutes. He was not far off. Stronger than an ox, I had full faith that he was holding back a little, even if I was maxing out 12min into the 722km race. The road was full of short ups until we got to the first big climb where we rushed up and I was maxed out pretty much 20% up the hill and had to ask Brett to hold back. If the Epic was going to be this hard the whole way I was in trouble.

Up and down the Bainskloof Pass and onto a flat road that was about 20cm deep in sand we rode in a tight group to the second water point, where, of all things, I had to fasten my cleats. The climb began just after and we let the group go in the hope that we would see them on the climb again.

Onto the first real climb of the day I was sitting behind Brett and the tell tale goose bumps on the back of his legs were there and I realized we needed to slow down. Not often I have seen the beast at its max, but we were only halfway into the day and I needed to slow down to get him whole through the day.

By 70km I was feeding him, and by 80km I was pulling/pushing him. Never a great thing to see such a close mate hit the wall. I knew he would be back with a fury the next day, so I just set tempo and held strong as we were still catching teams.

We hit the infamous train tracks and by now, my hands were toast as my front shock has decided to lock at roughly 60km in. The train tracks ruined them and by the end I had blisters and was in severe back pain from over compensation. We basically rode in the middle of a train track for 8km through the rocks and bumps. This at 100km into the race.

2 more km to go and we caught two more teams and came in 34th men’s team on the day, just amazed at how well the day had gone, despite some energy lows and the mechanical I had. Just another day at Epic, but we were filled with enthusiasm for the days to come.

Day 2

We began the day with huge enthusiasm for us. We were hoping to apply a more gentle start now that we were in the A group. We were ahead of where we wanted to be when we made a navigational error and followed instead of watching for signs. We both made the error so no fault there.

Something to note. Epic is ridden as a 2 man team. We are each the other persons:

1. Mechanic
2. Chef
3. Anchor
4. Motivator
5. Wake-up call
6. Voice of reason
7. Tow-rope
8. Energy drink
9. Friend

I could go on and on, but really, Brett was an incredible partner. Thanks bra. This was our greatest adventure.

back to the tale…

500m later, at 6km into the race, we had what would be classed “a race ending mechanical”. Without going into too much detail, we had to push, pull, run and adjust the bike for the next 24km until we got into the first water point, where the mechanics did their best and gave us 3 gears to use on the bike.

A note. This was the most technical day in the Epic ever. More single track than in the previous 3 Epic races combined. To be stuck behind really slow people, 90min behind schedule, with only 3 gears on Brett’s bike, was hugely trying and frustrating. The way we dealt with it was to try and make some jokes and just set tempo that his equipment could handle.

It was massively disappointing for both of us and our heads were hung low as we made our way home. As the afternoon went on we tried to find the positives and find some motivation for the next day. We went to bed early with a plan to surprise everyone the next day as we were back starting in 150th again.

By now I also had full blown tendinitis elements in 4 of my fingers. I could not operate shoelaces, knives or earbuds, but was able to ride 100km a day over mountains. Amazing how the body can cope.

I would wake in the middle of the night with cramped rock hard fingers and have to bend them on the tent floor to get them to release.

Day 3:

Supposedly the big day, the big climb was removed. Instead there were some long, flat, sandy sections inserted and a climb so rocky I was swearing at Mother Nature in 42 languages. We were going really strong at 40km when out of the blue I had a really low moment. I went from being in a great mood riding tempo to being ravenous and on the verge of an epic bonk in about 32 seconds.

I was totally confused, feeling flat, lost, hungry and my mind was telling me to just keep going, that it would come right. I piled in 3 energy bars, 2 gels and almost an entire bottle of energy drink in the space of about 20minutes as an emergency precaution.

Amazingly, it held until the second water point, where I piled in 2 cups of coke and 2 more energy bars. It was desperate stuff but it came right and we caught 2 groups of guys and we all worked really well together on the flat road.

There we were. 3 teams. 3 languages, 3 nationalities. Nobody understood each other, yet we worked in perfect unison. I was riding next to a Venezuelan chap who I didn’t share a word with, yet we rode 1min in front at the exact same pace probably 10 times in a row, then moved away in unison to let the next two strangers come through. It was poetry in motion.

We dropped the lads on the last climb and motored in home, feeling strong again. In the end, 38th was what we had on the day, all the way up from 150th. It was one of our best days. Brett was really strong on the last 30km and made me work really hard. We were now fully into the routine and ready to ride the Worcester the next day.

This was a ding dong day but we dealt with a possible energy bonk far better than day 1. Communication is everything at Epic and the moment I felt it was coming I just told Brett to feed me as my hands were not working so well.

I will share the other 5 days tomorrow. Hope you enjoyed it so far…

Continue Reading →