A South African mountain bike stage race with the highest UCI status, the Absa Cape Epic, has never had a South African team finish on the top step of the podium. Two of South Africa’s most talented and decorated cyclists, Dave George and Kevin Evans, have formed a professional cycling team with the express purpose of achieving this goal. This is their story.

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Sounds like a custom made Urban Ninja blog post.

Suffering, sacrifice, success. So much in here speaks volumes to me and touches me in the spaces which are remembered. There are setbacks, comebacks and then there is the story of these 2 guys, taking on the absolute best in the world. Not that they do not fall in that category. Dave and Kevin are both incredible world class athletes, each proven they can take on the best in the world.

In all my years as an athlete and having come across some of the most single minded dedicated people on the planet, this story is unique. Sure, I have an inside edge into what is going on within the team with my connection with some of the divisions of Nedbank. Sure, I am aware that other teams are as dedicated. This story makes me proud to be a South African where the worlds best talent lives, breathes and dreams of success on the highest platform. Where the toughest races in the world take place, where pass participation is the norm and where we take on challenges and adventures with vooma, gusto and then some…

We never back down, we never give up. Those are our virtues as South Africans. I am excited for Cape Epic. I am going to head out and watch some of it for sure. I urge you to do the same. I urge you to follow them on twitter and watch their progress live. This is a historic effort and something we should all be proud of.

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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…

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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…

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“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…

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Now here is something all future Cape Epic entrants might want to take note of.

When you enter the Cape Epic, your right of passage is lined with past Cape Epic participants as well as future hopefuls who will all tell you that you are going to die out there, that your equipment is going to fail on you and that you will cry. Plenty.

I took the warnings to heart when I went about seeking the best partnerships for my Cape Epic experience, including my robust riding partner, who had a tendency of being a juggernaut. The basic test for being part of our support team was a simple sentence:

“Can Brett break it?”

Nice and easy eh. Not so much when you are the product manager. His reputation precedes him. After some vigorous testing and some tense moments, we have come out with the following plan to make sure we get to the end in one piece, with zero mechanicals.

We will both be on these bikes, albeit with slightly different specs.

Fitted SRAM, Rock Shox, Continental Tires and our own personal bits and pieces (including some amazing Industry Nine Wheels on mine) we are ready to rumble. The bikes got through Sani2c without a single issue. They are completely amazing. Morewood, we love you!

Equally as important is our nutrition. We have gone with a two-prong attack. Our biggest concerns are replacement of glycogen, blood sugar levels, focus after 4 hours on the trails and constipation. Yes, you read that correctly. Here is the attack strategy:

On the bike we are fueled by Whasp Nutrition (energy drinks and gels and special little caffeine boosters for hour 6) as well as controlling our lactic acid levels and blood sugar levels with Sport-X‘s Endurance Packs for in race and recovery. We have been playing with both sets of products over the last 4 months and have both had the same, favorable results. Consuming 6-8 gels a day, 6 bottles of energy drink and about 20-30 tablets a day takes special preparation and a bit of HTFU when it gets over 33 degrees out there and the last thing you feel like is warm naartjie juice with 2 pills. yum. We are lucky to have such great partners.

Nothing kills vooma quite like Whaspgel… no wait, wrong comparison. Nothing kills your momentum quite like a puncture. We have been extremely fortunate and we are aiming to keep the good fortune (of puncture-free days) going with Sludge products in our tires every day. Seriously. If you are not using Sludge, no matter what the man says, you are cutting yourself a little short. Local is lekker if you haven’t noticed all our products are local and Sludge is no different.

The last thing to really keep an eye on is intensity in the first few days. Cape Epic is for us, about days 5, 6 & 7. The real time gaps will appear on these days, so its best we watch our intensities in the first few days.

My trusty Suunto T6 is going to keep me going and we are itching for another one, hopefully it`ll arrive in time. Suunto have done such a great job with the T6 that its almost permanently out of stock. I`ll be watching my cadence, speed, heart rate all simultaneously all day, making sure the effort is measured, rather than powered like it was at Sani2c.

So we have done our 6 hour days out there in the heat, drinking, riding, watching ourselves, taking pills and trying not to die. We are being looked after post-riding every day by two amazing companies.

First off is Biosport, who are going to massage our legs in the first few days and I am told that by day 5 we will be skipping legs for hands and neck massages, such is the nature of this beast. Line and her team are looking after a huge contingency this year, giving us lunch and shakes and general words of “don’t quit freak!”

Line has been instrumental to my entire season and I cannot thank her enough for believing in us.

Our bikes will be getting some daily service by the only guy I let work on my bike. Kyle from Legacy Cycles has walked a long way with both Brett and myself. Kyle understands bicycles and the way they move out on the trail and where any issues come from better than anybody I know and we are excited to have him restore the beasts to working order after banging over Western Cape rock for 6 hours a day.

That’s it for today. I`ll talk about our title sponsor, our kit, our special recovery tools (beer and wine) tomorrow. Have an amazing day.

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There was so much hype around the Epic route. Its like guys imagined there would be an easy day in there somewhere, that magically, a pan flat 25km stage would be announced on day 5 to make it easier. Its the Epic people….

Here is my personal take on the route, now that its been made public:

Day 1: In keeping with economic scales, this is the day that I presume the Epic bank on having 1/3 of the field bailing so that they can save on food, etc. So, as its traditionally been, its a day where they try and break you. Its no different. Its brutal. The last 12km are along a railroad, going uphill along the railroad, on a mountainbike. Nuff said.

Day 2: The Yawn before the STORM. I bet there is epic soft sand in there in the last 20km. This day will be harder than expected, because you are going to expect to be going a bit easier, because of day 3. Don’t be that stupid.

Day 3: GET ERR DONE. Imagine your car stalling in your driveway because its too steep. We are going to do that on our bikes on day 3. Basically going from Camps Bay to about 200m above the Cable Car, in 20km. On our bikes. Offroad. WTF!?! Only to be topped by a ridiculously technical descent of terror to the finish and a long, flat section which will destroy your mind. I bet every single guy in the field will want to quit at some point on day 3.

Day 4: to add insult to injury, day 4 looks like a heart beat chart. We too, will be wondering if we are dead or alive… countless little hills. By little of course I mean like 2-3km of pain, so lots of Chapmans Peaks from Noordhoek side. I will put cash on it that they are covered in sand and molasses.

Day 5: The route profile of this stage is not online yet, so it must be so scary that they can’t put it up. I am personally looking forward to it. Can only be fun going 860m vertical in roughly 13km. So Camps Bay to 100m over the cable car station, but this time in 13km. Oh, then vertically straight back down again.

Day 6: In my opinion, the hardest day out there. You will be too far in to give up, but so tired by this stage you might do permanent damage. A nice climb up to the cable car at 106km INTO the race should sort the mongrels from the township hounds at this point. I expect to be crying on this day. I bet there is sand… can’t wait for the sand.

Day 7: this day will go by in a blur. Its the auto-pilot day. nothing will make sense anymore. people will be speaking in tongues. there will be delirious giggles.

Day 8: last day. somehow the power will be back. we will be flying towards the finish with purpose, excited to be done, but wishing it could go on forever, but with more personal support from our loved ones. It will all seems so quick, like it went by in a flash, even though in the moments it felt like forever in hell.

Not one day will be easy. Not one day will have you thinking the whole day that it went well. Its just not designed that way. Its meant to push us beyond out belief of what we are capable of. Its just freaking awesome…

The full route profile, by the way, is here. Just look out for the 2010 route button near the top.

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Storck calls this its Aero 2. Shimano DI2 compatible only, and you are looking around $18000 complete here. Apparently Faris here in the pic at Cape Epic 2009, gets his for Kona.

Thats him in the back, suffering. More or less where I’ll be at Epic 2010.

Which I doubt I could do on a Storck Aero 2.

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hello guys and girls. another cracking weekend in Cape Town saw the first From Monday workshop go down, as well as my first weekend of structured training.

why structured training I hear?

well, I have accepted a major challenge, and its for the greater good as well as for a bit of mental extremity. In an effort to grow and accept and take what comes, I have gained entry to some incredible races early next year, and aim to race 4 extreme races in the space of 4 months. they are:

1. Totalsports Challenge

2. sani2c

3. Cape Epic

4. Ironman South Africa

Just the entry for Epic is amazing, as the worlds toughest stage race, and a waiting queue of about 1000 people to get in, the fact that I got an entry is amazing.

BUT, there is more. In order to raise R100 000 for street girls…. YES, you heard me right. I want to raise R100 000 for a wonderful home in Cape Town called Ons Plek, which takes girls off the street, rehabs them, returns them to a life of meaning, and does this process over and over again.

I can only do this by racing all these races, as I am going in with a “sponsor 1km of my journey” campaign launching in about 8 weeks. I have entries, but here is where you come in.

I need sponsors to help cover the expenses to do the 4 races. The expenses are considerable. I believe not only does this website offer a worthy channel to advertise on, which all sponsors will receive, but I believe that with my partner for the MTB challenges, Brett Chilcott, that we can get some good TV time, and break the R100 000 barrier in funds.

Would you sponsor me? Do you know of anyone who wants to be involved with over 8000 people on a regular basis. This month, I have had over 52 000 unique visitors to this website. That is more than Runners World, Bicycling, Triathlete Magazine, Go-Multi and MSM magazine together.

I am asking for very little in real terms, if you look at those numbers. I am not asking you to support someone random. You read this blog, you get value from it, and you know that I offer a service of integrity, honesty, and a real return.

Dont believe me? Look at the list of people in my sidebar who already believe in this concept.

my proposal is attached ons-plek_urban-ninja-2009-2010-proposal here to have a look through at who is already involved, and to see what I am offering.

Any help will be hugely appreciated.

This blog has gone from zero to 2nd best Sports blog in South Africa. 3rd best Original Writing blog in South Africa, in the space of 12 months. Zero to 52 000 readers in 12 months.

This is the next phase in this incredible journey.

Can you help me?

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There is just something about a weekend like we just had in the fairest Cape, isn’t there? The weather was not too hot, but still beachable, the wind didn’t blow us into smithereens, and the evenings were cool enough to let your metabolism slow down enough to have a sleep that can only be described as “epic”.

Speaking of Epic, you should be tracking The Housemate via the big world of the internet on www.cape-epic.com as he tasks riding 900km in 7 days across more mountains than you`ve ever driven in your car. It’s a noble task, life changing, and he will come back a better man for it.

They are team Fairbairn Private Bank, and drop him a line on 082 419 1000 with the words “Roco & enjoy the vibe. Its far but its awesome” in there somewhere.

I had what can only be described as a swan song of a weekend with regards to training. I have had the last 2 weeks off. Not taking it easy, but totally OFF training. Not even a hint of mileage. The purpose of this is for my mind to take a break as well. No planning kitbags and sessions, no visualisation or thinking about training or racing. Quite lekka I say. (more…)

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