/ 22 May 2009

Scenic suffering

Last week I snapped up an invitation from my editor to enter the Mabalingwe Lion Man Race. In his email he stated clearly that he was looking for someone moderately fit and possessing a functioning mountain bike to join either the 80km or the 35km race. I opted for the 35km but had none of the requirements.

Even so, I thought it was worth a try.

The last time I climbed on a bike, which I had won in some competition, was in 1997. A tough task lay ahead for me. Getting my fitness level up to scratch in just three days was out of the question. I had to shop around for a mountain bike. It wasn’t a pleasant experience and I almost didn’t make it for the race. A decent mountain bike costs anything between R2 000 and R50 000.

Not wanting to give up, a phone call at the 11th hour to Lance Schneider, the GT bicycle products manager, made me feel like an elite cyclist. Schneider agreed to lend me a new GT Avalanche 1.0. The bike, which sells for R9 500, has an aluminium frame, 27 gears and suntour lock-out suspension, to name just a few of its handy extras. Within an hour Schneider had arranged with Linden Cycles, where the bike was to be collected.

I started boasting around the office, telling colleagues that I had a GT in my car and would show my fellow riders at Mabalingwe Nature Reserve what I was made of. The day of the race came.

I spent about 15 minutes trying to put together the wheels of my suave GT.

When everything came together with the help of a passerby, I started riding up and down next to the starting point because I wanted people to take notice of the expensive bike I had.

I was like the child next door who has loads of football equipment but is a terrible player.

People noticed that I was riding an expensive bike and some told me how good GT bikes are. Then there were those who tried to befriend the black racer with a nice bike. Because I had a fast bike I thought it would be better for me to start the race at the back and catch up with the other racers once the pushing and shoving of the start was over.

We took off and the first 2km were exciting, with people chatting along the way. I was thinking to myself: ”I’m going to finish in the top 50.”

We went through the first hills and I survived. At that stage people were passing me, but I thought to myself: ”Not to worry, I will catch up.”

I caught up with the other two black guys who took part in the race.

I changed gears and went past them like lightning. I heard one of them saying ”uyashisa” (you rock), not knowing that I was just taking advantage of them.

The course through the reserve is tough. It is full of rocks and sand, making it difficult to ride, and the hills are a definite no-go area for the unfit.

When we reached the first uphill of the first 8km, which stretches for about 2km, I was already struggling, moaning and groaning to myself about agreeing to take part in the event. I was finished.

Then we had to go through a kneedeep stream of water. That was another low point for me — I could only imagine the worst because we were in the middle of bush. But I survived.

From that point my legs could not push me anymore. I climbed off my bike and pushed it for about 400m until a lady came screaming past me about how I should ride a bicycle and not push it. I could not believe that we were still about 4km before the first water point (halfway). I tried but I couldn’t.

When I reached the halfway point I found the same lady urging me on and after another 30 minutes she came flying past me again. At that stage there were no hills, but I was on a long stretch with no riders in sight. I kept going slowly until I saw a dead snake.

Then that was what kept me going (the fear of snakes). The thought of stopping and seeing snakes kept crossing my mind. I decided to call my wife to tell her how much I love her. Within minutes after hanging up, walking slowly past the 30km peg, two warthogs emerged from the bush. I cycled for my dear life.

I pushed myself until the finish. The ego of a black racer with a GT bike had disappeared into the Mabalingwe Nature Reserve.

Next time I will stick to football and will not subject the powerful GT bike to the 820th position. But at least there were still 38 riders behind me and a few others who did not finish the race.