The Prologue course followed routes that I have ridden hundreds of times. It’s literally my back yard. If I’d been racing for a podium finish it might have been an advantage, but of course I’m not. We’re just regular middle-aged men in lycra just trying to get to the end of Cape Epic in one piece, with medals hanging from our necks, a picture to put on the wall, and a story to tell our grandchildren.
It is therefore beyond me how my nervous system decided to dial my heart rate up to maximum today. Believe me, barring getting off the bike to relax under a tree for ten minutes, I tried everything to get it down. I pedalled gently up hills, I relaxed on the downhills, and for good measure I even chatted to Piet. The nett result was an average of 165 beats per minute, with a maximum of 184.
These are trails I know like the back of my hand, and I was hoping that my local’s knowledge would enable me to take advantage of planning for the recovery portions of climbs. All to no avail.
The high point of the day was the climb to the Big Tree, where a cacophony of cowbells and cheers energised us. It was probably one of the high points of my Epic experience thus far (and that includes all of 2017’s Epic).
The toughest climb of the day was one that the race organisers have euphemistically called Quarry Climb. Locals call it Motherfucker for good reason. Don’t be fooled by the soft-soaped version. This is proper.
We’ll be starting Stage One near the back of the field, which is a good place to be for the first few stages because there’s less chance of a rush of ego pushing one to ride too hard early on.
Unlike my race day heart rate, the ego dial is controlled by my brain. Four consecutive stages in excess of 110km are good reason to keep a lid on things!