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Cape Epic: Stage Six

Oscar Foulkes March 25, 2017 Cape Epic No comments
By the end of yesterday we’d been riding for roughly 35 hours. Barring some cramping on Monday, nausea on Tuesday, and an unspecified flat day on Wednesday, our bodies have generally held up well.

Except, I have been holding back on a delicate subject. It’s one you may have been thinking about, but have been too polite to ask. Yes, the point of contact with the saddle was raw by the end of yesterday. Soon after six this morning Piet and I presented ourselves at the medics tent for an advertised “brand new butt”. It’s a common problem, and they are very well set up for it.

Picture the scene – three or four men bending over with their pants around their ankles while a medic is applying plasters to sensitive areas. You may think that dignity is abandoned under these circumstances, but by tuning into the humour of the situation it’s possible to walk out of the clinic in a fabulously good mood.

Today was billed as the Queen Stage because it was the day with the most climbing (2750m), and a take-no-prisoners 103km over Groenlandberg and other big climbs. In preparation I changed my chain ring to a slightly smaller 32T to make climbing a bit easier on tired legs. After our steak dinner and a good night’s rest we felt good.

We climbed almost solidly for the first two-and-a-half hours, which is how long it took to reach the top of Groenlandberg. The descent can be treacherous, but that didn’t stop Piet descending at a pace that led me to asking him if he’d filed a flight plan with air traffic control. Much of this is thanks to his Santa Cruz Tallboy, which descends like a champion. In fact, throughout the day he rode that bike as if he was impersonating Greg Minnaar.

Our plan was for me to set the pace up the big climbs, and for Piet to do it for the rest. I did my best to hang onto his back wheel. After just under seven-and-a-half hours of riding we rolled over the line as the 18th Grand Masters team (an improvement on the previous stage’s 20th), which pushed us to 28th in the GC for the category. I can’t see us improving much from there because we lost too much time on the first few stages.

We’re looking forward to a positive finish at Val de Vie tomorrow.

Cape Epic: Stage Five

Oscar Foulkes March 24, 2017 Cape Epic No comments
Today was nominally an easier day, at a billed 84km, with 2150 metres of climbing. That’s the theory.

We did 25% of the day’s climbing in the first 10km, and 50% in the first 26km. It’s a tough way to start, so the game plan was to take it easy until about 30km. This was when we started the first of the singletrack, and we would then decide how we would ride. That was the theory.

In practice, Piet was particularly frisky today, even by his standards. In fairness, he had two dreadful days on Monday and Wednesday. Why hold back a man who is on form?

On the initial few climbs I did my best to keep him in sight, although not to the extent of tracking him on the Cape Epic app (he is carrying our tracking device). He waited for me at the tops of climbs, and from the first singletrack we were in closer proximity for the rest of the day.

In keeping up with him, I wouldn’t describe my level of exertion as ‘taking it easy’. We then rode the singletrack at a furious pace, partly because the A-to-Z series above the Grabouw Country Club requires constant effort, and also because we kept having to power past slower riders.

The technical skills (or, lack thereof) of some riders turned into a frustration throughout the stage. I’m not claiming extraordinary skills on our part, but on Epic one would expect something more confident than we encountered. There was so much singletrack on today’s route that it wasn’t the day for patiently sitting it out.

The tactics we employed to pass some riders were much more aggressive than one would expect from a team heading for a position 360 finish on the day.

At this point I should probably issue a general apology if we ruined anyone’s day. I have already apologised in person to Ashley, with whom I brushed handlebars in my eagerness to attack the berms. I’m not holding my breath waiting for an apology from the German rider who cut corners to drop into the trail ahead of me after water point three, and then proceeded to descend like a granny.

While we’re being polite it’s probably appropriate to express my gratitude to Cape Epic for not taking us the hard way up Nuweberg. Yesterday’s over-delivery of climbing is forgiven. We’re good.

It is a subject of study by sports scientists that riders’ heart rates drop during Epic. Today my average heart rate was 131. Based on the degree to which I was gasping for breath much of the way, it’s a ride I would usually have done somewhere closer to 140. My maximum today was 161, whereas I would ordinarily have peaked above 170.

In trying to get perspective on why I felt quite as poked as I did, I had a look at the day’s final results. Today we were the 20th Grand Masters team home, having been in the high 30s and 40s all week. That’s what happens when Piet is the captain of the Sergeant Hardy team.

Tonight we’re having a steak dinner, delivered courtesy of the Dish Food & Social team. It’s just the thing to fuel up for a day that has 2750 metres of climbing. Well, that’s the theory.

Today's route profile

Today’s route profile

Cape Epic: Stage Four

Oscar Foulkes March 23, 2017 Cape Epic No comments
I don’t think I’ve ever been happier to see a cloudy day with some faint early-morning drizzle. It did get up to 30 degrees later, but the couple of hours of coolth were gratefully received. The price we paid was a head wind for large sections in the first 80km, but it was worth it. Another day of extreme heat would have been a problem.

The day was billed as 113km, with 2150 metres of climbing. We seemed to cover slightly less distance, but we must have climbed at least an extra 200 metres. One can’t accuse Cape Epic of short-changing us on our entry fee. Under-promise, over-deliver. Ha-bloody-ha!

More than 1000 metres of climbing was in 25 of the final 30km. We struggled to reconcile the route profile with what we were experiencing, which made me a little bit grumpy. I got over my grumpiness when we hit the singletrack sections that took us to the finish – that was fun.

The route had me confused at times. When we reached the N2, when I would have expected to turn right towards Bot River, we instead turned towards Caledon, where we did a close inspection of the wind turbines. These are the same wind turbines we’d viewed from other angles over the previous two days. I don’t know how much more I need to learn by viewing them, other than experiencing first-hand why they build them where they do (think riding up several hills into a wind many forces stronger than the surrounding area).

The route took a few more detours further along, to the extent that it would be no exaggeration to say that the route had more detours than my mother-in-law telling us about her trip to the supermarket to buy eggs and milk.

After the second water point there was a gravel road section with a strong head wind. A Columbian team decided to lead the way, and we gratefully followed. However, they weaved across the road from the extreme left to the extreme right. And back again. It’s almost as if the lack of a white line disorientated them, if you get my drift. OK, enough innuendo for one paragraph.

The water points were at roughly 30km intervals, which is the distance of an easy training ride. So, I didn’t view the route as one chunk of 113km, rather three-and-a-bit training rides. That worked fine until Cape Epic lied about how much climbing we had to do.

The bottom line is that Piet and I both had a good day. Actually, we had a great day. We passed many teams, making up more than a starting batch worth of places. I know I said that the finishing position doesn’t matter, but it’s a nice affirmation of the many hours we’ve spent training, especially seeing as we have each had our turns at having off days this week.

One of the successful aspects of our riding partnership is that we have a similar attitude to descending. Being able to go downhill confidently is an easy way of making up time. Of course, having cautious riders ahead of us is an easy way to lose time, which is why we make an extra effort to get ahead of the bunch at the tops of hills. This is especially important just before entering singletrack sections.

Last night I had a text message from former pro rider Dave George (currently in 20th position on the GC with his team mate Justin Tuck), in which he said that the body adjusts to the fatigue, and that one gets stronger and stronger as the stages pass.

We go into the last three stages with our bodies and bikes in good shape, feeling good about the tests that await. Dave may be right.

Today's route profile

Today’s route profile

Cape Epic: Stage Three

Oscar Foulkes March 22, 2017 Cape Epic 2 comments
“I knew when I met you an adventure was going to happen.” – AA Milne (Winnie the Pooh)

Today would have been my brother’s 49th birthday. He was big on adventures, and this was a quote he often used. It was at his instigation that we went on the first season of Ultimate Braaimaster, and then followed up the following year with a supercar road trip (click here for that story). He also suggested that we do Cape Epic together, but canned the idea when his behind got sore after a leisurely pedal while on holiday in Vietnam.

In the final few years of his life we had some memorable adventures together, and I’m hugely grateful to him for setting up the opportunities.

Cape Epic is an adventure. OK, it’s perhaps a bit more extreme than an adventure needs to be, but it’s one nonetheless. For the riders at the pointy end of the field it’s a race. The rest of us just want to get around safely, in a sensible amount of time, and have some fun in the process. Whether one finishes 300th, 400th or 156th is actually irrelevant. Having the adventure is what counts.

Today’s stage was a relatively user-friendly 78km, with 1650m of climbing, in a big loop around Greyton. That doesn’t mean it was an easy day, though. The field lost a few more teams, with just 538 remaining in the GC. As an indication of how testing the conditions are, one of the ‘hyenas’, Robert Vogel (a very strong rider, by the way), ended up on a drip after shepherding the tail-enders to the finish.

Most of Greyton’s trails are open to anyone with a permit. They are less congested than other parts of the Western Cape, and an excellent reason to spend a weekend out here. The singletrack sections are fun, with some challenging climbs (especially the zig-zag climb up Botmaskop). The most fun, though, was the 5km Land Rover technical section, comprising flowing singletrack from the top of the UFO climb. I was lucky to mostly have a clear run all the way down, so no need for excessive braking. This is the reason why we do this sport!

I felt strong today, but I know from experience that one doesn’t always feel strong. It’s at these times that words like “digging deep” or “Rule 5” or “hurt box” get used. Wherever one is in the field there are riders fighting their own personal battle to summon up the strength to continue.

There is nothing supernatural about endurance. It’s simply the action of taking the next step towards the goal, and the one after that. I’ve spent some time over the past three days riding in proximity to Reuben van Niekerk, who has completed three Epics. On one leg.

Whether he’s on the bike, or off it, getting around the course is many multiples harder than it is for riders with both legs. Huge respect!

I’m surrounded by acts of great courage. It’s an inspiring kind of adventure to have.

Reuben van Niekerk has completed three Cape Epics on a prosthetic leg. Barring accidents, he is on track to take his tally to four.

Reuben van Niekerk has completed three Cape Epics on a prosthetic leg. Barring accidents, he is on track to take his tally to four.

Cape Epic: Stage Two

Oscar Foulkes March 21, 2017 Cape Epic No comments
The Cape Epic is not known for clemency. In fact, it’s more likely to draw accusations of dishing out gratuitous pain. No surprise, then, that the first route designer, Leon Evans, earned himself the nickname Dr Evil. Nothing much has changed.

However, for the first time in its history, a stage of Cape Epic was shortened today, from 103km to 62km. Frankly, it was the right thing to do. I neglected to mention yesterday that after stage one the medics’ area was like a war zone. Eventually, riders were being sent to the local hospital for treatment because there just wasn’t capacity to deal with all the injuries, dehydration and other issues.

In March, the Western Cape can have the first of the rainy season’s cold fronts. Winds can be strong, whether south-easterly or north-westerly. Heat waves, as we’ve seen this week, are also possible. However, none of the aforementioned scenarios have the dangers implicit in temperatures approaching – or exceeding – 40 degrees. People die in this kind of heat, and even if they don’t die, the sheer number of affected riders means that the medical facilities can’t cope.

We (i.e. Dish Food & Social) are serving hamburgers in the public area for the Grand Finale at Val de Vie. One of the Cape Epic hoops we had to jump through was the signing of a 12-page Occupational Health and Safety document. That’s for a hamburger.

The health of 1200 riders is a far bigger thing, which illustrates the distinction between a hazard and a risk. Every time I get on my bike there’s a risk that I’ll fall. It may be a risk with relatively low probability, but it can happen. On the other hand, a hazard is a situation with known dangers, against which no protection is put in place. Let me give you another example. The use of various apparatus in a children’s playground has a risk of injury, but when the swing has rusted chain links in a poor state of repair it becomes a hazard.

Sending the Cape Epic field out on a demanding course, with medical support geared for more benign conditions, would be hazardous, especially when a large percentage of the riders has flown in from the Europe or North America.

Piet was a lot stronger today, although not quite his usual indestructible self just yet. He pedalled with care, as did I. Nevertheless, approaching the first water point, I started feeling a bit nauseous and headachy. I walked up most of the steep climb that followed soon after. At the top we stopped to catch our breath. I’d barely finished telling Piet that I was feeling nauseous when I violently expelled the contents of my stomach. It’s the first time I’ve ever vomited during exercise.

I felt quite weak for the next 10km, but then staged a mini bounce-back, thanks to the Octane Gel that Piet’s sister had insisted I carry with me.

There was a time I thought I wasn’t going to make it, and if the route had remained at its original 103km, I’m not sure I would have managed to finish. Or, if I’d finished, I would have ended up with the medics.

The day finished without further incident for us. We were extremely grateful to have an entire afternoon for recovery, rather than just a couple of rushed hours.

Despite the route being chopped at what would have been the second water point, a significant number of riders dropped out.

Tomorrow is going to be another hot day.

The riders - very relieved to have another day completed.

The riders – very relieved to have another day completed.

Cape Epic: Stage One

Oscar Foulkes March 20, 2017 Cape Epic No comments
Normally, I’d take a few hours to process what happened on a ride before putting fingers to keyboard. Unfortunately, due to us finishing so late, I just don’t have the time. Apologies if any this seems disjointed as a result.

In the start chute we encountered a man who has done everything in his power to make Cape Epic as hard as possible. For starters, he’s riding a single speed. In other words, there is just one gear, which is usually not an easy one for spinning up a hill. The bike has a steel frame – not even alloy – that is so heavy I could barely lift it with one hand. Then, for good measure, it has no suspension, either front or rear. His sole concession to comfort is a gum guard hanging from his neck, which he pops into his mouth if the terrain gets too teeth chattering. His name? Max. Yes, feel free to add the “Mad”.

The ride up Rotary Drive was an endless stream of entertaining banter that kept my mind off the exertion of keeping the bike moving. It was with mixed feelings that we kicked on at the top of the hill, leaving Max and his merry men.

Today was tough (as if you’d expect me to say anything different about stage one of the Cape Epic). The temperature exceeded 40 degrees, which made the combination of distance and climbing that much more taxing. Plus, we rode long distances on sandy tracks.

Then, with 40km to go, Piet started cramping very badly, with the result that we lost so much time we finished just 45 minutes before cut-off. The field shrunk by 10% today, through a combination of falls, heatstroke and the route just being difficult to negotiate in the time allowed.

Special mention needs to be made of the Haarkapperspoort descent, which is very steep and long. The path is a glorified hiking trail, a combination of loose gravel and rocks. Riding it is equivalent to skiing on a bicycle. You just have to trust Physics and let gravity do the rest. It’s one of the gnarliest descents I’ve ever ridden.

Piet ended up on a drip, which worked miracles. As I type this, he is cheerfully receiving a massage, with a glass of Restless River Chardonnay in hand. It’s going to be hot again tomorrow, but we’re hopeful of a better outcome.

Greyton awaits…

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Cape Epic: Prologue

Oscar Foulkes March 19, 2017 Cape Epic No comments
Seasoned Epic riders may find some of my observations quaint, on the basis of this stuff being old hat for them. Here goes anyway…

I have watched many television broadcasts of the Epic Prologue. And, yes, I have imagined how it would feel to be in that branded van, waiting to roll down the ramp. Up to that point it was all very exciting, maybe even in a Christmas Day kind of way (for a kid). However, within seconds of starting, my heart rate leapt to 145, and remained above 170 for most of the rest of the 26km.

The climbs were steep, and everyone seemed to be in hurry-up mode, which led to a vicious circle of extra effort and higher heart rate.

On balance it was all fun and exciting. Plus, riding in this randomized order for what is effectively a time trial meant that we got up close with riders we won’t see again for the rest of the race. On the Hoogekraal descent, I was passed by some international riders. These guys were a treat to watch on the trails, even if they were disappearing at a rapid rate.

We didn’t have any mechanicals, although I lost a lot of pressure in my rear tyre on the final climb. I had to ride the succession of berms leading to the finish with greater care than usual, because my rear wheel had hardly any traction.

I’ll be able to report with more authority tomorrow, but it seems that the one great thing about the Prologue is that it releases pre-race tension.

The advice that is handed out by experienced riders is to take it easy for the first few days. I didn’t see much of that today. However, that didn’t stop Paul Valstar, who was commentating at the final climb, from describing Piet and my Prologue effort as “riding conservatively”. Take a look at my heart rate chart alongside – does that look like someone who is taking it easy?

Tomorrow we start the real work of Cape Epic, a 102km loop from Hermanus to Stanford and back, with 2300m of climbing.

My heart rate during Prologue. Note the 168 bpm average, with a max of 188, hardly the effort of someone "riding conservatively".

My heart rate during Prologue. Note the 168 bpm average, with a max of 188, hardly the effort of someone “riding conservatively”.

By comparison, my diesel engine partner was cruising.

By comparison, my diesel engine partner was cruising.

Epic Training: Week 28

Oscar Foulkes March 18, 2017 Cape Epic No comments
Last week was billed as Kit Week. In truth, our kit wasn’t entirely complete, because we still needed socks. Having pushed out a boat laden with pinkness, we couldn’t exactly suddenly turn demure in the sock department. However, we found that the availability of pink socks is extremely limited. Most of what’s out there is more in the line of neon pink, which doesn’t work with the muted pink of our tops.

OK, so perhaps there isn’t anything terribly muted about two men in their fifties riding the world’s toughest mountain bike race in pink, but we had to at least make the effort. The problem is that the sole candidate cost an outrageous R390 per pair. You must understand that I am hard pressed to buy a t-shirt for more than R250.

With a nudge from Piet, and a reminder to self of Henry Kissinger’s “there is nothing that clears the mind like the absence of alternatives” I went out and bought two pairs for each of us (as opposed to the three sets of kit).

One of the week’s to-dos was putting together our wine list for the week (neither of us has any intention of doing this ‘dry’). As I was selecting appropriately epic wines, it occurred to me that these R390 pink jobs are to socks what Pinot Noir is to wine. I can easily justify spending R390 on a bottle of wine for a special occasion. I don’t know what this says about my priorities.

The theme for the wine list is that they should be excellent wines that represent the route. I had a few candidates lined up, but mailed a couple of wine friends for suggestions, both of whom chipped in with gifted bottles.

So, here’s our list:
Alheit Vineyards La Colline Semillon – this Franschhoek vineyard is over 80 years old, and the wines are made by the Alheits, who are based in Hemel-en-Aarde (two boxes ticked)

Newton Johnson Family Vineyards Pinot Noir – fabulous pinot from Hemel-en-Aarde
Savage ‘Follow the Line’ – some of the grapes come from the Overberg region (and we’ll be following telephone lines for much of the route)
Domain de la Vieille Julienne Côtes du Rhône – gifted along with the Savage, because the grape varieties are similar. Not that one needs justification for pulling the cork, but the Tour de France goes through the region, and Cape Epic is like the Tour de France of mountain biking (just not as far).
Luddite File 13 – shiraz from Bot River
Paul Cluver Pinot Noir – some of the most fun single track we’ll be riding is on this property
Crystallum Peter Max Pinot Noir – made in Bot River from Hemel-en-Aarde grapes. Our house wine, in case Messrs Sauser, Platt or Hincapie pop around for a drink.
Mullineux Syrah – qualifies on a technicality because of the Leeu Family Vineyards connection with Franschhoek (and Piet brought a few bottles along to the Daisyway training camp in December).

During the week I did a couple of easy ‘leg loosener’ rides, the second of which was a spin to Hout Bay on Friday afternoon. I encountered a few other Epic riders doing the same thing.

With our registration now complete, the excitement of pre-race vibe is close to maximum.

Numbers are on bikes. One more sleep…

Wine update: while packing, I came across a couple of Hemel-en-Aarde wines – the sensational Restless River Chardonnay and Alheit’s Vine Garden white blend – that both got added to the selection.


Epic Training: Week 27

Oscar Foulkes March 12, 2017 Cape Epic No comments
The Velominati Rules leave no doubt about what type of kit is appropriate for which cycling discipline, but the sole prescriptions relating to looking great are reserved for the bike itself. Nevertheless, there is a requirement for team members taking part in a stage race to wear custom kit. One can’t pitch up at Cape Epic wearing matching Wines2Whales tops, even if they are of vintage provenance.

No, nothing less than specially made up shirts, with matching bib shorts, gilets and arm warmers, and the relevant year’s Cape Epic Riders’ logo, will suffice. If you are travelling with a support team, whether masseuse or mechanic, those people should have matching t-shirts. WAGs, too, should have appropriate kit (matching pom-poms optional).

This was Kit Week. On Monday, we took delivery of our Sergeant Hardy kit (see related post here). On Friday, we received our ABSA Pride goodie bags (a total spoil in the kit department). And, for good measure, Piet gave me a full set of RECM kit (complete with Epic rider logo).

I also picked up my Jenna Lowe Trust top (you can still donate here), bringing the tally to seven new tops and six new bib shorts, as well as four new gilets. The Velominati have a rule relating to the number of bikes one can own, but not the number of sets of cycling kit. My cupboard space (a fraction of that available in the master bedroom) is already full to overflowing, but I’m not going to test the possibility of the “S-1” rule by encroaching on the other cupboards. I may be living out of a suitcase for a while.

We’re on the ABSA Pride list thanks to Piet’s banking relationships. I bank with FNB, and have regarded myself as being on the winning side of the equation, thanks to my Ninja use of eBucks. The level of spoil from ABSA is on another level (but, in fairness, so is the scale of my use of FNB’s services – ABSA aren’t doing this for holders of savings accounts).

The structure of the week followed the usual pattern, with gym on Monday and Wednesday. I did a toned-down session of hill repeats on Tuesday, and similarly less intense intervals on Saturday.

I joined Piet for a road ride on Thursday with his gym trainer, Kate (comparisons with my trainer, Derek, would not be fair). Due to the strength of the wind we turned around at the Twelve Apostles, and rode up The Glen.

During this ride Piet made his decision about which bike to ride for the Cape Town Cycle Tour (mountain bike, because he’s had so little time on the new Santa Cruz). I deliberated for a few days, until the wind made up my mind for me. The Yeti would be more stable in the wind, plus I’d get some valuable distance riding in advance of Epic.

As it turned out, the choice of bikes was irrelevant. I feel for people who have trained hard with a target time, and especially for those who travelled from overseas. On my ride back from the start I passed a particularly disconsolate Italian.

The fact is that people were getting blown off their bikes at the start. Even if this was because of the wind tunnel effect on the Foreshore, the more social end of the field would have had a tough time getting around the course in a gale force south-easter. Also a factor was the possibility of fires in Hout Bay necessitating the use of roads for access by emergency vehicles.

For some, it would have been a relief to not ride in the wind. For others, it was all blow and no happy ending.

One week to go (and then it will be eight days of Rule 5) …

Introducing Team Sergeant Hardy

Oscar Foulkes March 11, 2017 Cape Epic No comments
Throughout my training diary there are references to the information below. With Cape Epic kicking off in a week’s time, this is the quick and dirty introduction.

Who are the riders?
Piet Viljoen (54) – a man with a declared intent of doing something every year that scares him. Amazingly, in 2017, Cape Epic isn’t it. His main target this year is Unogwaja Challenge, which will see the group cycle to Durban over 10 days and then run the Comrades Marathon. He ran his first Two Oceans Ultra in 2016, and also has several Iron Man races under his belt. Cycling, however, is his first love. While this is his first Cape Epic, he has ridden just about all the major races. I’m in awe of the training programme he has followed, in simultaneously preparing for two different endurance events.

Oscar Foulkes (50) – that’s me. I guess I have a similar attitude to endurance as Piet does, except that he is a much stronger rider. My MTB track record encompasses all the usual suspects, although they were completed at a level of intensity that seems social by comparison with Piet’s. My Cape Epic journey has an extra dose of complexity due to my breathing being impaired as a result of multiple surgeries on my vocal chords to remove tumours. And, a year ago I had just completed a six-week course of radiotherapy that saw me losing 13% of my body weight (and it’s not as if I had that spare). Cape Epic was a great motivating factor as I started the process of building up my strength.

How did we meet?
We have a number of mutual friends, and one of them introduced us after I put up an Epic-related post for Valentine’s Day.

Who or what is Sergeant Hardy?
Sergeant Hardy is a racehorse I own in partnership with my mother. She bred him, but couldn’t sell him because he was found to have a paralysed vocal chord. This is so serious a defect that it’s grounds for cancellation of sale (after the fall of hammer, nogal) at a voetstoots auction. Despite his reduced breathing capacity he has won five of his eight starts, and he is the highest rated three-year-old sprinter in the country.

Why the pink kit?
Sergeant Hardy races in my mother’s colours – vieux rose with a white sash. It was Piet’s suggestion that we name our team Sergeant Hardy, and it then followed that the kit had to match the racing colours. If anything demonstrates how much of a team player Piet is, it’s his willingness to spend a fortune on pink cycling kit that he may never wear again.

Hoarse power?
That was my son’s comment when he heard that our team is being named after a horse. Breathing isn’t the only action affected by my vocal chords.

Our Epic aspirations?
To finish every day early enough in the afternoon that we have sufficient time to recover for the next day’s riding.

Our Cape Epic kit - that is a lot of pink!

Our Cape Epic kit – that is a lot of pink!

My mother and I leading in Sergeant Hardy after his first feature race win, on Met day 2016 (pic: Equine Edge)

My mother and I leading in Sergeant Hardy after his first feature race win, on Met day 2016 (pic: Equine Edge)