The day started in a blood splattered mess and ended with riders looking to spill some blood of their own.
After leaving Clifton school in Nottingham Road, we cycled along 20km of tar in thick mist – this forced the race organisers to start the race proper in the middle of nowhere only once the mist had lifted.
Riding at the back of the middle, or the front of the back, this is of no concern to me. What was concerning, however, was the black tar painted red with the blood of what appeared to be a thousand squished porcupines.
The grisly theme continued on the dirt road to Snow Top Mountain, the highest point on the race. This time it wasn’t porcupines, but rather those little prickly caterpillars; seemingly millions were determined to cross the road while cyclists attempted to power their way up the daunting 4km climb. Dodging the furry little guys definitely added an element of entertainment to the monotonous uphill slog.
And then right at the end, riders were (jokingly) baying for blood when a detour right next to the finish added almost 5km to the supposedly 97km route.
Overall, though, it was a good, hard day of mountain biking at the Old Mutual joBerg2c. Snow Top Mountain provided the first real challenge of the day, and Death Valley lived up to it’s name as the climb was done in searing heat. Every turn promised to take you to the top, but in reality it was just another short climb to another short climb.
Without my climbing partner, Jonathan, who coaxed me up every climb at last year’s event, I was nervous ahead of the challenge. But something kicked into gear at the foot of the climb and I raced (that is, doddled) to the summit. Climbing is no bother for someone with daily jaunts up Plum Pudding in his legs.
Today was my first real day of riding solo, my makeshift partner from yesterday declaring in the morning that I had “broken him” during day 5 and therefore opting out of our blossoming team.
101km is tough enough. Riding all that way alone with five days in the legs and on, what I feel is the toughest day of the race, just takes the challenge to a new level.
I was going along happily for about 50km, but around the 60km mark I realised I’d been talking to myself non stop, at first my inner voice imploring me to ration the water and then my contrary inner voice telling the first inner voice that “no, the Russians aren’t coming”. In the end, the water was rationed and shared with no Russians.
I believe for about 5km I also sang the greatest hits of the Lion King, including an uplifting version of Hakuna Matata. This, at least, is what my new imaginary friend Jim is telling me right now. What’s that, Jim? The toy cowboy is talking to you? Don’t be crazy man. Toys don’t talk.
Deliriums aside, the last 20km was tough with a rewarding finish on race organiser Glen Haw’s new farm that Sani2c riders will experience in a few weeks.
This is being typed under the stars with crickets cricking, frogs croaking, and mountain bikers clanging glasses of red wine together. That’s because day 7 is something of a rest day – two days before the end, mind – with just 79km to conquer and the promise of smooth flowing singletrack to come. Hoorah.
Read all Dave’s J2C blogs
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