The 94.7 Cycle Challenge

Once a year, 27000 people converge on joburg for a bike race. The enthusiasm for these kind of events seems to be uniquely South African and goes beyond the usual group of hard-core roadies. If you think 27000 is a lot, there is an even bigger race in Cape Town with around 35000 participants.

When I turned up on race day I wasn’t quite sure what to expect. I had come inappropriately equipped in my view – a mountain bike with slicks on was not the most suitable steed for 95km of on-road riding. However I was surprised by the many people who were doing the race on ordinary bikes – plenty of (in my view) masochists were doing it with cheap mountain bikes and knobbly tyres.

I was quite impressed with the sheer scale of the event. The numbers being so large, the start was broken down into perhaps 50 groups, each of around 500 people. We were herded into pens, ready to start at 5 minute intervals. By the time we started at 8:41, the winners of the race had already finished – they left around 6 am. Things happen early in the day in a place as hot as Joburg in the summer.

So we zoomed off onto the M1 – a strange feeling riding your bike in the fast lane. After the hustle and noise of the start it was actually quite a relief – very quiet. 95 km of roads, including plenty of motorway, had been closed for the event, so at no stage did we have to share the road with any cars. I found myself overtaking quite a lot of people as the person whose place I had taken had put in a pretty poor time the year before of 6 hours. It felt particularly satisfying to overtake roadies with flash bikes on my 12.6 kg mountain bike.

We headed into downtown Joburg, then out through leafy suburbs all the way to a motorway, the route lined all the way by supporters and groups of people enjoying the race with a braai (barbecue) and a few beers. The headwind on the motorway exhausted quite a lot people, including me, and we were all glad to be on normal roads again, but I was by this stage feeling the effects and not overtaking so much as being overtaken.

I was quite glad to reach the finish, although this was tempered by the horrible climb which preceded it. It probably was just a molehill, but my fatigue ensured that it assumed mammoth proportions.

The finish area consisted of an enormous grass area full of tents, a huge stage with live music and awards going on, and plenty of tired cyclists. I managed to blag my way into the vodacom hospitality tent where I got a massage for my aching legs and back, met up with a few friends, and had some food.

So, same time next year?