There’s lots to share about my
world in the South African classroom, but for this week’s blog, I’d like to shake
things up. This past Sunday, Carolyn and I rode in the 41st Cape
Town Cycle Tour, the largest organized cycling race in the world. The crazy
thing is, I didn’t officially register until just over a month ago, by which
point I was dangerously behind in my training. And though I’ve ridden in a
small number of bike races before – a 20 to 30 miler here and there, I have
never even considered stepping up to something like this. The Cape Town Cycle Tour, a.k.a Argus, is an
absolute beast of misery, covering 66 miles of hilly terrain while frequently dispensing
50 km winds along the way. Even the best
riders – I was fortunate enough to meet a few of them while “training” – spoke
stoically about survival. One guy, who
placed in the top 100 finishers last year, pointed out that, by the end, he had
“lost a piece” of himself. In fact, I realized
I was in deep trouble when, in parting, this obviously superior athlete offered
a final piece of advice: “whatever you do, don’t play the superhero. You’ll burn.”
And with that sobering revelation, I spent the last week before the race
sleeping restlessly and digesting my own hubris. How was I going to live through this
ostensible death trap? If people who
virtually ride for a living were saying things like this, what the *** were Carolyn
and I thinking? In any event, it was too
late; my deposit was already in the bank and I had no physical injury to use as
an alibi. So as Carolyn - who wisely trained before me – and I took our place
at the start with another good friend, my mind played cruel tricks on me,
conjuring images of crashing on a steep hill or careening off a precipitous
cliff. Luckily, before I could actually
hyperventilate, the gun fired and thousands of bikers (36,000 in total) were on
their way. Five torturous hours later, presumably
due to the grace of some higher power, I crossed the finish line, a mental
shadow of my former self. What I had hoped to be common hyperbole associated
with any great task proved dismally true; the wind at the start of the race, as
we made our way from the city center to the shoreline, was overpowering, at
times almost holding riders in place.
This meant that the first 30 miles were devoted to making whatever
progress we could, mile by slow mile.
Hearkening back to my new cycling friend’s urging, however, I did not
push it and managed to conserve strength for the second, far hillier half. And when I say hill, I mean mountain. Three of the five are a mile long, winding
relentlessly upwards. By the time I had
surmounted the last of the bunch, my legs were licorice, more numbed than
pained. On the flip side of that last interminable
hill, though, was a gift from the gods, a steady, rolling descent back into the
city, with a massive, celebratory crowd of spectators to boot. Crossing the finish line with We are the Champion lyrics blaring in
the background, I was as exhausted as I’ve ever been. Around me, hundreds of
other cyclists hunched over their bikes, dazed though relieved, one woman
saying to another that she will never subject herself to such torture again. For me, three days later, The Cape Town Cycle
Tour was an oddly ideal way to love this part of the world even more. Though I too lost a piece of myself in the
process, namely 5 lbs. of sweat, the rigor of the route did not prevent me from
basking in the unimaginable beauty that is Cape Town’s coastline. Nearly 2/3 of the race looks directly down
upon the ocean, vast and hypnotically turquoise. Craggy cliffs, sprawling fields, and horse
pastures bless every single mile. Equally
wonderful, I met some of the coolest people along the journey - a Brit, an
Australian, a Finn, all happy to share a story about themselves to help
alleviate the pain that gnawed on all of us.
I guess that’s as fitting a takeaway as any from this genuinely spiritual
experience: no matter how tough it was to accomplish, I survived because of nature’s
invigorating splendor and the wonderful support of strangers from around the
globe.
