BURG TALK | 15-2020

Ok – so we have two more weeks of IDT (Indoor Torture) to endure, and I need to find content for the BurgTalk, without having the benefit of regular ride reports. Calling all BW out there to please share your stories with us…

I am working hard on my IDT (almost every day), determined to get better and faster. As a relatively newbie to riding, there are many times when I feel frustrated because it seems to be taking me longer that my fellow more experienced group riders. Apparently I also haven’t mastered the art of hiding pain, and regularly feel like I am the only one struggling on a tough ride. One of the hardest aspects of learning road riding is realizing that this is a group sport, with a multitude of group dynamics that need to be appreciated and adhered to. Oh for the days when it used to just be me, my running shoes, and the trail…

With regards to group sports…it looks as though the impacts from COVID-19 will be with us for many more months to come. Even when lockdown is over, we may need to rethink exercising in large groups. Researchers are looking at the health risks associated with being in someone’s slipstream. While 1-2m is sufficient social distancing when standing still, scientists advise that the distance between people walking in the same direction in 1 line should be at least 4–5 metres, for running and slow biking, it should be 10 metres, and for hard biking at least 20 metres. (More at

https://medium.com/@jurgenthoelen/belgian-dutch-study-why-in-times-of-covid-19-you-can-not-walk-run-bike-close-to-each-other-a5df19c77d08)

If any of you are struggling for inspiration and needing motivation to keep going with training through lockdown – take some time to read the story of Fiona Kolbinger- the first woman to win the Transcontinental Race (TCR). (https://www.bbc.com/sport/cycling/52151401).

The TCR is an ultra-endurance, self-supported and self-navigated bike race across Europe, over 4,000km from Burgas, Bulgaria to Brest, France. Fiona (age 24),

completed the TCR in just over 10 days, beating second-placed Briton Ben Davies by over eight hours and third-placed Dutchman Job Hendrickx by 10 hours. Her dominant victory might have surprised many, but ultra-endurance events tend to have less of a gender divide. There is only one race - and it's about smart decisions and resilience, as well as who can pedal quickest.

In this issue of BurgTalk we have the next instalment of Karoo Kavorts from Mark and Dave, as well as Allan’s experience of Zwifting. Jordyn has shared a humorous if perhaps male-dominated story and Bobby has written another excellent and useful Sycling Snippet. Remember you can access these directly from the Club website.

So far we have had two submissions for the April Photo Competition – please send in your entries, now is the time to be creative! Stay strong, safe and sane.

Sal

BackaBuddy for Callan Deacon

Please keep supporting Callan and his family with the backabuddy campaign, keeping them in your prayers.

The campaign has reached an amazing R208 487.07 of our target of R350 000.00 It’s not too late to make your pledge to help Callan

https://www.backabuddy.co.za/callan-deacon

Issue 15-2020

BURG TALK | 15-2020

Since the forecast was for warm weather, it had been agreed that an early start would be best. A full komplement of Kavorters would do the initial climb to the top. Arno met us in the darkness outside the guest house, helped us garage the cars, loaded up his

trailer, briefly consulted the Slingsby map for luck, and hit the road. Metaphorically, of course; no cyclist ever aims to hit the road. Maybe His Larryness, but not the rest of us.

The road, for those of you interested, was the R328 – Prince Albert to Outshoorn. After a deceptively pleasant start, it got very steep very quickly, and stayed that way. A grind, a never-ending grind. The only one who was cheerful was Caro on her purple e-bike. The scenery was awesome, and the geology took my breath away. Or it may have been the gradient. Hard to tell. The temperature rose steadily with the altitude, in violation of what I was told at high school about the adiabatic lapse rate.

Arno, who had clearly done this before, did his best to distract us with history nuggets, but I saw right through him. Sneaky, these lawyers. Halfway up there is an old prison, which once housed the unfortunate convicts who built the road. At about this same point, I had come to the conclusion that lengthy incarceration was a more attractive option than continuing, and tried to hand myself in at the prison, claiming tax evasion and other impure thoughts. The look on Arno’s face told me that I wasn’t the first, and probably wouldn’t be the last. He’s off the Christmas card list.

We saw one other human, on a motorcycle, coming down the pass. Like it should be done. The motorcyclist looked incredulous at these idiots on bikes, and who could blame him.

After what felt like three weeks, but turned out to be only 12 km and 900m, Alison and I reached the top of the Swartberg Pass. As our colour returned to normal, we started compiling painful and lingering ways to kill Mike. We were soon joined by Caro, sailing serenely along on her e-bike. We added her to the hit list. Mike arrived, and went straight into cyclist amnesia:

‘That was a lot tougher than I remember’, he said to Arno. ‘Is there maybe another way to get here?’

‘You mean apart from using a helicopter?’ Asked Arno. ‘No.’

Mike looked dubious, but wisely let it go.

Dave and Bev were last up, having wisely taken it all very steadily.

Predictably, the top was cold and blustery, and we didn’t dawdle there. Dave and Caro loaded their bikes into Arno’s bakkie, and the remaining Kavorters headed down the hill towards the nearest purveyor of cappuccinos to the gentry [us], which we were told was a place called Kobus Se Gat, which was, predictably, at the bottom. Google it, disbelievers.

The descent was epic – real white-knuckle, heart-pounding, eyes-protruding stuff, with both my brakes and my brain protesting loudly. I found every rut there was, and there were many. Inevitably, the only vehicle that we saw other than ours was coming up the hill very slowly, at the same time we were going down very fast. I was the first to narrowly avoid it, shouting back to the rest.

Eventually, the slope flattened out, and Kobus se Gat hove into view, at about the same time that my heart rate got back to triple figures. We slowed down enough to pull in safely, and shortly thereafter were able to wrap our laughing gear around a steamy coffee.

Reunited with the rest, we set off for the brunch spot, the promisingly named Swartberg Country Manor, apparently just a few km’s away.

‘Net oor die bult.’ Said Arno reassuringly. We were to hear this phrase a lot in the coming days.

Just after leaving Kobus en sy Gat, we left the R328 and took the gravel road that followed the Matjiesrivier. Soon we were turning right into a picturesque driveway, leading to a whitewashed set of building surrounded by verdant green lawns and willow trees. I leaned my bike against the nearest fence to take a picture, and was immediately charged by a large and clearly peeved Pantless Thunder Goose [Struthio camelus], intent on doing something unpleasant to me. Anyone who thinks I have the name wrong, just Google ‘Pantless Thunder Goose’, and send me R10. Fortunately for both of

BURG TALK | 15-2020

us, the Thunder Goose was on the other side of the fence, but in the process of removing myself, I had involuntarily emitted a girly shriek, which had reduced my lovely wife to helpless laughter. She’s very sympathetic like that. I took a picture of the bird, so that I could show the chef exactly which one I wanted for lunch.

Marvelously, the restaurant was called Patat. We were the only people there, it being early on a Monday morning. The staff weren’t entirely sure whether to be happy or sad about us. This deadlock was resolved by the appearance of the manager, delighted to see people who looked like they might not immediately start a fight. We ordered coffee. Lots of it, and with some urgency.

Dave asked about the soup of the day. Bev shot him a warning glance. He changed this to what juices were available. ‘Orange,’ was the answer. Dave looked at the waiter expectantly. ‘Just orange.’ He elaborated helpfully, after a brief pause. They looked at other. We all watched.

‘I’ll have the orange, then.’ Said Dave. Relieved, the waiter scuttled off.

The manager was a very friendly chap, something that we would get used in this part of the country. A section of the wall had glass covering it, protecting what, from a distance, looked like graffiti. Initial pleasantries done, Ali asked him about it. It then transpired that the venue had been used for a few local Afrikaans movies over the years, one of the owners having dabbled in the industry. The signatures on the wall belonged to the cast of one of the more famous films, a romcom called Klein Karoo. Having already established that we were from Natal, the manager wasn’t hopeful that these rooinekke spoke anything other than Gert’s Queens English. However, among my wife’s many talents is that she speaks fluent Afrikaans, having been brought up in Vryheid. She is also something of an Afrikaans movie buff, and had seen the movie in question. The manager was entranced, and they compared film trivia happily while the rest of us devoted our attentions to the refreshments.

All too soon, we were back on the gravel road, heading for our

overnight accommodation,

the Redstone Hills Guest Farm. We followed the Matjiesrivier for a

while, as the temperature steadily rose again. Eventually Bev claimed overheating, and elected to join the others in the bakkie. Ali, Mike and I chugged along, enjoying the scenery and complaining about the short sharp hills. We came to a T-junction, with two houses, a dry river, an art

gallery and, of all things, a seamstress shop. A sign promised cold drinks and coffee, too good to miss. We didn’t.

We ordered coffee, and while Bev was distracted, Dave went off to see what the soup of the day was. Inevitably, it was butternut, and he looked suitably disapproving. The owner of the establishment [one Roger Young] compensated for this minor shortcoming in a number of ways: he was a commercial photographer of some repute, an accomplished woodworker, and had been born in the same year as Dave – i.e. just after the last Rindepest outbreak. It transpired that Arno was of a similar vintage, and so a small, and potentially short-lived, club was formed. The photographer’s partner was a ballet dancer, the seamstress, and the chef, as so often happens in these small places. We left reluctantly.

Thankfully, the last leg was mainly downhill. We stopped briefly to help a large tortoise, which was struggling across the road. The effects of the drought were very noticeable around here. Everything was dry and parched. We saw many large neglected looking barns, which we heard later were old tobacco barns. Almost every farm had one somewhere on the property. Tough times for these farmers. Our stop for the night was an unremarkable farm gate, behind which was a series of pleasant looking farm buildings leading down towards where the Kruisrivier started. All around the farm buildings were paddocks with juvenile Thunder Geese, lots of them. They were all hopeful that we had either had food with us, or were food. We dissuaded them on both counts, and they went back to pecking disconsolately at the stony ground.

Our lodgings were two cottages a little further down the road, where we regrouped, maintained, refreshed, and had a little congratulatory sundowner before supper. Dave and Mike scoped out the local birdlife, and wondered what the soup of the day might be. There was no soup, but supper was excellent Karoo lamb and salad, lovingly prepared by the owners, and accompanied by a little wine and beer. Replete, we retired to our rooms to appreciate the silence and the stars. And sleep.

Garmin Stats: 58km, 4h35, 1380m ascent, 14,8km/h, with many, many Smit-Stops for pictures.

Mike is the original shutterbug, and uncontested king of the selfie.

Mark Rowland & Dave Stewart.

Redstone Guesthouse

BURG TALK | 15-2020

Allan MacPhearson

I know we have all are missing our morning rides both

on the road and in the bush. I have done a reasonable amount of indoor training in the last two years but more in the line of intervals. I had been thinking of doing rides on Zwift for some time as a group, so last week, I started using Zwift for the first time. The first group ride was on the 9/04/20 and Bill and I set out on a 26.7km 321m route. I am still at work so have to still start my rides at the same time 05:00. Our second ride was on Friday with Wyno, and comprised a nice easy route 24.9kms 241m. For our first “real” Saturday ride, 5 of us, John, Wyno, Enver Bill and I set off on a 2 hour ride starting at 7h00 sharp. With group rides like these you can’t arrive late! Not knowing the route, I left it up to Zwift. We completed 60,1kms 625m ave speed 29,3km/h with a moving time of 2:03. The route provided a lot of flats, before climbing some nice rolling hills, then on to a long hill, and back on to the rolling hills.

The ride is set that we stay together as a group no matter how hard or how slow you ride, and as you ride, you can message each other directly or as a group – I am still working on this!

There are some big benefits to using an indoor trainer - there are no potholes, taxis, pedestrians, stop streets or red robots and another is time.

Allan will be doing Saturday rides at 7.00am until the lockdown is over – to join him you just need to be on Zwift and start following him. He has created a WhatsApp group and will co-ordinate the meetup. He is also riding on Tuesday and Thursdays at 5:00am.

We know that there are many good photographers amongst our BWs, judging from all the WhatsApp pictures that are shared regularly, and so we have decided to launch a photo competition. A picture really does say a 1000 words and is the best way of capturing what it means to be a member of the BW family!

The rules are simple – you can use any device to take a photo, which needs to reflect and speak to “Being a Burg Wheeler”. This means that if there are people in the photo, they need to be wearing BW kit and of course adhering to our road and MT codes of conduct. The competition will run monthly – starting from 1 April, with monthly winners being selected and going into an annual competition. Any paid up BW member can enter and the judging panel is above all forms of bribery and corruption! Photos must emailed to mustangsju@gmail.com before the end of April 2020. Please submit a caption with your photo. Minimum photo size is 500KB

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BURG TALK | 15-2020

Jordyn Grenfell It’s been said many times that cycling is as much, if not

more, of a mental game than a physical one. Of course, our sport takes huge physical effort and skill BUT, ride in a bunch for an hour at a high tempo and then say something like…”Ok, LET’S GO!”....and then watch the bunch splinter to pieces. Sometimes, sheer brawn is not enough to win a sprint and one has to resort to psychological tactics. Cyclists are not competitive, they just hate to lose, and when testosterone is added to the mix, it’s GAME ON! Sorry ladies, I’m not being chauvinistic! [ED – just showing some typically male mindset]

Well, the same rang true for one of the very first races I entered in my early cycling years, the Tour of Durban! Training with a partner who just couldn’t stand to lose, I had to find a way to level the score. Training for that race, that year was both a physical and mental war, with every ride becoming a full-on race. On some rides I’d take the day’s “honors” and some not. On days when I took the “honors”, my “victories” were quickly overshadowed by comments from my training partner like, “beginner’s luck” or “I had a bad day, you were just lucky”. Nothing like a bit of negative affirmation to light a fire of determination under my saddle. “Wait”, I used to say, “race day is coming”. I was determined to beat him when it mattered most, and shut him up, good and proper….but how? I knew he was going to turn himself inside out to beat me, but then, SO WAS I. How was I going to pull off an epic sprint was the question that was uppermost in my mind day and night. Losing the sprint was not an option for me. I premeditated my opportunity for a breakaway, were I to be in the same finishing bunch as Andrew. Well, race day dawned and it was Now or Never. No Pressure!! The gun went, the race was on and Andrew and I glared at each other like two Jack Russells fighting over a single chop bone. Neither of us would give an inch and the finish was beckoning.

True to Murphy’s law, Andrew and I were still together in the bunch, approaching the finish line with 4kms to go. I had learnt a few cycling phrases like, “hold your line”, “riding in the gutter” and “put him in the hurt box”, so I was getting used to this new cycling lingo that only cyclists speak. As with all road cycling finishes, the last few kilometers are fast, and one just hangs on for dear life. Pain is temporary but Failure lasts forever. I could sense Andrew was going to do something any moment and my premeditated attack was imminent. Was Andrew going to spoil my party? The bunch was barreling down on the finish and I was boxed in with no room to move. All of a sudden, out of the corner of my eye, I saw Andrew take

the gap in the bunch, close to the left gutter and launch his attack. All I could muster at that point was a yell….”Watch the Break”, I shouted! With amazement, I saw the riders in front of me part like the Red Sea as they scrambled for Andrew’s wheel, opening a gap. I pedaled like my life depended on it and saw Andrew get gobbled up in the sprint. I don’t remember my position in the bunch finish, but I had outsprinted Andrew to claim my victory over him. Andrew was furious, and determined to find the person who had spoilt his attack. Well, the mystery lasted for a few days until I owned up. “It’s not the size of the dog in the fight, it’s the size of the fight in the dog” – Mark Twain.

As we endure another two weeks of lockdown, stay safe, stay positive and stay motivated so we can return to our amazing sport. Thank you to the members of our club that share who their cycling experience and knowledge with us so we can become better cyclists.

Rebecca and JP have very kindly shared a detailed and beautifully crafted account of their

epic ride in New Zealand. We have uploaded the full story to our

website – so take some time to read of their adventure.

www.burgwheelers.co.za/articles/

BURG TALK | 15-2020

Consistent Pedalling During the past year several of my riding

companions purchased Smart Trainers and I noticed a significant difference in their riding strength. At the time I regarded them as traitors, having moved to the ‘dark side’. After all, cycling is about getting out in the open air and experiencing the wind in your face even in the middle of winter with the temperatures hovering just above 0°C.

In previous articles I have often referred to the fact that cycling is about conserving energy at all times, tucking in behind other riders, and moving out of the wind. Riding a trainer does not allow you to hide.

A good friend of mine from my early days of cycling, Springbok cyclist Mike Thomson, father of Dimension Data Team rider Jay Thomson, used to pedal hard down the hills during training rides and when questioned on why he did so he would tell us that he was riding twice as far as us because we were freewheeling down the hills.

An indoor trainer teaches you to pedal consistently. You cannot freewheel so you cannot recover down hills or on long single-tracks. The pressure on your legs remains throughout the session. After an intense indoor session I have found that it takes me longer to recover due to that consistent pedalling.

There is a real danger of overtraining because indoor sessions do tend to be more intense. Don’t neglect your recovery days between your intense session days. (Recovery days can be low intensity rides on the trainer.) Consider using the Orthostatic Test (Sycling Snippet No. 13) to determine your recovery levels.

Time-trialling (TT) is a form of cycling that requires such intensity and most TT riders include indoor sessions into their training sessions. The benefits of indoor training:

• It’s safe from traffic and potholes. • Your ride is uninterrupted (no stop lights). • The weather doesn’t influence your riding. • Can ride at any time. • Allows accurate and predictable goal setting.

• Can focus on pedalling technique. o Some power meters show left and right

power levels. o Pedalling in Circles (Sycling Snippet No. 4.

• It builds strength and power. • Enables you to accurately track your fitness

and power levels. • It increases your mental toughness. • It creates an environment of controllable

variables. • It is time efficient.

Indoor trainers have come a long way from the noisy ‘rollers’ to the new, quieter smart VR trainers controlled by third party apps. If you are unfamiliar with Zwift I suggest you click onto the link below to watch Easter Sunday’s VR race with the Ineos Pro racing team https://youtu.be/UeJ264JU9Uc

“…. indoor training doesn’t give you a minute of relief.

If you have to sit at 260w for a given period, it keeps you there. What a way to build resilience and absolute toughness when it comes to sitting in the hurt box.

Sarah Hill (Professional SA MTB)

Contact: Chairman Vice-Chairman Secretary BurgTalk Bobby Nefdt Dale Southern Janice Brisbane Sally Upfold 082 082 1992 083 659 3000 083 660 9996 082 5700 851 bobbynefdt@gmail.com dales@soshosting.co.za Janicebrisbane1@gmail.com mustangsju@gmail.com www.burgwheelers.co.za @ BurgWheelersCyclingClub @burgwheelers