“Suffering is one thing; knowing how to suffer is quite another.”
Graeme Fife
Far ahead, the desert road converges on the horizon into the nothingness. The wind is noisily gushing past my helmet as I steal a quick glance at the Garmin: 46km/h, 360 watts, 175 heart rate, and I need more speed. That leaves me with three options: First, give up and go home. This is not going to happen. Dismiss. Second, get smaller – less wind resistance: tuck elbows in, lower body, straighten your back, drop your head. Done, and the speed is still the same. Shit! Third option: Suffer more…
Today was a good day. It was good because we raced well as a team. It was hard, damn hard. A little harder, a little more effort, and you blow up, a little slower and you slow the team down. And this is not okay, as you are committed to your mates and all three need to finish to register a time. So, you race on the proverbial knife-edge for 34 min. The team time trial is often referred to as the Race of Truth: no place to hide in the bunch, and every 60 seconds or so, you take the front and break the wind, swing off for two minutes of ‘rest’ and then another huge 60 seconds lung-bursting, gut-wrenching, leg-burning burst of watts. Swing off and repeat, ten times…
The air was cool yet fresh and moist, giving us extra oxygen as we set off with a slight tailwind. AJ, the team captain, locked the pace at 46 km/h on a relatively flat course, flat except for a few testing dunes. One minute later, Mo, on his brand new Time Trial bike, leapt forward. All I could think was: shit, He is full of racing and to make matters worse, Mo is ridiculously aero: I’m pushing 280 watts to stay in his slipstream. Ouch, this is going to hurt! Mo moves to the right, and I hit the dense wall of air, like a hand pushing me back: 360 watts to keep the speed constant! Surprisingly the power flows easily, I fill my lungs with oxygen and relax somewhat.
Twenty kilometers later, now against the wind and my heart rate is at 181 beats a minute, my lungs, they are screaming for air, the lactate acid is oozing from my nostrils, the legs are aching, my body threatening to shut down for the sake of self-perseverance…but underneath my aero helmet, I am smiling. I am smiling as I remember the words of the greatest cyclist ever, Eddy ‘the cannibal’ Merckx, who said: “Cyclist live with pain. If you cannot handle it, you will win nothing.” We are not going to win anything today: no trophy, no podium, no spaying of champagne, no ceremony, no cheering, no autograph, no press, no photos, no interviews, no money, and there will be no podium girls. But we are winners, we are superstars, the hero’s even if only in our own minds.
So, we are winners; why? Because when we stood on that start line, we knew one thing and knew this for sure: You will be in a world of pain for 35 minutes, and we are doing this voluntarily. Voluntary and with extreme discomfort is the part that is beyond logical explanation. Multiple time trial champion and writer Michael Hutchinson puts it as follows: “That it ‘hurts’ is almost neither here nor there. You try to tolerate it, embrace it, put it in a box, luxuriate in it, turn your back and go to your happy place, deal with it in whatever other way you can. You have to go back again and again, and while you get better at it, it never gets easy.” Yes, it is like that: it never gets easier; as you get stronger, you just ride harder, faster, you keep pushing the envelope. It never ends, never ever…
I am waiting for the day ─ standing on the start line with AJ, and He says: “guys let’s have an easy ride today, just plod around, casual, just some fun.” No, this will not happen! This is not how cyclists are ‘put together.’ No, we will roll of the starting line and within seconds AJ will lock the speed at 48 km/h…We live by the dictum: Ex Duris Gloria’ (‘Glory through Suffering’),
It is a good day. It is a good day because we are racing as friends, through the beautiful desert, flying our flags: A proud Iraqi, a strong Emirati and a South African along for the ride…
We crossed the line; we left every ounce of energy out there in the desert, and enough for third overall and only two seconds off second place at 34min27 sec, 44 km/h average speed.
January, we will be back for round two. We will be stronger, and we will go faster, much faster, and we will suffer, maybe more, and we will be smiling.
written by Andre Viljoen on 13th November 2021
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