London Triathlon – A Test of Endurance

2004’s big challenge was to do the London Triathlon Sprint. It took place on 31 July and being the London Triathlon, it was based in the East of London, Docklands area. Yes, it requires a swim in the Thames too. It was my first triathlon and I’m not entirely convinced I’ll do another one. I did however complete this one and still managed to do it in a very good “average” time – 1 hour 44 minutes. The sprint is 750m swim, 20km cycle and 5km run. I had no problem with any one of these distances but I wasn’t sure about being able to do them all at once and keep up my pace. In November 03 I injured my knee so I knew that I’d have to leave running training to the last minute. I trained consistently by cycling daily to work, which was about 8 miles each way and swam weekly, topped up by sessions in the gym.

How does all this contribute to my long trip back home, one may ask? I figured that I needed to not only have a pretty good base level of fitness to do the Africa trip but also needed discipline and mental stamina. The triathlon seemed like a good idea. A lot of things we face in life are all “mind over matter” and the triathlon definitely strengthened my mind.

The bit of the triathlon that I reflect on most often is the swim. I’d been warned to stay out of the pack and so I tried to position myself to the far back of the group so that I wouldn’t be in the middle of the frenzy as every one swam off. You have to hop into the water and then swim out and wait for about 5 minutes before the race begins. It was icy cold. Not only was I gasping from the cold and couldn’t control my breath but the water stank. It seriously smelt bad. Every time I managed to get a good breath in I practically gagged. The race began and as I swam, I put my face into the water – it was like green pea soup with absolutely no visibility. That was not the worst, however, I’m quite a strong swimmer so naturally I was catching up with the middle of the group. Great! I kept getting kicked and ended up taking in a few mouthfuls of the putrid water. At one point I didn’t want to go on and thought about swimming to the bank. Then stubborn me kicked in and said, “I didn’t train this hard to quit.” I told myself that every stroke I took was one closer to the end and I finished the swim. Fortunately when I got to my bike I ended up puking and probably saved myself from bellyache.

Not only did I finish the triathlon but I also managed to raise some money for charity. A real win-win situation.

London Triathlon - raising money and my mental endurance 

Horizons Unlimited! Spot Growly

There is a biker sub cult of mad adventurers. Uniting many of us is Horizons Unlimited -their website is http://www.horizonsunlimited.com/. We communicate through the internet and attend meetings across the globe in little muddy fields in obscure locations. Its an opportunity to meet like-minded travellers who share a passion for motorbikes. People arrive from all ends of the world. Some still busy travelling around the world, some about to go on epic trips and some have come back home to tell their stories and do slide shows. It's just fantastic and I've met some extremely good and interesting people through Horizons.

Last June ie 2004 I went to the HU UK meeting. And to my absolute DELIGHT I found my beatiful growly bike in the background of someone's photo! Take a look http://possu.smugmug.com/gallery/161238/3/6006015. The bike in the foreground belongs to Geoff who did a trans-Africa trip. His website was http://www.catchthepig.co.uk/ but I don't think its about any more. If you look carefully you can just see Dick's bike parked next to mine. Matching F650GS bikes... so cute.

This is truely the place to hang out, if that's what you're into.

Tunisia 2004 

France 2003 

Every journey begins with a single step

And so has mine...

Every day has been one day closer to the day I finally pack my bike and begin the long journey home. I have pictured that moment and fantacised every detail. There I am with the bike neatly packed and my leathers lightly worn in. I’ll do the usual check for passport and ferry tickets – and everything is sorted. I intend being ever so cool and unflustered as I swing my leg over my beloved motorbike and head towards the M25. I’ll finally be heading off home and embarking on the adventure of a lifetime.

Of course, its unlikely things will work out quite like I imagine. For one, Paul is coming with me which means I’ll be chatting away to someone. It also means an emotional goodbye as he leaves his home, family and friends.

Going home has always been the plan. But as its taken years to sort out, I feel a bit like a crazy person that has been plotting the most obscure plot – mostly over the internet. I keep on talking about it like a delusional nutter who babbles on about nonsense and people stop listening because they are nuts. Fortunately, for my own sanity and that of my friends, my nebulous “when I go home” phrase has now jelled into “I’m going in October”.

Home is South Africa, to be more specific, Cape Town. I have a sweet little house in Simons Town (bought over the internet) that I’m looking forward to living in. I currently live in London and so the long way home is in fact across the entire continent of Africa, North to South. The trip is going to be about 10 thousand miles and will take about six months. Its possible to do it in less time but I’d like to really enjoy the trip because it is, after all, the trip of a lifetime. The route is along the lines of France to Italy. Ferry across to Tunisia and then East across Libya and into Egypt. Then head down to Sudan and into Ethiopia. Drive South to Kenya and then zigzag about, ending in the lovely city of Cape Town.

As I think of the route and the planning ... I feel slightly panicked. So, for now, I'm taking one step at a time and viewing the adventure in small manageable pieces.