So Glad to be Older

When I hear people talk about their high school years as being the best years of their lives I worry about them. A lot.

I wouldn’t wish high school days (or primary school for that matter) on even my worst enemy. Those were years of severe trauma.

Now don’t get me wrong, I had a pretty comfortable youth. I wasn’t abused or made to work in a sweat shop or anything like that. In fact I had a very cushy and privileged time of it. But I was an angry, depressed, little and insignificant (with pimples and braces) brute.

It is a wonder my family still love me and I still have some amazing friends from those days. In fact the reason I am writing this now is because we were talking about those days recently, and I got to thinking that I have some people to thank and lots to apologise to.

In Grade 9 (when boys smell worse than their attitudes) at the age of 14 turning 15, the only person or thing I hated more than everybody and everything was myself. Now, those of you who are reading this, may think this a typical Jared ‘over’ statement, but do yourself a favour – just try and think about your Grade 9 year. Yes, that year you beat up your siblings relentlessly and drew anarchy signs on your space case; that year when you thought your parents were the most pathetic creatures to roam the earth; that year that you would have killed for a pair of jeans with the right brand name. You remember? It was awful.

I think I was a particularly nasty little thing. And now I want to apologise to a few people – perhaps too late. To my parents and my sisters, I am so sorry. It must be such a hurtful thing to have your own flesh become such an angry little creature. I think it is because of this that I am so very scared of ever having children myself. To all my little cousins – you guys had to deal with a lot of nasty too. I am sorry.

I am not sure how they all managed to survive me during those years, but somehow they did.

Two Falls and a New Addiction

The Chaeli Campaign Double-and-Again

I have the dubious honour of being the only guy to fall – TWICE – on the epically magnificent Double-and-Again cycle weekend.

On the weekend of the Argus Cycle Tour, The Chaeli Campaign organises a cycle that starts in Hermanus at the Old Harbour on the Friday. The cycle goes through Kleinmond along the coastal road to Strand for lunch then on to Zevonwacht wine estate in Kuils River for the night. The Saturday cycle goes through Durbanville and Milnerton to the clock tower at the V & A Waterfront. Then the Sunday is the actual Argus Tour race. That is a total of about 315 kilometres in three days. Epic!

So about my two falls. We had the most perfect start to our Friday. No wind, no harsh sun and fantastically quiet roads. We were sent off by the mayor of Hermanus as well as Chaeli and the gang, and were given an escort by the traffic cops all the way to Betty’s Bay.

We were going along at such a beautiful pace when the support vehicle joined us at about the 60 kilometre mark. We decided to take our first break just after Rooi Els. We all pulled into one of the view points and there, right in front of the support crew and all the riders, I pulled my first smooth move. I couldn’t get out of my right cleat. Yip, I was stationary. And I smacked into the paving with all the grace and honour of a stone falling from Chappies.

There was blood. But far more damage was done to my ego. There were a few giggles and the odd outright guttural laugh (thanks Warren). This kind of fall normally doesn’t receive too much sympathy.

Fall two was a little more spectacular. On day two, on route to Durbanville Hills, due to a slight navigational issue, we wound up on a dirt road. Anybody who has ridden a racing bike on dirt road knows that it is NOT fun! Those little tires don’t do well.

The rough and hard corrugation was beginning to really rattle my cage and scramble my brains when I hit a nasty pile of soft sand. At about 25kms I spun out. Going down in a cloud of dust – fortunately I was at the back of our group and didn’t get a bike over my head. I lay there for a bit as the dust settled. I did feel that this fall was more ‘genuine’ than the last, but I still wasn’t enjoying myself too much.

Warren turned back to help me pick up the pieces. Thanks Warren for not laughing at this fall like you did at my last one!

Falls aside, I would have to say that this event was one of my more memorable sporting events. I was reminded of what it means to pull together and work towards a common goal. No matter what each individual’s abilities are, the whole group works towards finishing together. And achieving that goal, together.

A special thanks to all the guys: Warren, Gerhard, Johan, Peter, Carl and my dad (Nico) for being a part of the team. Johan and Peter your guys helping hands were particularly incredible along the way. Thanks.

Having one of my heroes – Chaeli Mycroft – there in the support vehicle as part of the team was also very special. I don’t think she knows just how inspirational she is to so many people – and especially to me. I hope that she enjoyed the event as much as me. At least she was concerned about my bloody knee after my first fall.

I am not the most confident cyclist, but I think I might have new addiction. I can’t wait to do it again next year.