Given a bicycle on at the end of July, Lesego Madumo trained hard for just over three months - and completed his first Cycle Challenge in just over six hours.

CYCLING has never been my forte, but Sunday, 15 November proved to be different when I cycled the Momentum 94.7 Cycle Challenge.

Being a first-time cyclist, in the run-up to the race I had a number of things to sort out, including my diet, training routine and plan to avoid fatigue. But then, two days before the race my nerves got the better of me and I couldn't eat. It will obviously be impossible for me complete a race that is 96 kilometres long if I don't have energy to spare - that's what I thought until I got on the road.

Getting ready for the race, Lesego Madumo

I chose to ride in my All Star sneakers because they are considered part of street culture in the townships. And I was using this opportunity to highlight the plight of township children who are eager and enthusiastic about sports like cycling, but who never get the opportunity because of lack of money or access.

So off I went with my group, loud 6 OC at 9.20am from the front entrance of Vodacom World of Golf, on the corner of Maxwell Drive and the R55, in Midrand. We were the third last group of cyclists to race.

And I'm off
I started gradually, built up speed and pace, and recorded myself on a Mino HD video as I curved to the right to join the N1 South. Unsuspecting of the sharp curve, I nearly fell, but I managed to keep my balance and continue with the race.

The start had a slight climb, so pedalling gradually and evading burning out was always the best option. On the N1 South, along Marlboro and Grayston drives, people stood on the bridges to egg us on.

From its northern starting point, the race headed south towards the Johannesburg city centre, where we had to take an inner city loop of the M1 South, along the M2 East. As we cycled the round the city loop, a new feature of the race introduced for the first time this year, I got a picturesque view of the city from the southern tip - it looked superb and chic, and I savoured the moment.

The road demanded that I accelerate because it was a moderate slope. It took a sharp turn off into the city centre through Joe Slovo Drive and into the Ellis Park sports precinct - and the first water point. Here, I snatched a cup of Coca-Cola and quickly avoided colliding with another cyclist who made an abrupt turn without looking in the other direction. Rage seemed inevitable, but I managed to keep calm as he apologised.

Spectators
Although Joburg's usual hustle and bustle had died down, Yeoville and Berea were bursting with people lining the uphill and excited at the sight of the cyclists. The people in those eastern suburbs were friendly, waving and cheering on the cyclists, who sometimes ignored the praises to focus on the road.

Some of the comments, however, were not that constructive or supportive towards exhausted cyclists who were either pushing their bikes or walking unsteadily.

City manager Mavela Dlamini starts the race (Photo: Enoch Lehung, City of Johannesburg)

From here, the ripple of street excitement and support reverberated along the route until the subway on Louis Botha Avenue, after which was a curve to the left and an exquisite building on the right, in Houghton. Built with mountain rocks and some modern bricks and mortar, it almost resembled a church. But I was not sure and did not have the time to ask as I sped away, downwards.

The route joined Jan Smuts Avenue at the St Andrew's Road intersection, and became exciting with a few gentle slopes which I used to my advantage to catch up with some of the groups ahead. But by the time I got to Rosebank, ahead of Seventh Avenue, the slopes had become a little challenging, and but I climbed on steadily.

Traffic in the right-hand lane had come to a complete halt and motorists, although a little dismayed, hooted to egg on the cyclists.

Downhill
We were now heading downhill towards the Randburg city centre, where from far I could see a pack of cyclists walking, and some collapsed on the pavements. Some residents in Blairgowrie, just after the Braamfontein Spruit flowed across a culvert under a mini-bridge, urged on those cyclists who were losing heart.

I slowed down because the uphill was working on my thigh muscles, and gradually started building pace from scratch. Somewhere, I felt that I wanted to accelerate past everyone, but knew such a choice could burn out all my reserve energy and spoil my chances of finishing the race, which I had planned to finish in six hours.

As we steadily climbed past the Randburg taxi rank, there was a conspicuous increase in my pedal power and I proceeded past Kensington B on the way to Bryanston, where there was another water point. I still felt strong, so I slowed down to ask for a cup of cooldrink, and ended up snatching two, one in each hand, and speeding downhill.

We went through Douglasdale and took a left turn into Witkoppen Road, where the street was a hive of activity, teeming with people on both sides relaxing under marquees and trees, with some slouched in camp chairs. Some of the well-wishers only urged on their favourite cyclists or relatives, while I cast a forlorn figure, visibly thirsty. I hadn't drunk any water and it seemed we were approaching the 60km mark, yet I urged myself to keep going.

With a lack of personal support on the road I feel a little deranged and incongruous, but the hip-hop beats thumping in my ears and my impulse egged me on and I couldn't stop thinking about the finish and the massage thereafter. Suddenly a girl loaded in the back of a bakkie with her bike and a friend urged me to keep going and to give her a hive five - I felt stronger and more potent.

Power of music
As I sang along to the tunes throbbing in my eardrums, much to the chagrin of some cyclists who hurried to cycle past my annoying self, I saw some cyclists clearly distraught with pain and worry. Some chose to continue inch by inch, while others were visibly in pain from groin and abdomen injuries. I sympathised because we shared the same sentiments. The emergency management services vehicles were out and about, busy as ever.

Tackling the Momentum 94.7 Cycle Challenge (Photo: Enoch Lehung, City of Johannesburg)

As I curved to the right, a score of motorbikers and some other spectators cheered me on as they saw me cycling alone and dancing to the songs on my playlist: "Go, go, go ... keep going," they bellowed and I felt encouraged.

We were now cycling past Cosmo City, a mixed income residential settlement and one of the flagship projects of the City of Joburg. Here, lining the sides of Malibongwe Drive on an uphill was a group of little children between nine and 12 years old, who heartened the cyclists.

Again, I felt encouraged, supported and inspired to continue, so I dished out two energy bars and a packet of sweets to the kids and they emphatically shouted "Sho skhokho," which loosely translated meant "Thank you mate, you are the man and keep going."

The uphill makes the body fragile and one is easily susceptible to all sorts of cramps and muscle pulls, so I reduced my speed and started pacing myself gradually from gear one. As we climbed up, an itinerant cyclist sped past me, asking me to make way for a pack of cyclists wearing cow outfits; they were riding for charity.

As I completed the uphill, leaving throngs of cyclists behind me, the road course provided for a gentle and smooth ride along the R28 eastbound. Right ahead, half my energy was drained, but I refused to back down as I approached another water point and winked, shouting at the top of my voice, "Water, yes water please!"

Still strong
With 21 kilometres to go to the finish line, it felt like I had actually done the 94.7 twice. A lot of cyclists on the R28 abandoned their bikes and called for help, some just pushed them slowly to catch their breath - and I looked on with smug delight that at least I was still potent.

The 94.7 Cycle Challenge is an arduous course, and those who choose to abandon their bikes or the race are instantly attended by Netcare 911 personnel.

I still hadn't got off my bike to stretch or anything, and my body felt like it needed that relief desperately, but I refused to step down. As we approached a curve to the left towards Diepsloot on Summit Road, I used all the strength I still had to speed up and try to catch up with some of the cyclists who were well ahead of me.

As we sped past Diepsloot on a sharp curve to the left, I saw from a distance a cluster of mixed housing developments, including bond houses built next to Reconstruction and Development Programme houses, all flanking the shacks of informal settlements.

We were at the 70km mark, my back and my right leg were tender and aching; plus I was thirsty but didn't have the interest to drink. I became resilient, pedalled slowly and reminded myself of the greater reward at the finish. At this point a number of bakkies ferrying scores of cyclists who had abandoned the race sped past me, with the occupants looking on in disdain.

My spirit was dampened because it was really hard, my back was sore, some of my leg and feet muscles were cramping, and the thought of retiring seemed to be the best option. At this point I was precarious about my prospects for finishing the race, but I refused to back down.

The home stretch
I braved the sweltering heat as I approached the corner of Olifantsfontein Road and turned into Woodmead Drive. Speeding away downhill, I saw a dark cloud gathering overhead and tiny drizzle droplets threatened to soak me, but I was nonchalant and I sang along loudly.

Racing through the streets (Photo: Enoch Lehung, City of Johannesburg)

By now my playlist had changed from hip-hop to up tempo house music, and the threat of rain did little to dampen my gusto as I accelerated. I realised that the finish line was beckoning as a popular house track played on my music player and I sang along stridently, taking my hands off the handlebars.

A navigating helicopter scraped the sky, keeping a close eye on anyone who might attempt to cheat. It appeared to me that the City and all stakeholders had pulled out all the stops to ensure that the race was well-organised, safe and secure. There was a strong presence of metro police, Netcare 911 personnel, and South African Police Service officers, who made sure that it was a totally safe ride.

As I continued to ooze confidence, we raced passed the finish line - and I started smiling and recorded my time. My cycling expedition, although onerous, had come to an end and had turned out to be wonderful - of heroic proportions.

I collected my participation medal and started contemplating entering other bicycle competitions, and aspiring to become a consummate professional at the sport. My finish time was six hours 32 minutes, which I completed at 2.52pm. Overall, I cycled 96,5 kilometres without stopping.

I became garrulous when my girlfriend Naledi asked me to recount my experience to her, and could not stop smiling. I desperately needed a drink, perhaps not a fizzy one, but one that would send a chill down my spine and relax me.

Diary of events
I received my second-hand bicycle as a gift on Wednesday, 22 July at 9.55am from a surrogate mother, colleague and friend, Lucille Davie; the feeling was indescribable. I then filled in my registration form for the race on Thursday, 10 September.

Most probably, had I filled in and sent my form on 9 September, I would have cut my finish time by at least two hours, I thought. I got confirmation of my entry on Tuesday, 20 October and collected my race pack on Thursday, 12 November. I rode on Sunday, 15 November - and on Monday, I am still elated; exhausted, but elated.

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