Why am I chasing broken?

Maybe I was a bit overdramatic when I said “I came out the other side changed.”

I didn’t really. Now that the Cape Epic dust has completely settled and I’m back in my usual routine, I wouldn't say that I'm a changed person, although I have of course learnt valuable lessons.

What the experience gave me was the opportunity to truly have a light shone on my strengths and weaknesses off the bike during the rigorous prep and afterwards, the chance to explore the roots of my mindset.

The physical experience during the 8 days did not have the kind of impact on me as I imagined it would.

I was expecting it to be the hardest physical thing I’ve ever done.

For the last few years, thoughts of doing exceptionally tough challenges like that get me excited.

It was monstrously difficult, absolutely.

However, if I am to search my soul for an experience that took me to my breaking point, it remains the 13 Peaks FKT in 2022.

It was, quite frankly, dumb of me to do that back then. I hadn’t trained for it - at all.

But there was an opportunity and I wanted to do it, so I ignored the multiple reasons not to take part and showed up with a good attitude, new shoes, and not much else.

While I would not recommend anyone I care about do something like that without training - I am very glad that it’s the way I did it.

Had I been in better shape, I would not have experienced it the way I did. It would not have stung nearly as much.

In the dark of the night, while trailing behind my two twisted sisters who were leading the way, I cried to myself.

It was the first time I had gone 24 hours without stopping - and we carried on for many more after that.

It hurt in ways words cannot explain. I questioned my life. I questioned my friends. Any questions my tormented mind could think up, I asked.

I crawled up Devils Peak that night, literally, desperate to stay in it.

When we finished, 38 hours and 58 minutes later, I didn’t know how I did it. I still don’t.

That experience changed me. And in a way, it ruined me.

I have been “chasing broken” since.

I found the suffering (I dislike to use this word nonchalantly, but considering I know what I felt and therefore feel justified in my use of it here) to be healing.

I still feel it as I think of it now. There was such intense power in overcoming what I had to just to finish that challenge. It was beautiful. It is beautiful.

During the Cape Epic, it was different in that we moved for up to 9 hours a day.

Day after day.

It feels like your body starts to break down, but for me, never my mind.

The difference is that every night I could sleep.

I would wake up with a sore body, but never thoughts of quitting.

You start in the morning and while you know that you have a beastly day ahead of you, you also know that it will end before nightfall, and in my case, I knew I had kisses from my favourite person waiting for me at the finish each day.

My previous experience with 13 Peaks helped me tremendously on the two days that required everything I had to make it within the cut-off. It had proved to me how tough I was - this is a gift I get to carry with me through life.

The beauty and cruelty of the Cape Epic is that it is truly relentless and as you get more fatigued, the stages and route get harder.

As with any wonderful race/ challenge - it takes you on a rollercoaster of emotions and one feels everything from anger to joy, with bouts of self-pity in between. When I recognise it in myself, I am both ashamed and grateful for the opportunity to complete something I can be proud of.

In the moments of self-pity, I found myself wondering why I continue chasing broken.

My first Attakwas in 2024, after only riding for 3 months - gave me the same sweet taste of overcoming extreme difficulty.

So many things went wrong that day, but my mind stayed strong. My body took a serious beating but I became blinded by finishing.

As a result, I acquired an injury that negatively impacted the next few months of my training but I arrived at that finish line, despite being the last person to finish - feeling like I had won.

I didn’t give up and I finished what I started. It was a glorious feeling.

A year later, I finished the same race on a bike that didn’t fail me and naturally, was a bit stronger physically.

There’s no such thing as an easy Attakwas, but in comparison to the previous year, it was.

My goal going in was to finish the race comfortably. I worked so hard at becoming a stronger rider and prepared for the race, so it was a reasonable goal. I achieved it, and yet, there was disappointment in that I had finished it, still having some gas in the tank.

I missed that feeling of having to give everything I had to get there.

I recognise that this is probably not healthy behaviour and ask myself why I have this need to fuzz myself up like that.

I think it has to do with the pain of my past and the fact that when I am in those moments of affliction - I feel truly alive.

As I grow older, and hopefully wiser, I allow myself to acknowledge these quirks of mine.

I used to feel proud of myself for being able to endure as much as I’ve come to realise I can.

Sometimes I still do but not as much anymore because I’m honest with myself about it and the reality that it’s a gift to myself. It's something I seek out and derive pleasure from.

In moments of quiet, I reflect and ask myself what is it about the pain that is so sweet?

One might think I’m seeking physical pain to drown the emotional trauma I have but that is not the case because, in those moments, I feel closer to it.

I feel closer to it - but this time, I’m in control.

---

1. 13 Peaks with two women who have profoundly impacted my life, my darling Erica Terblanche and Ingrid Avidon.

2. Myself and my incredible Cape Epic partner, Elaine Beytell.

3. The kisses I knew I was riding towards each day.