And so six months of training comes down the this. The final two weeks. The taper. The rise to peak form. The approach to the start chute. This is it!

Lets get real for a moment. For starters, what is the ideal taper? A week in Mauritius? Paying it forward for the race visa meant just that! So, two weeks before the race, I swapped a saddle for a pool lounger.

The pool lounger – Laura also got one

Now I realize that this is not the usual program during the taper phase but I threw myself wholeheartedly into the strange new discipline. Swimming, snorkeling, sailing, speed boating, fishing, paddling, eating and sleeping made up the core of the daily routine. I did also manage an interval session on a glass bottom boat.

One of the tough training days during this unusual taper phase

A young Sports Illustrated model

Having survived the second to last week, the last week loomed. Pool loungers were cast aside and the comfort of a 135 grams of Fizik’s finest carbon fibre butt support was sought. And this is where it went all pear shaped.

The plan – 8-10 hours on the bike.

The reality – 4-6 hours – on the Physio table.

On Sunday a gentle pedal down to the lighthouse at Cape Point with Hilana turned into a journey of discovery. My right VMO was in for a knife fight. After just 20mins it committed suicide, plunging a stiletto blade deep into it’s heart. And for the next 4 hours I could not believe how painful it was. Was this the last hurrah of the arthroscopic surgery to my right knee in May? I knew I should have done those damn rehab exercises!

For those with a technical interest the VMO (Vastus Medialis Obliquus) is that little used muscle running down on the inside front of the thigh. Really wish I’d done those rehab exercises!

I had (have??) a serious problem and I knew it. So I spent more hours on Sarah’s table than on the bike this week. Needles, massage, Transact patches, strapping and, of course, those rehab exercises. And a bit of biking under Sarah’s strict conditions. I did it all this week. But not exactly what was planned.

So it’s Sunday – the race kicks off tomorrow morning and I am not at all confident I will get through even the first stage. But we’ll give it a go and only call it quits if the fat boy screams.