4 weeks… that’s all. Four weeks until the first batch of riders, huddled together in the shadow of the Pietermaritzburg City Hall for a departure photo, glance over their right shoulders to make sure the road is clear before applying pressure to their pedals. For me, the race started last night. I woke from a vivid dream in which I was fumbling around on the Black Fountain spine, unsure of how to get off the mountain. I lay in the dark staring at the ceiling, running through

From a distance, the Freedom Challenge appears to be about riding bikes across our country. Distances measured. Elevation accumulated. Riders leaving in small groups with the goal and desire of rolling around the dam in Diemersfontein to feel the earned weight of a blanket across their shoulders. That’s the visible part. What’s less visible, at least initially, is the community it has spawned over the years. Not just riders, but the wider circle that gathers around the event.

The last few hundred metres curve around the dam and climb through the tree line to the finish of the Race Across South Africa. Legs pump in a steady rhythm, deliberate but unhurried. No raised arms. Just a quiet easing, the race loosening its grip, pedal stroke by pedal stroke. They cross not with a shout, but with a kind of inward nod. For days and nights the trail has taken them in pieces. Endless climbs with few summits worth marking. The ever present certainty that every

“I’m not a gravel racer.” “I love the Freedom Challenge Support Stations and ice cream tubs.” “The cut-offs are too tight.” These were some of the excuses I made for myself to avoid signing up when I first heard about the inaugural Race Across South Africa (RASA), the GPS-navigated race along the Freedom Trail that would skip some of the most hectic bike-carrying portage sections. Having done the traditional Freedom Challenge event twice before, I was wary of tackling th