Like many big cycling events, the Old Mutual Wealth Double Century attracts a mix of seasoned campaigners and total newbies. This creates a concentration of cyclists in Swellendam who know either nothing or everything about cycling. As is the case with modern politics, there is no centre. 

If you’re a lucky DC beginner, then you might have a few old hands in your race-day squad to offer guidance. But even if you’re a veteran of multiple races, there’s always something that’s been left off the checklist as the excitement builds for the start gun. 

Fear not: we have you covered, with this thorough, exhaustive and entirely serious etiquette guide…

1. The Golden Rule: Don’t Be a Gerald

Even the most experienced cyclist can fall prey to a momentary lapse of memory. 

Admit it – you’ve one-hundred-percent been on a start line before and heard the race announcer send out a last-minute plea: “Does anyone have a spare helmet? Gerald left his helmet at home.” 

Or, increasingly: “Does anyone have a spare battery for a derailleur? Gerald forgot to charge his derailleur last night.” (As you can tell, Gerald is a bit of an idiot.) 

When you pack for the DC, pack the night before you leave. Check everything. Wake up and check everything again. If you’re still unsure, just take your second helmet anyway.

2. No Shoes, No Ride (Seriously)

Actually, you can probably get away with leaving most things at home; some good cycle-Samaritan will have a spare on race day. (We’re always astonished when those start-line requests go out, and people are actually able to assist!) 

Borrowing another cyclist’s shoes is like asking for a roll in the hay with their life partner.

But one item you simply can’t forget is your shoes. With shoes, size matters. And even if someone has the right (or right-ish) size, borrowing another cyclist’s shoes is the same as asking if you can have a quick roll in the hay with their life partner. Technically, it’s doable and you should fit, but it’s just Not On. 

And remember: once you’re at the DC, you’re not actually at the DC until the race starts. Because, due to its increased popularity, many teams stay outside Swellendam and drive to the start. Triple-checking your wardrobe is crucial here. There’s nothing worse than driving painfully slowly through Bontebok National Park at 4am, only for a teammate to pipe up sheepishly that he’s left his shoes back at the chalet. 

3. Sync Your Alarms, Save Your Friendship

Whether you’re the first team to start on the day or the last, Saturday morning at the Double Century demands an early start. Thanks to the team dynamic of the event, you’ll probably find yourself sharing a chalet, room, tent or [checks own race history] bed with a teammate. 

Alarm consistency is crucial. If you’re an early riser by necessity (that is, you need four morning ablutions before even thinking about slapping on the bibshorts), then don’t set your 3am alarm at full blast. 

Similarly, if the team needs to be up by 5am, but you prefer a gradual rise rather than a sudden explosion from slumber to total alertness, don’t hit the snooze button 18 times. 

Starting the day in sync is central to a healthy and happy team performance.

4. Training: Optional, Regret: Guaranteed

That’s… a lie. On a 202km road race, there’s always going to be pain. And this is particularly true of the Old Mutual Wealth Double Century; don’t underestimate it. Ideally, your team should put in a few shifts together ahead of race day. 

The reality, of course, is that getting 12 cyclists together every weekend is not always feasible. That doesn’t mean you should skip training altogether; if you commit to the race, commit to the training. If you’re getting pushed up Op de Tradouw, then (rightly) you shouldn’t be invited back. 

If you’re reading this now – by which I mean very, very close to race day – it’s too late to train. So if you haven’t trained… quietly send your team captain a DM, offer your humblest apologies for being a deadbeat cyclist, and head to the nearest abandoned meat-packing warehouse to take up Hyrox.

5. Servicing Isn’t Sexy, But It Saves You

If you sign up to a team, be a team player. Don’t arrive on race day with your clunker that you last rode at Cycle Tour 2010. You can’t race (or ride) 202km on flat pedals and wearing takkies. 

Get your bike serviced ahead of the big day. Check your spares. In short, be considerate of your teammates. This isn’t a solo ride – it’s a team event, for team players. Be one. 

(Obviously, uh, if you’re a machine and you ride a clunker to show what a machine you are, then by all means: go for your badge.)

6. Pace, Don’t Pull

If you’re the strongest rider in your team, that’s great. You’re the best. A champion among chumpions! 

But this is a team time trial, not a chance to race into your midlife crisis. You might think you’re being a hero, sitting at the front and taking all the wind, rain, hail and pollen that the route throws up, but you’re actually destroying morale at the back – and you’re not riding the DC in the spirit of the event. 

Get everyone in the team to take turns at the front. The front rider drops to the back, the second rider moves up to the front, and so on. This is a far more efficient way to ride, and it lets everyone in the team bask in hero status throughout the day. 

7. The Great Drafting Debate

Drafting is illegal at the DC. But then again, jumping red lights is illegal in South Africa, and how often do you see motorists flouting that rule? 

Don’t draft. Unless you want to. Or unless you can’t help it. But don’t do it. Unless you can’t help it.

Bottom line, you’re not supposed to draft at the DC. 

Some teams have outright admitted that they’ve done it to beat their hometown rivals, while winning teams have said that sometimes it’s just an inevitable part of the race format. 

So, don’t draft. Unless you want to. Or unless you can’t help it. But don’t do it. Unless you can’t help it.

8. Socks Matter More Than You Think

It shouldn’t be happening in this day and age; you would think that by now, we’d have moved to a higher plane of existence. But sadly, it does. Some riders refuse to move on. 

We’re talking, of course, about people who wear secret socks when riding their bicycles. It’s shameful. It’s horrific. Like adding water to your whiskey, it’s a sin.

If you’ve won an Ironman in the last 18 months, you may wear secret socks. But only if you spend the entire race regaling your DC teammates with your Ironman-winning exploits. 

Otherwise, do yourself a favour: visit any civilised sporting apparel store, and Purchase. Real. Socks. Better yet, let the team captain choose the socks when the team kit is designed. Any rider failing to follow kit instructions can then be ostracised and mocked for eternity. 

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