The hardest part of the Old Mutual Wealth Double Century isn’t the three hills in the final third. Nor is it David’s Folly, the swine of a climb to the finish line. Either of the Tradouws? Nope. The hardest part of any Double Century is picking the perfect team…

Every team has a leader (or two), and every team has its foot soldiers. And then, somewhere in between, you’ll find these characters: a mixture of loveable rogues who will enrich your 202km journey to and from Swellendam, and frustrating fellas who will drive you to distraction. The key is finding your happy medium; a mixture that works, for your best day out on the bike.

The Leader
You’re the one who waits for the entry portal to open, team list in hand and credit card waiting to burn. This is the most thankless of roles. Don’t expect any reward for getting any of this right.

The Other Leader
There will always be one person on your team who knows it all. He is unlikely to be the person who did the hard work getting you to the start, and his leadership skills disappear pretty swiftly up the first hill out of Swellendam – not that you would know it, in terms of sound volume. Nod, agree, and then revert to the actual plan when they need help.

The Organiser
Every team needs a spreadsheet, and every spreadsheet needs an operator. Embrace the nerd – your survival on the last Saturday in November might well depend on their organising the right treats at the last feed zone.

The Glutton
Yes, it’s possible to finish the Old Mutual Wealth Double Century weighing more than at the start. Make this team member a personalised bowl of snacks at each feed zone, and guard everyone else’s nutrition with a pit bull or three.

The Shambles

4.58am: “What? I need a timing chip?”

The Silent Assassin
The three ‘rollers’ after you turn right towards Swellendam are littered with teams who have failed to bring these essential workers. If you can, find more than one of them; you might not see them for the first 150km, but when push comes to shove – literally – they are the heroes of the team.

The Karl (as in Karl Platt)
He’ll be in the pub the night before; and when he says he hasn’t trained as hard as in previous years (which he’s said every year for two decades), he is not lying. Technically, he will be in the pub on the morning of the event, unless you arrange accommodation out of town with no chance of getting back to the pub. But every year, without fail, come the final stretch he will be one of the leaders of your pack. With quiet confidence, and the occasional cussword. 

Pacman
If you’re staying outside of Swellendam, make sure The Organiser accounts for the following before you set out on the dark drive to the start: shoes, chips, numbers, helmets, bicycles. You will be amazed what people can forget at 3am; even highly respected captains of industry may be reduced by sleep deprivation to sheepish beggars, pleading for a quick trip back to the accommodation to fetch something critical.

The Rattlesnake
Part of The Organiser’s role should be to make sure that everyone’s bike is shipshape for a 202km trip. That isn’t always possible; and there will always be at least one bike on the team that rattles, shakes, whistles and creaks. But generally it’s ridden by the most motivating and talented rider on your team; so practise tolerance, and maybe offer a tune-up for next year.

The Troops
And then there’s the rest of us, the faithful soldiers who make up every Old Mutual Wealth Double Century cohort without triggering the radar. We get on with eating like champions, riding where we’re told (by The Leader, not The Other Leader), and keeping the fines master guessing as to what deed is worthy of a tequila later that night; because come what may, the team will be celebrating one mighty impressive day out on the bike, however well it went.

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