With 10 days to go to the 32nd Cape Argus Pick n Pay Cycle Tour on 8 March, organisers are committed to ensuring that cyclists enjoy a stress-free trip over Boyes Drive.

Due to extensive road works on Main Road in Muizenberg making the road unsafe, a decision was made to reroute the Cycle Tour over Boyes Drive.

The Boyes Drive detour is only 1km longer than the old route. Cyclists have to tackle a 1km climb up from Main Road to reach the 3km flat section. All along Boyes Drive slower cyclists are advised to keep left so that faster cyclists can overtake on the right.

"We studied Boyes Drive in detail and have taken a number of precautions to ensure cyclists' safety," said Ken Sturgeon, Co-Director of the Cape Town Cycle Tour Trust.

"2.8kms after the 1km hill climb up from Main Road, there is a refreshment station and an escape route down Old Boyes Drive back to Main Road as well as a control point where marshalls will slow or stop cyclists should there be any problems further along Boyes Drive. We will have full medical support along this section of the route," Sturgeon explained.

A sharp corner, 1km after the highest point of Boyes Drive, will be signposted and lined with straw bales.

The final descent down Clairvaux Road into Kalk Bay must be approached with extreme caution and cyclists are strongly advised not to exceed 30km/hour. This stretch has been declared a neutral zone, which means no overtaking is allowed and it will be clearly signposted.

Warning signs and marshals with loud hailers will be in place to control the descent. Straw bales will line the corners and some cat eyes have been removed from the left side of the top corner. Cyclists will be deflected towards the right hand lane to ease sharp corners. Rough sections of road surfaces have been improved but some uneven sections remain.

It is most important that cyclists check their brakes and ensure that their bikes are properly serviced ahead of Cycle Tour. "My advice to cyclists is to take it easy along Boyes Drive on a bicycle that's in good running order," Sturgeon concluded.

I don't mean to make a mountain out of a molehill, but since I started on my saddle mission to conquer the Cape Argus Pick n Pay Cycle Tour, my steepest learning curve has been cycling up hills. When it comes to hills and drugs - I'm no pusher.

Because I refuse to get off my bike I've devised a cunning strategy. It's not a scientifically developed heart-rate cadence plyometric thing, you won't find it in any cycling manual and it's not something instructors will tell you.

But if you follow my example you may never have another uphill battle. I have to thank Mr Lamont, my Standard 7 geography teacher, for my climbing success. Most people have fond memories of a teacher who inspired them to believe in themselves. I don't. I've just got Mr Lamont - a sadistic oaf, who taunted, tormented and teased me. At the bottom of a steep hill, I take a deep breath and think of Mr Lamont and how he made my life a living hell. I pedal furiously as I think about the time he humiliated me in front of the class because I answered "Hungary" when asked what the poorest country in the world was. Before I know it, I'm a third of the way up the hill. Soon, though, the climb gets tougher and my legs begin to ache so I turn my thoughts to more sources of ire.

I think of telesales people who interrupt me at important times to tell me I've been exclusively selected for a spcial deal. Yeah right! I think of Telkom's decree that I can only report my faulty landline from a landline, but my landline is faulty! I think of the 10-hour wait at PE airport when my plane was delayed. I think of queujumpers on the M5 and able-bodied jerks who park in bays reserved for disabled people. I think of SABC continuity announcers and load-shedding and people who abuse exclamation marks!!! I think of the hours I'll never get back being told that "your call is important to us".

I think about the plumber who left us without hot water for eight days and Randall Abrahams's sneer. I think of people who are cruel to animals and corrupt politicians and Hansie Cronje. I think of my ex-girlfriend who made off with my Bob Dylan CD and people who drive SUVs in the city = the best 4x4 on tar? I think of the cost of petrol. I think of Lucky Dube and Taliep Petersen and Sheldon Cohen. I think of racists who urinate in old women's food. I seethe. Purple fumes of rage pour out of my ears, but I'm halfway up the hill. Now, though, it's time for some serious anger. My thoughts turn to Edgbaston 1999. That SA vs Australia World Cup semifinal. Why didn't you run, Allan? Why, Allan, why? I think of the government's catastrophic HIV policy, attacks on the judiciary and apartheid leaders who got away with murder. I think of being stuck in traffic and the ANC Youth League's bumbling leader, Julius Malema, and how his bombastic rabble-rousing threatens our democracy.

These thoughts allow me to power up three-quarters of the way up the hill. To get to the top, though, I need to draw on my inner ire; I need something special for my final, desperate push. I need to think of someone who inspires raw anger.

When I need to go into rage overdrive I can reply on Robert Mugabe to make my blood boil. I think of the people he has allowed to starve, the political opponents he has tortured and the economy he has destroyed, Bob drives me up the hill.

When I get to the top of the hill the rage and fury melt away. It's a cathartic experience; it's therapy on wheels. And when people want to know my secret to uphill success, I just smile mysteriously and tell them: I do cross training.

Every year on December 31 I compiled a list of resolutions. Things that I will do - or stop doing - in order to become a better person. I won't laze about all day in my underpants. I'll join a gym, drink spinach milkshakes and return library books on time. I won't tell fibs. I'll be polite to telesales people. I won't log onto www.bigbusts.com during working hours. (Not that I actually ever did, Boss. Honest. Okay, one time but I was doing research for a story on politicians who have been busted - it's a mistake anyone could make.)

However, on December 31 2007 I resolved to never again make another resolution. You see on January 3 when you phone the pizza delivery guy and he says, "Hi Jonathan, we've been waiting for your call" and you're still in your underpants and the first of 24 R350 monthly deductions has just gone from your bank account into the bank account of the gym, which you know you'll never set foot in - you feel depressed. As a result of my no-more-resolutions resolution I had a blissful, guilt-free 2008.

On December 31 2008 I broke my resolution and made a resolution. Why? Perhaps it was because I became caught up in the Obama Yes-We-Can frenzy. Or maybe it was because after being part of the Cycle Tour's Training Wheels programme for two months I was overconfident. What I do know is that on December 31, while sitting in my underwear and munching on a sice of pizza, I resolved that in 2009 I would overtake another cyclist on my bike.

In my two months training for Cycle Tour I had become tired of eating other cyclists' dust. Always the overtakee, never the overtaker. When I first hear the cyclist behind me some macho instinct takes over and I pump the pedals as hard as I can, but it's no use. The overtaker gives me a patronizing nod of the head as he or she sails past. I have come to hate The Nod. It was time someone ate my dust.

And then it happened. Just nine days into the new year I was on the road and saw a speck on the horizon. My time has come, I thought. I'm going to tough it out. I put my head down and pedalled furiously. When I looked up the speck was no longer a speck - it was a fleck. I put my head down again and when I looked up 696 pedal strokes later the fleck was, in fact, a dit. There were two possible conclusions: either my eyesight was improving with each pedal stroke or I was gaining on the cyclist. Can it be? I wondered. Yes It Can!

About 10 minutes later I looked up and saw that Speck-Fleck-Dot was a silhouette. A minute later I was within striking distance of my two-wheeled prey, who I noticed had grey hair. A silver-haired saddle sage with kilometres of experience under his tyres. I was exhausted, but the fact that I was just a few metres away of becoming an overtaker inspired me to greatness - this is what motivates Lance Armstrong, I thought, as I cycled side-by-side my victim. He looked up and, holding his gaze, I did it: I gave him The Nod. "Great day for riding," I wheezed as I sailed past. Although what I really meant was: "Prepare to eat my dust, sucker!"

"It's beautiful," he agreed. "I've really missed it. It's my first time on my bike since my hip replacement."

I don't care. I'll take it. My resolution was to overtake someone and I did. There will be no more resolutions from me this year - just revolutions. Completing the Cycle Tour will take 54 173 revolutions. I hope to make every single one of those revolutions.

If the power of prayer works, then recognition for the fact that the authorities gave the all-clear yesterday for Chapman's Peak Drive to be open on March 8 must go to the Training Wheels recruits.

On Saturday, which was our final clinic, Gary, our Cycle Lab instructor, told us it was time for Survivor OKW - he was sending us over the tough Ou Kaapseweg, the alternative route if Chapman's Peak stayed shut. That night, after huffing, puffing and wheezing our way over the mountain, I'm pretty sure that most of the Wheelies got down on their knees and prayed for Chappies to be re-opened in time for Saddle Day. When I heard the good news I was a happy chappie.

Of course, there is a small matter of signing an indemnity should rocks come spewing down the mountain on us. We'll take our chances - just happy that we can chew on Chappies. Besides, as I have discovered over the last few months, rocks aren't a cyclist's enemy. No, cars are our real nemesis. Or rather the people behind the cars' steering wheels.

When the Cape Town Cycle Tour Trust's Co-Director, Dave Bellairs, got up to address the Wheelie recruits at our first spinning session in November he told us that the Cycle Tour was, in fact, a spectacular failure. The tour was organised in 1978 to highlight the need for cycle paths in Cape Town. Thirty-one years later there are still no dedicated bicycle routes in the City and anyone who has ever cycled on the road can testify that Cape Town remains cyclist unfriendly. While cyclists are not blameless, motorists tend not to see cyclists. They drive too close and they don't slow down when they pass us on narrow roads. Eight days after Dave addressed us - and the day of our first clinic - experienced cyclist Creslin Attwood was knocked down and killed in what was described as a hit-and-run. Last week Morne Jones, the man allegedly behind the wheel, appeared in court. He is charged with culpable homicide and failing to render assistance.

If he were alive, Creslin would have lined up for his 20th Pick n Pay Cape Argus Cycle Tour in a row on March 8. He had more than 2 000km of Cycle Tour under his belt - and last year he completed the Cycle Tour in just over three hours.

I hope we have a boulder-free ride this year, but I also hope that motorists become more cautious and vigilant on the road - so more unnecessary deaths can be avoided.