On November 15 - with 112 days to S-Day (Saddle Day) - the Wheelie recruits met for our first clinic at Westlake, near Muizenberg. That morning I went in search of my bike. When I eventually found it, I discovered that even the cobwebs on it had cobwebs.

At this clinic, the Training Wheels' organisers told us, Cycle Lab's pros would give us a crash course in crash avoidance. They would also teach us about the etiquette of riding in a group and how to sail up hills like Lance Armstrong.

We started a gentle 1km circuit of the business park. This isn't too bad - 1km down, 108km to go I thought - as we completed the first lap. But as I gently squeezed my brakes I discovered that all was not well with my bike. GWWAAAARRRRRRH! The ground shook as my brakes let out a terrible groan.

"Do you know that your bike sounds like a foghorn?" asked a fellow cyclist.

I turned around and looked at the cyclist behind me as if it was his metal steed that was growling like a wounded monster, but nobody was fooled - least of all the cyclist behind me, who said: "Jeeze, your bike sounds like a cat being tortured!"

We were instructed to do the 1km circuit again. Perhaps the bike just needs to get it out of its system, I thought hopefully, as we set off. But I was wrong. As we came to the end of the lap and I pressed the brakes gingerly, my bike GWWAAAARRRRRRHed again, prompting more comments from my fellow cyclists.

"It's like you've got a car hooter," said one.

"That noise is like a... a... a... a big noise," another one offered.

Even the instructor had a go - "Wow, that's like a goose being strangled" - before coming up with some, er, sound advice: "You should get your brakes seen to."

I took his advice and my brakes have been fixed. To all the whale spotters who jumped out of bed and raced to Muizenberg after hearing whale-like wailing at the crack of dawn on November 15... I'm terribly sorry.