In late 2024, the opportunity came my way to line up for what would be my third KAP sani2c. This time, there was a twist. I didn’t have to ride with Sean (my husband). I could choose my partner. Now, anyone who knows me knows that the real joy of mountain biking isn’t just the riding, it’s the sharing. The early alarms, the nervous laughter on the start line, the deep-and-meaningfuls somewhere between kilometre 60 and “why are we doing this again?” So I invited someone who would be a first-timer at Sani, my dear friend and trusted partner in shorter stage races, Bonita Needham.
By Joanne Badenhorst
We started training. We had a plan. We were motivated. And then life did what life does.
After a trip, I picked up a strange lung infection that knocked me sideways for nearly 10 weeks. I could ride, but only at embarrassingly low heart rates, the kind where you’re overtaken by commuters and school kids. I was nowhere near sani2c-ready. The sensible decision (rare, but it happens) was to postpone. Thankfully, that was possible.
So here we are. sani2c 2026. The 22nd edition. Glencairn Farm. 7 May. Average Jo and Bonita, The Inertia Girls, on the start list, again. It sounds simple when you say it out loud: “Just train properly and you’ll finish. And yes, technically that’s true. But for an Average Jo? It’s layered.
Who is ‘Average Jo’?
Bonita and I are at a similar life stage. Mid-50s. We’ve spent the better part of 20–30 years being mothers, wives, homemakers, employees, organisers, carers, the glue that keeps everything else functioning. We’ve squeezed in riding where we could, but rarely have we unapologetically prioritised it.
Our difference? I’ve been involved in cycling and mountain biking in South Africa for more than 30 years. Bonita for about 10. Experience helps, but it doesn’t magically make 270km easier.
Because KAP sani2c is not a casual weekend pedal. It’s three consecutive days from the mountains of Underberg to the Indian Ocean in Scottburgh:
- Stage 1: 89km | 1 027m elevation
- Stage 2: 96km | 1 896m elevation
- Stage 3: 86km | 1 042m elevation
For the elite racers, those are numbers to attack. For the committed riders, they’re manageable. For the serious social riders? They are long days in the saddle. For us? Formidable.
The real challenge isn’t just the climbing
It’s the time. Finding safe, convenient long-ride routes around Johannesburg is its own logistical event. Coordinating schedules. Watching the weather. Negotiating traffic. Trying to rope in riding partners who aren’t either training for Cape Epic pace or recovering from one.
It’s carving out four to five hours on a Saturday without feeling guilty. It’s saying “no” to brunch. It’s fitting in strength work when you’d rather be horizontal. It’s choosing sleep over scrolling.
It requires a degree of selfishness that doesn’t come naturally to many women our age. And yet, isn’t that part of the appeal? There’s something quietly powerful about deciding that your body, your goal, your line on that start chute matters too.
The coach, the plan, the doubt
I’ve been fortunate to train under the guidance of Sarah Maré (Hill) from The Threshold.
I use the word “athlete” loosely when referring to myself. I suspect I am her most inconsistent and occasionally exasperating client. Life intervenes. Illness happens. Work deadlines loom. Motivation dips. Confidence wobbles.
But having structure helps. A plan on TrainingPeaks feels like accountability. It gives me peace of mind, even if I still question whether I’ll be ready.
We’re nine weeks out. There’s work to do. Fitness to build. Long rides to survive. And somewhere between the interval sessions and the coffee stops, the question keeps surfacing: Is Sani2C really doable for the Average Jo?
Challenging? Absolutely. Impossible? Not Even Close. Here’s the thing about KAP sani2c, it has a reputation. Big climbs. Big distances. Big days.
But it also has something else: World-class trails. Meticulous organisation. Water tables that feel like mini festivals. Support crews who treat you like a pro. And a route that, while demanding, is rideable. Thoughtfully built. Designed for flow as much as fitness.
You don’t need to be elite. You don’t need a podium dream. You don’t need a carbon wonder-bike (though they’re lovely).
You need commitment. Consistency. A partner you trust. And the willingness to be uncomfortable for a few hours each day.
For the stage racer chasing marginal gains, Sani delivers. For the committed club rider wanting a goal, it delivers. For the serious social rider who wonders, “Could I?” – it absolutely delivers.
That’s what makes it so compelling. Because in truth, this isn’t about being extraordinary. It’s about being ordinary, consistently. Showing up to training. Showing up to the start line. Showing up for yourself.
So yes, the Average Jo is tackling sani2c 2026. With doubt. With determination. With a healthy respect for Stage 2’s elevation profile.
And with the firm belief that while it may be hard, it is entirely doable.
In Part 2 we will unpack the training in more detail and explore why every serious social rider and Average Jo mountain biker should put KAP sani2c on their bucket list at least once.
There are limited entries still available for the 2026 KAP Sani2c. Find out more or secure your entry here.
Joanne Badenhorst is the co-founder of TREAD Media and TREAD Femme Editor. She started mountain biking in 1991 and is passionate about growing women’s mountain biking.
