If one does a Google search for the 1992 Milk Race, a few cryptic entries pop up. A 12 day stage race across the United Kingdom open to both professional and amateur riders predominates, as does the fact that the race was won by unheralded Irishman Conor Henry. The race included national teams from a host of countries, as well as a sprinkling of British and European professional teams, all bidding for good results in the fortnight's romp around "Mud Island".
Also on the startlist was the South African National Team, the first official cycling team from that country to compete overseas after the lifting of sporting sanctions and, like the other national teams present, made up of riders looking for Olympic selection to the Barcelona Games later that same year. Needless to say it was quite an eye opener for the South Africans, and a brutal one at that, as SA team member Greg von Holdt remembers.
'We were completely unequipped for what the Milk Race threw at us,' he explains. 'None of us knew what we were in for, riders and staff alike. We were totally shell shocked by the sheer level of racing right from the beginning, not to mention the various tactical maneuvering at the back of the pack. I mean, to put that into context, my chain jammed on the opening road stage and our team car took a few minutes to get to me. Once we got my bike in order, team managers Gotty Hansen and Dave Wiseman just drove off and left me chasing solo for 180km; if that had been one of the European teams, the managers would have let their riders hold on to cars and draft them to regain contact with the peloton. I finished in last place that day but made the top-50 in every stage thereafter, ending up as the second South African overall behind Mark Blewett. While all of us ended up finishing the Milk Race that year, we were literally crawling to our beds every night. The racing was also completely different to what we were used to in South Africa, what with the narrow roads and hair raising descents. Then there was the doping culture, which at that time was crude and in your face. With the value of hindsight, that tour really was a pivotal moment for me; I realised that my destiny was not to be that of a European-based professional cyclist. It was time to move on to other pursuits.'
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Greg von Holdt has had a few pivotal moments in his elite sporting career. He also has many talents. Spanning over a decade, Greg's athletic skills could best be described as mulit-faceted. Starting as a cyclist with visions of Olympic selection and a professional contract, he quickly became a force to be reckoned with at the top of the international duathlon game. He then turned his attention to another Olympic cycle in another sport, this time with his eyes on Sydney 2000 in the triathlon, being possibly the only South African with national colours in the three aforementioned disciplines. And interestingly, the bulk of his sporting career was as a part-time athlete.
'I had an ongoing internal conflict,' Greg admits. 'Do I carry on pursuing my sporting goals or move on to a real job? For instance, all I wanted to do after leaving school was go to Europe and become a professional cyclist. But my Dad was having none of it. Both he and my brother are chartered accountants and I was expected to follow suit. Even though he was my number one fan and supporter, he actually told me that he would not fully back me in any of my sports until I got my degree. I look back now and am extremely grateful for his standing firm but didn't think so at the time. So I rebelled and opted to do my national service straight after school to at least have one year focusing on sport before beginning my studies.'It was in the then South African Defence Force (SADF) that Greg honed his craft as a cyclist. Like many other sporting codes, the SADF's cycling program was structured and well organised, which included travelling around the country to race. A Defence Team was selected for all of the country's major races, including the Rapport Toer at the end of each year.
'I was basically a full time cyclist when I was in the army,' remembers Greg. 'They called us “government pros”. If you were a top sportsman in the military, your life was vastly different to that of the other conscripts. And I got to experience that. We were allowed to train in the afternoons, all the equipment was supplied and we flew all over the country to races on military aircraft. The 1990 Rapport Toer was my primary goal that year and despite being unfit from not being allowed to ride during basic training, I won the final race at Defence Force Championships gaining selection by a whisker. But it was close!'
The records would go on to show that a 19-year old Greg would not only claim the junior classification in that year's Rapport Toer, but end up in a highly credible 25th position overall, indicative of a massive engine as well as an intense desire to succeed. With South Africa being readmitted into international sport at that time and the Barcelona Olympics on the near horizon, Greg's competitive fire was being increasingly stoked owing to potential international opportunities. And as he explains, he was in a state of athletic tunnel vision.
'Look, they say life is all about balance but that is not true when it comes to elite level sport. Or excellence in anything, for that matter. Take Elon Musk for example – he is certainly not a balanced person. Neither was I during my own sporting career; I was obsessed and thought about the sport from the time I woke up each morning until bedtime at night. It's the only way to be competitive – needless to say you have to be single-minded to be world class.'
And world class he certainly was. After letting go of his pro cycling aspirations ('lack of Barcelona selection was also a factor in my stopping elite cycling'), Greg stepped up his duathlon game, a sport that he had been dabbling in while fulfilling his cycling duties. Run-bike-run was quite a big thing in the 1990s, so much so that he soon found himself dominating the local scene and competing with distinction internationally, bumping elbows and swapping pulls with the likes of Mark Allen and Kenny Souza on the trails and roads of Zofingen, Switzerland, for example.
Already having the likes of Marc Wilkinson as a cycling mentor ('Marc took me under his wing and really helped my race craft'), Greg's fellow duathlon competitors were only too keen to help him develop as a runner.
'Brandon Collyer and Atholl Murray really helped me grow as a runner. With their running pedigree, they taught me how to do proper track sessions and long runs, and to really hone my speed, so much so that I was able to break 30 min for the 10km and 65 min for the half-marathon distance. This of course really elevated my duathlon game but eventually came with a downside - I had to take a year off due to a serious ilio-tibial band injury, which required surgery.'
By this time Greg was doing his articles for his CA degree but some specific news on the wire reignited his Olympic desire. Triathlon was to be part of the Sydney Olympics and it was time to get in on the action.
'Look, I was working full time at PWC but really thought I had a good chance of going. I just needed to work on my swimming to withstand the level of competition of the then ITU World Cup Series, which was part and parcel of the selection process.'
Enlisting the services of former 50m freestyle world record holder Peter Williams ('I think Pete felt sorry for me and let me swim in the slow lane of his world class swim squad'), Greg literally took the plunge and worked on his aquatic technique and fitness. Progress was incremental but he stuck to the process – it was a four year Olympic cycle after all.
'Those years that I spent with Peter were invaluable. And it really showed me that swimming is more about technique than fitness. Even though I was in the slow lane, I got dragged along by those top swimmers and it eventually paid off. All that work with Peter eventually saw me get down to 17min for 1500m at the Montreal World Championships in 1999. My top-30 finish there confirmed to me that I was good enough to go to Sydney the following year.'
But Greg ended up not making the trip Down Under. Despite qualifying for 2000 Games, politics once again dictated, meaning that he and few others didn't meet the requirements laid out by NOCSA. Despite the selection woes he and some others experienced, he is philosophical about the whole period.'We travelled around the world to the ITU World Cups sponsored largely by Cape Town businessman Nic van den Bergh. Sure, we had a small NOCSA grant but that would never have covered the costs. Nic funded the entire SA Olympic Triathlon Program with his own money and pretty much no return on investment. Our manager was Kevin Richards, himself a former SA triathlon star, and it was through his guidance and proactive management style that enabled us all to improve our level during that period. Kevin was literally the glue that kept us all together as a unit and moving forward.
'But the whole political episode was difficult to take. Two SA athletes (Conrad Stoltz and Lizel Moore) ended up going to Sydney so perhaps the squad should have been smaller from the beginning. Who knows?'
And so it was that Greg ruled a line under his sporting career. Gaining his degree as a chartered accountant during this period, he entered the business world post-Sydney and has never looked back. Working primarily in private equity ever since, he emphasises that his occupation is his passion and doesn't ever see himself stopping. And yes, he is still active, but purely as a form of recreation.
'I'm very much a weekend warrior now,' he quips, adding that he is unashamedly an avid E-biker. 'I no longer need to be the top "oke" on the Saturday morning ride. But I look back on those ten or years of top level athletics with great fondness. The experiences and, above all the people, are the things that really stand out. After all, you can't really get anywhere in life on your own. It's about the people behind you.'
*With thanks to Phil O'Connor for the header image.