Climbing is something I enjoy more than I am good at it; any time I see a new road pointing up to the heavens, I find myself irresistibly drawn to explore where it leads. Every season I come to the conclusion that my training routes are all very hilly and I arrive at the brilliant idea that I should plot out a new course which seeks out the flattest roads in town, allowing for an easy spin every now and again. As I ride happily along my new, rolling route, I will notice a twisty road snaking its way toward the sky and I will be helpless to resist exploring it. Before long, the route is as hard as any of the others. I simply can’t stop myself seeking out new climbs.
The beauty of climbing is found in its contrasts, in the beautiful duality of suffering and being in control – of burning muscles which somehow still feel strong and powerful. At 80 kilos and 193cm I will never be a good climber, but there is a magic zone of gradients between six and eight percent where I can get the guns turning over easily despite the pressure in my lungs and legs. At those gradients, I can feel myself sitting steady in the saddle, raising out of it occasionally to keep the gear ticking over or to offer some respite to my muscles. Beyond eight percent is a zone of gradients upon which I never feel comfortable; to maintain the tempo requires all my concentration; I feel the hill clawing at my jersey, pulling me back down to the valley. I can never seem to find the right cadence in this zone; either I’m spinning too much or I’m falling behind the gear. But beyond 12 percent, I find a renewed strength; despite my grotesque weight I am somehow still able to find the power to keep the wheels turning round. At these gradients there is little you can do apart from pushing on the pedals; skill and elegance have less little to do with it than does being stubborn and a bit dim.
The Prophet once said that to ride a time trial, you should start as fast as possible, and finish as fast as possible. When asked about the middle, he said to ride that as fast as possible. And so it is for climbing. In part one of Sur La Plaque, we examined how to ride the end of a climb; you go as hard as you can. In part two, we examined how to approach a climb and how best to tackle the base. Again, you go as hard as you can. We left it a mystery as to what one should do when riding the middle of the climb. Guess what? You go as hard as you can.
The middle part of a climb is mentally the hardest. At the top, you can easily wrap your mind around what needs to be done: push as hard as you can and embrace the lactic acid as it floods over you; the effort will be over soon enough. The bottom can be intimidating, but you are generally fairly fresh, though you may need some time to find your rhythm. The middle is where you settle in and focus as concentration and momentum mean everything. Breathing deeply in harmony to your cadence, the key is to make sure you don’t lose your concentration as you and your bike are urged to slow ever down by the Man with the Hammer’s loyal servants: Gravity and Fatigue.
The loss of tempo happens very gradually as a gear that was smoothly turning over begins to move a little heavier. In response, the cadence slows ever so slightly until finally you need to shift gear. It is a never ending cycle that leads irrevocably to plodding along in the lowest gear. Combatting this process takes complete and total focus. Concentrate on the rhythm and your breath, and if the gradient kicks up, rise out of the saddle to keep the pace up. If the gradient requires a downshift, do so before you fall behind the gear; once you allow yourself to become overgeared you will be on the back foot for the rest of the climb.
Climbing through the monkey in the middle is as much about mental strength as it is physical. Find a steady, fast tempo, and commit everything you have to maintaining it. Also, for the purposes of this article, Sur la Plaque is a state of mind more than it is a chain ring. And also remember that the only reason Merckx invented the inner ring is to give us a place to store the chain while replacing the worn-out Big Ring.
VLVV.
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Going as hard as you can at the start of a long climb (and I'm talking a mountain that will take you an hour+) is a BS strategy and will lead to one thing and one thing only - you not finishing the climb as hard as you can, despite you trying to go as hard as you can.
Start at about 80% of whatever measure or feel you choose to use, ramp it up midway through and finish strong. You'll soon realise you are passing the foolish who go at it 100% from the bottom.
It may not sound as romantic, but getting over multiple passes and reflecting on success with a post ride recovery beverage makes it so.
Climbs? Beginning, middle, end? I know not of what you speak. Here in SE Wisconsin we have lumps. Lots of nasty little lumps that start and finish. Oh what I'd give to climb a real mountain!
ps Barracuda, Looks like gravity's been at your socks too!
@ChrisO
I have been using a power meter now for a little over a month. Wow, what a difference it makes to my climbing. I'm the 72 kg, 183 cm type (almost the same stature as Sagan, minus the guns); so not a pure climber, but decent enough to stay close to the little billy goats. Simply being able to pace properly, has made such a difference to getting over a hill. I have not raced with it yet, and don't really have a plan for that. However, I think it will have great benefits for TT efforts as well.
My problem is in a road race, the climbers always seem to hammer the bottom of a climb, where I immediately want to go to my rhythm. (Those in the 5 km length and beyond)
As a result, I'm changing the way I train, hitting the bottom of a climb pretty hard (quite a bit over threshold) then getting into a rhythm, and trying to survive at the top. The steeper 10%+ grades make this hard as hell, and I will actually face this once more in my second to last race of the year. I have no visions of grabbing the KOM, but maybe it will keep me closer to the front, and higher on the leader board at the end of the day.
If anything, my adjustment to training, I'm hammering the base of a climb harder than has been done in my races, and hopefully for my next race, I'll at least be less shocked by the pace at the base of a good climb.
@Fausto Crapiz
I assume you know where the Foothills Parkway is? At the top is Look Rock. There are 5 climbs to Look Rock. Climb them all in one ride. 160 km, 3048 m.
@Fausto Crapiz
Boring huh? Riding a bicycle on the legendary Tail of the Dragon is boring? Descending over 100 km/h puts you to sleep? Might want to rethink doing 5 Ways to Look Rock. Those steep climbs that keep you interested in life, you'll also have to descend..... http://app.strava.com/activities/153476035/
@VeloSix Totally agree - using power doesn't mean just sitting on a number the whole way up.
But it means that if I need to do 400 watts just to keep up at the base of a 45 minute climb then I know I haven't got long. If it eases back in time then great, if it keeps going then I have to drop off.
There've been several races where I've done that and ended up reeling in guys who tried to keep up with the mountain goats for too long and ended up blowing.
It's very rare that anyone catches and passes me on a climb if we all start together. Some will drop me, and some will drop me and I'll catch them but I almost never blow up.
@Ccos
HAHAHA. .that's not what I mean. It's a long, straight, unshaded climb with no breaks. Tough but boring.
@ChrisO
That is certainly a balance I have to work out. How long can I lay down 400 W along side the little guys spinning like hamsters, and still have a healthy reserve for my rhythm climbing for the long haul when they settle down.
If it's a hilltop finish, I want to blow it out, but timing it right is tough (This is where I hope the power helps). If the climb is early or mid race, then I want to stay close enough to make up on the descent or after. Making it over a climb alone in no man's land, between the climbers and the Clydesdales just sucks.
@wiscot
Makes it a bit interesting to train here for real climbing. I'm headed out to Kent Eriksen's Tour de Steamboat next month. While I've ridden in CO, nothing this long (110 miles) combined with this kind of climbing (7,500 feet) ...
My framebuilder tells me his brother, who looks great in rosa, will be there. Free massages at the end, with beer flowing at the post-ride barbeque, so I have lots to which to look forward. But climbing in WI is a bit different.
@ChrisO
That is certainly a balance I have to work out. How long can I lay down 400 W along side the little guys spinning like hamsters, and still have a healthy reserve for my rhythm climbing for the long haul when they decide to settle down some, if ever.
If it's a hilltop finish, I want to blow it out, but timing it right is tough (This is where I hope the power helps). If the climb is early or mid race, then I want to stay close enough to make up on the descent or after. Making it over a climb alone in no man's land, between the climbers and the Clydesdales just sucks.