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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I'm recently returned from a week at Bourg D'Oisans with @strathlubnaig amongst others. In that time we managed Alpe' D'Huez (more than once), Cols Du Glandon, Croix de Fer, Lauteret/ Galibier, D'Ornon and Sarenne amongst many beauties with no apparent name between 5 and 7km long. Climbing nirvana. One of our group insisted in using his 53 x 25 for as long as possible. He has legs of steel right enough but fails to understand why his knees complain so much.
Frank, you have eloquently put the thoughts, emotions and sensations that I felt on all of these climbs but I'm afraid that finding my rhythm meant moving from my compact plaque (I'm 50 for Pete's sake!) and using the middle range of the block to settle into a steady 75 to 85 rpm unless things went into double digit percentages. In my defence a 25 sprocket was my largest and generally kept in reserve.
The mentally hardest part is indeed the middle when you make the mistake of looking up and seeing where the road still has to go and you get a glint of vehicle. Look back down, focus on the breathing, ride the hairpins efficiently making up 5 to 10 metres in each one and before you know it, the top seems so much closer (save for that hidden hairpin that always seems to double way back on itself!)
Now standing by for Fausto Crappy / Scooby Doo or whatever his handle is to tell me to toughen up, have half a case of Mountain Dew and remove the inside ring and pedal at 100rpm like he does!
Excellent as usual Frank. The middle sections of a climb are usually when my breathing falls in sync with my pedal strokes and is a useful gauge of my effort and what reserves there may be for later.
As to taking advice from the Prophet, I always take it with a grain of salt. Kinda akin to getting weight lifting advice from Hercules, which can have limited human applications.
Saturday morning, in foreign territory on unknown paths, I found myself doing just that...
"Hey, that road points up... I wonder how far it goes?"
A while later, while the Man with the hammer whispered in my ear, I found myself tempted by le toute petite plaque and I knew it was time to channel my inner Sagan back down to the stable.
Thanks for that Frank.
Whenever I need inspiration and motivation to get out and Ride the Bike, I can always rely on your good self.
Goughie..
As the name suggests the beginning, middle and end are one and the same for me but I still try to seek out the hills. Fortunately I am not completely devoid of lumps in the rolling south east Kent, UK countryside but they are short and not always steep.
@JohnB
There wasn't a chap called Arvy in your group was there?
Also, despite being 80kgs myself I have decided that I am a natural climber. I have always found that 90% is in your head. The other 10% must be what the 50kg 18 year olds have when they sit in for the whole climb then sprint me at the top. They should try it with an extra 30kgs and a bunch of beers from the night before. Nothing sweats out a good hangover like a good good steady climb.
Strong work, nice words, Frank!
I've only done one (long!) day of real climbing. I considered throwing my bike into the woods when I got to the Middle. I even stopped and sat on the guard rail. "I don't get paid enough to do this." A minute later I was back on the bike. A hard day, but I'm looking forward to doing more long, serious climbing.
Climbing, golf & sex...the only things you don't have to be good at and can still enjoy. Oh wait...
Love the bit about gearing down early so that you can stay on top of that next gear. Too often I gear down only to think..."now what the hell, did the gear even change"? - knowing in my heart and my head that I'm already drowning in an easier ratio and that I'm already fucked with no one to blame but myself!
Great stuff, Frank. The most rewarding part for me is the view from the top and the knowing that you did it......Mt. Hamilton looking south to Monterey Bay. A few of the Velominati have been up this road. The worst part is that you can see the summit from about 8 miles away while pedaling up to it. I love the guys who say, "just make sure your upper body is relaxed". What are you talking about? - everything hurts!
The best description of the process of a challenging climb I have ever read. Thanks for putting into words the sublime experience that I think is the essence of cycling- yet an almost every day experience.