Brentani’s Cycling Blog

This post is a bit late, but I didn’t have any internet access after leaving Acadia. The last morning there, I headed out with a Garmin course to get me to Day Mountain, a hill I found on the map, which uses the dirt carriage roads. Having caught glimpses of the road from the loop, I was pretty sure they were road bikable but wouldn’t know until I got there. When I did, there was really very little soft dirt/sand or rocks to contend with. The road itself was pretty dusty and bumpy however, but that only presented a little difficulty going downhill. Otherwise, it felt like riding on (relatively) smooth cobblestones. I hadn’t mapped out Day Mountain on brentacol before doing the climb, so I didn’t know what to expect. Not being a public road for driving, I thought there could be some nasty steep sections. It turns out, however, that the gradient is luxuriously consistent, averaging 3.7% the whole way up. The dirt adds a bit to the difficulty, but not much. My brentacol map shows some spikes that I don’t believe. Great views the once you get to the top third. Really fun hill.

And there are also a couple hills on the loop that are a little bit tough, but nothing to compare with Cadillac. Jordon Pond Road, which comes just before Cadillac, so you could conceivably lump it together, is probably the hardest of them:

When I started the ride, I was still feeling crappy from the day before, and was pretty sure I was going to scrap my original plan of going up Cadillac one last time. However, after Day Mountain, my condition gradually improved, so I decided to give Cadillac one more crack before heading home. By half-way up I was really feeling good, and even wondered if I might be setting a new best time. Turns out it was about 20 seconds off my previous best, coming in at 17:50 or so. Still, 4 times up Cadillac in 3 days was pretty fun.

I’m up in Maine for the week, and yesterday the family and I arrived in Bar Harbor for two days. After getting to the hotel at around 3:30, I immediately headed out for a quick ride from the hotel up to the top of Cadillac. Cadillac is the big mountain at Acadia that rises up from sea level to about 1500 feet. Since I started from the hotel on Main Street in downtown Bar Harbor, I probably ascended all but 50 feet of that vertical distance in about 6 miles. The first 2.5 miles are pretty inconsistent, but do have some of the steeper bits of riding. Once you enter the park, there’s a left turn onto the summit road, and from there the road is a pretty monotonous 5-7% all the way to the top. (A very gentle gradient compared to some of the stuff I’ve been doing lately.) Views from the top are incredible, and the wind was pretty intense once you get out of the tree cover.

I wanted to get myself a benchmark course in the Garmin so that I’d have something to work off of for today’s ride. I didn’t particularly have any goal as far as time, primarily because I had had a big lunch of chicken wings, curly fries and rolling rock that were still sitting like a brick in my stomach. I started the timer at the bottom of the access road and stopped it just as I hit the loop at the top. 19:08. Not bad, all things considered. That night, I checked what my buddy Mike’s time had been: 15:40. Yikes. That was going to be hard to beat, even with a nice warmup and no curly fries.

Today, I headed out and did the 20-mile loop around Acadia, ending up at the base of Cadillac again. Cued up my course and started the timer again at the bottom. I started out well. I figured I needed to beat yesterday’s time by almost a minute per mile to have any chance of beating Mike. After the first mile, I had almost 45 seconds in hand, and thought I might have a chance. I felt pretty good the whole way up and cranked out a pretty steady cadence. Unfortunately, the last 2.5 miles were not as much faster as I hoped and I finished with 17:32, a little more than a minute and a half faster than yesterday’s time, but still almost 2 minutes off Mike’s pace.

From there I went back down and rode the loop another time. There are some decent climbs on the park loop as well (which is, btw, some of the nicest riding I’ve ever done). Somewhere on the back side, I caught up to and then passed a local rider on one of the climbs. He caught me on the descent and we chatted a bit. He pulled through and picked up the pace a bit, and I decided I would take it a bit easier, but caught him on the next uphill, just before the turn onto Cadillac. For some reason, I decided I should do it one more time, and the guy I met came along for the ride. Not even 1/2 mile in, I knew I had bit off more than I could chew, or at least chew comfortably. I lost my partner’s wheel and was quickly and firmly stuck in my low gear (34-25) the rest of the way up. I hit the wall pretty hard, but managed to slog it out. I knew from the beginning I wasn’t going to do a good ride up, so I didn’t even bother setting the timer. However, I couldn’t resist looking back at the data when I got back to the hotel and calculating the climb time: just over 26 minutes. Good god. I know I was slow, but that’s embarrassing. Although, if I need to feel better about myself, I can point to the fact that I started the climb at about mile 50 (making this the longest ride I’ve done in a while), and the fact that this is only my second real ride since Kingsley Hill (due to a nasty stomach virus). From there, it was all downhill back to town. Wicked awesome ride all around.

Sunday morning, I got up early and left Manchester for North Adams, intent on finally getting back to do Greylock. Parke was the only one I was able to convince to come. The last time I did it (the south side) was 12 years ago, in 1998. This time I was planning on doing the North side. But first I had a little loop planned to go over to Kingsley Hill Road, reputed to contain the steepest half mile in the country. I didn’t pay too much attention to the terrain on the map I had chosen, and there was a lot of climbing before we even got there. First up was the climb out of North Adams on Route 2. We took a back route to get about halfway up the climb and then did the rest of it. A really nice, steady climb, if you can ignore the traffic, which I didn’t find too troublesome. From there, we descended Whitcomb Hill Road (which will be a great hill for another day, and headed towards Kingsley Hill Road.) The scenery along River Road is incredible, and you begin to feel squeezed by the steep, steep terrain on either side. Especially because of the realization that you’ll soon be taking a left to go up what seems like a cliff wall.

Kingsley Hill is as nasty as everyone says. The first section seems to go on forever. It’s wooded and a little curvy, so you can’t get a great idea of how much further until the gradient lets up. I was doing switchbacks (or snow-plowing, or whatever you want to call it) through a lot of this, but I made it up without stopping. Not sure what happened to Parke, but he was quite a ways back, and eventually I couldn’t even hear his cursing. I had a 34-29 as my low gear, Parke had a 39-27, which is really not sufficient for that kind of hill. After the steep part, it gets easier. But the steep stuff takes so much out of you, you really don’t get to recover until the top. It was also very hot and sunny, so just before the last section of steep (probably 12% or so) I cooled off a bit in some shade. and then went on to the top. Hoping that Parke hadn’t turned around and abandoned me in disgust for subjecting him to such torture, I went back down a ways and found him still cursing. He took a break at about the same point I did, and we rode together back up to the top. I’m not sure if he had to dismount in the steep section or not. From there, we went up Tilda Hill. On Doug’s site, he lists Tilda Hill in combination with Kingsley Hill. The whole thing is about 5%, so I figured Tilda Hill couldn’t be too hard. In fact, there’s a very long flat/downhill section, so you’re fully recovered from Kingsley Hill by the time you hit Tilda, and on its own, it’s actually a pretty tough hill.

Going down Tilda, my bike felt a little wobbly, which I chalked up to the road, which was pretty rough, so I took it easy while Parke sped off on the descent. Then back to the descent down Route 2. Again, Parke took off and I rode conservatively. SNAP! CLANG-CLANG-CLANG-CLANG. Fuck it. another broken nipple/spoke. and I wasn’t even pedaling. I dismounted, and discovered that i had snapped a spoke  about 2 inches from the hub. The wheel still spun reasonably, so I tried to secure the spoke and kept going. CLANG-CLANG-CLANG-CLANG. This time I was sure the entire wheel was exploding under me. Turns out, the spoke had just popped loose and was banging around again. this time I bent it sideways and threaded it between the adjacent 4-5 spokes. Seemed extra secure. Rode the rest of the way down without incident. Needless to say, we ditched Greylock, and Parke bought me lunch. Even without Greylock, we did about 5000 feet of climbing (in just 30 miles)…so not a bad day in the saddle.

I’m not too happy with my performance on Whiteface, which is probably why it’s taken me until Thursday to write up a race report from Saturday. I was expecting a time of somewhere around 1:08, but that was based on flawed calculations, so I actually came in at 1:02:45. My calculation was figuring I had lost ~5 minutes over 3.7 miles on both Okemo and Ascutney to Doug last year, so my time should be 10 minutes more than his – though I figured longer distance and easier gradient would mean that I’d probably loose a bit less than that. I misread Doug’s time of 48 and change as 58 and change, which was how I came up with 108. So in the end I was almost 4 minutes slower than I had hoped.

The biggest factor, I think, was a bungled warmup. I rode down the course from the “North Pole” theme park where my car was (about 2 miles) and toodled around for a bit. Figuring I wanted a decent warmup, and remembering (correctly) that I had forgotten to lock the car, I decided to get a feel for the hill by riding back up to the car. I kept an easy and sustainable pace, and was pleasantly surprised to see that 8 mph wasn’t very difficult to keep up. Got to the car, locked, went back down. People were lining up, so rather than be the jackass who’s race prep is too important to hang out in the group, I just lined up too, but that meant I was standing still for upwards of 30 minutes. From the gun my legs were burning. And the same spot where I had been easily keeping up 8 mph suddenly seemed very hard at the same pace. My average was probably 9.4 mph during the first 2 miles, and it steadily dropped for the rest of the climb. Never really felt like I was able to get much momentum or power or even really the motivation to get things rolling.

That said, I did very much enjoy the climb. The first 3 miles up to the toll both are a little boring, but the last 5 up to the summit are incredible. The finish, in particular is dramatic. The road is almost dead straight until just before the top, where you get two swoopy switcback finally arriving at the Castle.

Following the race, I navigated NY backroads, a ferry, and VT backroads to get to teammate jerry’s house outside of Burlington. The next morning, we rode around some of his favorite hills, ending up back at Bolton Notch, a complete spanker of a hill, right by his house. Last year he told me that it was “almost as steep as Lincoln Gap” and at first I just assumed that this was the usual “my driveway is the steepest hill on the planet” hyperbole you find all over the internet. Turns out he’s not far off. The first 1 KM averages almost 17%! It’s quite similar to Mount Tom. There are two immense walls of 20%, punctuated by a couple spots to recover, if only slightly. There are also some dirt/gravel sections to contend with. What makes it easier than Mount Tom, is that Mount Tom’s sections of 20+% are both longer, and happen a bit later in the hill. The first section on Bolton Notch is sprintable, and you can get up it with a little determination. After the short recovery section, the next section on Bolton Notch is really, really, nasty, but once you get to the top of that, you’re done with the really evil stuff and you can roll it up to the top. On Mount Tom, just as you finish one huge slog, you’re hit with another one just as bad, and that second one is much more demoralizing. Jerry had bid me farewell at the bottom saying he’d just go up for a bit and turn around, but he was cranking up the hill not too far behind me when I got to the top.

A word to the wise: don’t ask Doug Jansen for advice about selecting the best route for doing a climb, at least if you don’t want to be in a world of hurt. I actually don’t mind so much, so I’m glad I did ask him for advice on my trip up Mount Lemmon. Apparently, most Tucson riders who do Mount Lemmon turn around in Summerhaven (…Khalid? you?). That would be about 28 miles from the base, and I would have been perfectly happy had I done so. The climb had become difficult, but primarily because of its length and a little because of the altitude. At that point I had been climbing for close to 2 3/4 hours. I had kept up a decent clip, but nothing too strenuous. Above 7000 feet, the elevation started to become a major factor, so my average speed had dipped from around 11, to just under 10 and I was riding mostly in the little ring (with which thankfully my rental bike came equipped.) As I finally reached Summerhaven, I was feeling pretty well cooked. If I had turned around and gone back down, however, I would have recovered fine and the whole ordeal would have seemed like no big deal. Instead, I turned onto Ski Run Road and followed that road up to the summit. The average gradient on that section is 6.8% as compared to 4.2% for the whole climb. However, there’s also a lot of steeper road in that section…some over 10% and even a little section of 19%. Factor in elevation, and fatigue from the previous 28 miles and the last 3.4 miles (which gain an additional 1281 feet) is as hard as anything else I’ve ever done, including Lincoln Gap and Ascutney. As Doug had predicted in an email to me, I was “sucking wind” and had to stop a few times to recover. I thought about telling myself “most people don’t bother with this part of the climb” and turning around. Thankfully I persevered and was rewarded with a great view of Tucson.

Here’s a gradient map for the last 3.4 miles:

The descent down the summit road was nasty. lots of bumps and I was riding the brakes most of the way, though the rims never got red-hot like they do on Ascutney or Okemo. Adding to the difficulty, my rental bike was a bit too big and my arms were extended pretty far to ride on the brakes, and it was pretty cold up there as well. My arms and hands weren’t feeling so good when I got back to Summerhaven. The rest of the descent from Summerhaven was pretty easy…smooth pavement, nicely banked curves. Unfortunately, I’m still a bit of a skittish descender, so I didn’t go all that fast.

And for the BRENTACOL rating, I’d like to start factoring in elevation. I’m thinking something like: add x percentage points per 1000 feet of elevation (over a certain threshold, like maybe 5000)…suggestions welcome. In any case, Mount Lemmon scores 1982 from the bottom to the summit. That makes it the highest rated hill I’ve done (but frighteningly, still 500 points easier than Mount Washington). I’d say that’s right. Although if I factor in elevation it might bring it close to Washington.

I haven’t checked in in a while, so there’ll be a lot of somewhat unrelated things in this post. First of all, I did Ascutney back on July 18, and posted a report here. The next day, I drove up and did a loop around Lincoln Gap and App Gap. For Ascutney, I (with help from Brian, of course) set up the Circle A as a single front chainring of 26. Matched that with a 13-29 in the back. The gears felt just about right. I spun out on the brief down-hill/flat section at mile 2.5, but otherwise was fine. I spent a lot of time in the 26/29, but never felt like I wanted to downshift, and was able to shift up and down pretty smoothly as the pitch changed. (Contrast that w/ okemo where I was firmly stuck in the 34/29 from bottom to top.) For Lincoln, I of course needed some bigger gears (for the flat and descents), but also needed the low gears. I used the Gazelle for that, which, if you don’t remember, has a compact triple (46-36-24, w/ a 13-26 in the back). The 46/13 is a little easier to spin out on flats than you might want, but otherwise the gearing was also pretty good.

Ascutney Setup

Lincoln Gap…starts out with a short steep section. Nothing to worry about. It levels off and gives you some extended false flats, which eventually become dirt. When the pavement returns, that’s when the fun starts. The transition from 36 to 24 is pretty hairy, so I stopped and shifted into the 24 right at that point, since I didn’t want to mess with it once the gradients really picked up. The next section is very steep, probably mid-teens. At a certain point, you turn a corner and see an immense section of over 20%. That part is going to hurt anyone, probably no matter what gears you bring. I did it in the 24/26. Once you get up that and turn the corner, it “eases up” to about 18%. It was at this point that I stopped for a breather. I couldn’t tell what would happen around the next corner, and the Gazelle doesn’t have a computer, so I didn’t know how far I had gone. Turns out if I had just perservered another little bit, I would have been at the top. Oh  well.

Next Item: Carrie went to a wedding a month or so back, and google maps inexplicably sent her on some back road on her way up to Burriville. Turns out it was a hill, and she asked if I had done it, which I had not. I went out on tuesday to give it a try. The road in question is Brayton, and is right near Burlingame. Nothing too difficult, but definitely worth knowing about. There’s another road (Rogler Farm) that also goes up to the same point. Here they are:

if you’re wondering what the road up Okemo looks like, check out this youTube video. This is pretty much what it felt like when I was climbing it. You really have to be careful not to take those switchbacks too fast when climbing or you might just fly off the side.

Short version:

• 5.8 miles
• 2 miles flat
• 3.8 miles of climb
• 11.6% average grade
• 19% maximum grade
• 2100 ft elevation gain
• 55 starters
• winning time: 29:19
• Doug Jansen’s Time: 32:29
• My time: 37:28
• place: 15th
• lesson’s learned: 34-29 is not as easy a gear as you think it is, and don’t underestimate the guy in the Sponge Bob jersey with a 26-34.

long version: Here’s my story and I’m sticking to it: I beat the predicted winning time of 43 minutes by about 6 minutes. Never mind the fact that all the contenders at the start line looked at each other and chuckled when the announcer made his prediction. Doug had told me that he was hoping to do it in 35. Since this was my first hill climb, I wasn’t quite sure what to expect. Turns out that hill climbs really aren’t all that complicated. Fun as hell, but not complicated. So here’s how it went from my perspective. After picking up my number, I headed out to the “warm up” area. It turns out the warm up area was actually a 2 mile (or so) climb. The gradient wasn’t very tough, however, so I could keep it in the 34-23 or 26 and keep the ride nice and easy. I showed up for the start with 54 others. This race was a little different from most hill climbs because we had to ride along the flat 103 for 2 miles before starting the climb. The climb itself was 3.8 miles at an average gradient of 11.6% and 2100 feet of elevation (so the whole race was 5.8 miles). I wasn’t really looking forward to the first part, because I was afraid that either I’d be killed by one of the cyclo-tourists who had never ridden in a pack before, or that the cat 1’s and 2’s would drop me before the climb even started. Thankfully my fears were unfounded and we kept up a nice and easy 20-ish mph until the climb, and no-one was trying to get a hole-shot or anything dumb like that. The climb started off with a bang. No more than 100 meters in, the race had already separated into the real racers and those just along for the ride. And a bunch of riders started out very hard. I had to check myself to not try following them, since I’ve killed myself in the first 1/2 mile of a climb more times than I can count. I made the executive decision that I wouldn’t pass Doug, since there was no way in hell I’d be beating him to the top. I didn’t have to work very hard to adhere to that decision. I hovered a few meters back from him, and was gradually working my way up towards him, and then he was gradually moving away, and then I stopped worrying about Doug, since before I knew it, he was pretty far up the road. I rode with a Mystic Velo Club rider for a while…eventually the steepness got to him and he pulled off to the side and stopped to catch his breath. I fought the temptation to do the same, since I knew where it would get me. It turns out, 34-29 isn’t as easy as I thought it was. Through the steepest sections I was going just over 4 mph, which means my cadence was pretty damn low (and I don’t feel like figuring out what that makes my actual cadence). At about this point a couple other riders from behind caught up to me. I lifted my pace enough to grab the wheel of the first rider and rode on his wheel for a while, until the pitches went up again. Somewhere in here, someone on the side of the road told us that we were 13, 14, and 15 on the road. Eventually I lost contact with those 2, and that’s when we hit the fog. From here on, I could just barely see the two of them up the road at the edge of the fog, and I could just barely see a couple riders behind me. And that’s how it stayed until the top. My computer hit 5.9 miles (the race was supposed to be 5.8) and began thinking that someone had played a horrible joke on me (and that those 500 ft and 250 ft to go signs were just lies). Then out of nowhere the I was at the finish line. I had enough energy to correct the announcer when I read my name and was very happy to see a finishing time of 37:28. That’s well within the range of what I was hoping to do. I’m just happy to have a baseline to improve on.

And, I’m sold on the whole hill-climb thing. For the same reason I love the north, the people who are at these races are there because they want to be there. The climb hurts for everybody, from the winner to the last finisher, and everyone pushes themselves to their limit. As a result, there’s no bitching at the end about so-and-so who sucked their wheel, or took a stupid line, or refused to work in a break, or how I should have won, but didn’t time things right. I can’t wait for my next one, I’m just not sure when it might be. Maybe Ascutney, or maybe Burke in the fall.

Here’s Doug Jansen’s take and here are the official results in case you don’t believe me.

Yesterday I drove up to just south of Woodstock, NH and rode around a bit before climbing up to the Kancamagus Pass. Here’s what Doug Jansen has to say:

“The Kancamagus Highway (The Kanc) is one of my favorite roads to ride in New England. The scenery can’t be beat, and it’s a brute of a climb from either direction. You can park in Conway, ride to Lincoln and back, or vice versa for a 100+ km ride. What you miss seeing behind you going out you will see coming back. The only downside to riding the Kanc is there are no paved shoulders. During peak tourist times, traffic can be heavy. Avoid this road during fall color season. The road is being resurfaced starting from Lincoln, which is way past due. This will make descending that side far more pleasant, plus it looks like a bit of shoulder is being added.”

I was beginning to wonder why it was considered a brute, since I did the first half of the 13 or so miles in the big ring, and felt pretty good. But eventually I decided I’d be happier in the 34. After that I was still able to keep up a pretty tough pace, but every time I went around an s-curve I kept hoping I was close to the top, but instead the gradient just kept increasing. It was a little hard to tell, however, whether it was actually getting harder or if I was just getting tired. Some of both I expect. Probably 2-3 miles from the top, I went by an overlook and thought for a second I was at the top. I kept going because I wasn’t sure and since it flattened out a bit, I put it in my big ring again and pushed it a bit harder (having a bit of an adrenaline rush thinking I was almost done). That’s when the tough gradients really kick in. According to signs on the way back down, this section is 3.5 miles of 9%. Then I went back to Curtis’s condo in Waterville Valley and waited for Curtis, Mark N, Mark G, and Andrew to get back from their epic 4-hour mountain bike ride (or a long hike pushing their bikes, for much of it…) We all relaxed in the pool, drank some beer, went to dinner, and watched the 1998 World Championships on video (and I got to be disappointed all over again that Bartoli could only pull off the bronze.) So today, Curtis and his family, along with Mark N, headed home for Providence at about 4:00AM. Against my better judgment I borrowed Curtis’s mountain bike and went out for a ride with Mark G and Andrew. Somehow, we took a wrong turn, and instead of taking a reasonable trail up to the top of Mount Snow (a ski hill), we pretty much just rode directly up the ski slope. I walked most of that. Near the top, Andrew turned back since his pedals were broken and would no longer clip in. (I was having trouble clipping in, since I had never ridden on the time mtn bike cleats, but that wasn’t a good enough excuse for me to turn back.) After that, things were a little better, but I’m really not used to the whole mtn biking thing. Comparing my effort to my effort on the Kanc the day before, that day I was in control of my effort and could monitor how I was feeling. I pushed myself to close to my limit on the Kanc, but I was always able to back off a bit, or keep it under control. On the mountain bike, however, everything would go south very quickly. I’d be climbing and keeping up a reasonable pace, and then a second later I’d be hunched over the bike, gasping for air. Other than a couple little crashes – one looked much worse than it was, since I landed on my face – it was pretty fun…but I don’t think I’ll be buying my own bike any time soon.

Yesterday I drove up to Milford, New Hampshire with Radu to try out my new bike on some real climbs. The first climb we did was Pead Hill Road in Wilton, which Doug at Northeast Cycling describes as:

“This climb starts nearly from downtown Wilton on Dale St, then bearing right when you reach Pead Hill Rd part way up. Pead packs a deceptively steep punch for a small hill. Very nice views of the Wapack Range (North and South Pack Monadnock plus others) to the west. Pead hill is often included in our weekend group training rides. Coming back down Lyndeborough Center Rd is both scenic and very fast.”

It’s a nice 1.6 mile climb, and Radu and I kept up a decent pace. Somewhere near the top, I cracked and Radu went up the road. From there, we did a nice little loop back to Milford. Then we headed back to Wilton, and this time took the fork left and followed 101 up toward Pack Monadnock. We weren’t sure if we were going to try it or not. Here’s Doug’s assessment:

“This climb begins in the town of Wilton, taking Route 101 to Miller State Park were you will find the very steep summit road. The haul up busy Rt 101 is gradual at first, then you notice the uphill slow vehicle lanes right about when your quads start to burn. The toll road to the summit offers only 800 feet of vertical, but it packs a very steep punch, steeper than Washington in fact. The last 2/10 of a mile are approximately 20% grade. This road is in a NH state park, so during summer daylight hours a use fee is generally collected. Once you pay though, you my ride your bike up and down as many times as you like. The ranger there has told me he’s seen individuals make many round trips to top and back. This descent has some very tight hairpin switchbacks and bumps, so caution is needed on the descent.”

Radu was hesitant about this climb since he only had 39-25. I figured my 34-25 would get me to the top, and so I wanted to give it a crack. Unfortunately yesterday was not my day for climbing. All was well on Route 101, which is a gradual 10 mile climb up to the park where the real climbing begins. The final section of 101 made the legs hurt a bit. it wouldn’t have been bad, were it not for the ridiculously steep road to the summit that was still in front of us. As the summit road began I kept a decent pace, and avoided going into the 34-25 for a little while. It seemed that my compact crank was giving me an edge over Radu, and I was a little ahead of him for most of this section. And by about the 1/2 mile mark I was firmly in the 34-25 and didn’t shift out until the top. It was at about this point that Radu pulled in front (not surprisingly, given that he was pushing a much harder gear and if he hadn’t he might have fallen over sideways.) Then I started feeling dizzy and knew that I was approaching my HR maximum. I stopped to cool off and watched Radu ride away. I did that 2 more times on the way up. I kept wondering if/when I’d see Radu coming back down, and then I saw the observation tower was close, and also realized that I would soon have to contend with 2/10s of a mile of 19%. And then I saw the wall in front of me and stopped. I kept telling myself that it was just like riding Jenckes. I can ride up Jenckes. It isn’t that hard. Just because I’ve been climbing for the last 12 miles, I should still be able to get up it in a 34-25. I got about 1/2 way up and stopped just at the point when Radu was coming down. Beaten, but unwilling to not see the top after coming that far, I walked the last 1/10 of a mile to the summit. That left me wondering where I stand re: trying Mount Washington this summer. Maybe I’ll put that off another year. Hats off to Radu who made it to the top without stopping in a 39-25, though he admitted to zigzagging up the final section.