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.