Mount Washington

I had just finished reading Heft on Wheels by Mike Magnuson, a story of an overweight smoker who transformed himself into a well-fit cyclist. On his path to fitness, he joins a group ride from a local bike shop and has his butt handed to him. Determined not to let that happen anymore, he eventually fought his way to be able to complete some of the most grueling hill climbing bicycle races.

While I'm not personally an overweight smoker, I was inspired enough to attempt one of the most difficult hillclimb races there is, the Mount Washington Hillclimb. This race is a mere 7.6 miles, but it has an average grade of 12% with extended sections of 18%. As someone once told me, it occasionally flattens out to 10% grade. I've known others who'd ridden the race and I always had it in the back of my mind that I would one day give it a try. So I forked over my $300 donation and registered for the race.

I worried about everything - gearing, training, whether I could do it, etc.

For gearing, I eventually settled on using a mountain cassette (11-34) and an Ultegra triple with modified gearing (48-36-26). To use this gearing, I used an XT derailleur with standard Ultegra shifters. For race day, I dropped the big chainring and the rear brake to save weight.

I trained on many of the local hills, but nothing approached the steepness I would encounter. On a family vacation, I sought the biggest hills I could find as we traveled across Wyoming in an RV. About a month before race day, I wanted to test my gearing on the steepest local climb I could find - the Pack Monadnock auto road. This road is steep, but it is only about a mile and a quarter long. I rode my bike there using the hilliest route I could find and my legs were good and tired when I started the final climb. This climb was far tougher than I expected and my confidence took a big hit. It forced me to question my gearing choice and it forced me to question my ability to finish Mount Washington.

Race day was rapidly approaching and I was getting nervous. I felt I had trained well enough, but my Pack Monadnock experience was fresh in my mind. About a week before the race, I expressed my concerns to my brother Seth. My confidence was bolstered by what my brother Seth told me. He had ridden Mount Washington twice and he said, "It's nothing compared to the General Clinton." For those non-canoe racers (almost everyone), the General Clinton is a 70-mile race, which takes more than nine hours to complete - plenty of time to suffer. With a goal of 1:30 for Mount Washington, I figured that I could endure.

Early on race day, I gathered at the base of the mountain along with 600 other riders. The summit was in the clouds and a misty rain was moving in. At the appointed time, I went to the starting line and with a cannon blast, the race was on. After a short sprint over the only flat stretch, the road turned left and headed up - steeply. I pedaled steadily and felt great. Adrenaline is your friend. I was ahead of my pace and my heart rate was in a very comfortable zone. I kept spinning those pedals using all of the gears I had, but never feeling like I wanted more. Don't get me wrong, it was hard work, but I was enduring.

The real fun starts once you get above tree line. You get blasted by wind as it finds its way between rocks and across the road. Once I nearly crossed someone else's line when the wind pushed me sideways a couple of feet. The most exciting moment came when there was a hairpin turn directly into the wind - a 30-40 mph wind. The inside line was very steep so I stayed to the outside. As I did so, I witnessed two people, who had taken the inside line, get blown over. They were lying on the ground still clipped into their pedals. At the same time, the guy right in front of me decided he had had enough and unclipped and stopped. I took evasive action and quickly veered toward the cyclists sprawled on the ground. I rode between the two of them and headed directly into the wind. I had no forward motion left and was forced to unclip.

Having unclipped, the trick was getting back on the bike. I made a couple of attempts, but there was no chance. I walked about 1/4 mile up the rode before it turned away from the wind and I was able to get back on the bike.

The finish wasn't far off, but I couldn't tell how far. The summit was totally in the clouds and visibility was only a few feet. The only clue that I getting close were all the people along the side of the road. The final pitch is 22% grade and I couldn't see the finish line until I crossed it one hour and thirty minutes after I started, right at my target.

Looking back, I wouldn't change a thing about my gearing. I probably could have pushed harder since I wasn't totally spent when I finished. And Seth was right, the General Clinton is much, much harder.