I recently went to Canada for a wedding, but on the way my dad and I took a side trip through Nova Scotia. The top island of Nova Scotia is called Cape Breton and at the top of the island is a park that has some amazing and beautiful roads. I brought my bike on the trip just for these roads and was quickly humbled.
To be fair to myself, I had only ridden twice in the two weeks leading up to the trip (there's always an excuse), and not for over a week before jumping right into the steepest hills I've ever gone up. I also ate like complete crap for the week before. I knew I wasn't going to make it far, so I set a goal for myself of three hills. If you look at the elevation chart, I did just that. Barely.
When I started the ride, I knew I didn't eat enough and I forgot to bring a bar with me, so I was proper fucked from the get-go. I felt terrible for the first fifteen minutes, and having scouted the terrain the day before, I knew I was a dead man. The first real hill (the lump in the middle) was about as long as the Manayunk Wall, but, according to my Garmin, was a 16% grade. I haven't done the math (height in ft./distance in ft. x 100) but I think my Garmin is wrong. Either way, the hill was fucking steep. Knowing how out of shape I was and how crappy I felt, I just attacked it. I stood up and powered my way to the top. It felt great. I didn't get tired, my legs felt good and I wasn't losing my breath. I soft pedaled down the hill and pushed it a little on the flat. I felt so good, I got over confident. Enter hill number two.
The second hill was a mile long and, again, according to my Garmin, was mostly 11% with a taper to 8% for the last few hundred meters. Unlike the first hill which was a steady grade and straight, hill two was a winding, pitch changing challenge. I started off strong, but by the last three hundred meters, I lost everything. It started in my legs. I dropped into my granny gear (28T) and slowed my pace to try to bring my heart-rate down. No dice. My legs were burning, and not that nice burn you get on a challenging hill. It was the kind of burning that causes your legs to send messages to your brain saying "Enough already, get the fuck off the bike!" Then came the gasping for air. I've struggled on hills before, but I was audibly horrifying this time. By the time I made it to where the grade dropped off a little, I was done. I thought I had a flat tire from how slow I was moving per how much resistance my legs perceived. I was way to far into the red, but I could see the top. I always crack when I can see the top. Always. On the Mother Fucker Hill, once I knew the top was around the corner, I hopped off my bike. When I rode up The Wall with Ted, I saw the top and hopped off my bike. I wasn't going to do it again. I just kept the wheels turning and made it to the top. Victory.
At the top, I could no longer bring my legs around any more. I could see the next hill in the distance and knew that no matter how much soft pedaling I did on the down hill, I wouldn't have the legs to make it up. I actually felt fear. I clipped out and collapsed on my bike. Still gasping for air, and massaging my legs in an attempt to get them to move, I just stood there, staring at the hill in the distance. I wanted to do it, I just couldn't.
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