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The “Joy” Of Climbing A Hill On A Bike
Foolish mortals, we cyclists. Like Icarus, we ascend toward the sun, not so much on wings of wax and feather as on hope and spirit, and we never get there, not even close, though from time to time we stumble into luck and clutch at the soft cotton hem of clouds. Is it our arrogance that makes us climb these hills? Curiosity? Our hunger for strength, dominion, and a ripping downhill?
All of the above, for sure, but the quest for the polka-dot jersey may best be explained by our deep-seated streak of Sisyphusian masochism, for what is a hill but hell misspelled? Suffering is at the heart of every hardcore cyclist’s connection to the sport—not just the acceptance of suffering, but the whole-body embrace as if you’ve just found your lost child—and nowhere will you suffer more than on the hills. They are the ultimate proving ground of the cyclist, road or mountain, and we can’t help but be drawn to them. It’s as if the metronomic burn of spinning on the flats isn’t enough–we have to tilt things askew, make it harder, aim toward the sky, and not just for the challenge, but for the gesture, too. The Offspring were right: The more you suffer, the more it shows you really care. Bare-knuckle fighters, morning drinkers, and hill climbers.
And yet, the harder the effort, the sweeter the success, the more golden the glory of the summit. Tackling a big hill is an exercise in physical capacity, mental endurance, intestinal fortitude—the burlier it is, the tougher you are. King of the Mountains has a lot better ring to it than King of the Time Trials, you know what I’m sayin’? Even if nobody on earth witnesses your last exhausted revolution to the top, you still have within you the well-earned glow of satisfaction. Public or private, you’ll always know that cleaning a climb that’s thumped your ass over and over and over again feels like revenge and accomplishment and triumph over every bully that ever kicked sand in your face, that it feels like molten gold splashed over ice cubes of frozen diamonds and served by silent cherubs who attend to your every need.
Why does it feel so good? Because it feels so good when you stop? No. It’s because what would seem to be a pure physical victory is in fact a symbolic achievement of the highest order: The crushing of doubt and weakness in the brainpan. You know how it goes: Your mental and emotional state rises and falls with every dip and crest in the trail, every sudden jacking skyward of the pavement, and managing your thoughts is as important as pacing your body. You start out fresh and eager, get spanked, rally, ride the roller coaster higher. Inexorably, you keep pushing onward, cleaning the uncleanable, seeing spots before your eyes (is that where the polka dots came from?) until you run out of up. Thighs burning, lactic acid surging, legs aquiver, you stand at the very crest, body and brain together. Whoa. There’s no other feeling like it in the world.
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12 comments for “The “Joy” Of Climbing A Hill On A Bike”
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steve, love this post! kom is the best. and most peaceful, too. always fewer cyclists trying to wobble up “beyond category” climbs than zipping along at 30 mph in a big group on the flats. both compelling aspects of the sport, but climbing the most individualist, difficult and satisfying.
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Very nice. I can relate to this as I think the “up” is half the fun of biking. I’ve never understood people who only ride ski lifts to bike down. I’ve tried it, and found that doing nothing but the down is tedious. Fun, sure. But the only way to find any sense of accomplishment is by suffering for the up.
Think about it. The word “up” has a much more positive connotation than the word “down.”
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Awesome article! You’re so relatable on so many levels. I’m not a cyclist but I did do my first Marathon a couple of months ago, and trekked over a 13,000 ft pass in S. America about 6 months ago. I saw myself in every word you wrote…
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[...] singletrack, but I was taking the hills in stride and with good pace. There’s something about climbing a hill. My husband hates them (although he conquers them with ease), but I relish the challenge. Stating [...]
These words are so true. Well done! And I’m a fan of anyone that can use the phrase “Sisyphusian masochism” in a sentence…
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“…for what is a hill but hell misspelled?” Love it Steve! Feel free to expand on this subject – there’s so much more to uncover in the minds and bodies of those who climb.
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The older I get, the more I appreciate climbing. There was a time when most of my rides were shuttles. And I understand the lure of the lift and pure DH. If you’re riding really big, technical downhills, it’s nice to have all of your energy and focus to tackle the descent. That said, I do know the satisfaction of crushing a technical uphill, of loving the pain, and finishing a big climb for the first time. I like feeling strong and accomplished. I like feeling like I am making progress, getting better.
Good article!
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cool article, with fantastic imagery.
only one small problem though.
it was the offspring, not green day, that sang that line.
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scasimiro Reply:
June 11th, 2009 at 10:19 am
yup. duly noted and changed. shoulda actually gone back into the time machine that is the ipod.
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my head is that time machine. wonder what other things i could have accomplished if my head was not full of band names and song lyrics?
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Thanks for sharing – our group does a weekly race up a 1,700 foot hill, 1,200 in the last 3 miles. Been at it for 3 years, and the group keeps growing. Your post verbalizes what I think many of us feel deep down.
Keep climbing – it never gets easier, but you do get faster.
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Best article ive read in awhile, really relatable, i think alot of bikers/climbers/hikers/runners ask the same questions.
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