: Go climb a mountain!

By: g | No Comments » |

Rarefied mountain air sucks past my dried out epiglottis, tunneling down into every available alveoli in my lungs as I struggle for breath up yet another sharp crest of the fire trail. I gush out the expired oh-two and feel the surging beat of my heart’s every straining moment through the back of my eyeballs. When is this bastard of a climb ever going to finish?

I am on Narrowneck peninsula on a crisp autumn day, spinning away on the treadlie at an altitude of just over 1200 metres above sea level (around 3600 pre metric feet). As I burn up my body’s fuel and air supply, that age old question comes flying back into my head – how come some days you can ride hills, while some days you just can’t?!

Matt is in front of me, not even looking like he needs a rest – the whippet! Keith follows him eagerly to the top of the next rise as I curse the dickheads who arrange the placement of waterbars right at the summit – you know, just where the track starts to level out. It’s all too much on this particular ascent and I give up in frustration with the pointy end of the seat jabbing me in the arse and too much suspension bob from the steep, loose surface – they can have the heart attack, not me; I’m walking this one!

So while I take the duallie for “walkie’s” and curse those who actually seem to *enjoy* riding *up* hills, I conjure up some of the maybe-not-so-profound reasons for my seemingly lacklustre performance. Getting older might be a factor but it isn’t necessarily at the top of the list. How many younger dudes do you remember whipping past that really made you think should be doing a hell of a lot better than you?

Last time I checked, my biorhythm chart looked fine. No energy cycles flowing low and out the window here. Hmm, maybe it’s all the stress from the day job just dragging me down – naaah, that’s one thing I *know* for sure that melts away when I am out on the bike in the bush!

Crap diets and poor hydration might be one of the gremlins that lurk at the start of any climb, jumping onto your daypack like a leach that sucks out energy instead of blood. A week of skipped lunches, missed dinner on a couple of nights, followed up by beer and pizza the night before riding just might not help cut it here. Whatever happened to the carbohydrate loading, the bananas, the power bars (mmmm, used to like those Clif Bars), gels and sports drinks?? Most sane riders know that their treadlies just won’t run without the right octane intake to fire those nerve impulses controlling leg muscles. And a litre of water an hour – pffft, I’d be lucky to have consumed a cup!

And what about fitness, I ask myself as I amble up over the next water bar. Fitness seems to have a direct relationship to ride expectations. Pick a ride that’s too long, too hard (or in summer – too hot) and if your fitness doesn’t cross match, then you’ve got troubles. After allowing life to denude us of riding at times, it’s easy for riders to forget that you can’t always pick up where you left off. Regular riding and training are the obvious answers here, but sometimes life has other plans. A growing number of dirt riders are turning to road schmoad hacks to increase endurance and strength training, but be buggered if that particular sacrifice is something that suits every mtb’er!

As the afternoon sun bounces back off the top tube paintwork, I spare a thought for the condition of the bike and how it contributes to the flow of the ride. Chains refusing to jump off the middle ring to granny, or rear clusters spitting the chain up and down like an automatic 1963 Valiant just wont lead to everlasting hill climbing bliss. My rig is reasonably well maintained and serviced, but every now and again the drive train nasties still come out to play. It pays dividends not to be a scrooge when it comes to replacing worn rings, cassettes, front and rear mech’s, chains, cables and shifters *before* they become a reason to pick the bike up and throw it off the track in disgust.

Like good bike service habits, good gear shifting takes a little time to master. Nodding off in la-la land just as you cruise into the start of a monster climb in 27th cog may not be the best place to then start thinking about crunching down through the straining gears. How sweet it is when the pre-emptive ability to read the right gear for the terrain ahead just seems to help lift you and the bike over a rise at a synergistic cadence! None of this is my particular problem now though, as my Shimano shoes get a little more of the metal worn away from the cleats as I step on crunchy sandstone and my Achilles tendon stretches more than it should.

At least my tyres seem to suit the track conditions today. The 2.6-inch Moto raptors with around 35 psi have adhered to the dirt as I get back on the saddle. One of my mates likes to run skinnier xc tyres with up to 65 psi and for the life of me I don’t know how he manages to stop the tyres ricocheting from corner to corner – or better still, keep traction when he slaps the bike upwards. It can be such a personal thing to choose the right rubber, but it can make such a difference to your chances of getting it up (…the bike, uphill, that is).

So as my heart rate starts to level out like the falling gauges at a hydro-electricity plant after the floodgates are closed, my musings about the art of hill climbing become startlingly clear. Of course! This *has* to be it!! First, God made cross-country riders, then he made down hillers. But then, saving the best for last, he made another category of riders just for people like me – “phree” riding, for totally phat Extreme Free Riding Dudes who don’t really have a clue what this uphill caper is all about!!! It makes you laugh your head off really, as all I want to do is ride and yet sometimes, we can over analyse and categorise things to bits.

Another long hill looms in the near distance. I shrug my shoulders and know its gonna hurt. But then, a really sweet smile of satisfaction comes to my face as I knuckle down, spin like mad, slide forward on the seat, start attacking the hill and do it all over again.

Do your thing!
Hodgie

 

Tags:blue mountains,cables,gears,mountain,suspension,sydney


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