“It was horrible… I loved it.”
Blood, sweat, cheers, beers and most of all- rain! A delve into the 2021 National Hill Climb Championships
Originally written Nov 2021
“The world asks of us
only the strength we have…
and we give it.
Then it asks more,
and we give it.”
-Jane Hirschfield, ‘The Weighing’
Part one: What is it?
^The base of the climb and the flattest part of it, at a steady 10% gradient. Photos don’t do it justice. The top pillar of rock must be ~30m high.
Most cyclists would expect there to be National Championship races for road, MTB, track and Time Trial in the UK, as these disciplines are so popular and well regarded in the UK. However, very few would think that enough people would even go to the effort of doing one for hill climbs. Well, they’re wrong.
The British National Hill Climb Championships have been going on for 87 years (since 1944) without ever being cancelled, even with the war against the Axis powers (1944+45) and the war against Covid-19 (2020+21, I hope!). Even legendary road races such as Paris-Roubaix were postponed during wartime and covid, so the fact that a race up a hill managed to take place during these times seems quite significant, really. One particular event, the infamous Catford hill climb, has been running even longer (since 1886).
Sure, it might be an off-beat event and sure, the likes of Chris Froome and Ben Swift won’t show up to it (I hope!), but that doesn’t take away the fact that it’s a National Championship level event with the best of the best in attendance. Former pro cyclist David Millar only managed to get 4th place at the popular BEC hill climb back in 2014, which goes to show how focused and dedicated the top three must have been to beat him- and that race wasn’t at the same level as a Nationals would be!
For an event that will only last a few minutes, the Nationals are taken very seriously by some highly motivated cyclists, who will willingly train for hours, drive hundreds of miles to a race and stay overnight to attend an event that is over in the blink of an eye. Why? Well, the Nationals in particular has the final weekend in October to itself and it’s guaranteed to have every single one of the best riders in attendance. Everyone on the start line dreams of winning the event, gaining the status of ‘National Champion’ and earning the privilege of wearing the red, blue and white striped jersey. For that reason, it’s also a guaranteed spectacle and every rider will be giving it their all on the day. So much can be won, so much can be lost.
^the final corner of Winnats, and one of the steepest parts. I aimed for the orange windsock as my ‘less than 100 metres to go’ point, where I would sprint for the line. You can spot me in the thermal blanket!
The Nationals take place on a different course each year, which also serves to make the event interesting. Some riders really favour longer climbs (such as Ed Laverack, a skinny Welsh whippet who won the Nationals on Haytor Vale in Devon, 2019), whereas others favour shorter climbs (such as Andrew Feather, a man who has muscles on his muscles, who won on Pea Royd Lane in South Yorkshire, 2018 and Streatley Hill in Berkshire, 2020). Sometimes riders just have to accept that one course won’t work for them and that next year might be better, others adapt their strengths for the course at hand. Some riders are stupidly fast over all kinds of climbs, like Chris Boardman (ironically well known as a time trialist) or the Welsh powerhouse Dan Evans.
This year, the Nationals was set to take place on Winnats Pass- the first time it would be used for a hill climb since 1977 due to the road being too busy, with a road closure becoming unfeasible. The climb had been used 10 times for the Nationals until its hiatus, far more often than any other climb. This is probably because it is situated in Derbyshire (bang in the middle of the country), it is brutally steep and medium distance in length, the road surface is great and the climb goes up a beautifully picturesque valley, with towering verges, rock pillars and boulders lining the side of the road. It really is perfect for spectacle and spectators.
^two thirds of the way up the climb, the final twists leading straight up through the valley. Camera quality really dipped in the rain, even for professional photographers.
I have done harder climbs before, but the sheer setting and constant steepness of Winnats did scare me a little. When walking up it at 7am before the race started, I saw the towering cliffs of rock that signify how high I’d have to climb and the gentle twists on the steep section of road seemed to go on forever up the valley.
“Into the valley of death rode the three-hundred and sixty”
-Tennyson, ‘The Charge of the Light Brigade’, somewhat edited…
Part of getting up the climb is the mental aspect; I would get up it for sure, but how quickly could I do it? Half of my preparation involved calming myself down, preparing for the pain and envisioning myself speeding to the top around the last bend. Would it all go right on the day though? Would I make myself proud? I would just have to try my best and see. Placing these daunting thoughts aside and getting my mind prepared for the event was tricky, but I think I’ve got the hang of this now. When my family were stressed and annoyed by the rain and cold, I stayed as calm and focused as I could.
Part two: Me!
^me as a junior rider warming up for a hill climb back in 2017 or 2018. I used my Dad’s bike, my mind for pacing and low cut MTB socks. I’ve come a fair way since then!
Yes! The rider! The ‘thing’ that powers the bike! Well, to put it simply, I’m no National Champion (yet), but I did train hard in the run up to hill climb season and the Nationals to be the best I could be.
My first target was to complete the Fred Whitton Challenge solo during my summer holidays in the Lake District. It’s a 113-mile ride with some of the country’s hardest hills and I had my doubts that I’d be able to do it, but I did! Over 9 hours… Eek! This is clearly a lot more endurance based than hill climb races and it may seem odd targeting two different kinds of riding over the course of a few months. Perhaps it was, but the main cracking points on the Fred are on the climbs and I managed to get over Hardknott Pass (one of the steepest roads and hardest climbs in the UK) in one go at a high power, which I was very happy with, considering that my legs had covered 91 miles by then. It was such an amazing ride though and I’m raring to do it again even faster. Blog about that to follow shortly.
After I did that I thought, why not return to hill climbs after a 2 year absence (broken collarbone in 2019 and covid/ University 2020)? Even better, why not try to get into the National Champs? I knew this would be tough but I’m glad that I did it and got in after signing up in early September for it, which is somewhat impromptu.
Through September I began to do more intense rides, hill reps and general training sessions. There’s a fine balance between doing enough training, doing the right kind of training and completely overtraining, and I’m not certain how effective my training has been. I have improved, but I know that I could improve even more and understand my training better over the next year, which I will!
Diet wise, I haven’t kept track of my weight, but I have been eating enough food and have eaten relatively healthily. I’ve stayed away from takeaways and fatty meats and foods (for the most part), but sometimes after a long day of work I have resorted to eating half a pack of digestives in my room. Part of nutrition is about feeling healthy mentally; there’s no use being super strict with your diet if you’re feeling depressed and fatigued because of it. Treating yourself with food can be great for motivation too. Once I found out I had gotten a place, I’d stopped drinking alcohol, though I don’t think this made a great deal of difference. Beer is proven to be good for recovery too, so I’ll experiment over the next year to see if cutting it out makes any difference.
Part three: The Event
^Probably the photo that best sums up the event. A killer gurn, messy damp hair, taped on arm numbers and a droopy sock. Photo Credit- Tactic UK
The crowds cave in and swirl in front of me. A blur of blue anoraks, dark grey cagoules, pinstripe umbrellas and vibrant orange hi-vis clothing. It is an abstract painting; colours blur and intertwine and the road splits them apart, continuing forever, bending its way upwards like one of Dali’s clocks. Dashes of yellow paint are splattered like blood over the grainy tarmac. The noise hits you like a sledgehammer and the force is transmitted through screaming legs to the pedals, then to the rear wheel, the tyre and the road. Propulsion. Flight.
Is this really four minutes, or an eternity? It feels like a bad dream, but not a nightmare. The process that has led to this moment has been hours in the making and here I am at 08:55:30am starting what would be the make-or-break moment. Sure, you can train all you like in preparation, and preparation is often the key to success, but it all comes down to this tiny moment in time where pure intuition and primal might takes over. You make thousands of split-second decisions, you listen to what you’re impulses are telling you and you keep on pushing. Did I go off too fast? Maybe, but you can’t do much now other than trust you still have something left. Is this the best I can do? I don’t know. Try harder. When will it end? 30 seconds, 20, 10, last push now. Somehow, you still have something more to give, your body continues to work. Your mind settles down and thinks ‘I’ve got this’. Your facial muscles give up and your sight practically becomes useless. Pain, vision, sound, noise and thought all blur together in a chaotic yet beautiful symphony.
^staring in fear at one of the steepest ramps. I only got a little bit of wheelspin here. This segment seemed to last forever though, even with the crowd cheering me on it felt like a huge struggle.
The rain and the wind on the day didn’t help. Or did it? Everyone was facing the same conditions, everyone got that little bit colder on the start line, most people’s wheels slipped on the road, which practically became a river. It may have drenched me from head to toe, but it didn’t kill the flame inside me. Once I was on the rivet, it seemed to pause in the thin air. It merged with the symphony. Once I crossed the line and keeled off my bike onto the grass verge, I suddenly noticed how the faint raindrops landing on my body felt so oddly calming and refreshing, before they chilled me to the bone all over again. The rain was the kind of rain you’d see in a romantic era painting or a contemporary horror film, yet rarely in real life. Thick drops of water incessantly tumbling down as 360 riders rode up Winnats pass. It was sublime. I didn’t even notice the awful state of my sellotaped arm numbers or the fact that my right sock wasn’t properly pulled up, it was so intense.
The result didn’t matter. 94th male senior is a result that I’m very happy with, but it’s not the main thing to focus on. The moment, those wild four minutes was what I loved, and merely turning up on the day was an honour. Congrats to Tom Bell and Bithja Jones for setting some astonishing times to take the win (and everyone on the podium really!). I will never forget the experience and I’ll be sure to turn up next year, where after some serious training and another year of age and experience I can give it even more oomph. Coming 94th rather than, say, 20th has inspired me to aim higher and made me realise what might be possible in a few years’ time, on another rainy Sunday in October. But at the end of it all, if you have given it your all and pushed as hard as you could, then you’ve won and beaten your greatest opponent- yourself. The title of this blog sums it all up; it was what I said to one of my housemates after returning from the event. It was horrible. And yes, I did love it.
^my sellotaped arm numbers are now pinned on my pinboard, reminding me of that rainy, rainy day! 111 was a great race number to have for it in my opinion.
Do you think you’ll ever want to do a hill climb race? Do you ride better compared to others in the rain, or do you avoid it at all costs? Would you want to visit the Peak District on a sunnier day? Leave a comment, question or anything on this blog or send one to me via social media or email. As ever, thanks for reading!
-F
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