My heart rate was one hundred and eighty beats per minute and holding, my breathing was labored, my legs felt like they were getting heavier and heavier and the end of the climb was certainly nowhere in sight. All I could see was more road in front of me winding up toward the heavens. I was heading up to the Blue Ridge Parkway and had already been climbing for half an hour and it was becoming mentally and physically demanding to keep pushing on. Part of me wanted to turn around and go back down, but I knew I would regret if it I did, so I kept turning over the pedals. The toughest part was that as I continued to go steadily upward, the climb got steeper, not insanely steep, but miles and miles of 8% grade start to turn you legs into mush after a while. I reached what I thought was the top, after climbing 2200 feet in approximately ten miles, only to discover that I had another 1200 feet to climb in the next four miles to reach the actual top. 3400 feet of climbing in under twenty miles was definitely a test of mental and physical fortitude for me. The “long and tough” climbs I was used to were only a little more than a mile long with 500 feet of elevation gained and took me about ten minutes to climb.
At the top of the first 2200 feet of the climb
Two hours from the time I started climbing, I finally reached the top, the views were spectacular and although I wanted to turn back at some points, I was glad that I continued on. I felt accomplished as I looked around at the scenery below. The parkway was closed to traffic at this time of year and so it was a beautiful and serene place to stand for a moment and look down at the world below. Then that serenity quickly turned to anxiety and fear as it was time to head back down.
Finally at the actual top of the climb!
The descent was steep and winding with many hairpin turns. If you released the brakes fully your bike just wanted to go faster and faster, picking up ten to fifteen miles per hour in a matter of seconds. As I released the brakes briefly and picked up speed I hit a sharp turn and thought, “oh my god am I going to go flying off the side of the road, hundreds or thousands of feet down.” All of the sweat that built up on the climb up, started to make me freeze on the drop back down. I was shaking and my teeth were chattering uncontrollably from the cold and the nervousness as I descended back down to the quiet and rolling roads below. I think, given the choice, I would rather climb the mountain again then descend it. By the time I reached the bottom my hands hurt from gripping the brakes and the brakes themselves were considerably worn down, leaving my tube stems coated in brake dust.
Once I made it safely to the bottom I still had fifteen miles of rolling hills to ride before I was done. My legs were tired, but this part of the ride seemed like nothing compared to the experiences I had just gone through. This amazing climb up and the daredevil descent gave me even more respect for the pros in races like the Tour de France, as they climb for miles and miles and then zoom down those steep and winding descents at fifty plus miles per hour. It’s something that I am glad I have experienced as a cyclist and an athlete. Besides, now every climb and descent back home will seem like just a little speed bump along the way as I continue ride along.
Definitely a tough cycling experience, but completely worthwhile!