There are those people who are born to ride their bikes easily up hills and others, like me, who simply find it a struggle.
I would categorise myself as being reasonably fit but other factors are at play to hinder that effortless ascent of a slope.
Gravity is of course the primary influence and when applied to a complex combination of force, altitude and traction or expressed in scientific speak as fat then there is a direct correlation with the law of pi or, as I like to call it, just pies.
I have not always been of a non standard body shape.
In my early cycling years when I raced competitively I was quite slim and lean but still found those hills difficult, especially when in a large group of racers all vying for the smoothest and best line up what could be a rough old lane, strewn with loose gravel, pockmarked with potholes or slippery under fallen leaves, spilled sump oil from lorries and rainfall.
The symptoms of poor performance on an incline were demoralising. If entering the start of the slope in a good forward position in the peleton I would soon have the sensation of riding backwards as the rest of the field accelerated. Out of a typical 60 rider participation the first ten on the attack upwards would be the skinny youths, followed by inhabitants of such hilly places as Sheffield, Bradford and the Pennine towns who had to have some expertise just to get on with their normal lives, then the riders with no perception of the pain threshold, the mad, the downright aggressive and those who needed some of the prize money to pay for their petrol home and food for the forthcoming week.
That left just me, the other chubby tubbies and a few with mechanical problems that prevented their exploitation of the 15 to 18 gears on their lightweight machines, invariably causing them to come to a standstill and topple over onto the road in a shower of granite chippings and expletives.
The "Big Book of Cycle Race Tactics" did have a chapter of interest for me to try to counter this disastrous element of my racing career. I took part in about 50 races, managed 1 win, a few placings and a lot of abandonments.
Apparently, the trick to balance out a poor climbing performance was to actually get ahead of the field well before the bottom of the hill and go up it at your own speed. Hopefully, this was intended to have an outcome that you would get to the summit and the relief of the false flat and downhill before, or at least at the same time as, the rest.
As I mentioned, the cyclists from hilly environments can have a distinct advantage and an aptitude for altitude. I have, for my own serious biking life, always lived in flat surroundings. The flyover into the city centre or a humped back bridge over a railway line constituted my main challenges. If I had to climb a hill it was a matter of actively finding one, often some distance out of town and therefore affording plenty of time to talk myself out of doing it. Add a bothersome breeze, a light rain shower, a dodgy pie in the essential pre-training ride period and a social event the night before and the conditions and motivation to take on any hill diminished rapidly.
Riding alone is also not much fun especially if your are struggling. I did have a handlebar mounted speedometer and multi-function computer but there is nothing more demoralising than seeing the actual speed fall away at the first indication of fatigue. This could even be before getting to the first hint of a rise in the road.
In the last couple of weeks Me and The Man have been out on our road bikes. He is of the same frame of mind as me that it is just not worth going up a hill if you do not feel you can do it to 100% of effort and application.
Trouble is, The Man has a new road bike and this has given him an interest in testing it and himself on the biggest hills in our area.
For someone who has never even sat on a racing bike before he shows great natural talent. This is no more evident to me when watching him ride away from me, smoothly and efficiently whenever the road begins to waver anything above the horizontal.
I do try my best to keep up and for the first few pedal strokes I feel his equal but then he just increases the cadence and breaks any slipstream effect that I may have had the benefit of.
Our main local hills are of the long and drawn out type. They can be up to two miles long and with various changes in gradient that prevent any settling into a good rythm which is all important. Pace is also a critical aspect. Setting off too fast and you are easily stuffed. Too slow and any forward motion is lost and there is a panicky shifting through the gears to compensate.
The Man, again out of pure ability seems to be able to guage the speed from the start and still have some gas in the tank to accelerate away from me at will.
So, my lonely ascent persists, accompanied by a general wheezing, creaking limbs and the creeping beads of perspiration cascading from under my helmet into my eyes and eventually dripping off my chin. I must be a pitiful sight to the other road users. Once a small girl on a pink bike did overtake me on a particularly steep hill as I struggled up it. In truth she had just shot out of the driveway of her homebehind me and then turned in front of me sharply to go up to the neighbours but the damage to my ego had already been done.
I am therefore further distracted on a climb by keeping vigil for any similar event.
If I am in some sort of fit and lucid state by the time I reach the top I can stand a chance of flying past The Man as he stops to claim the summit, and plummet down the other side. At last, the fat quotient plays out in my favour and I feel like I could take on the world as I whoop and holler with legs out off the pedals. I may even celebrate the victory down the hill with a couple of nice pies when I get home.
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