So back in Feb the BikeWrench calls at 11:45 on a Sunday morning, saying we need to do the Mt Washington Hillclimb. All I really remember hearing thru my hungover haze (remember I said it was Feb.....ok, any Sunday......fine, it was any morning of the year) "registration opens at noon and it'll close out in a couple hours at best."
Six months later here we are:
With traffic the eight hour trip turned into ten hours, but we did have a few sight along the way:
No freaking idea.....
But you've gotta love the rest areas in NH......nothing like a state that sells liquor on the side on the turnpike.
We roll into town with just enough time to grap our race packs and thru down some food but hittin the sheets at eleven.....so five AM came REAL EARLY.
Just before 8:30 we line up to watch the Pro class head out, and my herd rolled out five minutes later. It was nice and flat for about the first 40-50 yards then it started to kick up...and by kick up I mean straight to 12-13%.
The Wrench and I were riding side by side when we heard the next wave being started (they use a freakin cannon as a starting gun.) Next thing I hear is him saying "that's one mile down....eight minutes." Sweet.
Then I start thinking "when the Hell is this gonna flatten out"......at the top dumbass, at the top.
A few short kickers of 16-17% grade later I hear "mile two...18 minutes." Nice, I still felt good and all's well.
That changed at about mile 2.0000001. Started to fade a little and lost Wrench's wheel, I slowly fell back to about 15-20 yards back for awhile. After what I thought was 25-30 minutes I started to feel a little better. I decide to burn one of the few matches I had left and caught back up to my little rabbit. I ask him how we're lookin (fully knowing we were around 5 to 5.5 miles in) "4 miles.....well, 3.9 to be right now."
One word....fuck! Hearing that it felt little someone pulled a parachute and I was off the back, riding on flat tires....mentally shot, crushed and everything else. I fell back about 40-50 yards behind the Wrench and just stayed there.
Mile four to five was the steepest overall (other then the short kicker at the top) but I started to come around once we lost or treecover....about mile 4.5. Once I started to feel better it all came back, and the next thing I knew I was looking at the mile six marker....but the Wrench was still sitting about 50 yards up.
I start to push a little harder and to by disbelief to started to pull him back. Right I we pass the seven mile marker I pull up next and he gave me a where'd the Hell you come from look. Seeing the road leveled out a little (from 13-14% down to about 12%) over the next 100 or so yards and knowing the top was less then half a mile away I burnt my last match.
I jumped the best I could (which ain't much) for 5-8 seconds on the "flat" knowing the Wrench would follow. I looked under my arm as I sat back on the saddle for the up coming grade change (13-14% changed to 18% for 50-60 yards and then to 22-23% for the last 50 yards) and I was somewhat alone.
And then the finish line: