by The 2026 Mt. Washington Auto Road Bicycle Hillclimb was my fourth.
My first in 2023 was cancelled by weather. While the weather was fair, not good, at the start line, it was tropical-force winds and freezing rain at the summit. I had my bike all kitted out and nowhere to go.
The Mount Washington bike is my first road bike. It had been sitting unused in my garage. Still loved, just not used. The Rockpile gave it new life. A friend gave me her 20-tooth front chainring. That turned my yellow Bianchi Giro into a climbing machine. The rest was decorative, adding some Bianchi celeste color to the bike with handlebar tape, a saddle, and wheel stripes in the iconic color. With the new gearing, the bike’s only use was climbing steep roads.
In 2024 I was finally able to climb. The views were beautiful. The cramps and shooting pains in my legs were not. My time was 2:05. Surely, I could find 5 minutes. I could break that 2-hour mark. I had to come back again.
In 2025, I was still recovering from a crash and a broken shoulder. I was just happy to participate and reach the summit.
This year, 2026, hitting a PR and breaking the 2-hour mark was on the table. It was still the same bike. I had on my Rippers bibs and my BreakthroughT1D charity ride pink jersey for coaches. Jacob, a fellow coach, joined me for the climb, also resplendent in pink.
My strategy for the hillclimb is to peg my heart rate to a rate just below my maximum so I can hold it for 2 hours. That magic number for me is 160 bpm. I switched my Wahoo display to prominently display my heart rate.
As the hill climb starts you get that first 100 yards of flat road, cross the gate, then immediately hit that 12.5% gradient. I made sure to take it gradually and not hit the redline right at the beginning. I heard a lot strains of riders around me pushing hard already. In minutes my heartrate hit 160. I just had to moderate to keep it there.
As the third time up the Auto Road, I’ve gotten used to the rhythm. By keeping a little off the gas, I felt good at the Mile 1 marker. Good is an exaggeration. I didn’t feel like I was going to die.
I had my heart rate in big numbers on my computer. I had no need for a map. There was only one way to go. Speed would be ridiculous. Three to four miles per hour is not useful. I did tuck in my elapsed time versus my PR. I glanced down and saw I was a thirty seconds ahead of my PR.
It was on. Thirty seconds ahead at mile 1 was not enough. I cranked just a little harder. Not too hard. There were still six brutal miles ahead.
At mile two, I was ahead of pace. Breaking the two hour mark was within reach if I kept this pace. Could I keep this pace? Was failure an option?
Halfway up at mile 3.5, the road flattens out. Not flat. I made that mistake the first year and stopped pedaling. I almost fell over. 5% feels flat after all those infernal gradients. It’s still plenty steep.
Now the trees start shrinking and the views take over. I pass Brian. He’s on the side of the road with a broken chain. It’s going to take some time to get that fixed. I’d bet he’ll still end up passing me. (Spoiler alert: He passed me.)
Mile 4.5 you get a long, steep, straight stretch. You can see the long line of climbers above you on the road ahead. Off to the left is a steep drop down into Huntington Ravine. A very steep drop. A drop not for those who are afraid of heights. The road surface is rough. I’m not afraid of heights, but I’m sensible enough to know that falling over is a possibility. I stay to the right on the road.
Mile five, you hit the hairpin turn at the top of that section. You can see the observatory at the top. It looks so small. There is a little jolt of excitement to see the final goal. The trees are gone. It’s all rocks. And rocks on top of rocks.
Up ahead I see a bright pink jersey. That has to be Jacob. He started five minutes ahead of me in the prior wave. That was my rabbit to chase.
I passed a guy walking his bike with a weird stride. He had ripped his pedal off the crank. Now the pedal was clipped to his shoe, without enough torque to take it off. That was going to be a long 2 mile walk.
I’m closing in on the pink jersey. I’m close enough to determine that it is actually Jacob. A rider passes me. I tell him to let Jacob know that I’m coming for him.
I get him.
Jacob had heard me talk to that rider. I guess I was closer than I thought. I look down at my pace. I’m way ahead.
Half mile to go. I pace myself to stay side by side with Jacob. Or he paces to stay side by side with me. Opinions will vary.
This is the best/worst part of the climb. You know that massive headwall is at the end. You also know you’ve got cheering crowds ahead. That motivates me. The Rippers will be on that headwall. Their roaring gets just a little louder when they see another Ripper on the headwall.
A spectator yells: “You got this!” My adrenaline has kicked in. My response: “I f**king got this!”
We make the penultimate turn. It’s the headwall. The roar of the crowd. Cowbells ringing. I point to the Rippers and demand more noise. They respond with a cacophany.
Slam the pedals. Redline. This is the final push. This is the steepest gradient. No need to keep anything in the tank. Push the pedals. Push.
Jacob is still with me. Wait. Is he sprinting? That means I have to sprint. He comes around me. Boom. Keep pace. I think. To the line….
Air. Breathe. More Air. Don’t fall over. Breathe. The legs are shaking. The tank is empty.
I fond my son. Someone to lean on. A big hug for him. A big hug for Jacob. Breathe.
Time check:
Smashed the 2-hour mark. A grin of satisfaction. A grimace of pain.
Life is good. Happy that I can still do dumb stuff like this. Happy that I’m already planning for next year.
