Mental

As a superhero cyclist daily commuter, my nemesis is a hill that I have to climb traveling home from work.  It's not a big hill, and it's not even terribly steep, but it always challenges me.  Always.  I can see it coming from a mile back.  It taunts me and laughs as I approach.  It's a mental thing. 

Here's what it looks like:

Beginning after 1 3/4 miles, it's less than 150 vertical feet covered in 1/2-mile distance with maximum grade at about 6% (shown in red).  Simple.

Story Time -- This week, my Tuesday commute was turning out to be pretty typical.  As I began ascending I shifted down a few gears to keep my cadence (pedal rpms) high and lighten the load on my legs.  After a couple hundred feet I started feeling the burn in my legs.  I pushed on the shift lever, but it did not move...I was already in the bottom gear.  That occurrence alone is sometimes enough to burst my confidence.  Not this time.  I pedaled with more vigor and regained the momentum that would help me progress decently up that hill.  (and by decently I mean slightly faster than 12 mph)

Side Note -- There are two patterns of thought when approaching a climb:

1.  Ease up before the hill (to conserve energy) and drop to the bottom gear for a long, slow climb.
2.  Maintain pace to the bottom and then keep momentum as long as possible to get it over with quickly.

I am guilty of the first option on many occasions, but I have lately been more apt to choose the second approach, 'cause I like to limit my suffering, and I like feeling strong!  Fact is, either approach will get me to the top, but my spirits when I get there can vary drastically.

Back to Tuesday -- About half-way up the hill, I realized I had to change something.  My legs were burning and I was losing momentum.  I shifted up two gears and stood up.  This is typically my submission to the pain - my last effort, and the slowest method of climbing.  I immediately dropped to about 7 mph with little hope of improving before the top.

During the next, slow, couple hundred feet I thought about the hurt.  Was this really as bad as it gets, or was I just wimping out.  I wondered what it would be like to "attack" in the midst of this level of slogging. 

Then I did it.  Against every screaming muscle I willed myself to speed up, to pedal harder.

Just moments before; I was consigned to the final slog, dedicating everything to simply get to the top.  Now I was accelerating up the hill!  I chanced a look at the speedometer and saw 10 with flickering decimal points.  Quicker than usual I was cresting the hill, and realizing that I did indeed have more in the tank than I often imagined. 

I finished the ride by matching my 2010 PR for the homeward commute despite feeling a bit ill earlier in the day.  Wahoo!