Epic is defined as something that is heroic, majestic, or impressively great. The Mt. Evans Hill Climb race is all of these. An heroic effort is needed to make it to the top of the 14,265 foot mountain. The mountain and the scenery on the narrow, bumpy, and broken road is nothing less than majestic. The mountain and the race in itself are impressively great. Each year hundreds of cycling enthusiasts from around the country ranging from the casual rider to riders from the elite pro peloton ranks drag their bikes and bodies up the 27.4 mile course passing two pristine lakes that take your breath away quicker than your burning muscles require of your already oxygen deprived lungs.
The Mt. Evans Hill Climb has been going up Mt. Evans for the past 45 years as an organized race. In 1962, a group of bicycle racers decided to challenge the 14,264 foot Mt. Evans by racing to its summit. Started by just a handful of riders, the race quickly became an annual event celebrated by the hardiest athletes, at a time when bicycle racings was considered and oddity at best.* The race was only cancelled three time since 1962, twice due to snow and once due to the race directors participation as a worker at the 1986 summer Olympics. In 1981 the race was renamed to the Bob Cook Memorial Mt. Evans Hill Climb in honor of the 5-time winner of the race who passed away because of cancer at the age of 23.
The course of this epic race starts at the base of the mountain in Idaho Springs, CO at an elevation of 7,540 feet and winds and twists its way up to the summit 6,724 feet above. The temperature difference from bottom to top ranges around 15 degrees which on a day when the temps at the start is only upper 50’s to low 60’s, the summit starts to sound like early spring in Wisconsin… low to mid-40’s. In all honesty, when finished with the race, 40’s never felt so good!
The Cat 3 race rolled off exactly at 8:35AM MDT. It was like we were shot out of a canon. An quick, steep downhill onto Hwy 103 brought speeds up to the mid-20’s. Hwy 103 immediately pitches upwards so speeds came down slightly, but the leaders were still hammering out 18 mph on the 5% grade. Speeds remained about the same until the first of the many switchbacks hit shortly after the 5 mile mark. At around 8 miles in, “pop” off the back I went as the main group motored up the steep road at 14 plus. There I was, alone in No Man’s Land crushing the pedals at an 11 mph pace. The goal of the day was not to stay with the fast group, the goal was to finish. And finish I did. After winding through the first half of the race, my legs found the sweet spot and I began to quickly pass riders up the final 14 miles of the race. Slight inclines began to feel flat and my speed kick up near the 20’s. Pace on the steep climbs picked up to 13-14. All was going well. Then the last two miles hit. All switchbacks. You look up above you and all you see is stairs of riders taking in all of the oxygen you wish to claim for yourself. Corner after corner, the finish looked like it was never going to be there. Finally, after the last switchback, the finish line was in sight. Sprint! Nope, there would be none of that today. Burning, dead legs ground out the final 100 meters ending with a resounding sigh of relief and feeling of absolute joy knowing that I’ve completed the hardest race I’ve ever done, and will ever do again. Until next time…
2 hours and 20 minutes was my finishing time and placed 30th overall for Cat 3’s. Awesome finishing time for me being that I thought I would average more around 9 mph and finish well beyond the 2hr 40min mark. Unbelievably, the winner of the Cat 3 race was a whole 10 minutes behind the winning time of the Pros. Wow, these guys know how to climb. Must be nice when these guys live at high altitudes all year round… stinking mountain goats!
Speaking of mountain goats, one of these shaggy mountain animals though that a yellow Madone 6.9 looked like it would be something good to eat. I return from relieving myself and sure enough, the little white goat is standing next to my bike and sniffing the rear wheel. After sternly scolding the mountain goat to not chew on the rear tire, I was able to bring my prized possession back from apparent destruction. Dang mountain goats!
After killing the road for over 2 hours, I had the privilege, which was well earned, to ride back down the mountain. There’s nothing like an hour of exhilarating descending down a mountain. Being a novice and descending mountains, I got passed by two on a tandem bike so quickly I thought I was standing on the side of the road. Wow! Looked like the lady on the back was white-knuckling the handlebars! A little over an hour later I was back where I started. Painful but fun, the Bob Cook Memorial Mt. Evans Hill Climb was the most “epic” race I’ve ever competed in. Hopefully I will get a second crack at the mountain again in the future and hopefully without any mountain goats trying to steal my bike for lunch.
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