HWY 181 North Carolina
I am a half-ass rider. I am not quite good enough to do really serious rides, but I really like challenges. So put these together, and there is Highway 181 between Morganton and Newland, North Carolina that is 13 miles long in a section that climbs 2500 feet. The climb is significant. So I thought, why not?
Highway 181 has a little 3-foot little area to ride on next to the road, not much room, especially when getting passed by speeding cars and large trucks. I was trying to see how far down the hill I needed to go to find a spot to park the truck and start the climb as there weren’t a lot of good parking turnouts along the highway.
There was a good turnout just past mile marker 14, where I could leave my truck for like 2 hours, as I try to climb this beast of a hill. My goal was to get to mile marker 24 as the last two miles were a little flatter and had more traffic on them. Of course, I needed a goal. Did I say I was half-ass? I didn’t quite go from the bottom or finish on top of Jonas Ridge which would make for the other 3 miles.
The soon to be grizzly bear on a bike pulled the bike off the truck and got the bike and myself ready for what would be two hours of climbing if of course, I didn’t quit. I made sure there was plenty of fuel and water for the trip.
I promptly did something I haven’t done since well, Never! I fell right over in the middle of the road, completely stuck in my cleats. Having the bike wrapped around me like a spider monkey, the undoing of me and bike takes a minute. Just as a reminder, I am in the middle of the highway. Luckily for me which never happens, not one car came by during my wrestling match with my bike trying to separate myself from that stupid bike.
Great….. Great start. Is this an omen? Should I just tell the world, I did the ride without doing the ride? …. No… Dang, it. The battle in my brain and body begins. The war is on. Rolling the pedals over and over. Looking up really isn’t an option for me. I just can’t get discouraged by seeing how far I really have to go. Just look down and grind away. Slowly, I worked up the hill, and at the speed, I was going just grinding away the uphill turns took a little while to work through.
The hill was steep at times and pretty sure 5 miles per hour was top speed for me. And just when you think you can’t do the climb, the road does a little flat to downhill to give you a little momentum. Thank God. Rejuvenation! Ready for the next uptick in elevation. The first five miles have some of the steepest pitches on this stretch of highway. The ride goes smoothly, feeling pretty good really, and even got a “Go man Go!” from a passenger in a car going by. The encouragement felt good, even as I am pretty sure they were heckling a rather large man on a what has to look like a circus bike.
About 5 miles up is a turnout for a lookout of Table Rock and Brown Mountain. A little before the overlook the road kicks up to a pretty good little test of one’s desire to do the climb. There was a whole lot of, ” I think I can, I think I can.” Going on in my head. My back was starting to ache from the grind. My left hip was starting to get a kink in the gearing. And finally, my right knee was beginning to have a little ache too. Not good signs with 5 more miles of steady climbing ahead of me.
When I go to the lookout, I did something I never do. I stopped and read the sign. Usually, when I start a ride, I go until I am done. There is a little fear in me telling me I won’t complete the ride if I stop peddling. My body was a little gassed and needed to stretch, grab a gu and water. This climb is a tough one. My whole body was feeling the weight of me as the pedals turned over and over. Plus there is constant stress of the cars and trucks going each direction, and the place to ride the bike just isn’t that big.
In this next struggle climbing, I came to my moment of truth on the bike. I really hadn’t biked enough this spring as winter and ski season ran really long this year. The constant state of climbing was taking its toll on my body. Go down the hill. Just stop. Quitting is the easy way out. Take it. If you have seen Animal House, I had the Devil on one shoulder telling me just to quit. The Angel, on the other, was encouraging me to keep going. Or wait, maybe it was the other way around?
My brain is in conflict. I have to put myself mentally in a weird spot to get through the pain of continuing the climb to the top. Like for instance, I somehow think about a 6-minute wrestling match. Why? In wrestling, there is no let-up for 6 minutes. No hiding. No escape. No quitting. I was always tortured for those “6 minutes of hell”. The hope was still in my mind that hopefully in the next 6 minutes, I would go at least a little bit downhill so I could get enough of a respite to continue the journey.
I just can’t quit. But the pain was building, I just can’t. Come on big guy, keep turning over the pedals. I really wanted to quit at this stage. Everything was hurting. I am not sure what kept me going other than just straight pride at this stage. I just wasn’t going to give in. But boy did I want to…
Then just at the breaking point, the surroundings become familiar. The top. Mile Marker 23 and then 24, I had done the climb. The road really starts to go flat to a little downhill. The climbing is over. My butt really hurts, as does my lower back. My hip. But the relief is incredible. The pressure from climbing is over. I had completed the mission. I was so satisfied with the accomplishment. Now I was glad I worked through the moment of truth. Now comes the fun!
Downhill! Yes! Careening down the road at breakneck speeds is really what I am built for on a bike. This is where the superior weight advantage kicks in. Short steep turns. Long smooth corners, where the bike just seems to track at high speed. The constant thought of “holy shit, I could die doing this” is screaming through my head at 40 to 50 miles an hour. A road bike tire is only about the size of a quarter thick. The fear of fears is a blown tire. And yet those one half inch wide pieces of rubber are going to hold my fat ass? Will, I hit some glass and have a blowout? I love living on this edge of life. The adrenaline is pumping. Uphill is a battle, downhill is exhilaration.
My truck comes up on the left super quick. Really, no more? Damn it. Like two hours up and thirty minutes down. It doesn’t seem fair, does it?
