I had dreamed of the Dirty Dozen Bike Race and the
opportunity to test myself on the 13 steepest hills in the city for a long
time. I had imagined myself a decent climber or at least thought I was at one
point. And after years of searching out the steepest pitches in several
counties and conquering them all with gusto; frankly I was a bit cocky. I had
ridden just about every back road up and over Laurel Ridge and out of the
Comemaugh watershed and figured anything in the city limits had to be tame by
comparison. There is no way that this event could possible live up to the hype.
Holy gravitational pull, had I severely underestimated the absolute and utter
beat down racing those 13 hills in a day can inflict.
Luckily, I had been coaxed into doing some training rides by
Gene Nacy of www.cyclingfusion.com . Unfortunately, I didn't get to do many with
him. So I explored some of hills on my own until I met Birk McGilvrey, who
would become my personal tour guide for several weekend recon missions. First
of all, let me tell you, these hills are NO JOKE. Sure Center Ave is just a
long grunt. Sycamore is more of a long slow grinder. But DAMN…the first time
you see Canton, it is hard to imagine that a bike can be ridden up that thing.
37%...Come on! People fall off their bikes and SLIIIIIIDDDDEEEE down the hill on the cobbles. Frankly in my
opinion Canton doesn't even make the top 5 as far as difficulty goes. That is
as long as you have access to the right line; but more about that later.
Race day arrives with much anticipation. For better or
worse, 300 or so other people think that riding all over Pittsburgh, seeking
out the toughest climbs, when it's 20 degrees outside, is a good idea too????
My very good friends Bruce, Sheila, Jack and Pat have offered to give up their
Saturday while fighting hypothermia to
cheer me on. I cannot explain how critical their cheers were to me completing
this epic adventure.
The race begins and it becomes quickly apparent, to even
those with lofty if not realistic goals, that there is a very distinct
pecking order in the DD. Of the 300 or
so racers only 30 have any chance of scoring points, which are awarded to the
top 10 finishers on each of the 13 climbs. I would guess that at least the
bottom half of the field have little to no chance of being a true finisher,
which is defined as summiting all 13 climbs cleanly. That's right. No foot
down, no circling back, no stopping. The remaining racers are also pretty
quickly segregated by those who are just hanging on for dear life and want to try
to finish, and those who want to beat a couple of their
buddies to the top of one of the climbs for bragging rights or beers and those
who might want to show their oats on a couple of the climbs.
After building some confidence on the first couple climbs
and finishing in the top 30-50, I figure I'd take a little poke on Sycamore. I
had been trying to stay near the lead going into the hills, mostly to avoid getting trapped behind slower riders,
or those who had fallen. So when the whistle blew on Sycamore, I hopped out of
the saddle and threw in an "attack". I now know what a mosquito feels
like when he tries to take a bite out of an elephant's ass. Ian went past me
like he was going downhill and I was going up. It was amazing. Then Steevo,
Bob, Gunnar, Dahn…..and 30 more. Ahhhh dreams of glory….SQUASHED! Holy CRAP
those guys are fast!
Next up is Canton,
the most anticipated and hyped climb of the day. Anything can happen.
Well not anything, mostly just bad things. Not only is this sucker 37%, it is
also cobbled with dirt and moss on the stones. Traction can only be obtained in
a VERY small corridor up the right hand side. Get caught behind someone who
falls and your odds go from small to infinitesimal. My plan is to tag onto the
lead pack and once they all clear it, I will have smooth sailing ahead of the
masses and the inevitable crashes. Danny blows the whistle WAY early which
signifies the race to start each of climbs. I'm right where I want to be. The
acceleration is brutal as the elite riders on the Eastern Seaboard sprint up
the gradual rise that leads to the true severity that is Canton. I'm gapped as
expected, but I have also dropped most of the field behind me. There are maybe
20 riders ahead of me; all fighting for the best line and to be crowned King
Canton. I am about to hit the steepest pitch when the unthinkable happens. Half
of the lead pack are down and spread out all across the road. Some of the best
bikers in the region are spread out on the ground like a group of first time
ski school students. People rolling and tumbling. Bikes sliding. Crap there is
NO place to go. I kind of soft pedal/track stand right at the brink of the
pitch and hesitate while riders scramble to get to their feet and politely try
to get out of the way. A rider tears past me with tons of momentum and the
throngs are on his heels. Now is my chance. I go. I am progressing up the hill
exactly where I want and need to be. Sure having a little momentum would help,
but on this line I KNOW I can make it.
About 1/3 of the way up the guy who screamed past me goes down in heap
and in now laying prone. Him and his bike are perpendicular and blocking the
only clean path to the top. F*&K! I do not want to go to the bottom and try
again. I want this. My only escape is left. That is the one place that you do
not EVER want to be on this hill. Dead
man's land. I feel my rear wheel slip, as I try to fight my way over some of
the mini tombstone cobbles, that over the years have been pushed out of the
ground and now face down hill like tiny sharks fins. I can only focus on
keeping the bike going forward and maintaining traction on the rear wheel. The
roar of the crowd is deafening, but I do not hear it. Later on I ask my friends
why they missed Canton because I never saw them. The video proof of Sheila
screaming for me, less than 5 feet from my head, is a testament to the tunnel
vision and absolute concentration I conjured to get me to the top. I did not
hear the cheers, but the shear spirit of their encouragement got me to the top
in what I believe was a top 15 spot. That feeling will be as close as I
will ever come to understanding what
it's like to ride the Alpe d'Huez during the Tour De France!
Many thanks to Danny Chew and the volunteers for running and
organizing such and amazing event and to my support crew. I'd still be out
there trying get up Canton if you hadn't been there to lift me up with your
spirit!
Mike Maher
