Originally Posted by
Altlandisto
Very staunch and motivational replies. Lol.
Just fitness then? No technique?
I've been cycling regularly for 3 months. I can see from local Strava groups that my weekly elevation gain is usually way above most of the other cyclists. Ive started to get the odd 'top 10' on segments so I reckon my fitness ain't too bad. Usually far from the top 10 on the hills though! I really do enjoy the hills, but not quite there yet. I am a big lad though. 6ft2/188cm. 90kg/14 stone. Thoughts?
There is a bit of "getting used to climbing" that isn't just about fitness. But it is easier, the fitter you are. Also, as the others have suggested, it's really not something that can be replicated by any means other than just "Ride up hills."
Here's an article I just read recently about Edwig van Hooydonck, the Belgian cyclist who won the Tour of Flanders twice by, well;
In the winter of 1988, Van Hooydonck devised an austere training routine.
He would drive to the Geraardsbergen house of Superconfex directeur sportif Hilaire Van der Schueren and do five laps of the Muur-Bosberg race finale. It was akin to a footballer practising a swerving free kick a hundred times on the training ground.
It meant that he knew every cobble by rote and that these bergs held no fear. On the morning of the Ronde, Van Hooydonck felt terrible. It was a blessing in disguise. “Normally when you feel good, you do stupid things, you attack. I was waiting. Then after 120 kilometres, the cold and rain started. I felt I was going better and better with every kilometre.”
He slipped into a
sodden leading group of seven before the Muur. “I wanted to attack there, but Jan Raas told me ‘wait till the Bosberg.’ Going up the Muur felt easy, I was climbing it at 80 per cent. So while the other riders were hurting, I had everything under control.”
He joined up with Dag Otto Lauritzen (7-Eleven) and the pair held a marginal lead onto the race’s final test, the Bosberg.
His training kicked in; he had memorised the telegraph pole from which he could attack and keep his speed till the top. Face splattered with dirt, Van Hooydonck raced away through the murk, thrashing the pedals, his head bobbing around like Paula Radcliffe’s. The long-limbed Belgian was no stylist, but it had the desired effect.