As a newbie cyclist some years back, the pinnacle of my ambition was to cycle up Box Hill and not die. I'm still keen on the 'not dying' part, but I wasn't so sure when I got my first taste of the Zig Zags. I was so pooped on the way home, I had to stop for a restorative egg and chips at a pub, and would've happily left my bike to rust in the beer garden and got a taxi home.
Later on that year, I took part in my first 'real' sportive, the Wiggle Ups and Downs. I thought, now I've conquered The Box, everything else will be easy. How wrong I was. This was the day I was introduced to White Down and, when swearing profusely at the finish line marshal, was told that it was a 9 out of 10 in 'The Hundred Climbs'.
I'd conquered a 9 out of 10, at the end of a hilly sportive? I felt like some sort of deity, until I remembered I'd walked most of the hill after a serious wobble and a biblical attack of cramps. What was this 'Hundred Climbs' and who classified them? Further intrigued, I found out that serial gravity defier, Simon Warren, had ridden and classified 100 iconic climbs around Britain into a guide.
I bought the book and set about looking out and tackling as many of these climbs as I could reach from my home, sometimes setting myself up to do multiple climbs in a day. I'm no grimpeur, and I'm never going to claim any KOMs, but what I lack in speed, finesse, technique and style I make up for with grim determination, cussing and the ability to trundle at glacial speeds without falling off.
Thus, I began to tick off all of the local lumps, reading up on them before setting out. It doesn't matter to me that my pitiful efforts aren't going to win any hill climb prizes, but, like completing an album of football stickers, it's a pointless achievement of which I'm immensely, OK slightly, proud.
The main problem I have with any climb is not knowing when it's going to finish. My efforts are measured and calculated; having too much bravado has, in the past, led to running out of steam and a subsequent death wobble, having to repeat that dreaded Walk Of Shame. This was until I discovered that Simon had had the climbs filmed. Now I could watch a climb over and over again, imagining it was me (obviously at half speed - there's no way I'm going that fast) and having some idea of when the agony would be over.
The 100 Climbs DVD is really a box set divided up, like the book, into regions of the UK. Hardknott Pass, Rosedale Chimney, Bealach-na-Ba - the big boys are all there, among local legends like Shibden Wall (15%) and The Shelf (5km at 5%).
The set contains over 18 hours of climbing footage in all, with each climb plastered with speed, gradient and effort graphics that make your head spin, if not your legs. This makes it ideal for research purposes and for giving you an idea of what's achievable, so long as you're not knocking on the door of 100kg and more than halfway through your four score and ten.
Each climb is preceded with a countdown and accompanied by a progress bar (in addition to the power graphics) which makes it ideal as a turbo trainer session. There is even an uplifting techno soundtrack to motivate you, or in my case, drown out the sounds of huffing and retching from effort.
100 Climbs is a fantastic project and has inspired, I believe, many like me to point their bikes uphill and not get off. OK, so I don't get bragging rights about beating anyone, but I have been given a tremendous amount of motivation and sense of achievement from Simon's books, and as I travel further around the country this year, the DVD will be going with me to scope out any climbs I can get to.
100 Greatest Cycling Climbs DVD, £34.99 from amazon.co.uk
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