As I sit down to write my final race report of the season, I’m flooded with a mix of pride, gratitude, and disbelief at just how far I’ve come. This season has been a journey like no other. Every climb, every race, and every challenge was a piece of a larger story – a story I never could have imagined when I first started. To look back now and see the progress, the grit, and the commitment that brought me here fills me with a sense of accomplishment that words can hardly capture. I pushed myself beyond my limits, faced the doubts and fears, and came out the other side with a fire that will fuel me for a long time. Cycling has truly become a part of me, and I can now say with certainty – I am a cyclist.
But it’s not just about the bike. The heart of this journey has been the people. The cycling community welcomed me with open arms, and I am endlessly grateful to be part of something so special. This sport attracts some of the most dedicated, encouraging, and genuinely passionate people I’ve ever met. It’s not just about racing; it’s about lifting each other up, pushing each other forward, and sharing the triumphs and the struggles along the way. The support I’ve felt this season, from teammates, competitors, and friends alike, has been nothing short of inspiring. To each of you – thank you. You’ve shown me what it means to belong, and I’m proud to be part of this family. Cycling was always something I enjoyed, but now, it’s something I live for.
Each race this season was its own story, its own chapter in a journey that led me here. From the early climbs that felt impossible to the later ones that taught me resilience, every event was a stepping stone, a lesson in pushing beyond what I thought possible. There were races where I felt invincible and races that humbled me. But in each one, I found something valuable – a reason to keep going, a reminder of what this journey means to me. Each hill became a familiar friend, each finish line a milestone marking progress I didn’t know I was capable of. By the end, each race was a piece of a puzzle that, together, prepared me for the ultimate test: nationals.
The week leading up to nationals was a whirlwind of emotion. Six days out, I was still unsure if I’d have a spot. The anticipation was intense, a blend of excitement and doubt. I had confidence in my training, but self-doubt always found a way to creep in. The pressure felt new, heavier than any I’d faced before. Fatigue settled in early in the week, and by Monday, even a Zone 2 Zwift session felt like a struggle. I knew I needed something different to reset, to remind me of why I was doing this. So, on Tuesday, I joined the North Tyneside Riders for our classic Tuesday night power hour. Group 1 was strong right out of the gate, pulling along the coast with the wind in our faces, and it was exactly what I needed. The camaraderie, the energy, the push from my teammates – it brought me back to life, gave me the boost I needed to take on the final days of preparation.
Midweek, I finally made it out for a recon mission on the nationals course. It was something I’d been meaning to do but hadn’t managed to fit in until now. I thought I’d tackled some tough climbs this season, but this one was something else entirely. I did multiple attempts, and each time, the hill challenged me in ways I hadn’t expected. Nerves and doubt joined the mix, and by the fourth go, I questioned every choice that had brought me to this point. Was I really ready for this? Was I prepared to face the toughest climb of my season, with everything on the line? But even as I questioned, I knew I had a plan. I wasn’t aiming for a podium; I just wanted to reach the top and give it everything I had.
The night before the race felt surreal. It was as if I were packing for a journey to the moon. I checked and re-checked my gear – lights, batteries, everything meticulously prepared. I headed to Hexham to collect my race pack, and the atmosphere was buzzing. Racers were everywhere, each one focused, preparing for the biggest hill climb of the year. As I picked up my race number and timing chip, it all became real. I was here, standing among some of the best, ready to take on this final challenge. The excitement mixed with nerves, but I felt a calm confidence underneath it all. This was what I’d trained for, what every race had been building toward.
The climb itself was a beast, living up to its reputation with stats that only begin to tell the story. At 1.2km in length and an average gradient of 9.8% that maxes out at 13.4% it’s a relentless push from the start. The climb’s height gain is 116 meters, but it’s the intensity of those steep sections that make it feel so much more. Every meter demands power, focus, and sheer determination. Knowing these stats going in was one thing, but feeling the full force of the climb, with each pedal stroke burning, was something else entirely – it was truly a test of every bit of strength I’d built this season.
Race day arrived, crisp and calm. The storms forecasted all week had held off, and the sky was clear. Dew covered the grass, and as I loaded up the car, an orange glow began to light up the horizon. It felt like a sign, a reminder that this was my day. HQ was already alive with activity when I arrived, filled with laughter, the smell of coffee, and the unmistakable buzz of race day. Seeing familiar faces, some I’d only ever encountered online, made the experience feel even more surreal. Meeting Chris Hall, whose podcast had been a guiding inspiration, was a highlight, and sharing the start-line ride with him was a moment I’ll carry with me.
Finally, the time came for me to line up. My heart pounded, hands clenched around my handlebars, nerves alive in every muscle. I went through the motions in my head, mentally preparing for the climb, the challenge, the test I’d spent the season training for. As the countdown began – 5, 4, 3, 2, 1… GO!
everything faded, and it was just me, the bike, and the hill. The climb was a blur, flashes of faces, voices, the steady beat of cowbells, the familiar cadence of my own breathing as I fought to keep pace. Intake Lane loomed ahead, and for a moment, it felt as if time slowed down. I was there, in the thick of it, every pedal stroke a step closer to the top.
And then – the crowd. I hadn’t scouted the finish, so I had no idea what to expect, but what I saw, heard, and felt in that final stretch was beyond anything I could have imagined. Cheers, shouts, cowbells, the roar of the crowd – it was like nothing I’d ever experienced.
My body, exhausted and aching, found new strength, fueled by the energy around me. North Tyneside Riders jerseys flashed by, familiar voices urged me forward, and in that moment, the weight of the season’s journey disappeared. I surged ahead, the finish line – marked with scaffolding stretched across the road – looming in the distance like a dream. This was my Tour, my Giro, my Northumberland. And it was mine to cross.
Crossing that line was a release. I felt every emotion crash down on me in waves – relief, joy, pride. My legs trembled, breaths came in ragged gasps, and I leaned against a nearby gate, barely able to stand. The months of training, the sacrifices, the countless hours – it had all been worth it. I’d done it. Reuniting with my family, seeing my dad, my son Alfie, and my mum, who’d traveled from Scotland to be there, was the final piece of the puzzle. Their pride, their presence – it made the victory complete. Knowing they were there to share in this moment, to feel the energy, the struggle, and the triumph, meant the world to me.
So, how did I do? My practice runs midweek were tough – I threw everything I had at them, coming away with a personal best of 6:18! The fact that I wasn’t entirely sure where the official start line was meant I approached each segment with a rolling start, which I figured might shave off a few seconds too. But with sub-6 minutes as my goal, I knew it wouldn’t be easy. Goals shouldn’t be easy. I set my sights on breaking that mark, but on the big day, I wasn’t overly hopeful I’d do much better than 6:18. Then, the crowd happened. The wave of energy that hit as I rounded that last bend, feeling their cheers carry me forward, was something out of a dream. I crossed the line with a time of 5 minutes and 19 seconds! I could barely believe it – almost a full minute faster than what I thought was my absolute best. There are no words for that feeling, that moment when all your hard work and focus culminate in a breakthrough you hadn’t thought possible.
Back on the hill after a quick change, the energy was electric. The crowd cheered for every rider, the spirit of the event alive in every shout, every cowbell, every wave of encouragement. The costumes added a festive touch – creative, homemade, a testament to the dedication of everyone there. Dipton Mill Bank was a volcano of cheering, laughter, and celebration, a constant sea of smiles and support. Watching the final riders cross the finish line was inspiring, a reminder of what it means to give everything, to leave it all on the hill. Each of those final riders showed a strength and skill that left us all in awe.
I also have to mention the juniors! Wow! What a talented and devoted group of young people. I have so much respect and admiration for each junior who took on nationals. From the youngest, only 7 years old, to the older teens, every one of them gave it their all, showing a level of courage and passion that is rare to see. Watching them push themselves to the limit, tackle the same hills with a fierce determination – it was inspiring beyond words. These young riders are the future of this sport, and seeing their dedication at such a young age is humbling. Chapeau to each of you – you are truly remarkable, and I can’t wait to see where your journeys will take you.
After the race, HQ was alive with pride, laughter, and endless tales of the hill. The bar was packed, pizzas were devoured, and everyone was sharing stories, comparing times, recounting the highs and lows of the climb. It was a celebration of everything this season had meant, a coming together of people united by a shared passion. The joy in that room, the pride in every face – it was a moment I’ll never forget.
October 27, 2024, will forever be etched in my memory. This season, this journey, has been life-changing, and I am beyond grateful to everyone who has been part of it. Each of you, in your own way, has shaped this experience, and I couldn’t have done it without you. Now, it’s time for a well-earned rest, some relaxed club rides, and a chance to look ahead. TT season is next on the agenda, and who knows – maybe there’s a podium in my future. But for now, I’ll take a moment to appreciate this season, to savor the journey that brought me here.
Thank you for being part of this. Signing off for 2024 – Kyle.
National Hill Climb Champion Ships photo Gallery – please enjoy the rest of the moment I captured on the hill.
