The week leading up to the Allen Valley Velo Hill Climb on the 22nd of September started with me still licking my wounds from the last race. After dropping my chain mid-climb in the previous event, I was mentally and emotionally bruised. My ego, slightly dented, led me to spend most of Monday not doing the usual Zone 2 recovery ride, but instead procrastinating and daydreaming. At this point, even the thought of VO2 max efforts or hill repeats felt like the cycling equivalent of torture.
But, with some reckless enthusiasm, I decided it was time for an FTP ramp test on Zwift—because why not? Let’s see where I stand after a few weeks of intense training. Twenty-something minutes of suffering later, I was pleasantly surprised by the results. So, naturally, I dove headfirst into my first-ever Zwift race, ignoring any and all cautionary thoughts.
The Zwift Race
As if the real-world racing environment hadn’t been enough, I jumped into a virtual 13km race with 480m of climbing. In typical overconfident fashion, I held my own with some Category B racers for the first third of the race—feeling like I could conquer the world. But, like most overconfident cyclists, reality hit hard. As I approached the final 5km of endless climbing, my legs turned to jelly. With sheer willpower and the grace of stubbornness, I crawled across the finish line and, somehow, claimed my first-ever Zwift win. Victory, albeit a virtual one, felt sweet.
A Real Ride Through the North Pennines
Back in the real world, Colin Atkinson (a friendly face from the hill climb community) strongly advised I pre-ride the Allen Valley course. So, naturally, I combined this with what I’d been missing most since diving into focused training: a big, adventurous ride. I planned a 100km journey from the North East coast to the North Pennines with 1,500m of climbing. And wow, it turned out to be one of the best rides of the year. Majestic countryside, no wind, and glorious sunshine—this was cycling at its finest. By the time I reached Allendale to preview the climb, I was buzzing.
The climb itself? A different beast entirely. It was clear I’d need every ounce of strength come race day. But the views at the top were spectacular. With a clear sky, I could see all the way from the peaks of the Lake District to the coast I had left behind hours ago. It was a reminder of what cycling is all about—adventure, exploration, and the reward of breathtaking vistas. I took a moment to soak it all in before making my way back east, already feeling that pre-race excitement creeping in.
Allen Valley Hill Climb: Race Day
Cue the Weather:
By the time race day arrived, that glorious sunshine had been replaced by drizzle and fog—classic British weather. The roads were wet, the air was cold, and cyclists were huddled in raincoats at HQ. My warm-up seemed to drag on forever, mostly because I was trying to keep the damp chill from settling into my bones. Still, the friendly faces and mid-warm-up chats lifted my spirits. The cycling community is one of the most welcoming I’ve ever encountered. There’s no ego, no elitism—just encouragement and support, whether you’re a first-timer or a seasoned racer.
The Climb
At the start line, I dumped my water bottle, leg warmers, and raincoat—every gram counts in a hill climb, right? Even though I’m not your typical lightweight climber, I clipped in with a slightly awkward wobble (as usual) and waited for the countdown. 5, 4, 3, 2, 1—go!
The gradient was kind to begin with, and I kept it in the big ring, knowing the length of the climb would be the real challenge. As I approached the tree line, the fog thickened. Gone were the stunning vistas I had enjoyed earlier in the week—today, I was lucky to see the road in front of me. I heard the cheers of supporters long before I saw them. Then, in quick succession, two riders passed me, effortlessly pulling ahead into the mist. This ignited something inside me, and I pushed harder, fighting through the heavy feeling in my legs.
The real battle in hill climbing, as I’ve learned, isn’t against the other riders—it’s against yourself. That voice in your head that grows louder as the fatigue sets in, telling you to pull over, that no one will judge you if you quit. But, as my girlfriend Sarah will tell you, I’m nothing if not stubborn. I pushed on, despite everything in my body telling me to stop.
The Finish
With Wilfie and Sarah cheering, and a few more shouts of encouragement from the crowd, I managed to drag myself up the final stretch. My legs felt like lead, my breathing was ragged, but I rose out of the saddle for one last effort. When the finish line finally appeared through the fog, I collapsed into my handlebars, gasping for every last breath. Alfie’s concerned face asking if I was dying made me laugh in between the painful gasps for air.
After catching my breath, I was grateful for a lift back to HQ in Sarah’s car, especially given the wet and foggy descent. HQ was buzzing with energy, and the number of people there was impressive—easily the busiest hill climb I’ve attended so far. And the cake! Allen Valley didn’t disappoint: caramel shortbread, apple crumble, and cream. I’ll be back for the food alone next year, never mind the race.
The sheer number of junior entrants was inspiring. To see the next generation of cyclists setting records and smashing times was nothing short of incredible. Watching those youngsters fly up the hill made me wonder what I could achieve if I’d started hill climbing earlier. But for now, I’m content cheering them on while I shovel apple crumble into my mouth.
Week 7: Enter Chaos
The moment I got home from Allen Valley, I had to pack for a 4am flight to Stuttgart. A work trip to attend a geospatial conference. No bike, no gym—just running. (My least favorite form of cross-training, but what can you do?) I knew it would be a tough week—full days at the conference, evenings filled with “team bonding” (aka junk food and alcohol), and no access to proper training. And, of course, because it’s me, the trip started with a missed connection and a scramble to find an alternative route.
Running in Germany
Despite my disdain for running, I managed to sneak in an hour-long run on Tuesday morning. Horrible as it was, I felt surprisingly energized for the rest of the day. Wednesday’s run was better—sunrise over cabbage fields (which looked better than they smelled, honestly). I was feeling good, until Thursday, when the man flu started creeping in. By the time I flew home late Friday, I was exhausted, sick, and not feeling up for much of anything.
GS Metro Hill Climb: Race Day
Saturday was spent doing as little as possible, trying to recover from whatever German virus I’d picked up. I had little hope for Sunday’s hill climb. But, as always, Sarah was right—getting out there and giving it my best would make me feel better, no matter the result. With that encouragement (and the promise of cake), we packed up the car and headed to the GS Metro Hill Climb.
The Climb
The first thing I noticed at HQ? The mountain of Yorkshire puddings outside The Feathers Inn. Not exactly race fuel, but they sure looked tempting. I had forgotten my cycling jacket, so I warmed up in my hiking rain jacket (close enough to club colors). Me and Sarah headed down the hill for a recon ride, and I quickly realized how deceiving the course was. It felt longer than the 1.7km listed, winding through corners and climbing in fits and starts. This was going to hurt.
By the time I made it back to the start, my lungs were on fire, and I hadn’t even begun racing yet. The coughs, the congestion, the inability to breathe—it was all there. But the stubborn part of me wasn’t about to give up. I took a deep breath (well, as deep as I could) and pushed off. The hill was tough, winding and relentless, but the cheers from the supporters, the cowbells, and Alfie waving the club banner gave me the will to keep going.
The Finish
As I gasped across the finish line, struggling to catch my breath, Alfie’s innocent question of “Are you dying?” brought a much-needed chuckle. I might not have set any records, but at least I made it. Watching Sarah power up the hill with Alfie running alongside her, camera in hand, was one of those feel-good moments that reminds me how far we’ve come in this sport. It’s not just about racing—it’s about community, growth, and shared experiences.
Sarah Was Right
By the end of the day, Sarah’s words had come true. Despite my reluctance, despite the illness and exhaustion, getting out and racing had made me feel better. There’s something about turning up, giving it your best, and pushing through that always leaves you feeling accomplished—whether you set a PB or not!
