Categories: La Vie VelominatusMusings from the V-BunkerRiding Ugly

The Climber in a Gorilla Suit

The climber in a gorilla suit is a mysterious beast.

There is a force upon this world which governs all manner of voodoo and wizardry. This force ensures the streak in your windshield wiper is always precisely at eye level. It ensures that the phone call goes to voicemail just as you touch the “answer” button. It ensures that a product which you endlessly encountered but did not need will vanish into oblivion the moment it becomes of use.

The more time I spend as a Cyclist, the more apparent it becomes to me that this force also controls which of us are to become good climbers or bad climbers. I will never be a good climber, however much I enjoy it; I am much too big for it. But I climb well enough for my weight because I enjoy the work and the suffering. I enjoy testing to see how far I can push myself.

I see small, powerful riders and I imagine they must go uphill like a whisper on the wind, but when the climb comes, they drift back in the group and disappear down the road the wrong way. The mysterious force has decreed that they shall not be a good climber, especially for their weight.

Most mysterious is the large rider who goes uphill like a beast; they are too big, too heavy, and too strong to defy gravity like the mountain goats do, with none of the grace and fluidity that the true grimpeur holds. Yet they go to the front and heap coals on the fire, sending everyone on their wheel deep into the pain cave. This rider is the Climber in a Gorilla Suit, and they are the sleeper agents of the peloton.

Look out; there likely is one lurking on the group ride tonight.

frank

The founder of Velominati and curator of The Rules, Frank was born in the Dutch colonies of Minnesota. His boundless physical talents are carefully canceled out by his equally boundless enthusiasm for drinking. Coffee, beer, wine, if it’s in a container, he will enjoy it, a lot of it. He currently lives in Seattle. He loves riding in the rain and scheduling visits with the Man with the Hammer just to be reminded of the privilege it is to feel completely depleted. He holds down a technology job the description of which no-one really understands and his interests outside of Cycling and drinking are Cycling and drinking. As devoted aesthete, the only thing more important to him than riding a bike well is looking good doing it. Frank is co-author along with the other Keepers of the Cog of the popular book, The Rules, The Way of the Cycling Disciple and also writes a monthly column for the magazine, Cyclist. He is also currently working on the first follow-up to The Rules, tentatively entitled The Hardmen. Email him directly at rouleur@velominati.com.

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View Comments

Oli says:

May 2 2016 at 2:14 pm

@Rusty Gramm

Masochist?
fignons barber says:

May 2 2016 at 3:11 pm

First one that come to mind is Indurain. There's a reason they call him Big Mig.
fignons barber says:

May 2 2016 at 3:13 pm

...and, as Paul Sherwin would say, "there's Big George Hincapie dragging his huge carcass up the mountain". Classic.
Cammo71 says:

May 2 2016 at 3:35 pm

@Rusty Gramm

Well said Rusty. I'm about to take part in an event that on day one at about the 80km mark we hit the Toowoomba Range via Murphy's Creek. This is a 21 degree average 1.2km climb. I'm 188 cm and weigh about 97kgs. It's going to F@#%ing hurt. Looking forward to it though.
kixsand says:

May 2 2016 at 4:39 pm

Love it!

There was a big fella on the club ride on Saturday that was a pure marvel - guessing he would go 225lbs or so and he absolutely crushed hills with a cadence usually reserved for track riders and hummingbirds. Looked like he had a 32 on the back and as soon as the roads turned skyward his legs would start to blur and off he'd go!
acidrums4 says:

May 2 2016 at 4:56 pm

I think I'm a bad climber. I'm from that little dirty country where great cyclists had born: Nairo Quintana, Mauricio Soler, and the almighty Luis Herrera, the best cyclist in the world at the 80's, but that didn't made up for me for being a good climber.

I've lived all my life beyond 2600 meters above sea level, but I'm still a bad climber. It's not just for my weight (68~70 Kg, although I'm just 173 cm): my blood takes a little part. There's something on it that makes me sweat with even just thinking to go to ride.

When I go for a ride with my friends I seem to do that little climbs very easily while they struggle, but when I see all that other people just hammer that hills at 300% the speed I go, I feel pain a little bit more on my legs.
dyalander says:

May 2 2016 at 5:17 pm

Same force that always hides the valves when you want to check your tyre pressure, but leaves them sticking out like Fonzies sore thumbs whenever you want to take a picture.
Randy C says:

May 2 2016 at 6:12 pm

>>> This force ensures the streak in your windshield is always precisely at eye level. It ensures that the phone call goes to voice mail just as you touch the "answer" button <<<

I can get over the latter, no biggie, but the former ? Will drive me nuts.

A climber in a gorilla suit is inspiring. Gotta love it. That's fun.

The friggen streak though?? Arghhh

Cheers
Rusty Gramm says:

May 2 2016 at 6:15 pm

@Oli

thanks for pointing that out, although i feel that with that typo i became a sadist. with climbing the only one i'm ever going to hurt is myself.
Rusty Gramm says:

May 2 2016 at 6:16 pm

@Cammo71

that sounds like an epic ride. making oneself hurt while climbing is akin to going out to looking for the man with the hammer, pain will come, but after the pain come glorious relief. plus the post ride shower beer become all the more worthy