On a blustery cold December morning last year I saddled my bike and headed out into the hills. It was supposed to be the beginning of a transformation, a year-long effort to mold myself into a cyclist that could conquer Austin’s toughest ride—Tour Das Hugel, 108 miles of punishing ascents meandering through the hills west of town. Since I had never ridden more than 30 or so miles—all flat—my thought was that it would truly be life-changing experience.

I rode about 22 miles that day through the frigid swirling winds along one section of the course, and finished only one of the dozen or so climbs that are considered significant—Lost Creek Boulevard. It was the hardest thing I’d ever done in my life, and on return I crawled under a warm blanket and nursed a holiday brew. But heck, I had 11 months more to train before the traditional Hugel date on the second Saturday in November, so I wasn’t sweating it.

Whoops. Like so many best intentions involving physical transformations, the training halted as quickly as it began and I slid comfortably into the routine of work, kids’ activities, beer and cheeseburgers.

The dream didn’t die though and festered through the summer and into the sweltering sea of August’s record string of 100-plus degree days.  The Hugel itch continued and I began scratching around to check and see if this year’s ride would occur again, since it’s a completely unofficial event that just happens. (There has actually been a lot of effort behind the scenes in the past to make this “thing” happen for several years, but more on that later.)

2010 Tour Das Hugel pictures courtesy of flickr.com/photos/onefiftyfour.

By September the chatter began on the Hugel listserv, the dates were set, and I jumped back into the game, woefully unprepared for the endeavor. I set out again and began the laborious process of trying to work my way, hill by hill, into a condition where I could at least make a somewhat realistic attempt at finishing.

Here, I intend to chronicle the some of my training and the ride itself. I want to share my experiences for a few reasons. First, it’s an amazing ride that is opening up a new world of cycling for me, so I think it’s something that more people would enjoy. I’m also making a fundraiser out of the effort. Traditionally, Hugel riders donate money to the Yellow Bike Project on the day of the ride. I decided to try to get others into the spirit by posting a challenge, whereby friends—and hopefully readers here—will donate a set amount for each mile I complete, with all proceeds going to local bike nonprofits. My involvement hopefully will let other cyclists know the importance of supporting these nonprofits. Finally, I’m hoping that by putting these thoughts out publically, it will keep me from simply sleeping in and letting the Hugel slip away! Each post will offer snapshots of:  a bit about me, the ride and its history, the course, equipment and logistics, and why you might want to try this.

About Me: Part I
I’ve been a transportation bicyclist for some 17 years, commuting to work for a good chunk of that time. But aside from a few little rides long ago, I never donned the Lycra on a road bike for recreational or sports rides. Maybe approaching age 45 is the real spur for this insanity. Instead of buying a sports car and chasing women with a cliché mid-life crisis, I figured I’d just launch into something less socially destructive but more physically punishing. Maybe it’s my Catholic past calling for more suffering on earth.

The other key problem with this idea was my physical condition. I suppose years of commuting, along with some roller hockey, kept me out of the American mainstream of obesity, but beer drinking has taken its toll and left 20 or so pounds too much weight onboard. That’s 20 pounds more to haul up a hill.

Finally, I felt a bit out of place in this world of riding to nowhere and back and passing cyclists in colorful jerseys and expensive sunglasses. I helped re-found the League of Bicycling Voters, a nonprofit advocacy group, several years ago and had spent most of my time surrounded by like-minded transportation bicyclists working to improve center-city bike infrastructure. The recreational cyclists have always been considered an ally to the cause, but many remain aloof of our efforts, and now I was entering their realm as a complete beginner…not the “expert” and “veteran” like I was in my circles.

Das Hugel: Part I
If you haven’t guessed it already, “Hugel” is German for “hill.” (It’s supposed to be “Der” not “Das,” but who is going to quibble about German articles after so many years of tradition?) You can get a bit of history on the ride here, but essentially it has grown from a gathering of mostly friends and acquaintances, who had scoured the hills of Austin to find the most punishing route, to last year’s event drawing more than 400 riders.

2010 Tour Das Hugel pictures courtesy of flickr.com/photos/onefiftyfour.

The ride usually occurs on the second Saturday in November, but since other events compete with it (e.g. The Wurst Ride), some have elected to ride a week earlier. So this year the “alternate” ride will be Nov. 5, which I will attempt, and the larger ride on Nov. 12.

Numbers vary by who is doing the estimation, but the ride includes some 13,000 feet of climbing.  The course is divided into a first loop, about 40 miles, that takes you back to the starting point at the MoPac pedestrian bridge over Lady Bird Lake, then another 68 or so miles on a second loop. View the route in all its glory here.  As many people have noted, this ride doesn’t have a lot of long climbs, but its trademark is shorter hills (mostly in succession) that usually are at least 12% grade, and often go to 20% with a 24% topper in there somewhere. Some amazing riders can complete in a little less than seven hours, while others have reported coming in after dark with more than 10 hours in the saddle. I’m aiming for the latter.

The Course: Part I  (The High Road)
In early September, I again straddled the saddle and thrust one foot forward to begin the Hugel course. (I was still on my hybrid/road bike at the time. See below.) I think one of the cruelest parts of this ride is the start, a little jaunt up Stratford Drive after the Rowing Dock that immediately puts you on a bitch of a hill. I would later learn that this hill is nothing in the scope of what was to come. Nevertheless, it’s almost as if Stratford was laughing at me, telling me that I’m a fool for even starting down this road.

The route through some of the flatter areas of Westlake Hills to get to 360 still was hilly enough to severely wind me, but at least it got the blood pumping. With the exception of a short stint that first December day, I had never even ridden 360, so that in itself was a defining experience, racing down long hills only to slowly trudge up the other sides, and maneuvering exit and entrance ramps to avoid high-speed vehicles. Shortly before the Pennybacker Bridge I turned on Westlake to Toro Canyon, a series of immense hills that had me wheezing and spitting. Sweat was rendering my handlebars dangerously slick, and my hands nearly flew off on several occasions. (Hence, the importance of actually wearing gloves.)

I had read that the first real challenge—the High Road—was tough, but boy was I in for a surprise. Coming around a corner I saw the narrow little road snake straight up a severe incline. I psyched myself up and pushed and grunted and cursed my way up to the top, only to find that I had merely completed the first of three sections of the High Road climbs. Little stars danced in my blurred vision to the throbbing in my head, and the devil—or perhaps angel—inside started hissing ideas of turning around and feeling the exhilaration of riding downhill. But I continued on. I had to stop three times on the hills to catch my wind before finally making it up. The little circle of road around the top offered a chance to regain my composure, and I slid my feet to the ground and huffed loudly, breaking the silence of this remote little pocket of homes perched outside the hustle and bustle of Austin. Sure I had to stop three times, but I still felt a jolt to my confidence for even being there at all.

The founding fathers and mothers of Hugel assuredly are of a sick breed. For after speeding downhill back to the main road, my cue sheet led me immediately to another monster—Terrace Mountain. Not quite as steep as the High Road, Terrace Mountain still is vexing with four killer sections of climbs. Again, I found myself stopping on the way up, and this time even walking a bit, in failure. Although a nasty follow-up to the High Road, Terrace Mountain does provide some breathtaking (no pun intended) views of downtown and rolling hills. (Not to mention that it gets you out of traversing a nasty stretch of Red Bud Trail below.) I suffered through the last section and glided down to Red Bud Trail. It was time to head home, which was a slog in itself just to make it back 360 and through Westlake Hills.

Arriving back at the MoPac parking lot, I was physically devastated. And yet, this was only 15 miles of the course (and probably 22 miles overall). I would need to ramp it up in the coming weeks if I was even going to make the first 40-mile loop.  “C’est la vie,” I told myself. “It’s a start. But only if I don’t stop.”

Equipment and Logistics: Part I
When I started Hugel training I was on my Trek FX 7.3. It’s kind of a hyrbrid/road mix that’s often marketed for women starting to train for things like the Danskin Triathlon, or so I’ve been told. I’ve found it to be an awesome commuting bike, since it has standard, upright handlebars and a tad wider tires, but it’s still light and rigid enough to make it quick and responsive in traffic.  However, riding in the hills I would get strange looks from road cyclists, since I was wearing a pair of slip on casual shoes with a T-shirt, and my trusty stead was plastered with stickers and a jumbo New Belgium bell. (In fact, I swear I passed Lance—meaning going the opposite way—the first December morning, since it sure looked like him, and I saw a tweet from him noting his ride after I returned home. He had the same puzzled look, although he smiled.)

After four or five weeks, I determined my FX just wasn’t going to cut it. It actually climbs really well and is geared for these steep hills, but I found myself losing so much time and expending much too much effort in the longer stretches of rolling hills. If I really wanted to make this work in short time frame, I would need an upgrade. Thus, I got a Trek 1. 5 road bike. Thanks go out to Russell and the crew at Mellow Johnnys for getting me equipped. I’ll have more on this in later posts.

What About You?

A lot of Hugel riders have expressed concern about the large number of participants in the last couple of years, but most also allow for a philosophy of “the more the merrier.”

As I noted previously, Hugel is a great way to expand your horizons (do the puns never end?), get a great workout and see some of Austin’s most beautiful views.

There’s conflicting opinions about whether you should try the course at all before attempting the actual ride. But if you’re new to riding big hills, it really behooves you to take a shot at the first section (e.g. The High Road) before considering a go at even the first loop. In following posts, I’ll talk about what you might need to give it a try. However, since I’ve never done the damn thing, others who have are encouraged to chime in. Also be forewarned that Hugel has the potential to be fairly hazardous, particularly if ride day turns out to be wet, but even if it’s dry and optimum weather. Future posts will speak more to what you need and what to expect.

Disclaimer: Das Hugel is not a sanctioned event. It is a happening, a gathering of people out for a ride, with no support guaranteed, no leadership and no official coordination.