Everesting became a trendy challenge during the pandemic. Regardless of race dates, the format promises the ultimate endurance challenge right on your doorstep. In principle, Everesting is based on three simple but gruelling rules.
Firstly: 8,848 metres of elevation gain must be documented in a single ride. Secondly: Breaks are permitted, but sleeping is forbidden. Thirdly: The feat must be completed on a single climb. To do this, a climb must be repeated until the elevation gain of Mount Everest has been reached. It is forbidden to roll into a second, different uphill section after the descent. Up and down again and again – Everesting is the ultimate test of physical and mental endurance.
Unbelievable but true: the story of Everesting has, for all intents and purposes, run its course. A standard Everesting barely raises an eyebrow in the long-distance cycling scene anymore. Crazy masochists are pushing themselves to complete triple, quadruple and quintuple Everestings – or even doing things that are even more absurd. The Everesting Hall of Fame has recorded over 12,300 ‘standard’ Everestings by bike worldwide.
However, an estimated 90 per cent of these are completed on the road on a road bike. To find mountain bike enthusiasts who are mad enough to attempt such a feat, you really have to delve deep into specialist forums. To date, there has been no recorded successful Everesting on a 32-inch mountain bike. Our reporter thought it was high time to change that.
Going big in small steps
5.30, 0 m elevation gain: What I’ve got planned for today is utter nonsense. Even now, with the temperature at 22 degrees, the forest is like a sweltering laundry room. Given the extreme weather forecast, my wife’s concerned question echoes through my mind: “How do you actually know when you’ve had enough?” It surprises even me, but I haven’t found an answer to that yet. I start pedalling and begin recording.
7.30 am, 1000 hm: Whilst my colleagues are getting their first coffee from the machine, I’m hurtling downhill at 70 kilometres per hour on a bike I built myself. Those big wheels are rolling like mad! I try to relax my back, as the high front end of my 32er puts a strain on my upper body when climbing. My hill is only 180 metres high. I plan to climb it 49 times today. The advantage is that I get to rest more often and enjoy the breeze. Although today, it feels more like the hot air from a convection oven.
Choosing an Everesting route is a pure maths puzzle. “49 times? That dreadful thing? You’re mad!” When I told my local cycling mates about my plans, they could only laugh in disbelief. The gravel ramp on the edge of the Odenwald has an average gradient of 11 per cent and peaks at twice that. In theory, you could tackle this mad elevation gain on any hill. But cyclists don’t just want to reach the highest peak on Earth – they want to come back down again too. The climb has to be steep, otherwise the distance adds up too much. It’ll be around 160 kilometres for me. I’m reckoning on a total time of 16 hours – how naive I was!
11:00, 3,000 metres of elevation gain: This is where the fun ends on a weekend ride, if not before. A slight headache and a feeling of hunger signal that I’m running low on energy. At least the ramp is only 200 metres from my parents’ house, which makes the logistics easier. My first proper break by the parked car brings salted rice, bananas and gummy bears. Today, I’ll be pumping around 20 litres of fluid through my body and burning just under 17,000 calories.
“Real” food can hardly keep up. Cool boxes are stocked with performance-optimised specialised nutrition in liquid form. All my organs are working flat out; I need a top-up every two laps. The boiler in my body’s power station is burning like never before. Weighing in at 88 kilos, ready to ride, I’m certainly no mountain sprinter. Even my steel hardtail weighs almost five kilos more than the Everesting bikes from the road cycling scene.
Climate crisis
3.30 pm, 4,500 metres of elevation gain: Halfway there! I’m venturing into uncharted territory, as I’ve never cycled this many metres of elevation gain before. My stomach feels queasy and the amounts I can eat and drink are getting smaller and smaller. My tongue feels coated and my mouth is numb from all the sugary water.
The air is stagnant, and in the shade the thermometer has climbed to 36 degrees. Where the sun beats down on the gravel, I feel like an ant under a magnifying glass. During the two-hour photo shoot, I’ve barely covered a metre. My first serious doubts are gnawing at me. The heatwave has Europe firmly in its grip, and yet I’m shivering.
Along with the goosebumps, a nasty sense of foreboding creeps over me. Others might keep moving to warm themselves up. But I know from previous experiences pushing my limits that this can be extremely dangerous. As the first symptoms of heat exhaustion set in, I lie in the boot of the car in the shaded car park and close my eyes.
I’m worried: this could not only put an end to my Everesting, but also cost me my health. It takes nearly 60 minutes for my body temperature to drop back down to a safe level. A dramatic quote from Evil Knievel springs to mind: “Pain is temporary, glory stays forever!” So, I pour water over my head once more, then carry on.
Between Hell and the Enchanted Forest
5.30 pm, 5,000 metres of elevation gain: First, an old school friend joins me for a lap, then my mum comes to visit: “You’re still alive,” she beams, throwing her arms round my neck in relief. I feel rather dazed, but slowly I’m finding my rhythm again: two easy laps, then ten minutes to let my temperature drop and refuel. My mind and legs are still holding up surprisingly well, but the relentless heat is almost knocking the wind out of me.
8.30 pm, 6,000 metres of elevation gain: Whilst sensible people are lying on the sofa after a good meal, I still have to climb the Zugspitze. The car park is deserted; once again, I’m lying on my back on the hard loading area. The relative coolness of the evening, the tranquillity of the darkness, the dry change of clothes: it all feels simply heavenly right now. A deep weariness seeps into every crevice of my body, settling on my mind like a shadow. For the second time today, I’m mulling over the idea of giving up, playing ping-pong with my motivation. Actually, I just want to go home.
A little miracle takes place. All around me, tiny lights suddenly flit through the tropical air. Enchanted, I watch as more and more fireflies light up the forest. I pull myself together, swing myself onto the saddle with a groan and start pedalling. No sounds, no lights, just hundreds of tiny points of light in the darkness. It’s like a feverish dream.
The final gasp
11.00 pm, 6961 hm: As the glowworms’ light fades, my enthusiasm fades for good. I stand at the summit for a long time, staring dazed into the night. It feels like an eternity. I lost all sense of time and space long ago. If I’d already clocked up 7,000 metres of elevation gain here, I’d have called it a day straight away and headed straight for the shower. As it is, however, after the descent I turn around once more and head back up the slope. Music in my ears again – Deep Purple power me up the mountain.
00:30, 7,500 metres of elevation gain: For the 41st time, I’m standing at the highest point of the circuit. Darkness envelops me and I feel nothing but emptiness inside – no emotions, no imagination. I’ve been on the road for 19 hours. The question that has already pushed so many marathon cyclists to their limits is now breaking my will too: Why am I doing this to myself?
For the first time in my life, I don’t want to cycle any more. I want to spend some quality time with my family; I want to go home to my wife, and I simply can’t bring myself to imagine putting myself through another three hours of this.
In a few hours, the first appointments of today’s working day will begin. My mind is a blank, every thought replaced by a leaden void. Now I know how to recognise my limit: when vision is lacking, the limit has been reached. Let someone else celebrate the world premiere; in this dark moment, I couldn’t care less.
How about you lot: what’s the greatest elevation gain you’ve ever managed in a single ride? Let us know in the comments!
Jan Timmermann
Editor
