Climbing and Confidence at the Iron Horse Bicycle Classic
The roar must have echoed all throughout the San Juans.
I wasn’t sure what it was at first. Maybe a boom of thunder or a commercial airplane? This was just about 11,000 feet above sea level—unexpected sights and sounds are up here.
As the noise intensified, I finally saw them: two fighter jets performing a Memorial Day weekend flyover during the Iron Horse Bicycle Classic. The patriotic sight certainly tamped down the pain in my legs as I searched for the summit of Molas Pass.
The planes were just one interesting aspect of my Iron Horse experience last week, the second time I completed the Durango-to-Silverton ride that climbs nearly 6,000 feet in the span of 50-miles.
Let’s start from the beginning.
Durango
It’s 7:45 in the morning and thousands of cyclists are lining up on the north edge of town. Around 8 o’clock, the sound of the Durango and Silverton Narrow Gauge Railroad’s whistle sounds, marking the beginning of a race between man and machine.
It’s a race that has a 52-year legacy, dating back to 1971. That year, Tom and Jim Mayer decided to see who could get to Silverton faster—Tom on his bicycle or Jim on the railroad on which he worked as a brakeman. When the train rolled into the isolated mining town, Tom was already there, having tackled two high-mountain passes with just the help of his legs and his lungs.
A tradition was born, with the first official Iron Horse taking place the following year. It’s been going on every year since (except for 2020 during the Covid-19 pandemic) and can be credited with fostering Durango’s cycling legacy.
Sweeping right onto North Main Avenue, I made sure to start with a steady pace, not wanting to be held up by those spinning their legs for a gradual start. I could see a lead group peeling out ahead, so I put some pressure on and hoped to catch them on the downhill where the avenue turns back into a highway.
I was one of the lucky ones, it turned out. Dozens of flat tires were reported and blamed on tacks that were spread across the opening miles of the event’s route by an anti-cycling saboteur. Or perhaps it was a hardware truck that lost some of its cargo.
“Let the bikers have their one day a year they can ride to Silverton,” law enforcement told the local paper. I agree.
Other than that, there was also a car that veered into the ditch and smashed into a tree on the left hand side of the highway. Thank fucking god they didn’t veer to the right, into the path of the race course. The Colorado State patrol said the driver fell asleep at the wheel.
The opening miles of the course are flat, and local residents line the road outside their homes to cheer on the riders. I waved. It’s cool that a local event carries on with support from the community, proving that the Iron Horse has more supporters than the singular tacky tire assassin.
Shalona Hill
The climbing starts in earnest at Shalona Hill, but calling it a hill is definitely an understatement. A mountainous incline might be a more appropriate phrase, as you hardly stop climbing until you reach the first major descent atop Coal Bank Pass.
Shalona, and the ensuing miles up to Purgatory Resort, are another example of the community support. Lots of supporters gathered shortly after the highway crosses over the train tracks, where I spotted numerous friends.
I kept this section chill, trying to ride no higher than tempo pace, saving my legs for the ‘real’ climbing to come at Coal Bank and did a pretty good job with that goal.
Coal Bank
Coal Bank is a tough climb. Well, any climb that begins right around 9,000 feet altitude will be tough, but there’s just something brutal about this one. Maybe it’s the sign near the bottom that announces you have 4 miles until the top, or maybe it’s the steady steep grade and curvy road.
I know for sure though that the toughest part is the top section. You round a left hand hairpin turn, and it looks like you’re nearing the top. The road still has two miles and a few hundred feet of climbing to go until the summit though.
I knew this and pre-rode the section, so at this point in the climb, I fully dialed into my pain cave and tried to zone out as my legs tapped out as steady a cadence as they could manage. As for the lungs, at this altitude they only have one speed.
I sped down the other side of Coal Bank, and a glorious clearing in the stormy skies above shone down sunlight that warmed my hands and body back up. I, again, was one of the lucky ones. Many were caught in snow showers as they traversed the passes to Silverton.
Molas
Lime Creek curve is a comforting sight. It means that you are almost there, but ‘almost’ means another half hour heading uphill.
I settled in, gulped down my final energy gel, and set back off to tapping out a rhythm. In the middle of the climb, the grade flattens out, and you are often met by a nice tailwind. I felt like I was flying, like the jets that would be overhead in a few minutes.
Right around the time of the flyover, I realized what a special mental place it is to be suffering but also making forward progress. My legs and body hurt, but I was locked in on the goal and still felt like I was performing well.
In the week following the event, I’ve reflected that this was one of the first races in a while that I felt completely focused and confident. One aspect of that confidence is fitness and weight.
In cycling, power to weight ratio is crucial. That’s why cyclists are so lean. They need to go up hills fast, and extra weight is a fatal wrench in that plan. I’ve never been insecure about my weight, but I’m intensely aware that I’m heavier than other cyclists, especially living in a town that has world-class athletes in nearly any sport you throw a dart at. But heading into the Iron Horse, I felt lean and fit.
I’m not sure if I’ve lost weight this spring; the only time I look at a scale is at the doctor’s office. Fitness and ‘feeling good’ on the bike is a hard thing to quantify too, since there are so many variables and caveats that go into feeling that way.
All I know is that I zipped down Molas pass, pushed up the false flat finishing straight, and crossed the line in 3 hours and 16 minutes. I’m feeling confident that I can do big rides in the mountains, just as we head into summer when the high-mountain trails open up, so I’m pretty excited.
Maybe next year I’ll shoot to finish the Iron Horse in under three hours.
