1:14.2

Many have tried, but all have failed. The imperious time of one minute, fourteen point two seconds has stood solid, resolute in the face of all challengers since 1981. Malcolm Elliott’s record for the Monsal Hill Climb is one of the longest standing in British cycling, and at the time of publication the closest anyone has got come to beating it was in 2003 when Russell Downing posted one minute, eighteen point three seconds. First run in 1930, past winners include Tom Simpson, Darryl Webster, Granville Sydney, and both Dean and Russell Downing. It’s a title all riders would love to have on their palmarès, but only a few have the magic ingredients to nail it.

The current custodians of the event, the Sheffrec CC, under the leadership of Marc Etches, have turned what was already a popular race into a must-ride (and must-spectate) day on the cycling calendar. The maximum gradient is a substantial 17%, and at only 500 metres long it favours both the lightweights and the explosive sprinters. Riders who would never be classed as climbers but who have bags of raw power can destroy this course, making a mockery of gravity and taking the scalps of the mountain goats along the way.

If you choose to race you can split the hill into three distinct sectors. First is ‘the flat bit’. You launch yourself from the starting hold like a ball from a cannon and spin effortlessly, full of adrenaline, towards the base of the rise. The instant the road tips up, nature’s forces begin to pull you back and you begin the second part, ‘the silence’. There may be a sprinkling of spectators down here but most likely it will be just you, your laboured breathing, and your ever-quickening heartbeat. This is the toughest part of the climb and it requires immense willpower to absorb the pain and continue riding at 100%.

As the road begins to bend right, and the grassy bank on your left fills with crowds, you are now in the third and final sector, ‘the canyon of noise’. From here on there’s no pain; no matter how much the lungs burn and the legs scream, the cacophony of vocal support from behind the barriers cancels it out. You can now dig deeper than you ever could in training, because each single voice is like a hook that wraps itself round your handlebars and drags you upwards. If you’ve ever wondered how the pros climb the mountains so fast, then here is your answer. Push that gear over those last few yards, make the abrupt kink left to cross the line, and then (with every sinew in your body about to explode) pick your way through the bustle at the top in search of air and the relief of flat land. If you love suffering and the taste of blood, and enjoy seeing your fellow man contorted with pain, then get yourself to the Monsal Hill Climb – you will not be disappointed.