The climber of the group.
He lives for the uphill road. On most rides, he blends into the background—quiet, steady, never drawing attention to himself. He keeps the pace, listens more than he talks, and saves his energy for moments that matter. When spring arrives, and the wind turns every ride into a battle, he’s usually somewhere near the back, sheltered and waiting. Not because he’s struggling, but because headwinds don’t inspire him.
But the moment the landscape begins to rise, everything changes.
As soon as hills or mountains appear on the horizon, he shifts to the front with calm confidence. His posture straightens, his cadence lightens, and his whole presence seems to wake up. Suddenly, the quiet one becomes the leader—setting a pace that feels smooth yet mysteriously difficult to follow.
He knows nearly every iconic climb in Europe by heart. Not just the names, but the details: elevation, length, gradient, where it kicks up, where it eases off, and where you should save your legs. He can name switchbacks like old friends and describe summit views you haven’t even seen yet.
While others gasp for air on steep gradients, he somehow becomes more talkative. Uphill, he speaks easily—about gear ratios, famous stages, forgotten mountain passes, or the exact point where a climb “really starts.” Put him on flat terrain, and conversations are short. Put him on a 10% incline, and he becomes a storyteller.
Gradient percentages have no grip on him. The steeper it gets, the calmer he seems. It’s almost unfair.
When the road rises, he rises with it—effortlessly, gracefully, and always just a little faster than the rest. Every group needs a climber, but this one is in a category of his own.
Click here for more Super Speciale bikes
