It started quietly. Just like all dangerous, life-altering addictions. Why I Climb Alpin Passes?
First, it was a modest local hill. Then came the ambitious weekend trips. And before I fully understood what was happening, I found myself standing at the foot of the Italian Alps. I was staring up at the terrifying, endless switchbacks of Passo dello Stelvio, Passo del Mortirolo, and the legendary Monte Zoncolan.
Strapped into an elegant carbon road bike, I’m wearing a tight-fitting jersey that leaves me no room for personal dignity.
I returned home from that first Alpine trip with a strange physical sensation. I couldn’t quite name it. It lived somewhere between pure muscular agony and profound, quiet euphoria. Physiologists talk about endorphin rushes and oxygen debt. I call it a serious, incurable mental disorder.
Because I went back. And then I went back again.
The Financial and Physical Audit of an Alpine Cyclist
Here I stand today—a man who owns significantly more road bikes, carbon wheels, and specialized bib shorts than formal tailored suits. I know the exact location of every single fountain in Bormio, Santa Caterina, or TdF Alpin Passes. In the middle of a completely normal dinner conversation, I will spontaneously pivot to topics like gear ratios, vertical ascent rates, and the thermal efficiency of merino wool socks.
My friends absolutely adore these unsolicited monologues. Consider yourself officially warned.
What Alpine Cycling Stole From Me
First and foremost, it took away my comfort. That warm, horizontal, beautiful comfort of the living room sofa. A couch asks for nothing and demands zero effort. Today, my living room serves merely as a brief transit lounge between the front door and my bike rack.
It also took my hard-earned money. Not dramatically all at once, but systematically, with the surgical precision of an online cycling retailer.
Let’s talk about cycling jackets. There is the basic windproof jacket. Then there is the rain jacket that breathes better. And finally, there is the ultralight thermal jacket designed specifically for descending the Galibier at -2°C with a gale-force headwind. The price difference between them is a couple hundred euros and a marketing description I read online at 1:00 AM.
Oh, and then there is the cost of recovery beers at mountain summit huts.
Finally, it stole my weekends. Normal, civilized people wake up at nine on Saturday morning, sip fresh coffee, and read the news. I voluntarily wake up at 5:30 AM to load a bike into a car, do this just to spend five hours gasping for air on a 12% incline while my heart rate assaults my vital organs. I believe that is the clinical definition of a personality disorder.
What Alpin Passes Gives You Back
(Warning: The following medical facts are presented without my consent).
A cardiologist would be absolutely thrilled. Grinding up a mountain pass for two continuous hours does things for your cardiovascular system no pharmaceutical pill can simulate. It drops your resting blood pressure, expands your lung volume, and optimizes something called VO2max – a metric I didn’t even know existed a decade ago.
Your brain functions completely differently after tackling an Alpine giant. Scientists refer to reduced cortisol levels, prefrontal cortex stimulation, and something called attention restoration theory. I simply call it: I completely stopped getting angry at trivial daily nonsense.
Then there is sleep. I can’t remember the last time I lay awake at midnight worrying about unresolved work emails. A body that has conquered 1,500 vertical meters of mountain asphalt wants to sleep. It is a very simple equation.
And weight loss? I won’t talk about weight loss. That sounds like a cheesy infomercial, and I still maintain a shred of personal pride.
What I Didn’t Expect from the Mountains
I didn’t expect high-altitude passes to change my perspective literally, not just metaphorically.
When you stand at the summit of Passo di Gavia at 2,652 meters, looking out across towering glaciers and deep valleys, your daily problems don’t magically vanish. But you grow bigger. You return to the valley floor with a much better ratio of mental strength.
I didn’t expect the global community. Fellow road cyclists passing you on a 15% ramp don’t nod or wave because they know your name. They greet you simply because you are sharing the exact same realm of voluntary suffering. That is a unique aspect of road cycling—solidarity without history, respect without words.
I didn’t expect that certain thoughts only occur while in motion. Some of your best life ideas will never arrive while sitting at an office desk. They show up on the seventh kilometer of a brutal climb, when your body enters autopilot and your mind finally gets total freedom to wander.
Most of my best decisions have a high altitude attached to them.
A Final Note for the Unsaved
If you read this far and feel a sudden urge to explore the vertical world, hear my advice: start small.
You do not need to jump into a car, drive straight to Italy, and assault the 48 switchbacks of the Stelvio on day one. You do not need an Italian carbon race bike or a professional Grand Tour gear setup.
Start with the modest hill sitting right behind your hometown.
Take an hour to pedal up, and twenty minutes to coast back down. Ride whatever bicycle currently sits gathering dust in your garage. Wear your ordinary sports clothes.
Road cycling has no strict entry requirements. It only has exit costs—namely, a lifelong addiction to mountain air, a deep appreciation for steep roads, and a slightly lighter wallet.
Honestly, I have paid far more money for much worse addictions in my life.
What about you? Do you Climb Alpin passes? Or do you prefer the safety of your couch? What is your personal relationship with the vertical world?
