My First Everesting Challenge: Repeating 8,848 Meters of Climbing at Fengguizui

When I decided to complete my first Everesting challenge at Fengguizui, I had no idea that what awaited me would be a 20-hour test of physical and mental limits, and a journey that would forever change how I perceive cycling.

What Is Everesting?

The rules of Everesting are simple: choose a climb, ride it repeatedly until your cumulative elevation gain reaches the height of Mount Everest—8,848 meters. You cannot switch routes, you cannot rest longer than the allowed time, and you must go up and down the same road until you finish. It sounds simple, but executing it is a whole different story.

I chose Fengguizui as my challenge route. From the Gugong intersection to the top of Fengguizui, each ascent gains about 480 meters over roughly 9 kilometers, which meant I needed to complete about 19 round trips to hit the target. The moment I pressed the equals sign on my calculator, I started wondering if I was insane.

Preparation Phase: Three Months of Grinding

Tackling Everesting is not something you can do on a whim. I spent three months preparing specifically, scheduling at least two long climbing sessions per week. I studied the experiences shared by many riders abroad who had completed Everesting, and found that pacing and nutrition were the keys to success.

During training, I climbed up to 4,000 meters in a single day. That experience gave me basic confidence in my fitness, but it also made me realize that the second half would be the real test. My coach told me: “Ride the first half with your body, endure the second half with your willpower.” That statement turned out to be the most accurate prophecy.

I prepared a detailed nutrition plan: an energy gel every two laps, a rice ball or sandwich every four laps, and electrolyte drinks throughout. I also asked two friends to take turns manning the support station at the base, preparing food and swapping out my water bottles.

Departing at 3 AM

The challenge day was set for a Saturday in October, and I chose to depart at 3 AM, hoping to finish before dark. I barely slept the night before—not out of nervousness, but out of excitement.

The first five laps went smoothly. As the sky gradually brightened, my rhythm stayed steady, my heart rate remained in the aerobic zone, and each lap took about 35 minutes up and 15 minutes down. I told myself: “This isn’t hard at all—it’s just repetition.”

The Mental Battle in the Middle

By the eighth lap, the sun was high in the sky and temperatures were rising. My legs began to feel fatigue—not the sharp kind of soreness, but a persistent, dull heaviness. What tortured me even more was the mental monotony—the same corners, the same gradients, the same scenery, over and over again.

On the tenth lap, I hit my first low point. I stopped at the summit, looked out over the Taipei Basin in the distance, and suddenly felt that everything was meaningless. Why was I putting myself through this? No one was forcing me, there was no prize money, and not many people even knew I was doing it. I sat by the roadside for a full ten minutes, seriously considering giving up.

What pulled me back was a message from my friends at the base: “You’ve already completed more than half. The remaining distance is shorter than what you’ve already ridden.” That simple mathematical fact reignited my motivation.

The Final Push in the Dark

By the fifteenth lap, darkness had fallen. I mounted my lights and kept climbing through the night. Fengguizui at night has a special kind of stillness—no other vehicles, only the sound of my breathing and the spinning of the chain.

My body had entered a strange autopilot mode. My legs pedaled mechanically, my mind went blank, and I only occasionally glanced at the computer to check my power. It’s hard to describe this feeling in words—not pain, not joy, but a pure state of being that transcends emotion.

On the eighteenth lap, my GPS showed cumulative elevation gain exceeding 8,500 meters. One lap to go. I took a deep breath and began the final ascent. Every pedal revolution carried a sense of ritual, and I started reflecting on the entire day—the coolness of the early morning, the heat of midday, the fatigue of the afternoon, the stillness of the late night.

The moment my computer hit 8,848 meters, I pulled over and did nothing—just stood there quietly. No cheering, no tears, only a deep sense of calm.

After Completion

Final numbers: total time 19 hours 42 minutes, riding distance 342 kilometers, total elevation gain 8,892 meters. I consumed 12 energy gels, 4 rice balls, 3 bananas, and countless bottles of water and electrolyte drinks.

When I got home, my knees were swollen for three days, and I waddled like a penguin. But deep inside, something had changed forever. I no longer fear the word “impossible,” because I now know a secret: most things that seem impossible are simply things that require enough time and enough persistence.

Every time I pass Fengguizui now, I smile a little. That road is no longer just a road to me—it’s proof that ordinary people can accomplish extraordinary things. If you’re also considering taking on Everesting, my advice is: don’t overthink it, just start preparing. The hardest part isn’t riding 8,848 meters—it’s convincing yourself to take the first step.

Related Reading

• Taiwan KOM Everesting Challenge Fully Explained: The Ultimate Endurance Test of Repeatedly Climbing 8,800 Meters
• Wuling Everesting Challenge Guide: The Ultimate Endurance Test of Climbing 8,848m
• Fengguizui Practical Guide: 6.13 km, 410.8 m of Climbing, Segment Breakdown and Gear Ratio Calculation for Taipei’s Cycling Mecca
• Complete Fengguizui Climbing Technique Analysis: Tips and Strategies for the Northern Training Ground