Slow/Fast Riding

This past weekend I went on a two day club ride with the San Franscisco Randonneurs. It was essentially an out and back 2x200K from the Golden Gate Bridge to Cloverdale, with a 300K option on day one for the hard cases.

On day one I rode my own pace, stopped a bit more than usual and was never in an organized paceline. The temperatures ranged from the usual 12-14C at the coast in the morning to 28-30C in the afternoon (actually cool for the time of year). On bike time was 9:30 with a total ride time of 11:30. At the end of the day I felt fine and not really fatigued at all.

On day two, the whole club rode as a peloton for the first two hours, averaging 18mph. I then rode in a small paceline of four riders for the next three hours. The average speed dropped as the rollers picked up and some fatigue set in, but we still were averaging above 15mph after five hours. I eventually rode away from the group on the coastal rollers, some of which are 12%, and rode the final four hours alone. On bike time was 8:07 hours with a total ride time of 9:03. I did the century in 6:55 mostly thanks to the fast start. However, at the end I was really quite fatigued and at times on the bike it was a struggle, especially the last three hours as I had spent most of my remaining chips in the first hour of solo riding. It's possible that I would have gone faster overall if I had been in a paceline group for the whole ride, owing to the forcing effect of a paceline.

However, this morning it would be hard to get on the bike for another long ride and that is one of the the lessons of this story. Riding 10% faster takes more than 10% out of your body. So if you are riding a tour or a long brevet, you had better manage your pace for the long haul. On the other hand pacelines can definitely get you there faster but you have to be careful about being pulled into going beyond you comfort zone, which is all too easy.

Climbing Month

My next scheduled ride was the Eastern Sierra Double Century on June 2nd but this was cancelled due to road works (there aren't a lot of reroute options in that area). So I decided to do the Sequoia Century which is put on by my local club, the Western Wheelers. I chose the 200K option which had about 10000' of climbing and a few steep pitches, none more so than Redwood Gulch where, if you aren't careful, you can easily lose traction on the front wheel. The ride went pretty well and I met a bunch of people I knew on the way. The only bad thing was queues at the rest stops. It's been a while since I went on an organized ride with that many participants and I confess I have got used to fast in and out given the small number of riders that participate in the California Triple Crown rides.

The body seemed to handle the climbing pretty well and there is no question that climbing is an excellent way to get into good riding shape. On the flat you can always coast and you have to force yourself to work hard. I find that much easier on the trainer with the Spinervals coach in my ear! But when you climb you just have to work hard otherwise you'll never get up the hill, especially the ones around here. So I decided to dedicated the month to climbing rides. In the end I did seven, including one set of three days in a row, when I had originally been signed up for the SFR 1000K. I decided that was too many miles per day but figured I'd ride a century each day instead. I finished with a really hard climbing ride; most of my Peninsula Death Ride, with 111 miles and 13000'.

Overall, about 750 miles for the month of June and about 70000' of climbing. Now a week off to let my body absorb and process the hard work before the SFR 200/200 Cloverdale weekend on July 14/15th.

SFR 600K

Next up and then final component of a Super Randonneur Brevet series is the 600K. The San Francisco 600K is considered one of the toughest. I've done it twice before in 2010 and 2011.

The 2010 ride was a tour de force, which I never blogged about. I rode it on my ancient Dawes Galaxy because at the time it was the only bike I had that could accommodate the amount of gear I needed to carry. Based on my fast 400K that year and advice from more experienced randonneurs, I booked a shared hotel room in Cloverdale at mile 260, hoping I'd get there about 1-2am. Ha! As it turned out I didn't arrive until 5:15am, with the sun coming up, after a very cold and dark ride through the Anderson Valley. So I decided to keep riding. I did ok until the final run in from Point Reyes, where, as the temperature rose, I found even the smallest hill a major struggle, requiring rests at the bottom and top. Still I finished in 34 hours without any sleep. Never again though!

In 2011, where Paris-Brest-Paris qualification was on the line, I booked a hotel room in the Anderson Valley at about mile 225. Not easy as there are very limited options, but I got lucky. Arrived about 1:30am and got a few hours sleep. The Sunday ride was, by comparison with 2010, much more pleasant.

So to 2012. This time I decided to stay in Ft Bragg, which is the half way point of the ride and, therefore, the rational place to stop on what is essentially a two day ride. Plenty of accommodation and food options. The problem is that the rules for randonneuring are not rational. Even though the Cloverdale control had been made an "info" control, thus having no associated time limit, the next control was timed and I concluded that I would need to get up and start riding at 2am to make the control. The decision to start the ride an hour earlier to minimize a clash with the Tour de California which was racing on part of the route on Sunday didn't help matters. Essentially, the timing for a 600K makes no provision for a sleep stop; the clock ticks at the same rate as a 200K and the total time allowed is just 3 times the 200K time. Make of that what you will but I think it's a serious safety issue.

The heat index was lower than it had been for the 400K but it was still plenty warm by the time I got to Cloverdale. I was riding pretty well and enjoying it. Boonville was a lively scene as they were holding their annual beer festival. Given that, I was surprised to see that the Andersen Valley Inn, where I had stayed last year, was advertising a vacancy. I actually went in and checked the rate, but it was their biggest room and at $180 for what would be at most a few hours, I decided against. The endless rollers on 128 were getting to me, but I was still in good shape by the time I reached the campground near the coast where SFR has a staffed rest stop with food and drink, and access to a drop bag. Incredibly after being so warm, the temperature dived within a couple of miles after leaving the campground and I had to stop and put on the leg and arm warmers. It got steadily worse and the coast was completely fogged in, making for a cold and rather miserable ride up to Fort Bragg. With about 180 miles on my legs I was ready for a rest and it was very nice knowing that I was heading to my hotel whereas the other riders at the Safeway control faced a cold and damp ride back to the campground and possibly beyond. Some riders stay at the campground but as it has no running water or proper restrooms I don't find the idea at all appealing. Others crash in the Post Office at Boonville and yet more push on to Cloverdale as I had attempted in 2010. Ok if you are a fast rider.

It was great getting a shower at the hotel and then having a nice meal at the on site restaurant. In truth I have decided I am more of a tour style rider than a true randonneur. Still I rose at 4am and was on the road at 5am because my goal was to finish within the time limit even if I missed the internal controls. It was still cold and drizzly. Several miles up the road I realized that I had not turned on my rear light, not that it mattered as I hadn't see a car yet. So I pulled over and, amazingly spot a large set of keys, by the side of the road. They have no identification, but I take them anyway with some notion that I can reconnect them with their owner.

By the time I reach the campground again I am really quite cold and it's great to be able to warm up by the fire and get some hot food. As "luck" would have it I felt my front tire going squishy on the run in and sure enough I have a slow puncture, and with help from Roland Bevan I replace the tube. I'm annoyed to find that one of my spare tubes is for a 650 wheel (for our tandem) but thankfully they have a spare to lend me. I'm surprised to see Gabrielle Frieldly and Peg Miller, who arrived just before me. It turns out that they also stayed in Ft. Bragg at the same hotel as me, having got there quite late and being very cold, couldn't face turning round and riding back in the dark. They decide to quit as, like me, there is no way they can make the time cutoff at the Guerneville control.

The weather improves as I leave the coast further behind but my front tire flats again about five miles out. Good thing I borrowed the spare tube. It turns out that a redwood seed got trapped inside the tire while changing the tube and the little sharp point at the end eventually made its mark. After replacing the tube I patch the failed one in case I get another flat, something I've never had to do before. All this adds time and, as usual on this stretch, I'm only making the minimum average speed of 10mph. There are lots of hung over beer festival attendees going home which makes the ride less enjoyable than usual as the road has no shoulder and it quite twisty as well as up and down.

By the time I reach Cloverdale, and hit the Starbucks for some refreshment, I calculate that I almost certainly can't make the finish time following the official route. That extra hour which got me into Ft Bragg at 8pm instead of the usual 9pm had me staying there too long. Since I want to pick up my drop bag I decide to do a straight shot through Petaluma rather than the official coast route via Point Reyes. It all goes to plan and I arrive at the Golden Gate 15 minutes inside the finish time at 8:45pm. Unfortunately, the volunteers have all left already. My fault as I failed to communicate properly that, despite a technical DNF, I would be finishing the ride.

I'm slightly disappointed that I didn't ride the whole course, but at 580km for two days I felt I achieved my training objective. However, based on this experience I have decided to drop out of the SFR 1000K in June as three days of this kind of mileage is just too much at the moment, and more than I need, since this year's main goal is the Ride Across Britain, which is nine days with average daily distance of 105 miles.

A postscript on the keys. It took me a week to get my drop bag back, where I had stashed the keys at the campground. I was able to track the owners through a library card on the keyring. They had left the keys on the roof of their car in downtown Ft Bragg and then drove off (presumably using another set). Amazing how far they got before they fell off!

SFR 400K

As noted in my previous post, I knew I was looking at a ride time of 20+ hours for this event, probably in the 22+ hour range. Since my longest ride since the layoff was only 75 miles, this was going to be a big jump. Only the fact that I had done it and longer rides before, and so felt comfortable mentally, made it possible to consider doing it. There was going to be pain and suffering though, no question.

Late April, but the weather forecast was for a hot weekend, with temperatures climbing into the 90s in the area we were riding into. Not auspicious as I don't handle heat very well, having grown up in the temperate, mostly cool climate of England. One bonus however, was the glorious start crossing the Golden Gate bridge, normally a cold and foggy place, but this day clear and warm with great views of the sun starting to ride over Angel Island and the East Bay.

I'm quickly dropped by the fast riders and settle into my new role of being in the slow group. It's quite cold as usual in the Nicasio Valley but warms up as we head towards the first control at Bodega, a mere 63 miles away. I'm happy I have the CamelBak. The views heading out into the Marin countryside are absolutely wonderful and it just a great day to be on the bike. Somewhat to my surprise I actually catch up with one of my cycling buddies, Alex Plumb, and he takes my picture for Facebook! I know this area pretty well and the road through Chileno Valley is one of my favorites, especially in Spring. I firmly believe that Marin and Sonoma counties have the best variety of riding in the Bay Area. Unfortunately, they don't seem to have the money to maintain the roads.

There are still a few people at the store in Bodega including famous female randonneur Kitty Goursolle who is sporting her Paris-Brest-Paris jersey. I still haven't worn mine yet and realize, as Kitty points out, that this would have been a good debut as it mostly white and so good in the heat that is yet to come. The store has some great "home made" pastries, one of which I indulge in along with a chocolate milk. One of the great things about endurance riding is that you can eat almost anything

Next up is a very steep climb up Joy ("joyless") road. Half way up I have an "equipment" problem in that my saddle bag has somehow slipped in its mount on my saddle. It turns out that the bracket has bent but I manage to get it tight enough to hold up for the rest of the ride. No doubt the bumpy roads have something to do with this. I had no problems on PBP with more weight, but the French roads were much better. I count myself lucky it could have come loose in a worst situation.

After the next control at the Safeway in the Russian River town of Guerneville, it starts to heat up noticeably. One nice thing is that Westside Road has been resurfaced, apart from one short but still awful section. I'm wondering of this has anything to do with the Tour of California coming to these parts in May. By the time I get to the turn off for Dutcher Creek en route to Cloverdale I've been hydrating so well I've actually drained my Camelbak and my one Perpetuem bottle is almost empty (and warm). Of course, there are no stores when you need one, just lots of wineries. I finally decide to visit one to cadge some water As I cross the road another rider comes in the other direction and I mention my situation and he offers me his half full water bottle as he is just about to finish. Ordinarily I wouldn't do that for health reasons that but I'm desperate so I gratefully accept. Cloverdale is one more climb over the ridge, where I fall into the air conditioned Starbucks for some much needed refreshment.

Now comes the hard part. The climb on 128 over the ridge to get to the Mountain House Road that will take us to the turn around at Hopland. The temperature is well into the 90's by now. Fortunately there is some shade on the climb at this point in the afternoon and this time of year. The climb has two false summits, the last of which is, thankfully, after the Mountain House turnoff. There is a gravel section early on Mountain House to watch out for. There are several similar too this on the Terrible Two route and I'm puzzled why they are not paved - they don't look anything special, just like they forgot to pave them. If they were really unstable I would expect the gravel surface to be a lot, well, less flat. It is after this that I get one of my bad moments on the bike because my mental memory of the road does not match reality. I though this was a straight descent to Hopland whereas in fact it descends to a valley and then climbs again before descending. It's hellish hot with no shade and I have to keep stopping. It's beautiful country, I just wish it wasn't so hot! Eventually the real descent begins and close to the bottom, on an short uphill stretch, I come across an SFR rider who is walking his bike. Turns out he has stomach issues and can't keep anything down. He seems ok to walk/cruise it into Hopland and sure enough he arrives not long after me and phones his wife to arrange a pick up. She has a long way to come from San Jose!

Several other randos, notable Alex Plumb and Roland Bevan are already in the gas station market, which actually has seating, but are getting ready to leave. I take a decent rest and even indulge in a slice of Pepperoni Pizza. I sort of remember the way out of Hopland, but it's been two years and the road I am pretty sure I should take does not have the same name as that on the cue sheet. So I call the day of event contact to check. My intuition was right but not before I had explored the other alternative for a mile or so. The route back basically links up with Hwy 101 and there is an eight mile section of it to negotiate. It's mostly downhill, and with a wide shoulder separated by a rumble strip from the speeding cars. The trick is not to lose focus and drift into the rumble strip as that can be a real shock to the system. Eventually 101 becomes a freeway again and we branch off onto another side road and head back into Cloverdale. I wasn't planning to stop, but it's a long way to Santa Rosa, and still in the 80's at 7:30pm, so I visit the gas station market again and load up my Camelbak with more water. I know the first section to Geyserville really well and it's mostly flat with just a few rollers around Asti. There's an Uck! moment as the light fails and I get covered with small insects. Important to ride with the mouth firmly closed for a while! At Geyserville we turn off the direct route to Santa Rosa and head towards the hills and then track the edge of the valley heading south. It's dark now, so I'm on the dynamo and helmet headlight. I can't help remembering that two years ago I made it all the way to Santa Rosa in daylight. Unlike the direct route, this variant climbs Chalk Hill before dropping back into Windsor. The route actually bypasses Santa Rosa center to the West by taking Fulton off the Old Redwood Highway. Much to my surprise the temperature is dropping like a rock, down into the 50s from the 80s at Cloverdale, and I actually have to stop to put on the arm and leg warmers and the jacket.

It's a long, mostly flat, run into Petaluma, but I'm getting very tired and all the usual suspects, neck, shoulders, hands and butt are getting sore. Several times I tell myself I am never again going to ride more than 200K in a day. Finally I arrive at the Safeway in Petaluma, where I run into the same group who were at Cloverdale, including the guy who was planning to quit. It turned out that he started to feel a lot better and since his wife was going to take a long time to get there, he decided to keep riding and, once the temperature cooled off, felt much better. I'm not sure how he got past me, though. It's in the upper 40's now and I am so glad I made the decision to stay a few hours in the hotel which, conveniently, is right across the street from Safeway. The idea of another 3-4 hours into San Francisco, which faces the other riders, does not appeal at all.

The hotel shower is incredibly rejuvenating and I try to eat some food before settling down for what will only be about 4 hours rest as I figure I need to leave at 5am to be sure of making the finish by the cutoff at 9am. It's, of course, event slightly colder at 5am, but I don't feel it as much thanks to the rest. There are three climbs out of Petaluma before the turnoff to Nicasio. It stays dark pretty much until descend the second hill into Hicks Valley. There is something special about the early morning light, and today there is patchy low-lying fog to add to the mystique. I'm making good time and, knowing this section so well, figure an 8:30 arrival. It's a pleasant ride all the way to Sausalito where, suddenly, I enter that special place where the wind blows hard and the fog is thick, quite unlike the calm of yesterday morning. It's truly a battle to fight the wind up to the Golden Gate and the bridge crossing is super windy. Fortunately the bridge is missing its usual plethora of tourists on foot and on bike. The diehard volunteers at the finish control, including my friend Brian Kilgore are, I'm sure pleased to see me so that they can wrap up and go home. I am most definitely the last finisher.

I'm nowhere near as tired as I would be had I not slept, but I'm evidently not at my best. I manage to get distracted talking to a rider who pulls into the parking lot next to me and forget that I haven't put my front wheel in the car, and then proceed to drive over it. Fortunately it's not completely trashed, particularly the dynamo hub, but it's definitely well bent. So a bittersweet end to what has been a pretty successful adventure.

The Layoff

When I got back from PBP I was truly exhausted and the urge to ride my bike had been pushed into a small corner of my mind. However, after a few days I thought I should at least get back on the trainer before the legs completely seized up. The first spin went fine but subsequently I started getting a pain on the inside of my right knee. Now, I had partial meniscotomies on both knees a few years back from years of soccer and running, but never had any trouble at all on the bike. Browsing the web I discovered that delayed onset pain is not an uncommon consequence of a ride like PBP. It didn't go away in a hurry, and mindful of the time and care that it took to get over my bout of peroneal tendinitis, I decided to cancel my upcoming rides, in particular the Knoxville double, and work on recovery. Well, it took longer than I expected and I ended up cancelling all my organized ride plans in the fall.

I also had some unfinished business with my right elbow. I had been diagnosed with a slight tear in a tendon on the outside of the elbow caused by improper lifting back in the spring and had delayed dealing with it because it didn't affect riding (in fact it actually recovered on a bike ride) and I was advised that the typical rehab time was 3 months, during which time riding would be off limits. So I decided to schedule the surgery for early November, hoping to be ready for the 2012 season. Since I'd had some less critical but chronic issues with the inside of the elbow, I decided to have that taken care of as well. This involved moving the ulnar nerve from its usual position under the bone to relieve stress. The surgery was on Nov 10th and evidently went well. I had a cast for 10 days and then had to wear a wrist brace for 6 weeks.

Knowing that I wouldn't be able to ride a regular bike for a while even on a trainer I borrowed an unloved Baccehtta recumbent from a friend and was able to ride that pretty much from the outset. This helped keep my leg strength and aerobic fitness up. I got to like the relaxed position on the recumbent, which was definitely easy on the upper back, which is one of my pain points on a standard road bike, essentially due to a disk bulge in my C7 vertebrae.

It was hard to tell quite how the rehab was going until after I could take the brace off in early January, as I wasn't allowed to do anything that could stress it. However, it's impossible to not use your arm unless you are in a cast, so I got some feedback and, honestly, it wasn't very encouraging. When I went back to see the surgeon on January 2nd I was off the brace but the elbow still felt pretty sore especially the side with the nerve transposition. I also seemed to have picked up wrist pain (that I didn't have before) likely due to stiffness from the brace - which was really a wrist brace to prevent me stretching the muscles leading to the repaired elbow tendons. He said it would take six months before I was really back to business and the nerve might take a year or more to fully settle down. Now I'm wondering why didn't I ask more question before the surgery! I schedule the next visit for six weeks out. The next two weeks are really bad. I'm having physical therapy, doing some light stretching, no resistance work allowed yet, but I have a lot of pain, even when doing nothing, which I never had before the brace came off. Lots of heat and cold help to get me through it but not before I schedule an early return to the surgeon because I'm really concerned that it's not right. Just making the appointment does the trick as there is significant improvement in the few days before the I see him. So there's not a lot to say other than to be patient and time will heal.

Trouble is it's been three months and the riding season is starting up. I cancel the 200K I had scheduled in January, then the one in February, feeling gloomy. However, progress is steady but slow. When I go back to the surgeon on the last day of February, my wrist pain has mostly gone and the outside of the elbow seems recovered, although the muscle will spontaneously hurt in an low key way for no apparent reason. But the inside of the elbow is still very painful. I can tell the surgeon is a bit concerned about this but, again, time is the healer he says. I ask a lot more questions this time - better late than never perhaps.

I pulled out of the SFR 300K in March as I was still not ready. That ride has memories since it was my first ankle-pain-free ride in 2011 after I got my orthotics. Fortunately, by the end of the month I'm ready to start some riding and do a 40 mile flat spin on the Portola Valley loop on April 1st. The following weekend I went on a Western Wheelers club ride that involved climbing Kings Mountain Road and Alpine Rd, two fairly tough climbs. I was the lantern rouge on the descent of Tunitas Creek, feeling decidedly dodgy on the very technical descent. A nice lunch in the neat coastal town of Pescadero where I met several old friends also out on rides, which was great. Then the climb back over Haskins Ridge and up Alpine Road. I suffer on this climb, not in the aerobic sense, but my legs and glutes are toast by the end. A long descent on Page Mill and back home for a 60 mile ride and just shy of 7000' of climbing. A bit too much of an increment really.

Continuing that theme, the next ride in the Brevet series is the SFR 400K on April 21! I did this ride at the top of my game in 2010 in 18:15 thanks in part to a fast paceline on one flat 40 mile section. In 2011 I took 20:00 to do the much easier (less hilly) SCR 400K. So, I know I'm looking at no better than that and likely worse. I decide to crash for a few hours in Petaluma in a hotel and then ride in the next morning, taking almost all the allowed 27 hours for the ride. That will still have me riding 205 miles on day 1 however.

My Paris-Brest-Paris 2011 Story

Executive summary: The Randonneuring Mecca. A difficult ride made more challenging by inconvenient start times and ride lengths, and some bad weather, but a unique experience made special by the extraordinary support of the local people.

The Buildup

The build up to PBP is long, over a year in my case, when I decided to do the Santa Cruz 1000K in June 2010, that would get me priority registration for PBP. That ride also gave me confidence that I could ride a 1200K but, as we shall see, the differences between the organization of the two rides made that confidence less valid.

Late in the fall I had decided that I needed a new bike that was more suited to long-distance riding than my carbon Trek 5200, and also a better fit for my body to mitigate the discomfort that can become critical on a ride as long as a 1200K. [PBP is actually 1230K]. I chose a steel framed Waterford with S+S couplers that would allow me to pack the bike in a standard sized suitcase and therefore take as regular checked baggage. The bike arrived just in time for the first qualifying ride, the SFR 200K Point Reyes Lighthouse ride, thanks to some fast work by the dealer, Stone's Cyclery in Alameda. It is truly a beautiful bike and probably as comfortable as I could expect from a standard bike.

At that time I was (still) suffering with peroneal (ankle) tendinitis that had flared up just after the fall Death Valley double in early November. I really had no confidence at this point that I would be able to ride PBP at all. At that time, I was unable to stand on the bike and could not push hard with my right leg. The 200K San Francisco Randonneurs (SFR) Lighthouse ride in January was not a good omen. About an hour into the ride, the ankle started hurting and continued to do so for the remaining nine hours or so. I recall climbing the steep pitch to the Lighthouse seated in my lowest gear, essentially pushing with just my left leg. After the ride I went back to the sports medicine doctor who wanted to inject the tendon with cortisone. I wasn't happy about this as I had read that cortisone injections were not recommended for the peroneal tendons and could cause a rupture. We had a ski trip coming up so I decided to wait until after that before making a decision. The ski trip was a disaster; despite the bracing from the rigid ski boots, it took just one run to persuade me that skiing wasn't going to be possible without setting me back to the beginning. I guess this was my lowest point as I was beginning to wonder if I'd ever fix the problem. The thought of never being able to ski again was very depressing. After the trip my physical therapist suggested that I see a podiatrist. He taped me up with a temporary orthotic and it seemed to work well, so I ordered the real thing. As luck would have it, they arrived the day before the 300K qualifier and I wore them on the ride. Miracle cure! No pain for the entire ride. So that was the real start of my recovery. Another aid I used was KT Tape on the ankle for the entire campaign to provide some extra support. The problem was that I was very slow on the bike, probably 1-2 miles an hours slower average speed that before. Doesn't sound like much, but on a long ride it can make a huge difference.

Owing to a family issue I had to miss the SFR 400K qualifier, so I did the Santa Cruz 400K a week later. This meant I missed my favorite double century, the Devil Mountain double but, given that I had done no climbing, that was probably a good thing. I finished the 400K in 20 hours, after which 20kph or better became my riding goal. At that speed PBP would take 62.5 hours of riding which, given an 84hr ride, should allow adequate time for sleep and food stops.

The 600K qualifier passed without issue and I also did the Davis Double Century in May. I was still slow compared to previous years but I was definitely improving on every ride. I had a slight setback on the Terrible Two where, despite finishing, I wasn't fast enough to get California Triple Crown credit. I did more climbing in July on the Peninsula Death Ride and wrapped up the training with the Mt Tam Double in early August, which went pretty well. Along the way I was doing interval training on the bike trainer, trying to increase my speed.

Off to France

So finally, on August 13th, it's off to the real thing. I had decided to spend a week in the UK getting over jet lag and visiting family, so this meant I didn't fly with the main body of SFR riders who went Air France direct to Paris. Packing was challenging. The Waterford packs into a regulation sized suitcase although my unusually long fork stem means I have to remove the fork to make it fit, which requires a mallet both for disassembly and reassembly of headset. I had done a practice pack and unpack before Mt Tam, so it wasn't so difficult. The scare came when, 30 minutes before leaving for the airport I weighed my other suitcase and found it 6 lbs overweight, mostly due to the riding "food" I was taking with me. Fortunately the bike case was underweight so some last minute shuffling fixed the problem. The riding "food" was mostly Hammer Nutrition Perpetuem powder and tablets; this is my usual long distance riding diet and I had decided to carry a modest amount on the bike as a base nutrition level, to be topped up by food at the controls and bakeries along the way.

My detour to the UK meant that my riding "tapering" dropped to zero for the week before PBP. As we'll see below it's not clear that was a good thing. In the week after Mt Tam, I just did three easy one hour spin sessions on the trainer. I'll admit I was feeling pretty good and my weight was at minimum for the year. I had a relaxing time in the UK, did plenty of stretching (Yoga for Cyclists), and ate well. Spent a fun morning at the Coventry Transport Museum learning, amongst other things, the history of bike design and manufacture in Coventry at the turn of the 20th century. Saturday I got back on the plane for Paris from Heathrow. Of course, it being Heathrow in the summer, the plane was delayed which made for a nail biting trip as I had to get my drop bags (change of clothes, Perpetuem resupply, replacement batteries etc.) to the trucks by 7pm. There was a +1 hour time change in Paris despite there being no change in longitude. Fortunately the taxi from the airport was faster than I expected and I had 15 minutes to spare by the time I reached the Hotel Campanile. I had packed my drops bags in the UK, so hustled to drop these off at the bag drop location up the street, before checking in. Outside the hotel late arrivals like me were assembling their bikes. I decided to assemble mine on Sunday morning as I had an 11:00 bike check scheduled at the start area. It took me a bit longer to assemble the bike, especially as I had a momentary panic about where a particular washer went on the headset assembly. Fortunately, there were some knowledgeable people around who knew for sure.

I rode up to the start area which was at a big sports arena a couple of miles away. The first ride after re-assembling the bike is always a bit nervy! Check-in went smoothly, as most people had done it the day before, and I picked up the all-important brevet card and tracking chip that would track my progress on the route and on the web. The weather was uncomfortably hot and sticky, well into the 80's, which wasn't a good omen.

While most 1200K rides have a fixed time limit of 90 hours and a single start time, PBP has three ride lengths, 80, 84 and 90 hours. The start times were different for each, 4pm on Sunday for the 80hr, 6pm on Sunday for the 90 and 5am on Monday for the 84. Since most people elect for the 90 hr start, the 6pm time is actually nominal as groups of riders are let go in waves starting at 6pm. This means that you can actually start 2 or 3 hours after the nominal start time. Given the hot weather I was very glad that I wasn't lined up in the stadium waiting to start under the hot sun. Obviously with the 90 hr ride, you start by riding through the night, then through the day, stopping for the first sleep stop on the Monday evening. I'm no fan of night starts or night riding for that matter; it doesn't bother me and I don't get sleepy, but I just prefer to see where I am riding. Plus that first stretch makes for a long spell on the bike. So I had signed up for the 84 hr start when I registered in April. Once you elect a start time you can't change it so I was stuck with it and, given the weather I was pretty happy with it.

Had it been cooler, I might have gone to the stadium to watch the start, but as it was, I just grabbed something to eat at the local bistro and rested. We had to "check out" of the hotel on the Monday morning which, in practice, just meant storing the suitcases in the conference room they had set aside, as we would be checking back in on the Thursday afternoon.

Day One

At the Start

I was up at 4am, downed a couple of energy bars, filled the water bottles, stowed the suitcase and headed off to the stadium with the smaller group of 84 hr riders. We lined up on the running track waiting for the 5am start, a veritable sea of reflective vests. I met some fellow Brits in the line, who were veterans of Randonneuring, one of whom had done two 1200Ks already this year. Interestingly, they were riding small wheel, foldable, Moulton bikes from the UK.

Eventually we were let out of the stadium only to queue again a short distance down the road. At this point it started to rain! Fortunately it was just a shower but it was not auspicious as the forecast for Paris was dry whereas the forecast for where we were heading was rain and thunder, which is how all hot spells end in northern Europe. Little did we know.

I had read that the most dangerous part of the ride was the first 60km, as it is essentially urban and there are several places where the road unexpectedly narrows. However, the marshals did a great job of marking those, so I didn't ever feel unsafe. Once into the country, it's a very fast ride for the first 200K as the terrain is mostly flat. The first control was at 140km at Mortagne, where, if all went well, I would be sleeping on the last night on the return. I made the first 100 miles in 7 hours, a time I am always very happy about. However, somewhere around mile 40, with no apparent cause, my left hamstring started feeling tight behind my knee. Sometimes this happens and it goes away after a while, but this one didn't and was a consistent but, fortunately minor, pain for the rest of the ride. I was really quite annoyed as otherwise I was feeling really strong, suggesting that the tapering had worked well. I wondered if taking the whole of the previous week off the bike might have been a bad idea after all.

At the Mortagne Control

I stopped briefly at the first control at Mortagne at around 11am for some water, but decided to press on to the control at Villaines, where the first drop bag was, before stopping for a meal. The terrain got hillier in his section which slowed my average speed. Around midday it started to rain a bit and then, just as we were entering a town, it really started coming down hard. I pulled off the road and put on my rain jacket and rain legs and my lights. The rain kept coming and then thunder and lightning mixed in. We were riding in some exposed countryside, at one point on quite a busy road, with trucks carrying livestock passing by, which was a bit scary. Somewhere on this stretch there was a lightning strike on the hillside about 100 yards to my left and the thunder ripped over my head like artillery fire. At this point I was getting a bit concerned for my and other riders safety. Further up the road course marshals made us put our reflective vests on over our rain jackets. The weather kept up all the way to the control at Villaines.

I was well soaked by this stage, although the rain legs had done a good job and seemed to have helped to keep my shoes from getting too waterlogged. Carrying all the wet stuff made navigating the control and the cafeteria pretty difficult and I was ecstatic when a volunteer carried my tray down to the seating area. It was still pouring when I rode back to the drop bag location. All the bags were on the ground just covered with a tarp and there was nowhere to shelter except inside the truck.
I ended up spending nearly an hour at this control, which was longer than I wanted, and it made a big dent in my average speed.

After a hilly start, the terrain flattened as the route headed for the next control at Fougeres, 50 miles away. Thankfully the rain stopped and I actually managed to dry out after a couple of hours. There were lots of roadside stands on this section at the small villages on the way, mostly run by kids and eventually I stopped at one and had some coffee in trade for one of the RUSA pins I was carrying. Shortly afterwards the heavens opened again on a descent into a village, rather unexpectedly as it didn't look very threatening, but I was quickly soaked again. Some other riders were sheltering in the village and I joined them until the worst had passed. Fougeres was soon reached after that, definitely the largest town so far, and after a meandering route, I eventually reached the control. Supposedly we went close to an impressive castle, and I've seen it on other rider's photos, but I have absolutely no memory of it either inbound or outbound.

I tried to minimize time here as it was past 7pm and I still had 55km to go to reach my planned sleep stop at Tinteniac. As I was laving I met up with a couple of the Brits I had chatted to at the start and we rode out together. Climbing out of the town the weather ahead initially looked promising, with some clear sky visible. However, right on the edge of town, things changed suddenly and very dramatically. Very low and fast moving clouds were racing across the sky and it just had an evil look to it. It reminded me of some of the scenes of tornadoes on the Weather Channel. As luck would have it there was a gas station across the street and I decided to wait out what I was sure was going to be a major storm. Amazingly other riders kept going. The winds got stronger and sky got darker and after about 5 minutes all hell broke loose. It was like the end of the world, intense lightning, thunder, crazy winds, and torrential rain. I was so glad I had taken shelter. Still, riders were coming up the hill and continuing on. I felt for their safety. It lasted about 20 minutes during which the street lighting went out three times after lightning strikes.

The storm was moving north but it remained active for the rest of the ride to Tinteniac. Periodically the whole northern sky would light up with one or more lighting strikes, followed by ever more distant thunder. Another of the Brits on one of the Moulton bikes caught up with me on this section and we chatted briefly - he wasn't too happy - but I couldn't match his pace. Just before Tinteniac I saw the lead riders coming back from Brest! These guys had started 25 hours earlier than me but it was still a stunning pace. It looked more like a real bike race as they had follow cars and it was quite a circus.

I rolled into Tinteniac just before 11pm, almost exactly on my 20kph schedule, which I was happy with given the weather delays. I ate a real meal at the control and then went in search of the sleeping area. I had decided to sleep at Tinteniac partly due to it supposedly have good sleep arrangements and indeed this was the case. The control was in a college and they used the dorms, which had four beds to a room. People were sorted into rooms based on the time they wanted to wake up. I decided on 3am, based on the need to get to the next control at Loudeac, 55 miles away, by about 8am. Initially I was alone, but eventually a Swedish rider joined me. The showers and toilets were just down the hall and they even provided a towel! It cannot be overstated how great it feels to get in the shower after 18 hours on the bike! It's also amazing how long it takes to get everything organized. I have learned that it is a good idea to get as much stuff ready for the morning before going to sleep, as there is an inevitable brain-fog on awakening. One thing I did forget to do was charge my Garmin bike computer, despite there being a handy socket right by the bed. I would regret this the next day.

Day Two

In theory the volunteers wake you at the time you requested. In practice I had a small alarm clock which woke me at 3am. Not my favorite time to get up, but you get used to it after a couple of years of randonneuring and double centuries. It took me 40 minutes from waking to getting on the bike. I felt reasonably good, and ate a couple of energy bars for breakfast. Unfortunately I realized that I had mistakenly used my Perpetuem powder the previous evening. So I only had the Perpetuem tablets to keep me going until Loudeac.

I hadn't gone far before I had my first "getting lost" experience leaving Tinteniac in the sense that I became unsure that I was on the right road as I wasn't seeing any of the handy (flourescent) route signs. So I backtracked almost to the control and made sure I hadn't missed a turn sign in my brain-fog. Fortunately more riders came in the other direction (a theme that would occur all day) confirming I was on the right road. It wasn't raining but it was quite foggy in sections. After a couple of hours, I reached the "secret" control, that is, one whose location is not revealed ahead of time. This turned out out be very useful as I was able to grab some food. Dawn arrived about 6:30 which always provides a lift. I don't mind riding in the dark, but out in the boonies it's like being in a tunnel with only the headlight showing the way.

All along this section I kept remembering that an article in the Ameican Randonneur PBP edition had said that it was mostly flat from Tinteniac to Loudeac. Well, it certainly didn't seem that way to me! I also had a panic when I realized that I was about to run out of water. It seems that, in the brain-fog at 3am, I had failed to fill my Camelbak properly. I had filled it in the sink and I think the angle had made it appear it was full when it really wasn't very full at all. And since I had not had any Perpetuem powder I hadn't bothered to fill up my water bottle. Duh! I'd passed through several villages where I could have got some water but now I seemed to be in open countryside again. And, of course, the next village we came to had absolutely nothing open even though it was 7am by this time. The failure to charge the Garmin came home to roost also as I lost power (my fresh battery pack was in the bag at Loudeac) so I had no idea how far it was to Loudeac. Eventually I came to a village that had a bakery open, where I had some excellent pastries and stocked up on water. It turned out that Loudeac was only 7km away.

Loudeac is kind of the "center" of PBP. Tons of people sleep there as it's where you end up Monday evening if you do the 90 hour ride. It's also where Bretagne starts and road signs start appearing in Breton and French. It also had the craziest entry to the control, requiring good bike handling skills to negotiate the narrow, twisty and up and down fenced in track from the street to the control proper. I was glad it was light. Since it was breakfast time, after the brevet card stamping ritual, I headed to the cafeteria and had an omelette and mashed potatoes (weird but it worked). Then off to the bag drop area, this time conveniently in the main control and nicely laid out under an awning (not that it was raining at this point). Although I had carefully packed everything in plastic bags, marked with the day, it still seemed to take a while to get everything sorted, so it was 9am before I hit the road again.

I got lost again leaving Loudeac. I didn't see any turn signs and the rule is to keep going straight otherwise. I got nervous not seeing any riders in either direction so doubled back when I reached the outskirts. I met another rider going my way and he seemed confident it was right. But when we reached the autoroute intersection and saw no PBP signs I knew we were wrong. Fortunately we knew the next village we were supposed to get to, and there was a road leading there. When we reached a T-junction in the village we saw lots of riders on the cross road. I asked one group of four going our way how they found the route and they said they were lucky to see some riders coming the other way else they too would have gone wrong. Seems like someone might have taken the turn sign as a souvenir.

After a few more miles going up and down definitely steeper hills I began to realize that PBP is a ride in two parts. East of Loudeac is flat to rolling countryside, whereas westwards it is much hillier. Another curiosity was that, whereas in the East the most of the villages (except Mortagne) are all at the bottom of valleys, in the west they are all at the top of hills. So you climb in and descend out. Also lots of Norman churches that reminded me of England, not surprisingly given the shared heritage.

I was barely averaging the minimum speed of 15kph on this section and started to get worried about my sleeping plan for that night. I had a hotel booked in Carhaix and I hoped to reach it by 9pm, so as to get some sleep before having to get up again in the middle of the night to get back to the Loudeac control by 7am the next morning. It didn't help that my left hamstring was bugging me more now that there was more climbing. Just before Carhaix I saw SFR rider Theresa Lynch on the return. At the Carhaix control I grabbed some lunch and then decided to go see the medics about the knee. Not much English was being spoken but a doctor examined it and confirmed what I already really knew, which was that it was just muscular. I really wanted some analgesic gel and I eventually managed to get some applied, after a lot of paperwork, including marking my Brevet card. I asked for the name and whether it was available over the counter. The answer was yes, so I stopped at a pharmacy just down the road and bought a tube. So more time lost unfortunately and the big climb ahead over Le Roc Trévezel on the way to Brest.

The route out of Carhaix up to the Roq was different to the return, taking a detour into a quite scenic area for a while before rejoining the main road for the final climb to the summit. Although it was the longest climb of the ride it was fairly tame by California standards, topping out at 1100' and an easy grade. There are hundreds of riders coming the other way now. Most of these are 90 hour riders but there are some fast 84 hour riders mixed in. It's a long descent off the Roq and we are still a long way from Brest once it flattens out, with more ups and downs. At some point the inbound/outbound routes diverge again, so the train of returning riders stops and finally I start the final descent to sea level and cross the famous and eye-catching bridge over the estuary. On the Brest side of the bridge I come across a guy on a recumbent who has a broken chain and doesn't have a chain tool. Fortunately the chain tool on my multi-tool can be separated, so I just give it to him, not expecting to see it again and not wanting to wait given the time pressure.

About the only time I get really crabby on the bike is when my mental model of what is coming up doesn't match reality, usually because I haven't scouted the route adequately. This happens now. My belief is that the rest stop will be shortly after the bridge on the flat area by the bay. Wrong. After riding a long way through this area we turn back inland and start climbing into the city. It seems never ending and the road is narrow and the traffic is not happy with bicycles. I wonder what it must have been like earlier with the 90 hour horde. Generally, the drivers in Brest are the worst on the entire ride as far as treating bicycles with respect. I get the feeling that Brest as a whole doesn't care much about PBP.

Eventually I reach the control at about 7pm, 30 minutes before the closing time, not feeling very happy. I've had this sense for most of the afternoon that I'm on a different ride from everyone else; I guess seeing all those returning riders reminded me that I am at the back of the ride. I'm hungry and had planned to have dinner here but there is no food! That's the problem being at the back of the ride just before the control closes. I manage to get a couple of (dry) baguettes from the bar, which is better than nothing. I'm glad I've got my basic Perpetuem nutrition backup to keep me going. Several riders at the control have decided to quit and face a train ride back to Paris. I'm feeling ok physically and I set out with a small group of riders for the return journey.

The way out of Brest is ok, much better than the meandering entry. We skip the bridge and take a more direct route. I find myself riding with a couple of French guys who speak no English, so I try my schoolboy French on them. Amazingly we actually manage to communicate a bit, at least about the ride. It's a long gradual climb back to the Roq, by which time darkness has fallen. It's kind of chilly at the top and it's a long downhill so I stop to put on another layer. I lose the people I was riding with and around in the process, so it's a lonely ride back to Carhaix. I'm way behind schedule and my plan for the hotel has gone from sleeping a couple of hours to just grabbing a shower to skipping it altogether.

Just before Carhaix a car pulls up behind me and slows down. This makes me a little nervous given the hour of night. No worries, the driver winds down the window and says something supportive in French. He then pulls past and parks ahead in a turnout. I'm curious what is going on. As I approach he gets out of the car and stands by the road, clapping and and saying "Superb" as I ride by. This is definitely the highlight of the day and keeps me upbeat until Carhaix, where I manage to get a little lost again, taking the wrong exit at a roundabout. I'm halfway down a hill and about to turn round as I know I'm wrong (having done the route the other way, although in the light) when another car pulls up and directs me back to the control. What support!

It's still pretty busy in the control and, unlike Brest, they haven't run out of food, although the choice isn't quite what it was at lunch time. As I'm eating a guy on the table in front of me turns round and hands me my chain tool! Yes, it was indeed the recumbent rider who evidently caught me up on the way back to Carhaix.

Since it's past midnight and the Loudeac control closes at 7am, I know I have to ride through the night to be sure I get there in time. I decide to try to grab some sleep in Loudeac and hope I can make it there in reasonable time. On the way I meet up with an Irish rider, Phelan, who lives in Berlin, and we strike up a good conversation and stick together all the way to Loudeac. It's a long haul but there are several riders in and around us and the company and conversation make the time go fast and stave off the sleepiness. Towards dawn, in one village there is a great coffee and pastry stand, which really goes down well. We are close to being their last customers I'm sure.

We arrive at Loudeac at 6am and this time I have to navigate the control chicane in the dark. I've ridden 260 miles in 27 hours and am definitely in need of a rest. The control is a logistical nightmare. After getting the card stamped, I go find the showers. No towel this time, just a roll of paper. The toilets are somewhere else and the "dorm", in reality the school gymnasium floor, is yet somewhere else. All these things cost a small amount of money; the main hassle is just finding it in my mental state. The sleeping arrangements are fold-up beds and mattresses on the gym floor with a blanket. I get a fold-up. It's still dark so the volunteer leads me by torchlight. I dump my gear under the bed and climb on. The bed squeaks with every move I make and is less than comfortable. There is a lot of snoring going on. I'm so tired that I do sleep for about an hour when, I guess, the noise of other people getting up and the light streaming in wakes me. I'm sufficiently uncomfortable that I decide I should just get up and get going, given that I have a real hotel waiting for me at the end of day 3.

Day Three

I hit my drop bag and dump my day two clothes. The good news is that I can travel a bit lighter as I'm going to pass through the other drop bag location before I reach my hotel so I don't need to carry the change of clothes. However, I do need all the Perpetuem to keep me going. I'm completely out of batteries now, so from this point on I won't have the Garmin. I've had enough of control food so I decide to pass on breakfast at the control and instead stop in at the bakery I found on the inbound which is only 7km away. There is simply no equivalent of the French bakery in the US; in France the croissants are warm and just melt in your mouth. On a ride like this you can eat pretty much anything and everything you want, so I loaded up.

If you recall, on the inbound in the dark, I had disputed the notion that Loudeac to Tinteniac is mostly flat. Well, it turns out that it really is mostly flat at least until you almost reach Tinteniac, and I make good time. The weather is pleasant and I am confident the rain is over. I also feel part of the ride again as there are plenty of riders going my way now. They probably had a few hours more sleep than me though. There is another secret control on this section which was nice as they had more snack-like food available. I chatted with one US randonneuse from the 90hr group on this section; it was kind of bittersweet because I (and she) knew she couldn't possibly finish in time a that pace and yet she still had so far to ride with that knowledge.

I rolled into Tinteniac around midday and, much to my surprise, there was Jack Holmgren and SFR admin Rob Hawks just getting ready to leave. This really lifted my spirits. They are both great guys and Jack has a really dry but always-on sense of humor. They ride faster then me and I hadn't expected to catch them up at all. I'm guessing I made up some ground on people with my scant one hour sleep in Loudeac. The control food options aren't great, especially if you happen to be vegetarian (I'm not), but I eat anyway. Halfway through I realize I am eating a beef tongue. Normally this might make me gag, but like I said, on a ride like this...

It's an easy three hour run to Fougeres, this time in the light of day. I run into Jack at the control again and this time I leave ahead of him as I'm in and out in a hurry. It's a long climb out of Fougeres to the plateau that leads to Villaines. As on the inbound there are lots of roadside stands with drinks and snacks and I stop at a couple. Also plenty of people clapping their hands as we ride by. It seems to me that we are slowly climbing a staircase as we keep hitting short climbs followed by more flat land. My memory of the latter half of this section is definitely sketchy because of the rain and thunder, but it gets hillier than I remember close to Villaines, with some steep valleys to traverse. On one of these sections I come across an English speaking rider who is clearly worse for wear; he's riding ok but the words coming out of his mouth make no sense. I think he might be hallucinating.

Finally, we descend into Villaines, which is one crazy scene. It's a small town and it seems as if the entire population is out in the street. They have an inflatable archway leading to the control, and music from loudspeakers. It's very cool and I really wish I was staying here for a while, as I had originally hoped. Unfortunately the hotel was full so I had to settle for Mortagne, another 50 miles further on. Given that it's about 7pm, I do need to eat, but the cafeteria has a long line. Fortunately, there is a bar that is selling ham and cheese baguettes and soup, which absolutely hits the spot and I have double helpings. I find my drop bag in the failing light and load up with the change of clothes, fresh headlight battery, and supplies for tomorrow. I'm so confident of the weather that I decide to dispense with my rain jacket, something I will regret later.

It's pretty much dark by the time I leave, but there are plenty of riders with me. In fact tons. I guess I've caught up with a lot of 90 hr riders who have to be done by between 12pm and 3pm the next day depending on which wave they started in. Since it's 230km to the finish, they definitely need to be on their way. At one point I recognize a voice behind me and its SFR rider Debra Banks. We chat for a while but then I have to stop to put on my knee warmers as it's getting colder. I can tell already that the decision to ditch the rain jacket was a mistake, not because it's likely to rain but just for the added warmth. There is a fair amount of up and down, more than I remember on the outbound. Lots of people are clearly very tired and are just crashing out by the side of the road. Much as that isn't really appealing, I'm tired enough to consider it, but I've got that hotel waiting. I'm actually more sleepy than I've been and I'm definitely in a kind of fog. I'm also experiencing some mild hallucinations, mostly in my peripheral vision. Nothing scary. I'm getting seriously worried about how much longer I have to go to get to the hotel. Fortunately at the next town there is a refreshment stand. I slug a couple of cups of coffee and then add a bunch more to the Perpetuem in my water bottle! The coffee works wonders and I emerge from the funk. Unfortunately it's still over 20km to Mortagne. It's getting colder too. Eventually Mortagne comes into view by which I mean the lights of the town way up there on the hill. It's a serious climb up to the town and then a ridiculously steep ramp into the control. The place is buzzing with riders but I'm just interested in finding my hotel. It's 2am. I had made myself a basic map ahead of time and also get directions but still get lost as it's hidden in a courtyard up a side street. Eventually I almost stumble into the front door.

As I'm entering a group of 90hr SFR riders are just leaving the hotel! That's what you have to do to get in by midday even though it's less than 90 miles to the finish!

The room is really nice and it's a shame I'm going to make such little use of it. The shower is fantastic and, after a bit of preparation I set the alarm for 6:30, which should give me plenty of time to get in, and crash out in a very comfortable bed - it was, but pretty much anything would have been at that point.

Day Four

I woke at 6:15am with excruciating pain in both my knees. I'll admit I was really quite panicked as this was way beyond anything I had experienced in the past - generally I don't suffer knee problems while biking. I figured I'd better get in the shower and try to loosen them up. It worked after a while and I decided that I must have slept with my legs locked in one position. The bed covers were pretty tight and I'm used to a duvet, so I think I just didn't move much. Still scary though.

I'm out and on the road by 7am, so that's a comfortable 10 hours to cover the 140km go the finish. There's a nice descent out of Mortagne but then there are more hills. On this section I run into several people I know including SFR rider Jonathan Beck. While riding with him, we have a very scary experience. A rider from Belgium is also riding with us and on a fast, twisty descent, he moves to the left of the center line with a blind curve ahead. A BMW comes around the bend very fast and he manages to cut back in with about a second to spare. He's very lucky to be alive.

Classic PBP View


I also run into Phelan who I haven't seen since Loudeac. He's doing well and pushing the pace so I drop off. I also meet up with Jack Holmgren and we ride together for quite a while. Jack is suffering with saddle issues and is riding much slower than usual. After a while he tells me to go ahead, but I wait for him in the next village as I need some food. We ride slowly together for a while and take photos of each other lying on a bench at a famous view of a stately home. Jack says it's a classic PBP photo. Then we come across a rider suffering from Shermer's neck. Jack is quite the expert on this and stops to fix the rider up with an inner tube brace. I take a break down the road and we meet up again. By now we are on a long flat run in to Dreux and I suggest that he drafts me in. It doesn't work so I go on ahead as I'm feeling pretty good and riding well. We meet up again at the Dreux control and ride out from there together after some seriously good pastries. Although we're tired we share a real sense of excitement at being so close to the finish - only 50km to go!

Ironically, we come across yet another Shermer's neck sufferer and at that point we part company for good as Jack once again administers his skills. Shortly after I meet up with a young 90 hr rider from Singapore who is worried, rightly, about whether he is gong to make it in by his cutoff. We chatted about randonneuring in Singapore and California, and many other things, as we ticked off the miles. Eventually we came to the one remaining short but steep climb in the forest before hitting the rolling countryside in to Saint Quentin. At the summit the mileage to go was marked and I remember thinking that my friend from Singapore was really on the cusp. Shortly after we were joined by another rider in the same position and the two of them picked the pace in what I must admit I thought was a lost cause. I wasn't in any hurry having about a two hour cushion, so I let them go. Eventually we reached suburbia and the final run in. It was a bit tedious with lots of traffic lights. They had posted signs at 15, 10 and 5 km to go. I must say the km seemed more like miles! But ultimately we reached the big roundabout leading to the finish control where there were lots more cheering spectators. Then into the gym to hand in the brevet card and get the final stamp. I met up with the Moulton riding Brits again outside so we must have taken almost the same overall time, although I hadn't seen them for the last two days. My final time is just over 82 hours. I have no idea exactly how much time I actually spent on the bike, probably about 60 hours, but I do know that I only got 7 hours sleep in total, which is way under my plan.

We got a ticket for one free beer (well lager) in a tent by the exit, where I was happy to see the Singapore rider and hear that he had made it with a few minutes to spare! I can't imagine the stress he must have felt especially waiting at all those traffic lights.

So off to the hotel for a well earned shower. I'm feeling surprisingly good, and not especially tired. Had a couple of hours rest before heading out to dinner with a bunch of SFR riders at one of the restaurants near the hotel. A great time is had by all and no holding back on the food. Yummy profiteroles!

A good nights sleep but didn't sleep in much, which is a surprise. Feeling ok and and after a large hotel breakfast, including lots of croissants, it's time to pack the bike into the case. Unfortunately it's raining again so there is competition for the space in the covered tunnel by the hotel. It takes longer than it should but I'm done by lunch time. The final celebration is the evening dinner for all the American contingent that booked through the Des Peres travel agent. It's fun and I meet up with my buddy Ken Shoemaker for the first time, so we have a lot to talk about.

The journey home, unfortunately, is a nightmare. Breakfast is at 5am, but I'm good at that by now, then it's off to the airport in the buses. There's a lot of concern in the group that's flying to East Coast as a hurricane has shut down most of the airports. So they have no idea what's going to happen. I'm the only one not flying Air France so I part ways and catch the shuttle to the British Airways (BA) terminal. After waiting a while, there is an announcement that the flight will be at least two hours delayed owing to a problem with the inbound aircraft. This eats up most of the cushion I have at Heathrow for the connection to San Francisco. Of course, this being Heathrow, we are put into a holding pattern for about 20 minutes before landing. I'm sure I'm going to miss the connection now unless the SF flight is also delayed. No such luck and we are met at the gate by a young man, whose job I do not envy, who has to deliver the bad news and escort us to the agents who will try to rebook us. I'm assuming there's not much chance of that as most of the US flights have already departed, so I am expecting to have to stay in London and flight the next day. However, the agent manages to get me on a flight to Vancouver and then an Air Canada connection on to SF. I have to wait a couple of hours to get my boarding pass so I get the full English breakfast gratis courtesy of BA. Then some really good news is that I get upgraded to business class!

The flight to Vancouver is super comfortable in business class and it's very nice to just stretch out and watch movies and read. I'm bit worried about my ankles as they have swollen up, partly from the ride and partly from the lower cabin pressure. At Vancouver you have to go through Canadian customs and US customs so it can takes a while. I'm not even sure if my luggage made it onto the plane. It seems to take forever for the luggage to arrive but I still have 45 minutes before the SF flight. Unfortunately that's not enough as you are not allowed to enter the US customs zone later than one hour before the flight leaves. In fact it's all shut down for the night. So I am stranded in Vancouver for the night and am pretty unhappy and tired at this point. But BA puts me up at the airport Sheraton and books me onto an 8am flight the next morning, which isn't so bad. Apart from Air Canada trying to charge me extra for my bike suitcase, which I'm having none of, the rest of the trip is uneventful and I finally arrive home midday Sunday.

Aftermath

I was surprised that I hadn't experienced the usual immediate post-ride extreme fatigue. However, I made up for it by feeling just worn out physically and mentally for much longer than usual, about two weeks. I heard of other riders who contracted various nasty bugs, likely due to weakened immune systems, but fortunately that didn't happen to me. I actually jumped on the bike trainer on the Tuesday to do a recovery ride. That went ok but I realized that the problem with my left hamstring had not healed and in fact seemed worse than when on PBP. I resolved to do plenty of stretching and just light riding on the trainer. Unfortunately, about two weeks later I developed pain in the medial area of my right knee while on the trainer. The pain is reminiscent of I experienced with a meniscus tear in 2008. However, other movements, like closing the knee tight doesn't hurt, so it seems more likely to be arthritis. This is not good news so I have decided to drop all my plans for further 200K and 200M rides for the remainder of the year and try to rehab the knee slowly over time. The hamstring also isn't completely repaired at the time of writing, five weeks after PBP. One good thing is that the ankle was fine during and after the ride. I also didn't suffer any saddle issues for which I credit the Boure shorts, which were far more comfortable than the Pearl Izumi I used to wear.

Conclusion

So, in the end, I have mixed emotions about the whole PBP experience. On one hand, I was lucky that I was able to rehab the ankle and do the ride at all. On the other, I've ended up with a similar condition a year later. Both of these conditions are very likely to have been caused by the repetitive stress incurred in endurance rides, of which PBP is undoubtedly the most difficult that I have attempted. No doubt about it, a 1200K event is a test of physical and mental endurance, and the way PBP is organized seems to me to make it tougher than it should be. I can't help remembering the number of times on the ride where I thought how nice it would be to stop in one of the delightful villages and enjoy a leisurely drink or meal. That's no doubt possible for some riders, but not at my pace with the ever ticking clock of PBP. I'm questioning whether I wouldn't just prefer to tour an area at a leisurely pace rather than race through it as a randonneur. So overall I'm left feeling a sense of achievement for having completed a ride that most people can't even imagine attempting, but balanced by a fear that I may have placed a dangerous level of wear and tear on my body.

I know people who have done multiple PBPs and can't wait for 2015. Personally even if I get healthy and stop worrying about repetitive stress injuries, I'm unlikely to do PBP again. The way the ride start times and ride lengths are organized just makes it very difficult to avoid a lot of night riding and/or unreasonably long stretches on the bike. With hindsight I wish I had known how much more difficult the course was between Loudeac and Brest, as I would probably not have chosen the 84 hour ride. That's one reason for writing such a detailed description, so that it may serve as useful input to new riders in 2015.

Terrible Two 2011 - More terrible this time

Two years ago I was at my peak climbing ability having knocked off the DMD and AA8, the latter just a week earlier. This year, thanks to my bout of ankle tendinitis and other issues, plus a focus on Brevets and Paris-Brest-Paris (PBP), I am definitely nowhere close.

In 2009 I was still quite worried going into the TT a I hadn't finished a hilly double in under 18 hours - the DMD had taken me 18:10. However, cool temps (and cloud cover), plus the fast first 50 miles with pacelines made a big different and I shocked myself by finishing in daylight at 15:05 ride time. This year was definitely going to be different.

Since the focus is on PBP, I am riding my "brevet" bike, a steel Waterford with dynamo headlamp. It runs a few pounds heavier than the Trek carbon 5200 I rode in 2009. The weather is pleasant with a forecast high of only 82 at Healdsburg. However, the forecast is for sunny skies and there is no doubt that the baking effect of the sun will be felt.

Primarily I'm using this as a PBP training ride, even though the terrain is completely different - PBP having no big climbs or grades, just endless rollers. But there are people who swear by hill climbing as the best way to get into shape for every kind of riding. In my pre-ride confidence I've set up to ride a 200K on the Sunday, to practice the art of getting up after a hard ride and doing it again, something that you have to do three times at PBP.

It's unusually cold at the start and I'm regretting not having my arm warmers, something that as reinforced as we run into a low-lying fog blanket shortly after the start. I meet Becky Berka at the start and wish her well, knowing that she is going for a well earned podium spot in the CTC stage race. I also run into Veronica Tunnicci who I've seen on lots of SF Randonneur rides . She tells me she did the Alpine Challenge the previous week like I did on 2009 but, like me, is worried about the cutoffs on his one.

As is the pattern so for this year, I can't hold my spot in middle of the pack like I used to, so I eventually find myself at the back. I meet a group who are going my pace but it turns out they are only planning to ride to the lunch spot! I really should have re-read my 2009 post before the ride because I have forgotten how steep the grades are on the TT. Trinity Grade which is the first climb up and over into the Napa valley reminds me of what's to come. On the somewhat hairy descent I am slowed by a volunteer coming in to a bend and sadly see a rider down in the road. Later I hear the sirens and the paramedics heading up.

So being at the back there are no pacelines to join, and I end up pulling a lone member of the "Red Peloton" group who are only going the the lunch stop. Later another guy joins us and eventually moves the front but then sets a pace I can't keep up with! So I drop off. Then to my surprise I'm in Calistoga and realise this can't be right. So I pull out the route sheet and sure enough I should have turned right to get the Silverado trail about miles back. I ask directions at the gas station and it's easy to get back on course, although I still mess around and make a wrong turn, eventually ending up at the turn off the Silverado trail where there is a SAG wagon directing riders. He doesn't seem to be surprised that I'm coming the wrong way. Technically I'm disqualified now and the route I took is a couple miles shorter and I do know someone who owned up that on another ride. As I'm leaving the rest stop the guy I couldn't keep up with earlier shows up from the opposite direction so he went even further than I did before realizing his mistake. Later I see the Red Peloton lady coming in so she must have gone as far as where the ride rejoins 128 before realizing her mistake. So drafting me wasn't a great idea after all but then she is only going to the lunch stop. The moral here is to always have the route slip in view and don't blindly follow others.

I'm about 40 minutes slower leaving the rest stop than 2009 which means it's going to be tricky to make the lunch stop cutoff. There are one way restrictions on 128 at two places and is indicative of how much the TT is like a race that organizers told everyone at the start that they would be taking numbers there and subtracting each person's delay from their final time. However they weren't extending the lunch cutoff by the same amount. The Geyser climbs are not too bad and the buffer effect of the red-light delays means that I do pick up a couple of pacelines on the runup. I catch up to Veronica at the rest stop and we run into the lunch stop together. The gravel sections on the Geysers are just as gnarly as ever even with 700x25 tires.

We reach the lunch stop with 5 minutes to spare so its a frantic rush to fill the bottles and grab some food to go. I really could use a break, as I've ridden 111 miles with essentially no rest. I remark on how tough the cutoff is to make but, later I realize, it's actually very accurately computed. In 2009 I left with hour to spare and made up another 80 minutes. But if you only just make the cutoff you obviously are unlikely to make up any time; indeed you my lose even more (see below).

But there is no rest for the wicked or slow, so I'm out of there onto the dreaded Skaggs Springs Rd, built by the Army Corps of Engineers, none of whom had obviously ever ridden a bike. The surface is unusually good for his ride but the grades are relentlessly in the 10-13% range. The sun is mostly out so it feels hotter than in 2009. Lots of people are walking their bikes on this section. I am confident that they will not finish. I get an inside thigh cramp towards the end of the first climb so at the rest stop I down salt tablets and the V8 I didn't have time for at "lunch". In what will be a repeated event from now on arriving riders announce that they are done for the day and are Sagging in. I've never been on the tail end of a ride before; it's an interesting experience, but one I could do without. I riding as hard a I can without blowing up, so that's pretty depressing. Veronica leaves just a few minutes ahead of me but I never see her again until the end.

At the water stop just before the summit of the second climb, I realise I won't make the closing time of the next proper rest stop which is 17 miles away and at the top of the dreaded Rancheria wall with its 18-20% grades. The descent down is fast but I remember the rollers along the river so the clock runs fast. This the section of the TT where the miles seem long. The miles before lunch do go by fast but in the afternoon you keep looking at the bike computer and wondering if it's working properly. On Rancheria I try the "paper boy" style of climbing where you switchback across the road thus trading a bit of distance for grade except for the quick hairpin turns at each end. Not a good plan on a busy road (some idiots do this on Ebbetts on the Death Ride) but this road has basically no traffic.

I reach the rest stop 20 minutes after closing but it's still open and the good news is it is possible to make up time on the relatively short and flat section on Hwy 1 down the coast. The temperature drops at the coast but it's clear and sunny and, heaven, the surface is new and quite wonderful, and the views spectacular. There are rollers, in fact a total of 1000' feet of climbing, but I make up the time and reach the rest stop on Ft Ross Road with 5 minutes to spare. I'm getting pissed that I've ridden hard all day and am chasing cutoffs everywhere. Kitty Goursolle and Rob Hawks are working the stop and they take good care of me. The soup is great but I leave promptly, remarking that I just can't wait to do another 15% + climb. More paper boy climbing - it's getting harder to push those pedals but I made it up. I pass someone wearing Hammer shorts walking their bike (not a great advertizement) who wants to know how much more. Then on the the very steep and narrow pitch my paper boy plan doesn't work. On the left turn across I can't make the turn as I'm essentially at 0mph and topple over. No harm done fortunately except to my ego. After yet another bumpy descent we get to do it all over again, although the grade isn't quite as bad, but by this stage every hill seems steep. The light fails on the descent into Cazadero and I realize two things. First, I really wish I had my headlamp and second, making the 11:00 cutoff for CTC credit is looking distinctly iffy. I meet up with guy wearing a SF Randonneur jersey who is riding a unmarked bike that turns out to be one of the 2012 Specialized models, which he gets to test for them. He likes a lot, more than the 2009 model.

As we drop into Cazadero, and am I so glad to be off the Ft Foss road, the temperature drops about 10 degrees, reflecting the temperature inversion that has been a feature of the day and again I wish I had my arm warmers. I lose my riding partner when I have to stop to put on my rear light and he rides off with the Hammer Gal who has caught us up. She was much braver than me on the Ft Ross descent.

It's a grind into Monte Rio, although River Rd is freshly paved which is nice. The rest stop is wrapping up for the night as it's 9:55. There's no way to make the cutoff now so I relax and call Jenny to let her know my status. She thinks I've finished but I tell her the ride has humbled me. I also decide at that point that there is no point in doing the 200K the next day as this ride has taken enough out of me so she can expect me back earlier. A couple of the riders show up who think they can make the cutoff but it's 16 miles and a climb up the Bohemian Hwy so I don't think so unless their second name is Armstrong or Contador.

They pass me in a hurry on the flat section out of town but we three end up riding into the finish as a group as they realize on the climb that they can't make it. A SAG wagon guides us in, stopping ahead to point out the turns - it's pitch black by now. It has to be said that the volunteer support on this ride is above and beyond expectations. The clock isn't running any more and nobody is very interested in taking our numbers since we won't be getting CTC credit, being 20 minutes past the cutoff. Veronica is at the finish and I'm pleased to hear that she made it. I grab some food to go and head for my hotel. Can't eat much of it though as my stomach is still grumbling about the total Perpetuem overload it has received today.

So how am I feeling immediately after the ride? The good news is that I finished in control, and enjoying the sensation of being on the bike apart from the lousy road sections. My ankle has held up to a day of really tough climbing - four months ago a I couldn't even stand up on the bike and the last big climbing ride I did was Knoxville in September. Could I have made the CTC cutoff? Probably, if I had pushed myself closer to the limit, but that would have made the ride much less enjoyable. After all, if the DMD had the same time policy as the TT, I wouldn't have made the cutoff on that ride in 2009. As always I had moments where I considered giving up doubles altogether. Will I ride the TT again? Probably, unless a heatwave was forecast, but on a different bike and after more hill training. The Waterford is a great brevet bike but climbing hills isn't its forte. And how do I feel this morning? Pretty good, not as fatigued as usual an definitely could ride again, so that's good news for PBP.