Unfinished Business in Colorado

 This is a story of redemption. In 2021 I entered but ultimately abandoned the Rocky Mountain Cycling Club's (RMCC) Colorado High Country 1200k, my only abandon in over 200 randonneuring events (which includes several 1000/1200/1400k's). Of all the things you might guess could take you out, you might not guess arms - but mine were too weak on day 3 to support my weight on my handlebars. This had never happened, before or since. Bizarre. So when the next edition was announced for 2024 it was time to take care of this bit of unfinished business and redeem myself by (hopefully) finishing. 

To improve the chances of success this time, training upgrades included: (1) almost double the monthly training miles compared to 2021 (2) riding fewer but longer training rides - usually a 100k (3) optimal timing of the annual 600k -  just 3 weeks prior to the event (4) lots of pushups!

After driving from Maryland and spending a couple days exploring the Transcontinental Railroad, Oregon Trail, and hiking trails in Wyoming, I arrived in Louisville CO the day before the ride for check-in. I got to meet some of the riders in line, including Dan D. doing safety checks and his wife Pam handing out rider packets. As planned, I got a pizza for dinner and got to bed at 1900 for the 0500 start.

Day 1 - 189 miles

There were three of us from DC Randonneurs in this event: John M., myself, and Mimo D.  Here's the photo John's wife Cindy took of us at the start (me in the Severna Park Peloton "sailboat" jersey):

As soon as we rolled out the event took on a different tone than last time. Last time most of the riders stayed in a group for the first 100 miles until the big climb of the day splintered it. This time the group splintered almost immediately. Up until the first control I found myself riding with Mark R. from Indiana, John, and Yasuhiko T. from Japan:

Mark was an interesting guy to talk to, having emigrated in his youth from communist Poland.

Day 1 started with a 100-mile northerly trek across the plains in front of the Front Range of the Rockies, with a couple of controls along the way. I got an ice cream sandwich at the first one in Platteville (mile 36) and an Otter Pop at the Carter Lake Marina (mile 67). The forecast high for the day for Fort Collins, at the end of this trek across the plains, was 97F, so I was hoping to get through there and into the mountains before it got that hot.  This was a pretty flat 100 miles, with a couple of real "stingers" when the route got close to the Front Range: the switchbacks to climb up to Carter Lake, and the steep hill after Horsetooth Reservoir (which I pushed my bike up - it was too early to burn those matches).

It was getting real warm when I got to Laporte (mile 98) and reunited with John and (Hugh?). I was looking for some REAL food, as my fellow DC Randonneur Gardner D. had recently relayed some wisdom about real food being the key to randonneuring. In the usual rando food stops the closest thing to real food is a pre-made sandwich, but this Shell station had only frozen pre-made sandwiches which didn't appeal to the stomach at all, so it was snacky stuff again and a Coke and a CamelBak refill before starting the 60-mile climb up Poudre Canyon over the Front Range to Cameron Pass (elevation 10,276 feet).

Like last time, the climb further splintered the group and I was solo almost immediately. That doesn't bother me, I really like riding at my own pace. The climb was as scenic as last time, a narrow rocky canyon containing a road and a rushing river for miles and miles. Rafters were riding the river with excursion companies while we headed up. The one resupply opportunity we knew about (there seemed to be some new ones not shown on Google Maps) was the Glen Echo Resort in Rustic CO (mile 133). I found Mimo there, and got a soft-serve ice cream and refilled my bottles and CamelBak again.  The CamelBak was an absolute lifesaver. It was warmer than on my previous attempt, and on this climb I frequently had the tube in my mouth continuously, sipping every 5 breaths. The entire field was feeling the heat. I checked out the restaurant menu there for real food, but it all looked too heavy for this moment. Shortly after I departed Rustic I regretted no getting a soda there, when lo and behold I came upon Pam on the side of the road with sodas!  They weren't cold, but it didn't matter to me. Near the top of this climb Mimo took this photo. I wasn't feeling too bad, and the biting insects from last time were nowhere to be found:

Once over the top it was a nice 30-mile descent/flattish ride to our hotel in Walden CO. At one spot along the way I heard something thrashing and snapping the branches of pine trees lining the road, along with the sound of heavy hooves.  Suddenly there he was, an ENORMOUS bull moose with antlers that looked 6 feet across, bounding out of the trees right in front of me. Before I could even think about how to avoid smacking right into him, he seemed to spot me and ducked back into the trees. I was very grateful for the encounter with this magnificent animal and the non-contact.  The next day I came upon a mother moose and her baby in the middle of the road, and they too scampered off when they saw me.

I got to Walden CO (altitude 8100 feet) and our hotel the North Park Inn and Suites at 2015...over an hour later than last time. Dinner was great - Italian. Although I had packed groceries in my drop bag, I didn't hit them much as the daily breakfast/dinner were uniformly great throughout the event. It turns out that the volunteer staff read my earlier email asking about the possibility of early breakfast (I left before breakfast last time), and asked me if I needed breakfast before their planned 0400. Whereas last time I rolled out for Day 2 at 0145, I wasn't feeling as perky this time because of the heat and decided to get more than my standard 3 hours of sleep. Besides, insufficient sleep might have been a cause of my failure to finish last time. I got situated in my room, and couldn't figure out the TV other than a Taylor Swift video channel - which was on as background each night as I got ready for the next day.

Day 2 - 204 miles

I rolled out alone in the dark at 0455, headed for this day in Wyoming. To me this is the "queen stage" of the event, a 4000 foot change in elevation followed by a 2000 foot change, with the longest sustained/substantial grades of the event. It was deceptively cool in the pre-dawn darkness, and after 14 miles I had to stop to put on a jacket. I wish I had put my full-fingered gloves on the bike as my fingers were numb. This leg, from Walden CO to Saratoga WY, was the only leg with a tailwind. Winds came from every direction during the event, usually not in our favor. Anyway, following yesterday's effort I was proud of myself cruising at 20 MPH towards Saratoga when I was blown off the road by a fellow rider doing what looked like 30 MPH. I was in total awe of his ability.

The first control of the day was the IGA supermarket in Saratoga (mile 255). I roamed the store looking for something appropriate for the moment, but nothing looked right.  I settled on a box of Dots gumdrops - which turned out to be a revelation. For the rest of the event, whenever I put a handful in my mouth I felt better.

From there it was the climb over the Snowy Range to Medicine Bow Peak, the high point of the ride (for both beauty and altitude) at just under 11,000 feet. The 23-mile climb is relentless. It seemed steeper last time, but this time it was definitely warmer. Unlike last time I had to make several stops just to cool off, and fortunately the lower-elevation headwind became a light cool tailwind at higher elevations that you had to stop to feel.  

After the summit...

  

...I linked up with Stephen W. and Amy A. on a tandem for the long, steep, and fast descent into Centennial WY. Amy, on the back, must have total faith in Stephen, as she was at the mercy of Stephen's bike handling for the greater-than-40-MPH descent. He was frequently right on my rear wheel despite my tapping the brakes and dodging debris. We stopped for lunch at the Bear Bottom Bar and Grille for real food - I got a Coke and a BLT, and had some of the pizza another rider quit after only 2 slices. There were several other riders at the same place, making this the biggest group I spent time with during the event. Unfortunately when it was time to depart Stephen discovered his rear tire was flat and left after the rest of us.

From there it was east to Laramie (mile 330) for a quick resupply stop at a gas station, then a turn to the southwest for the 63 mile trip back to Walden for the night.

It was here that we encountered the first of 3 afternoons of thunderstorm formation. The wind was howling and right on the nose. It must have been 30-40 MPH. I could barely make enough speed to keep the bike upright, and was getting blown off the shoulder into the moderately busy road. I could scarcely think, and such howling always makes headwinds so much worse for me psychologically, so I started to look for some shelter from both this horrific wind as well as rain that was beginning to fall and possibly turning into a downpour/lightning storm.  I spotted some kind of business on the left with a large stack of lumber just inside an open gate. I trespassed. The stack was such that there was essentially a "cave" in it that protected me from wind and rain, and big enough that I could lie down and close my eyes for a few minutes, rest, and get my thoughts together. I checked my phone for tornado warnings but there were none.  After maybe 15 minutes I saw a group of riders coming down the road and decided I'd join them to work against the wind, however once I got on the back they were a little too fast for my liking so I found another shelter on the right - the front porch of an abandoned cafe. I stayed there for maybe 20 minutes until the wind dissipated some, then headed off to the second major climb of the day - crossing the Snowy Range again, closer to the Colorado border.

After bucking that headwind for 20 miles I was toasted. I could not pedal the bike up that 1700 foot climb, so I ended up pushing it up most of it - anything above about 2% grade. I thought about the randonneuring credo, "relentless forward progress", and kept moving.  I was exhausted, and dispirited by all the riders pedaling past me (although most encouraged me with "you got this!", etc.)  On top of all that, the arm weakness that took me out in 2021 was returning. Things were looking bleak and I began to resign myself to failure.  I started to think about the implications, like falling short in this year's quest for a first "K-Hound" (10,000 km of events in a calendar year). I was sure this was the end...something I've felt many times on long rides but only actually happened once - 2021 on THIS ride. During this darkest moment, organizer John Lee E. showed up in his car to check on riders.  I told him I was well supplied, except there was nothing left in the legs and that I was pressing on. He asked if it was OK to take a photo, and I put on a brave face for it:

  Finally the grade pitched down to about 2% and I could pedal again. I don't remember much of the rest of the trip to Walden except it seemed like most of it was downhill and that I felt strong and motored the whole way.  After arriving at 2236, eating dinner, convincing myself to shower, and playing the same Taylor Swift videos (e.g., the one about the guy keeping her scarf) while I reloaded my bike for the next day, I went to bed.

Day 3 - 204 miles

I got up for breakfast and departed at 0522 with much trepidation, since the point at which I dropped out last time was just 20 miles further down the road, and I had had a rougher Day 2 yesterday than in 2021 (when I WAS able to pedal the entire second crossing of the Snowy Range). Was I a fool for motoring so hard the previous evening? What chance did I have today?? But I decided to throw myself into it and hope that if I did drop out again it would be in a location from which I could easily get back to Walden (the last time it was essentially a matter of turning around and coasting downhill). Fortune favors the brave! Remembering how cold it was the day before, I had my knee warmers on and carried full-fingered gloves. I anxiously waited to reach the spot where I abandoned last time, and blew through it OK.  My arms were very wobbly, but manageable. If I put my left hand on the hood and right hand on the bar - that propped me up well. I was weak - I couldn't hammer on the pedals, but I was strong enough to spin at a moderate level of effort.

Stephen and Amy passed me early on, and took this photo:

Then a totally unexpected thing happened...I started passing other riders...effortlessly...perhaps a third of the remaining field. This really lifted my spirits.  Before I knew it I spotted the "Rabbit Ears" rock formation, summited Muddy Creek and Rabbit Ears passes (the day 3 route is the part of this event I've never really seen), and soon found myself on the screaming descent into Steamboat Springs.  What a beautiful sight looking down into this absolutely gorgeous valley. Too bad I decided to stay at 40 MPH the entire 7 miles and not stop to snap a photo. This was one of my three favorite spots on the ride. 

Resupply stops included Steamboat Springs (mile 449) and Yampa CO (mile 477). I almost skipped Yampa for being so soon after Steamboat, but I'm lucky I didn't because my planned next stop in Toponas CO (mile 486) was closed that day (I had this information, it just got lost in the heat of battle). Riding into Gore Pass I met a second day of thunderstorm action. This time there was lightning and wind-driven horizontal rain.  I sheltered from the rain in the lee of a small pine tree (there were many taller "lighting targets" at a safe distance nearby) for a few minutes until the worst passed. Near the second summit of the pass I came upon a  ride volunteer dispensing food and drinks roadside. I ate a banana and drank something, and headed off. I stopped to resupply at the Merc in Kremmling CO (mile 518) and found a large group of riders there including Dan and Paul L. (who I had ridden with after Carter Lake on day 1). I got a Coke and a veggie tray, pawning off the included bag of almonds to someone.

We rolled out together and tried pace lining into yet another headwind, but the group was a bit too twitchy for me and I wasn't completely comfortable. I was twitchy too because of my weak arms, and at one point got called out on what was perceived as an abrupt move on my part.  Things were really squirrely on each climb, and on one climb I was on the front when I realized I had gapped the rest of the group by many bike lengths. I slowed a bit but the gap remained and riders seemed to be struggling, so I decided this was my opportunity to depart the group. I rode at my own pace and was soon solo again.

The last opportunity for resupply that day was in Hot Sulphur Springs CO (mile 536), 60 miles from the Walden overnight, but I had plenty and skipped it. The run into that town was really pretty, riding up a road in a curvy rocky canyon that the Colorado River ran down. Sort of like Poudre Canyon on day 1, just not as arduous.

Before taking on Willow Creek Pass (a 21-mile, 1600 foot climb), I stopped roadside to eat and drink and was passed by Dan D. and the group I had departed earlier. While there I received a text from DC Randonneurs President Ed F. asking how it was going, and I replied that every part of my body was weak but I was still rolling along.

By the time I summited it was dark and had just rained, and the wet pavement showed no features in my headlight. That is where all hell broke loose. Over the next 3 hours I would flat 6 times. All but one were pinch flats (apparently the 85 PSI I run back east wasn't cutting it in Colorado-class potholes and cattle guards).  My helmet light malfunctioned so I had to make do with my spare headlight as best I could. After my second flat Kevin K. stopped to check on me and lent me a spare tube, which I also flatted that night. At another point I stopped to check whether I was losing air pressure through improperly secured presta valves. When I unscrewed the rear tire plastic cap the valve internals shot out and, comically, gave me another flat. I had to hunt around in the scrub to find the ejecta, which fortunately reinstalled and held pressure, until that tube also pinch flatted. Then I suffered a simultaneous front/read pinch flat...this was a very low point. Thoughts of possibly having to abandon the event started to creep in again. I looked for a silver lining - perhaps in the back country of Colorado I would at least see a spectacular nighttime sky - but even this was thwarted…by a full moon.

I got back to Walden at 0106 and broke the news to Kevin that his tube was shot. He wouldn't let me pay for it.  John Lee did me a solid that evening, and got me tubes from God knows where (I'll be eternally grateful). I got a burger on a plate, a floor pump, and headed off to my room to recover, repair, and prepare for tomorrow. I patched up a couple popped tubes in case I needed therm on the final day while Taylor serenaded my efforts, and at one point sat on my burger (but ate it anyway, along with 2 of the vanilla puddings I had brought in my bag). My hands were so beat up from riding and changing tubes that for several minutes my right thumb spasmed into my palm and would not open back out. That made brushing my teeth a challenge.

Day 4 - 149 miles 

Despite not getting to bed until 0230, I woke up at 0530. I wanted more rest but couldn't get back to sleep. I went to the website for my Continental Grand Prix 5000 tires, which told me maximum inflation pressure was 102 PSI (later realizing I could have just read that off the tire). I also realized that I still had the floor pump in my room - the only one at the hotel - and that other riders might be looking for it. I got up, returned it, got back in bed, laid on my back, and tried to just zero out my thoughts. I went into this weird state where there was a flurry of random images in a grid pattern in behind my closed eyelids. It must have been the fatigue and altitude, but it was quite pleasant and relaxing. 

Seemingly shortly thereafter I awoke at 0730, refreshed and ready to take on the final day. I ate 2 more vanilla puddings in my room, checked out of my room, pumped up my tires to max pressure, got a waffle to chew on, packed a breakfast burrito for later, and turned in my drop bag. Brent, a volunteer I remembered from last time, gave me a tube as well but wouldn't let me pay for it (when I got home I sent a box of tubes to the club for all they had given me). This tube, unlike many of the others that were smaller, was the correct size for my tire. Another theory for my bad luck that I was entertaining was that the walls of undersized tubes are thinned when inflated to stretch to match tire size, making them more vulnerable to pinch flatting. 

I rolled out at 0750. Getting to bed as late as I did meant almost the entire field left before me, and I only saw two other riders the entire day. This day's ride was essentially the reverse of Day 1, except a more direct/lower mileage route across the plains back to Louisville.  I was flying on the way up to Cameron Pass, stopping along the way to eat that burrito before it became a biohazard.  At some point Brent passed me with his trailer full of drop bags and gave me a honk. Without too much trouble I summited…

…and began  what I hoped would be a 60 mile coasting descent to the flatlands, but such would not be the case.  Once again there was a headwind, requiring effort to make downhill progress.  I stopped at Rustic (mile 654) for a soft serve and a Coke, and the cashier asked if I wanted to make it a float. Usually that’s a great thing on a long hot ride, but I just wasn't interested for some reason. Who should wander in but Pam again. A beer truck also pulled in, and I would leapfrog with it for the next 30 miles as it made stops.    

Although I was vigilant for them, I hit a deep pothole after Rustic and prepared to change yet another flat, but nothing happened...initially. It took about 10 miles, but eventually my rear tire got bouncy and I had to stop to put Brent's tube in the tire.  Fortunately, that was the 7th and final flat. 

Once below about 6000 feet of elevation I unravelled the mystery of why my arms went rubbery during my two attempts at this event.  At the lower altitude all weakness just disappeared and I was a new man. Not even the headwind bothered me any more.  I motored! 

Finally out of the mountains at Teds Place (mile 686), I stopped for one quick/final resupply. Yasuhiko was there, pulling off his shoes and looking like he was going to rest a while. We had traded passings many time during the event, with me using my very limited Japanese on several occasions. I didn’t need to rest now…I took off across the plains, 62 miles to the finish. I had planned a couple more resupply stops, but skipped them all. I was flying, smelling the barn. Not even the smug Rapha-clad, way-too-expensive-bike roadies who looked disdainfully upon me in Fort Collins could spoil this moment. The bike infrastructure through most of this was awesome - some great bike lanes. The only glitch was yet another thunderstorm, which had me hole up at someone's open barn until the danger had passed. I started getting text messages from friends asking about my status. Mimo asked that I alert him to my arrival, and I replied I was 5 miles from the finish.  About 2 miles from the finish was one final "present": a hill with a 7% grade in the middle of all this flatness. I laughed it off as a cruel prank.

Suddenly I realized I was a block from the finish (mile 748). I stopped just long enough to text friends and family to let them know that I had made it, then finished the ride at 1932 - 3 hours and 28 minutes before the 90 hour time limit. I stopped at my car to throw in my bike - that beautiful machine that becomes an instrument of torture on rides like this.  This was the same hotel we had started from and where I would sleep that night. Mimo and John Lee appeared in the parking lot. After I returned to John Lee the one tube he gave me that I hadn't used yet,  John Lee did the finishing honors as Mimo photographed:

I was so glad Mimo didn't ask me to go out to dinner. I walked only 100 more feet after the above photo: to the front desk, to my room, to the shower, to bed.

It's a week and a half later, and I'm still on the high from completing this ride. Would I do it again? Probably not...the altitude is so hard on me.  But the scenery and experience made it worth it. I could possibly ride RMCC's Front Range 1200k, where you sleep about 3000 feet lower in altitude every night. 

Thank you John Lee, Brent, and the other volunteers who kept us so well fed. This is one fantastic event.

Epilogue

As a blood donor, the American Red Cross calls me every day once I become eligible to donate. This started over a month before the ride, but there was no way I was going to let go of any red blood cells until this was finished. Five days after this ride I did a Power Red donation (2 units of red blood cells, plasma returned) just to stop the phone ringing. It took me 3 weeks to recover my form after the ride and the donation. 

PBP 2023, As I Saw it

Bike inspection in front of Chateau Rambouillet

This is my fairly detailed post about the 2023 Paris-Brest-Paris (PBP) 1200K ride, held on 20-24 August.  I write these to preserve the memories for my future self, but share them because some others actually read them word for word. If that's not you, feel free to just look at the pictures.

Objectives for PBP 2023:

(1) Get out of the "bulge" (the thousands of 90-hour riders, like me, that start within a couple hours of each other on Sunday evening.  When this bulge hits stops for food, etc., the lines can be long and the delays lengthy.  Compared to my first PBP (2019) when I started in a fairly early wave ("G", 5:30 PM), my 2023 start wave was an hour later ("K", 6:30 PM). This was because my 2022 rides qualified me to preregister in the second increment, vice the first increment I earned for the 2019 event. So I planned to ride swiftly (but but not outrageously fast) early on to get out ahead of the bulge, then...

(2) Earn membership in the Adrian Hands Society so I could wear the jersey I purchased earlier this year when it was available. To do so, I had to finish in the final 65 minutes of the 90 hours allotted (between 88:55 and 90:00 hours), so I would have to slow WAY DOWN late in the ride.

(3) Stop frequently for some local flavor. I did almost none of this on my first PBP, wanting to see how quickly I could finish.  This time I planned to hit roadside stands, tabacs, whatever looked interesting along the route...those things that PBP riders all talk about.

Preparations:

(1) Lots of miles. About 1000/month this year, about double 2019 mileage.

(2) A "big" ride close to the event. In the past I've taken it easy after the spring qualifying rides and just kept doing my monthly miles.  This time I did a 300K 15 days prior to PBP to see if that would help fitness. My bike was fully laden with the  worst-case loadout of everything I might need to carry, including a full complement of wet- and cold-weather clothing. It was a real confidence builder - even fully loaded it was a personal best 300k time for me.

Worst-case PBP bike load out that I carried on the 300k training ride. Game-day forecast allowed me to leave most wet- and cold-weather stuff (most of the top half of this photo) behind.

(3) Reserved an Airbnb near Loudeac on the 2019 PBP route, for two sleep/logistics stops at roughly the 1/3 and 2/3 points of this nearly out-and-back route.

(4) Created a GPS route to cover the 20km between my hotel in Marepas and the start in Rambouillet. Although there is train service, I watched riders pour off the train in 2019 and was concerned that the train might be overcrowded on start day. I thought I might lose control of my destiny, so I would ride the bike to the start. I also created GPS routes for start-Airbnb, Airbnb-Brest-Airbnb, and Airbnb-finish, and loaded all into my Wahoo.When the 2023 route was finalized the Airbnb was still on the return route, but ACP had moved the outbound route about 3k north. The GPS route I had built minimized the extra riding required by routing me on a path that slowly diverged from the official outbound PBP route, then after the Airbnb slowly converged back. HOWEVER, after I completed the GPS work I remembered that there were secret controls in 2019... what if they put one on the PBP route that I was skipping enroute to/from the Airbnb?? I checked the rules and sure enough we were expected to stay on the official route, so I had to replan such that when I returned from the Airbnb it was at the same point from which I departed the official route.

(5) About a year and a half of daily Duolingo French lessons. Last time all I knew was "Ou est la sortie" (where is the exit?)

(6) Replaced my oldest components...chain, cassette, rear wheel, and tires...before the 600k qualifier. By PBP this stuff was still almost new, and had been properly "burned in"/proven reliable. 

Getting from Maryland to the start:

For my flights my bike box was "checked luggage", my oversized backpack my "carry-on", and my rear-rack bag (on a shoulder strap) my "personal item". The last 2 were crammed with clothes, bike parts, chargers, cables, etc., so I was not surprised when my rear bag was pulled by TSA for inspection. They asked if there was anything sharp in there (no), and they proceeded to tear apart this carefully packed bag while looking at the scan. They decided that what they saw was just the presta valve stems on my spare tubes and were very apologetic, smoothing things out by engaging me in some light conversation about the upcoming ride. They then asked me if I wanted them to repack this bag, knowing that I'd say I'd do it myself. I grabbed the large plastic x-ray bin full of stuff, moved off to a table against a wall, and repacked the bag.

I figured out that you shouldn't get too concerned if your Apple Air Tagged bike box doesn't get to the plane right away. This doesn't seem to happen until about boarding time.

It turned out Misha H., Hamid A., and Shab M. were all on my flight. When traveling with oversized luggage it's always an adventure finding where to claim it. After landing in Paris Misha and I were both looking for an oversized baggage claim but couldn't find it.  In 2019 I had flown Air France to Charles Degaulle Airport (CDG) terminal 2 and the oversized luggage window was not too hard to find. This time on United we were in Terminal 1. Just as we were seeking help from an agent, a handler arrived pushing a large cart with 3 bike boxes on it (there is no designated location for oversized stuff in terminal 1).

I got my rental car and drove to the B&B Hotel in Maurepas.  A very different experience: the front desk is only staffed a few hours a day. To check in you enter your reservation number and name into a video console and pay by credit card. You are then given a 6-digit number that gets you into the front door, into your room, and into the parking lot (locked at night).

The room was quite spartan - no mini-fridge, microwave, or even ice bucket (or ice machine on premises). I went food shopping at the Auchon Hypermarche next door, which was quite the monstrosity. Easily the biggest store I've ever been in, I'd estimate 2-3 times as large as a typical Costco, and mostly groceries. I picked up some groceries not requiring refrigeration, as well as a 6-pack of my favorite beer Leffe Ritual 9 and a bag of ice for my makeshift ice bucket. I returned to my room and spent the evening building my bike. My oldest odometer would not come to life, as it did briefly just prior to the trip when I reset it to metric mode, but that's why I carry 2.

Bike is built. Room was too small to show the whole thing.

The next day (Friday) was an extra day I planned in case of any problems, but there were none. I decided I'd first test-ride the route to the start but immediately ran into problems when, 2k into the ride, GPS directed me to turn left where there was nothing but a forest. Not even a path (maybe once upon a time?) I returned to my room to replan, and set off again, but quickly ran into similar issues.  Many of what Google Maps and RWGPS considered "roads" on the west side of highway N10 were dirt/mud logging roads or horse trails (one "road" was a 1' wide mud path full of horse shoe prints). I bailed from this route and did some ad-hoc navigating with phone in hand to get back to paved roads and eventually to the PBP start/finish area in Rambouillet. I had a cola "slurpee" with a sandwich while looking for a better route on my phone. There had been one rider post that said there was a good route on the east side of N10, so I gave that a look. Setting the Google Maps routing for "driving" and "avoid highways" gave a very promising paved result. After first visiting a memorial in town that I had heard about that honored the American soldiers killed in an ambush 2 months after D-Day (the fighting was far from over after D-Day), I set off for my hotel. The navigation problems had killed my thoughts of maybe visiting Versailles on that extra day.

The Memorial in Rambouillet

The route was excellent, and upon entering Coignieres about 2k from my hotel I ran into Pat O. from DC Rand walking down the street. We had dinner at a steakhouse near his hotel, and the Duolingo lessons came in handy when trying to communicate to the server that we wanted the tab (l'addition).  In general I found that I knew more French than the locals knew English, even though I felt I just BARELY knew a little French. I certainly can't understand 2 locals having a conversation, but I had fun trying to ask for stuff in french. 

Saturday was check-in day. I took the train to and from Rambouillet just to see how it went, and immediately ran into problems. The ticket machine only seemed to want to sell me tickets to Paris, but fortunately an agent opened a window after about 20 minutes and sold me my round-trip tickets.  RUSA and DC Rand planned group photos in front of the Chateau Rambouillet which I just barely made, then I went to collect my ride materials.  The jersey I ordered was too small (a common occurrence), but I was there early enough that I could exchange for a larger size. I also bought a couple t-shirts, and visited Danial Webb who was there promoting the London-Edinburgh-London 1500k and handing out candies.

Danial's London-Edinburgh-London 1500k swag

Afterwards I had a sandwich in the parking lot in front of the Hotel Mercure where they had set up tables, hay bale seating, and concessions. Rambouillet was much better prepared for the thousands of PBP riders this time compared to their first time hosting in 2019, when they probably didn't understand what was coming and food was a little hard to come by at times. 

I had dinner with Pat at an Italian restaurant near his hotel, and spent the evening/early morning riding out food poisoning until about 4 AM Sunday morning. I believe it was the calamari appetizer.  

I woke at 8 AM, but laid in bed till 3:30 to rest for the day's start. Based on the weather forecast, I ditched cold weather gear (except knee warmers) and rain gear (except the Showers Pass jacket.) The forecast proved accurate, the only clothing I took on the bike that I didn't end up wearing were knee warmers.  Since I was checking back into the same hotel 4 days later and had their permission to leave my rental car in their lot, I loaded all my non-ride stuff into my bike box and locked it in the car.

As planned, I rode the 20k to the start, and saw maybe 2 fellow PBP riders along the way. The start was a little more organized this time, but the plan was not well communicated. Instructions were to report to the chateau for bike inspection about an hour before start time, but it was not obvious how to navigate the crowd there. I eventually found out all we had to do was find the guy holding the large "K" sign, and he would lead us through inspection to the start.  I found Pat O. pretty quickly, both Roger H. and Pat O. from DC Rand were in "K" with me.

Pat O. and me before the start

 We made our way through a very quick inspection of our lighting, then got our control cards stamped and headed to the start box.

In the start box

Anticipating a couple idle hours between leaving the hotel and starting the ride, I packed some Golden Oreos and cranberry juice on my bike to stay fueled and hydrated before the start. I finished half the cookies and all the cranberry juice and asked a fellow rider in the start box to hold my bike while I ran to a recycle bin to get rid of the bottle. I also had 4 energy bars on my bike to get me through the 120k to the food stop in Mortagne, only 2 of which I actually ate by then. 

The Ride:

At 6:30 PM, we were off. I hit a comfortable but swift pace as we headed west into a perfect sunset. The beginning/end of the route is fairly flat, but nothing else is. 

First hour of the ride

From time to time I was riding with Roger, but we stopped to get Roger a sandwich perhaps 2 hours into the ride (I wasn't hungry) and he said I could ride on. I didn't see him again for a while. I also saw Pat briefly after this stop, and saw him once more the next day. I was feeling very good and moving along smartly, passing hundreds of riders and only occasionally getting passed myself by fast-moving pace lines.   I saw the first rider from the "J" wave that had started 15 minutes before us after an hour of riding , and successive earlier waves about every 30 minutes later, eventually finding 80 hour riders from A-E waves. There was a Steely Dan playlist running in my head the entire ride: mostly Doctor Wu, The Fez, and The Nightfly (OK, that one was a Donald Fagen solo).

I hit Mortagne at 11:25 PM, having already banked 3 hours time-in-hand after only 5 hours of riding.  This would grow until my first Airbnb stop. I was shocked to find local rando Misha H. there as she is a powerful rider who started 45 minutes ahead of me. In retrospect, she was riding in a group of friends, some of whom probably started after her and maybe not as fast. I hope she didn't misinterpret my surprise as insinuating she was slow. I also chatted briefly with a very nice volunteer lady whose english was excellent.  

Following the first control (official check-in station) in Villaines (203K) I managed to get lost. 7k after the control, at 2:40 AM Monday, I was following 3 other riders (none of us using GPS...just follow the riders ahead of you!) who were following a large group of riders. Apparently the large group made the right turn in La Croix-Barbe but those in front of me (and I) did not see that and continued straight. About 2k later they stopped, sensing something was amiss, asked me if we were lost and if I had GPS, and turned back. I went along a little further before I was convinced that (1) I was off course (2) it was time to use GPS. I stopped in the village of La Chappelle Au Riboul to start it up.  It was weird: not a single light was on in the entire village and the sound of non-farm animals was everywhere.

Georgi S. found this photo of me on the Facebook page of photographer by Dom Vidom. Approaching Tinteniac Monday morning 

The rest of the morning was uneventful and I continued moving along smartly, setting personal bests for 300k and 400k but no longer passing riders in droves. One thing I noticed was that, unlike 2019 when it seemed I got passed by droves of riders on every climb, I was hanging with the crowd. It also seemed like rider behavior was better than in 2019, although I could not believe one rider held out his arm to stop a car from passing him while he passed a slower rider ahead of him. Idiot! I sensed I was still in the "bulge". Controls had two food options: cafeteria-style with trays (long lines) or a quick grab-a-baugette-and-drink line that was very short. I mostly opted for the latter. I also noticed that learning some French had its limitations at controls because many of the volunteers came from other countries and spoke neither English or French.  I was utterly unsuccessful in asking the medical staff at one control for a Band-Aid. 

It was getting very warm by noon, and I found myself in a small group of riders moving at my speed.  At 1:23 PM I arrived at Le Billiac, about 6k short of the Loudeac control and the point for departing the official route for the Airbnb. I headed south down the D14 for Le Cheze, a 6k downhill run through wind turbines and farmland to my small cottage, arriving at 1:37 PM. This was over 4 hours sooner than I arrived in Loudeac in 2019 and time-in-hand at this point was almost 10 hours.

As I did last PBP, I hand washed my Severna Park Peloton (SPP) kit for the trip to the finish, hung it to dry, showered, and hit the sack.  Rather than sleep away all my time-in-hand, I decided to just sleep 5 hours (more than double my sleep at this point in 2019), saving some time for sleeping there on the return trip. 

 

I departed at 8:17 PM in my spare kit and was shocked to see a rider already headed to the finish right outside my Airbnb. I was 1/3 of the way around the course and he was already 2/3...just wow!

After the short ride to the Loudeac control (435k) I got a sausage baguette, fries, and drink with a rando from Minneapolis (Jonas?)  I was very impressed with his French when ordering, he said he had lived once in France for 7 years. I saw Pat O. across the control on the other side of a barricade, but by the time I got around it to talk to him he had disappeared.  The ride out of Loudeac into the setting sun was worth stopping for a photo:

Riders westbound from Loudeac Monday into the setting sun

I hit a secret control in Canihuel (no services...just a quick stamp on the control card), just prior to the services at Saint Nicolas (482k). I hit the next control, Carhaix (514k), at 1:21 AM Tuesday which always seems to be packed in the evening. It was hard walking around the place with bodies strewn everywhere. Every square yard of floor space seemed to have a sleeping rider on it...you had to step over several just to get into the men's room.

Carnage at Carhaix. No more floor space indoors

From there it was on to Brest.  For the only time this PBP I got so sleepy I thought I might fall asleep on the bike (this happened many times in 2019, causing me to ditch nap to clear my head). I knew this year the leg to Brest was not an out-and-back trip like 2019, but I thought the climb over the Roc'h Trevezel (highest point of the event) was on the return trip. So, for the second PBP, I summited the Roc'h without realizing I was doing so (the climb is more gentle than some would lead you to believe.) I was certainly climbing, towards a glowing white blob of light through a heavy fog that turned out to be a huge transmitting tower. Only after the descent into Sizun and seeing the Cafe du Centre that was my salvation on that freezing night in 2019 did I realize I'd gone over the Roc'h.  I got to Brest (604k) at 6:09 AM and tried to table nap because of my sleepiness enroute there, but by then I was no longer sleepy so I just took off on the return trip to Rambouillet. Unlike 2019, it was daylight when I crossed the Pont Albert Louppe bridge.

Tuesday sunrise in Brest. Beginning the return trip

The return trip back to the Airbnb outside Loudeac was the low point of the ride for me. Yeah, it was warm, but not as warm as Maryland or the previous month's RAGBRAI ride when the heat index was around 115F. Or maybe I was tired, or maybe it was my sore contact points, but decided that if my wife came alongside with my car and asked if I wanted a ride I'd abandon right there and then. For me the fun in this sport comes before and after the ride, not necessarily during, so I'm glad the option to abandon so easily was not available. At some point some French guy passed me on the right without warning and with very little room to do so. I was pissed..."That was dangerous! Dangereux!"

There was a new feed stop for 2023, Gouarec (731k), that had excellent baked goods for the riders (or maybe it was the secret control at Pleyben, I'm not sure). On my second pass Loudeac (782k) was a ghost town...I was clearly out of the bulge. I arrived at the Airbnb at 6:30 PM, at which point I had 42 hours to cover the final 435k. It was time to put on the brakes if I wanted to finish in Adrian Hands time. I didn't want to just ride slow, for that meant more time for the contact points on that torture machine that my bike was becoming. I also didn't want to fritter away all that extra time sitting in one place (how boring!), so it was time to start a series of short time-wasting stops. I started by sleeping almost 7 hours. 

My hand-washed SPP kit that I had started the ride in was now dry and I put it back on. I had grabbed some food before stopping there so I had something to eat when I got up, and discovered my host had left some snacks as well.

Airbnb snacks. These were awesome. I ate all that my host had set out.

I forgot a can of Coke I had put in the fridge. I hope my host enjoyed it.

I departed the Airbnb at 1:45 AM Wednesday with zero time-in-hand so as to make the control in Tinteniac by its 8:15 AM closure. Riders were rolling past me on the return route as soon as I stepped outside the door, which was quite energizing. 

During the night I found one large and lively roadside concession in Illifaut and spent some time there eating and drinking, and dancing a little to their stereo.

Roadside in Illifaut, Wednesday 3:15 AM

It was followed by a beautiful sunrise

Wednesday sunrise, just before La Budorais

I made it to Tinteniac (867k) by 6:11 as day broke, and said hello to Misha in the line to get control cards stamped. Just before the next control, Fougeres, I heard someone yelling "Jack! This way!"  It was super volunteer Shab Memar, directing the riders to a last-minute detour while snapping my photo.

Fougeres. Hello Shab!!

I killed a little time in Fougeres (928k) having an extended snack, but left with time-in-hand at over 3 hours and increasing. 

At 11 AM I stumbled upon the famous postcard stop in La Tanniere: free eats and drinks if you promise to send Paul a post card when you get home. I perused the USA section of his display and saw several familiar names from his 2019 collection.

La Tanniere. Free eats and drinks for a postcard when you get home

That killed some time. I hit some more roadside stops and two more were offering the same deal.  At the last one there was a man and two little girls. I had 2 DC Randonneurs pins in my pocket (3 originally, but one got tossed accidentally with some wrappers from that pocket), and I presented them to the girls as a "Cadeau" (gift).

Then I got more serious about killing time. There was a big party in the middle of Le Ribay, and I hung out there for 45 minutes eating a sandwich and plate of pasta and drinking a beer, which a local jokingly warned me wasn't good for me. 

Party in Le Ribay

Shortly before Villaines I ditch napped in a grassy spot under some shade trees with a bunch of other riders for 35 minutes.

Villaines (1017k) did not disappoint...the town always puts on quite a spectacle and makes you feel like you just finished a stage of the Tour de France. Live bands, what seems like the whole town there to greet you, a big festival.  I saw Hamid there and he gave me the Band Aids that I had been looking for.  I then napped on the lawn there with other riders, killing another hour there.

Awesome Villaines

About halfway to the next control, Mortagne, I was passed by Misha and her "Party Train" of maybe 10 riders. Shortly thereafter, in the tiny village of Les Hautes Haies, I spotted the perfect spot for the next ditch nap: a grassy field surrounded by a hedgerow with just a small gap in it. No one would see me there. I went for it.

Les Hautes Haies. Actually, sometimes I DO sleep with my bike.

I woke with a start, in the dark, thinking I overslept the next control. Adding to my panic I could not find my phone (to check the time) or wallet. I thought I left them on my front wheel, but after turning on my helmet light I found them right next to my head. I had been there for 2.5 hours but it was still not time for my alarm to go off.  I got back onto the road and rolled into Mortagne (1099k) at 1:08 AM Thursday with only an hour and a half time-in-hand...excellent! Mortagne has best food. I had the same big plate of spaghetti that I had there in 2019 along with two cans of Orangina, and took my time eating. Being middle-of-the-night, the place was absolutely packed with bikes and floor sleepers like it was in Carhaix. 

Mortagne was packed 

There were bodies everywhere, even one in a diarama by the front door!  I did notice, however, that when I departed at 2 AM the bike racks had emptied out considerably.

An hour and a half later I came upon a bunch of riders crowding around a tabac/bar in Neuilly Sur Eure called La Bonne Franquette, with an outdoor seating area next to it. It looked promising, and the Oranginas had worked their way through me, so I stopped in to check it out.  It was a quite lively mix of both riders and locals.

La Bonne Franquette in Neuilly Sur Eure.

From there I found another roadside gathering in Senonches, very low-key, where I dozed in a chair for an hour.

At some point I pulled off the route down a side road to gaze at the very black sky of the countryside, and found myself right next to a man/woman pair of cyclists doing the same thing.  I only stayed a couple minutes and gave them back their privacy.

I reached the penultimate control, Dreux (1176k), at 7 AM with 2 hours time-in-hand. I napped there for a while, then got up to eat some breafast - a huge and satisfying plate of scrambled eggs.  While carrying the plate to the table Roger called me over. I hadn't seen him since the first 2 hours of the ride.  After almost 2.5 hours in Dreux I couldn't stand to sit still any more. I said goodbye to Roger and headed out for the final 42k to the finish trying to hold my speed down (I only have 1 speed - "Ride Your Ride").

It was either before or after Dreux that I chatted with a Turkish rider for maybe 30 minutes. He was quite up on things in the U.S - space program, politics, the military - despite being a dentist. I was quite impressed the analytic abilities he displayed, I wish him the best in his quest for citizenship. 

On the way to the finish I was passed by a 3-bike pace line. The first rider snapped a photo of me, the second rider just rode, and there third said "He likes your (SPP) jersey."  But apparently not enough to trade (I asked).

The cockpit, near the finish. That's (1)218k on the odometer.

Finally we were in terminal homing. We were on the same road I'd ridden into Rambouillet on my scouting ride last week.  There were 15k-10k-5k countdown markers on the road.  I checked the time and it looked like I would finish 6 minutes into the Adrian Hands window, a safe margin to account for timing errors.

Finish line in sight

I finished at 11:31 AM (89:01 after the start), and immediately checked my time on the rider tracker website.  It showed me at 88:57...? What I had overlooked was my elapsed time started not at 6:30 PM on Sunday but 4 minutes later when I actually crossed the timing pad after hundreds of other riders in my wave.  But happily I still finished in the time window I was shooting for. I got there final stamp on my control card and a finishers medal.

Done

I had almost 13 hours of "stopped" time out of the 34 hours since departing the Airbnb outside Loudeac. Like 2019, not once did my alarm have to wake me up...the body just knows you have to make the next control before it closes. 

I got in line for the free meal at the finish, but whereas in 2019 the food tent was empty for my 5 AM finish, it was now noon and the line was over 100 yards long and did not move for the 20 minutes I was in it.  I bailed and then waited at the finish line for Roger, and he showed up a few minutes later. Still hungry, I went into town for a baguette and beer lunch and before catching the train back to my hotel. It started raining as I sat there at the same place that I had lunch a couple days ago, the only rain of the event. 

Après:

I had a great 3 days of exploring Bayeux, Caen, and the Normandy beaches.

I Ieft my passport at security screening at CDG. Fortunately I discovered this pretty quickly and, after a heart attack, got it back after about 5 minutes. 

Notes for next time (2027):

Maybe do the 84 hour start. I've either finished or shown I could have finished in under 84 hours twice now, so maybe see PBP from a different perspective with its early morning vice evening start.

Try to stay in the start/finish town of Rambouillet. I did this in 2019 and had an Airbnb there reserved for 2023 until it was sold, my reservation canceled, the Airbnb remodeled and the rate jacked up. Maurepas was fine, but very commercial and less accommodating. This would be really helpful for getting to the early-morning 84 hour start.

Same prep regimen. The 1000 miles/month and 300k training ride 2 weeks prior turned PBP from a challenge in 2019 into a very enjoyable ride. Many said this edition had much more climbing in it, but to me it felt much flatter than 2019 (when I felt unprepared for the continuously hilly terrain.)

Again take food and drinks for the pre-start waiting period, and maybe up the energy bars from 4 to 8. I only needed 2 to get to the first feed stop (maybe because of the pre-ride food/drink), but after all 4 were gone I kind of wished I had a few more. 

Make that jersey a 2XL or 3XL. I'm actually an M, but this is some whole other sizing system. 

Jack