Wednesday, August 28, 2019

PBP 2019, As I Saw it



Let me start by saying that I wrote this report mainly for my own reading pleasure in old age, and to capture some detail in case I ride it again (which I plan to). It is long and detailed, perhaps you will find it mundane in places. But some have asked me to make it available. If you’d like to read it, you are welcome and I am honored that you would do so.

Next - Clint Provenza is entirely responsible for this experience. The “Godfather” of our local bike club, Severna Park Peloton, he came up alongside me back in 2011 during a 115 mile club ride to Ocean City MD for a “get to know you” conversation.  He asked me if I rode centuries (I did), and told me that if I rode just 10 miles more than we were riding that day, I could join something called Randonneurs USA (RUSA) and start riding 200Ks with many of that day’s riders.  I could graduate to longer rides, and eventually he’d get me in shape for this thing called Paris-Brest-Paris (PBP), which he had done in 2007. I went for it - the next month was my first brevet, quickly followed by Fleches, R-12s, Super Randonneur series, route ownership, RUSA Cup, and the 1400K London-Edinburgh-London (LEL) 2017. But despite all that I didn’t do PBP 2015 because I was starting a new job and I wanted to do LEL instead. I wasn’t planning on doing it at all after completing LEL (which had been my bucket list ride) but one day Clint said I should have a PBP on my riding resume, and over time I came to believe that he was right.

PREPARATION

I really enjoy planning long rides in detail, maybe more than riding them, so in mid-2018 I dusted off my LEL checklist and notes and started working PBP 2019. Significant developments since LEL:

⁃           A new bike.  My 2000 Trek 5500 was 18 years old, the carbon frame was showing its age, and had been through some trauma, so I was losing confidence in its reliability on a long ride (I’m a reliability geek, I try to minimize the chances of being stranded in the boonies with a broken bike). Also, I had suffered searing lower back pain on LEL and wanted a better fit. Finally, the Trek was a racing bike at heart, and I wanted a bike with randonneuring in its DNA - stable steering, fender and rack attachments, external cable routing, reliable, tough yet comfortable frame, serviceable in the field.  I opted for a titanium-framed Seven Axiom SLX and outfitted it with wider, flatter, more comfortable bars, bar-end shifters (for reliability and less reach than my old bike’s down tube shifters), 28mm tires, rear rack so that I could stop carrying all my junk in my Camelbak Mule, and an Infinity saddle (which doesn’t work for everyone, but is the best I’ve ever ridden). I also moved my electrical system (SON dynohub, B&M IQ-X headlight, and USB WERK charger) over from my Trek.

⁃           I’d go it alone. Initially I planned to buddy up with another rider but those plans fell through.  Besides, I read a ton of 2015 PBP ride reports, with most authors subscribed to the same “Ride Your Ride” philosophy I tend to follow on long rides. They almost all eventually separated from those they started with.  Clint and I did stay buddied up for LEL, but I know he was stronger than me, waited for me, and I held him back. Besides, with over 6000 riders, you aren’t really “Going it alone”. You can engage in all sorts of “promiscuous riding”  - hanging out with whoever suits your pace at any moment. I would later join forces with Bob Counts, but his start time was 2h45m behind mine so our collaboration was purely logistical and I rode PBP entirely at my pace.

⁃           No drop bags. The services I could find sounded like more trouble/expense than they were worth, and previous riders had wasted time finding their bags or found them in the rain.  Besides, on LEL I learned I didn’t need all the junk in my drop bags.  I probably already knew I would skip drop bags when I spec’ed my new bike, because the rear rack gave me the capacity to carry what I needed.  I bought a cool Bontrager rear bag that was not only bigger than my old Camelbak or seat post bag, but also had zip-out panniers that gave me all the volume I’d ever need. I also didn’t realize it until after I got rid of the Camelbak that all that weight I had been carrying on my back translated to more weight being supported by my butt/saddle contact point.  Getting rid of the Camelbak would help with saddle soreness.

Preparations got thrown off track quickly when the start location was changed.  I had booked a room right at the start venue (the Ibis Velodrome hotel in St Quentin) - IT DOESN’T GET ANY BETTER THAN THAT!!!! - but the start location changed to Rambouillet.  With very little lodging nearby and not getting the word of the change fast enough I missed the chance to book anything there, so I kept my hotel at the old start and planned to either take the train, drive my rental car, or ride my bike the 30K to the start. That would change for the better later.

One thing that did go my way was getting the earliest start time in the 90 hour group.    I wanted to start in front of the thousands of riders in the 90 hour “bulge” to avoid crowds at controls, and planned to stay in front as long as I could hold them off. I didn’t savor the evening start that came with 90 hours, but had done it before on Lap of the Lake 1000K. And my hotel offered 4PM late checkout. Also, having needed 89+ hours for my only other 1200K I wanted all the time I could get. Preregistration order was based on you longest ride the previous season, and having done both a 1000K and 1200K in 2018 I was in the first group to preregister.  I set up my PBP registration account before preregistration opened, so I preregistered right when it opened. Only the (very fast) 80 hour riders would be ahead of me, and I’d never see most of them again, so in essence I would be in the lead wave onto the course.

To maximize the chance my bike wouldn’t get lost enroute, I wanted a direct flight from Dulles to Paris.  There were 2 options: United and Air France.  I had lots of miles on United from business travel, but not quite enough for a round trip. United would also charge a bike fee PLUS oversized baggage fee PLUS possibly an overweight fee for my bike, making it as expensive for my bike as for me.  I went with Air France, but took a risk: you need to reserve a spot for your bike on the flight and they took months to approve my request. To get my bike to the start, and to have a place to keep my bike box and other junk during the ride, I rented the smallest/cheapest car that would carry my bike box - a Renault Twingo. I checked out trains between St Quentin and Rambouillet and rules for bikes (permitted) and cost (3€) recognizing that for the ride the trains may be overloaded and I might have to ride my bike to and from Rambouillet.  I considered putting a French SIM card in my Verizon phone for connectivity during the ride, but after Christine tried it on a trip to the UK I opted for Verizon’s $10/ day international plan.  By using cellular data judiciously while in France it would not cost me much more, and it would save me the hassle of buying a SIM in France and having a different phone number.

 I upgraded much of my other equipment. I bought a cool Chums “wallet” that held my phone, my cash, my credits cards, even a pen and control card if it was folded in half.  Waterproof and smaller than a jersey pocket, it was a near perfect solution for carrying and organizing things on a ride.  No more ziplok bags in my pockets. It, plus the around-the-neck control card holder issued at PBP (which held my card plus my passport), really cleaned up my on-bike logistics.  My phone with its somewhat thick Otterbox Commuter case was a tight fit in the Chums, so I bought a cheap phone case at Five Below that was thinner, and sanded its glossy plastic backside so that it did not stick to the clear vinyl window of the Chums.  I bought some small waterproof bags to keep things dry inside my rear bag on my bike, although this might not be a big deal because my Bontrager rear bag also had an integrated rain cover that tested well in rainy conditions. I bought an emergency bivvy bag, essentially a sleeping bag made of space blanket material, about the size of a tennis ball when new and rolled up, for roadside naps if needed.  I purchased new VDO cycle computers as my old VDOs were dying one by one.  The only mistake I made in selecting these was, unlike the old ones, I could not pause them mid-ride to resync the mileage to actual mileage in the event of a wrong turn.  To remedy this, I rode PBP with my last remaining old VDO, along with a new one. In the end, I liked the new one better despite this difference.  I bought some Cygolite Hotrod tail lights, as they are bright and long lasting for their size.  I tested one, and it ran for 85 hours in night/steady mode - long enough to complete PBP without incurring the time penalty for not having a tail light.  I mounted 2 on my bike, and kept a third hidden in my rear bag in the event my mounted lights were lost or stolen. Theft did occur during this PBP, with many riders having their GPS receivers stolen at one control, despite only riders being allowed in bike parking areas, and volunteers watching bikes.

I experimented with more in-the-saddle snacks (an ongoing 7-year search for the right thing) and settled for Trader Joe’s Uncrystallized Candied Ginger for this event.

I wrote my ride plan based on actual day-by-day overall average speeds for expected conditions taken from control cards from my 4 previous 1000K and greater brevets (Day 1: 20kph, Day 2: 17kph, Day 3: 16kph, Day 4: 15kph). Because I wanted to minimize night time riding, my first day was going to be long.  I planned to do the classic two nights in Loudeac strategy, and my early start time would have stopping there 4:45PM outbound.  This yielded an estimate of 79.4 hours, finishing at 12:56 early Thursday morning. 

A lesson from LEL: I made a complete set of GPS routes for everywhere I expected to ride my bike, including getting to and from the start/finish and my Airbnb in Loudeac.

I learned rudimentary French using audiobooks during my daily 90 minutes of driving to/from work every day, and a little from Rosetta Stone (which wasn’t teaching me much that would be useful in the PBP scenario, mostly stuff like “the boy has an Apple”). Finally, I just made a list of what I thought would be useful (e.g., Do you have some water?”, “Where are the restrooms”, French numbers) and used Google translate to get the French equivalents. However, much of the time it was just instinct - 50 year old stuff I still remembered from French lessons in 4th and 5th grade. Thank you Madame Gelfan and Mme Smink!

I must have read 50-100 ride reports. One good compilation was on British Columbia Randonneurs website (http://www.randonneurs.bc.ca/pbp/main.html).  Eric Norris’s series of some 20-odd YouTube videos (campyonlyguy) contained lots of good advice for long rides that you might know already, but also had great PBP-specific tips on riding in the French countryside.

QUALIFICATION AND STAYING READY

The qualification rides (200K/300K/400K/600K), along with my son’s college graduation and three trips to the UK for business kept me busy during the spring, so much so that I had to drop Fleche from my schedule.  My favorite RUSA event, and the first time in 7 years I didn’t ride it. Training went well.  I set personal bests in the longer two qualifier rides, and set another personal best in the 400K that Chip, Earl, Calista, and I did in late July, 23 days before PBP, as a final training ride and a shakedown of my bike in final PBP configuration.  The highlight of that ride was Clint and Sherri Provenza surprising us outside Milton DE (Christine tracks my phone when I ride, and she cued them into my location) with freeze pops on that hot afternoon.  


Along with a personal best 1000K time the previous fall, all indications were that I was ready physically. I might have overtrained a bit before LEL, so I didn’t do much after that final ride, just a 200K the following weekend and short club rides up until the final week. And attend the DC Rand sendoff Party at the Hillas’.



TRAVEL

In early July Bob Counts and I came to the realization that we had both lost our original ride buddies and each had a complete set of reservations, so we decided to join forces and share reservations.  He had the best start/finish accommodations (in the start town of Rambouillet versus mine 18 miles away), and I had the best on-route accommodations (in Ludeac, 300 meters off the route versus miles outside of town on just the route out but off the return route).  And I had a rental car to make the hour trip between the airport and the start/finish.

I packed the Sunday before PBP, and packed the stuff I use every day and rechecked against my checklist on Tuesday. The pack out was: bike box with only my helmet in it (to stay below 50 lbs), my clothes and bike pedals/parts/tools in a carry-on sized suitcase, my rear-rack bike bag packed to the gills, and a backpack with my drink bottles, iPad, charger, phones, and paperwork.  Wednesday I drove to Dulles for my flight. I caught several breaks - no beltway traffic, a parking spot by the parking shuttle bus stop, an empty parking shuttle bus for me to wrestle my stuff into/out of, and Air France didn’t charge me the $150 bicycle fee.  Perhaps because the flight is shared with Delta, which had just eliminated it's bicycle fees.



On the down side, we sat on the plane for 2 hours waiting to take off due to weather in the northeast.  Everything on Air France was bilingual French/English, to my relief. I must look French - the flight attendants seemed to guess who the Americans were and address them in English, but they always addressed me in French.

Near the end of the flight I saw that we were passing Brest. It was the better part of an hour, in a jet plane, before we landed in Paris.  This was going to be a long bike ride… 

After landing at Charles de Gaulle Airport things got confusing. I followed the crowd following the “baggage” signs and ended up at a train stop.  There were announcements to ensure you had all your baggage, and signs implying baggage claim was there (M gates), but I didn’t see any baggage claim. I skipped the first train just to look around some more, but there was no baggage claim.  The train ran between M, L, and K gates, and the sign also indicated baggage claim was in K. So I got on, and was pleased that nobody got off at L, and everyone got off at K.  After clearing customs, we were in baggage claim. After a short wait, during which I got 300€ from an ATM (I might haver gotten ripped off on the exchange rate), I had both my bike box and my checked bag (and had carried on my backpack and bike bag). After some more guessing I found the rental car place and was pleased to find all my stuff fit in the small Opel (Corsa?) rental car I had reserved.  I originally reserved a smaller one, but went up one size when I teamed up with Bob, there looked to be plenty of room for his stuff also.  

A quick requalification on manual transmission and it was time to drive. My phone GPS wasn’t working when I left the airport, but I had studied the route to my hotel while waiting for the flight in Dulles, so I got on the road from memory until GPS finally kicked in.  It took me a slightly different route than the A1-A86-A13-A12 sequence that Google Maps showed me before the flight, through some town to make the jump from A86 to A13, but it got me to my hotel.

The hotel had no reception parking, in fact no open parking outside at all, so I pulled into its underground garage. That proved to be the right answer.  I successfully cancelled all but one night since we were headed to Bobs Airbnb the next day, and got a 4PM late checkout. I then went to my room and crashed for 3 hours to sleep off the redeye. When I woke up I studied how to navigate picking up Bob at the airport, and texted with him about the rendezvous plan. I then did whatever bike assembly I could with the bike still fitting in its box.  Around 4 I was getting hungry, not having eaten since the flight, so I walked into town in search of some local flavor.  I skipped McDonalds and Burger King for a little restaurant, but after having a beer there I found out they were not serving food that day.  

No food for you today

So I walked around and found all the restaurants closed, either because it was August or it was Assumption Day (15th of the month, every year I’m told), so I ended up in McD’s because I was starving at that point. On the way back I spotted a rider in the RUSA PBP jersey with a couple other American riders.  He was from Kansas City, and pointed out a supermarket that was open (Carrefour's).  I went there and bought a box of coconut macaroons for dessert/breakfast, as well as a large bottle of Leffe Rituel to celebrate the end of the ride, if i could resist drinking it that long. 

Motivation

I also had to buy a reusable shopping bag there - no freebies - which I used several times during my stay. On the way back to the hotel I found more PBP riders, Malaysian I believe. The only bit of common language between us: “PBP”.

On Friday I headed to the airport to collect Bob, watching the sun rise behind the Eiffel Tower while driving


The pickup came off without a hitch (I had learned a lot about the airport in the last 24 hours). He was hungry, so we went into Saint Quentin for food, but once again ended up at McDonalds (does this town ever come alive? Maybe it’s still that “take August off” thing.) Back at the hotel I was able to grab a free parking spot at the hotel (the night before had cost me 13€, even with 12 hours validated) them Bob and I crashed in my room until he had to turn in his drop bag at 2. We checked out at 2, and I caught another break when the hotel didn’t charge me the 20€ late checkout fee they should have.  Additionally, all our stuff fit comfortably in the car.  



After dropping off Bob's drop bag, we drove to the start town of Rambouillet, passing Georgi Stoychev and others riding down the highway.  We got into our Airbnb and promptly built our bikes. 



We then headed out looking for dinner - which again proved elusive. For the second night in a row we ended up on a place with good beer but not serving the food on their menu. While enjoying our beer we chatted with a group of UK random including a lady who goes by Brevetbird on social media, and I spotted Chip Adams who immediately caught my attention in his distinctive Severna Park Peloton jersey. 



We also talked a while with Eric Norris of YouTube fame (mentioned above), who said there was a pizza joint open up the street.  We went to said pizza joint and ordered, only to meet Eric and daughter Sarah picking up their pizza.  He invited us to join him for dinner at his beautiful Airbnb across the street, which we did.  He also provided the beer for the dinner. Because the word was out that the final stage of PBP had been rerouted, we returned to our Airbnb to download the updated GPS file to our receivers.

REGISTRATION

Our Airbnb was right across the street from the Rambouillet train station, from which emerged hundreds of cyclists every day.



Saturday was registration day.  We started off by looking for breakfast, finding an open air market where we found quiche, baked goods, cheeses, as well as seafoods, meats, almost everything you might want to eat.  



It was raining, so we went into the same cafe as last night to have something to drink while we ate our breakfast. 

Afterwards Bob went to the registration area to be in the RUSA group picture, but I skipped it because it was raining and turnout was probably going to be light. Because food was becoming a problem, and the start was the next day (a Sunday), I went grocery shopping at the small Carrefour's in town to ensure I had enough to eat before the ride. I then went to registration, riding in the rain in full rain gear.  It seemed like overkill at the time, since rain was light, but registration involved standing in the rain for most of an hour and the rain intensified so those with me who were underdressed (nearly everyone) were suffering. The rain intensity was cyclical, and the line was longest when the rain was hardest, and vice versa, because whenever the rain would stop and people would head over to registration it would be raining hard again by the time they got there.



I saw Shab there, someone I’m always delighted to run across. If you ride these big international events, she will be there.



I also chatted with LEL organizer Danial Webb, and finally got to see the legendary Lois Springsteen in the flesh working as a volunteer. She was busy doing bike inspections in the rain so I didn’t introduce myself.  Although my start time was 1730, my control card said my start window opened at 1715. I finally figured out that this wasn’t LEL, where your card’s timing for controls was specific to your start time.  The PBP card has a range of opening and closing times, and a page on their website tells you how to calculate your timing based on your start time. I calculated my times on the hard copy printout I brought with me, and snapped a photo so I had them in my phone if needed. It would be something I looked at regularly, especially late in the ride.



We went out to meet with a group Bob had lunch with: Misha and her brother Luke, Chris and his wife from NC (his wife was the volunteer who got me my stuff at check in), Vinny a gregarious Nigerian fellow from Seattle Rand, and a gregarious Brit named Malcom that we swept up along the way.  We ate dinner at a creperie, our first real meal in France. Mine was a "butcher's steak" (hamburger) crepe, and it was very good.  We had a great time trying to communicate with the waiter and generally just yukking it up, until we closed the place. Chris introduced us to the Google Translate app, which uses you phone’s camera to almost magically translate text, in this case the menu.

THE RIDE

The next morning it looked clear as we got up around 8:30 and headed into town to find breakfast on a Sunday morning. We were pleased to find a cafe that had loads of baked goods, and met a couple of Danes - one of whom had a velomobile parked out front with a canopy and a seat in the back for his infant child (with its own window). There was also a very chatty Brit named Gary who gave Bob a pair of pants that he needed, and another Brit who lived in San Francisco.  We walked back in pouring rain, and I ate a salad I bought the day before and went down for a nap until 3, trying to sleep until right before the start.



I had been watching the weather forecast closely, deciding on whether or not to mount my fenders and bring my rain pants. The forecast was for clear weather, so I left those behind (it was the correct decision). I got to the start about an hour before my 5:30PM time, and was glad I did.  It was total confusion, with riders from all start groups just milling around mixed together, with the occasional official making an impassioned plea for the crowd to move somewhere else so the next start group could sign in and get to the start box before their start time. There was very little in the rider instructions on what we were supposed to do here.  After parking my bike and walking around a bit it I figured out that there were two roads that were supposed to serve as feeders to one road that took the start group to the start, and that the next couple of groups to start were to form up on the feeders.  My group G was in the way of F getting to the start, so we pushed off the road into the trees to let F get by.  Then it was our turn to head for the start, sign in at tables along the way, get into the start box.


We got into the start box about 5 minutes before the start, then we were off.  Things were interesting right from the start.  Several bikes pulled off the road for flats or other mechanicals right off the bat.  There was a lot of adrenaline flowing and I resisted the urge to jump on fast trains, especially since the first 3 stages were the longest 3 of the ride.  I saw Hamid and Misha go by on some of these trains, but I stuck to "ride your ride" with groups going as fast I thought I should be going this early.  This was a marathon, not a sprint. Actually, it was about 30 marathons.

I soon realized that I had forgotten to apply chamois butter before starting the ride, something I would do later behind a hedge in the dark.  I also realized that I forgot to bring my power adapter and phone charger, but this was no big deal because I can also charge my phone from by dynohub. I also wished that I had brought a banana with me, as these recently started working for me, especially under hot conditions. It was somewhat warm and I started sweating early in the ride, to the point that it was affecting my eyesight, so while riding I removed my helmet, put on a sweat band, and put my helmet back on.  That sweatband would be on my head the rest of the ride, regardless of temperature, sometimes serving as an eyeshade for short naps. We were riding into a headwind for the first day or so and it would sap me at times, but not as much as the headwind on the final miserable day of LEL did.

The scenery and the friendliness of the people that everybody commented on in ride reports was borne out in the first few hours of riding. You really did see Mom, Dad, the kids, and grandma on the side of the route in the little towns cheering and kids looking for high fives from riders. All hours of the day or night. An accordion player. One kid collected rider autographs.  Amazing.

It was about 25K into the ride before I saw the first rider from the group that started before us, 50K until saw the first rider from the group after us (H), and 75K until I saw the first rider from two groups after us (I).

I talked a bit with Bulgarian guy named Nikola who started the conversation because he was also riding a Seven, the only two I ever saw there.  He spoke great English and said he had gone to college in upstate New York.
     
I came up on Brazilian rider.  He grinned at me for a second as if to say "watch this", then started blasting “TNT” by AC/DC through speakers on his bike, followed by other classic rock songs.  He would respectfully turn off the music as we passed through a village.

During a nature break I pulled out my bottle of Perpetuem.  I had been concerned that I might not find enough to eat during the first night, so I made a concentrated bottle of this stuff that had the consistency of pancake batter. It was equal volumes powder and water, and it felt great in my stomach and kept me energized.  A successful experiment, I wish I had more (although mixing it this concentrated would be difficult on the road because it clumps). I went through about 8 oz in the first 100K, another 8 oz at the first food stop, and the rest during the second 100K.  I mixed it in my oldest most decrepit bottle so I could discard it when empty.  

Once darkness fell you could see long lines of red tail lights and identical reflective vests (everybody got one as part of the ride) climbing up the long hills heading into Mortagne. Must have seen 200 at one point. On the plus side it was quite the visual effect. On the minus side it showed you when there was a big climb coming (I don’t want to know until I’m on it, don’t want to get psyched out). Now I understand why Gardner said Mortagne must be French for mountain.

I hit the first services on the route, the food stop at Mortagne (118K) around 10:30 PM after 5 hours of riding. It was not very crowded - I was still ahead of the majority of the riders due to my start time. I was hungry, and got a great plate of pasta and meat sauce, Orangina (a new drink for me, something I drank many times during the trip) and 2 bananas (to make up for the banana I wish I had on the bike – I would take them on the road with me).  I paid, then realized I had no utinsels, so I went back to the start of the serving line with my tray, grabbed them, then walked past the cashiers and sat at a table to eat.  I was immediately questioned by a volunteer who saw me walk past the cashier without paying, which I resolved by taking him back to the cashier I had previously paid. I spotted Jeff Newberry, the Texas randonneur I had met in the Blue Ridge to Bay 1200K last May in my neck of the woods.



At 4:01 AM I rolled into Villaines, completing a respectable 9h30m 200K to that point.  The weather had been great, and I now saw riders from groups C through K. Approaching Villaines I saw a large group of riders coming onto the course, as if they were returning from getting lost. The route had signs directing each turn on the course, each about the size of a shoebox lid. They were visible to me by day, but at night the only visible part was the reflective head of the arrow, about 3” on a side.  I suspect these riders missed one of these signs.  I had not planned to use GPS for this ride, but the signs were hard to see and I was glad that I had the route loaded and ready to go – I used GPS the rest of the ride.  



The Villaines control was more crowded, but there were no real delays for food here or anywhere else the rest of the ride.  Here and back in Mortagne I saw people stopping for food at local establishments, maybe because this was the smart thing to do to avoid delays in previous PBPs, but it was not necessary this time. Later most experienced riders would comment that the long lines from past years were gone this time. 



I was starting to see people sleeping on the side of the road, and at the Villaines control. I saw Hamid and Misha in Villaines. I wasn’t too hungry, so I just had 2 Cokes and finished my Perpetuem. Later I ate my 2 bananas on the road.

I had a humorous interaction with another rider after Villaines.  He was wearing the RUSA PBP jersey, so I asked him where he was from. He said “Northern Virginia, I am the RBA”. It was Hamid!  It was the last time I would see him during the ride, but I would see his wife Shab many times at controls.

The weather continued to be nice, with a gibbous moon behind us to keep us company. It wasn’t cold, I wore only my jersey, shorts, and reflective vest that night. Traffic was very light, at most 10 cars all night.  At dawn traffic started to pick up, perhaps because it was Monday morning. I was a little disappointed that, like LEL, it seemed like 95% of the riders were passing me. However, I finished in the ~50% who successfully completed that ride, so I tried to not let it bother me.  Perhaps they were passing me and stopping, passing and stopping. I was keeping up with my ride plan – within an hour of it until the last day – so how I was doing relative to my progress towards the finish was all that really mattered.

The sun rose on the second day. The only time I felt the bonk coming on was prior to Fougeres, but my candied ginger snacks pulled me out of it. I arrived in Fougeres at 8:25AM, tying a personal best for 300K at 14h40m along the way. An interesting control – no water spigots. I was told to purchase water or get hot water out of the men’s room taps.  Speaking of the men’s room, there were only 2 commodes for over 6000 riders.  And this was the only place in the ride I felt I lost time because of waiting in line.  For some reason, the guys immediately ahead of me each took about 10 minutes in the stalls. Why? Perhaps because there was a small wash sink in each stall and they decided to sponge bath in there rather than walk across campus and pay for a shower.  Just speculation on my part.



I hit the Tinteniac control (360K – minimum fleche distance) at 11:40AM. I saw Shab as I was rolling out of the control and stopped to talk for a moment.  


Shab got me in Tinteniac...
She was looking for her husband Hamid, and I told her I had passed him sometime last night. I would see her several more times in various controls.  I narrowly averted disaster about 50 yards further down the road.  My night glasses fell out of my rear bag’s unzipped pocket, and two cars behind me each missed running over them by an inch or so. Without them, "I’d wear my sunglasses at night" (if that were possible). 

The terrain was getting more extreme, and I noticed that after the first day I still can’t climb to save my life. The last 2 controls before my sleep stop were Quedillac (386K) and Loudeac (445K).  


...and again in Loudeac!
2K after the Loudeac control was our Airbnb, just 300m off the route, and I collected food items at these last two controls so that I had something to eat after sleeping. After getting a big pre-sleep meal at Loudeac around 5:00 PM with Jeff Newberry, it was off to the Airbnb, following a GPS route I made to get me there. This first riding day had lasted 24 hours.

My never-worn SPP socks made the steps to bedrooms on the second floor as slick as ice, which I believe caused me to slip and injure my right knee.  It was a little painful upon departing, but worked itself out after a couple hours.  I quickly showered, washed my clothing in the bathroom sink and hung it to dry (to economize I only packed one replacement kit), unloaded anything I didn’t need for the coming day (I’d be returning here the next evening) and got down to sleep. There were no curtains on the windows, but there were working external shutters, which I figured out and closed. I set the phone alarm for 3 hours, but was done sleeping after 2.  Since I was an hour behind my ride plan, that put me back on schedule.  Bob, who had started 2h45m behind me had not yet arrived. I ate the food I had gathered earlier, and set off in the fading daylight for the next riding day.  From my front door I could see the other riders headed down the route - what a great location!

My legs felt great. I was passing everybody now, especially on climbs.  I found Olaf Storbeck along the way, the guy who had photographed Clint and me at LEL and who was the volunteer coordinator for the coming LEL 2021.  We talked for miles, mostly about his role as LEL 2021 Volunteer Coordinator, until we got separated on a big hill.

There was a food stop at Saint Nicolas at 488K that I hit at 11:10PM which was also the outbound secret control (it would be the inbound as well), then the busy control at Carhaix at 521K that I hit at 1:04AM. There was now two-way traffic at controls as riders had made it to Brest and were now heading inbound as well.



After Carhaix there was a light in my helmet mirror that I realized was the rising moon. It was cold this evening.  I put on my rain jacket and knee warmers and put the hood on under my helmet.  Eventually I zipped everything up.  Later reports would say it was in the upper 30’s at night the rest of the ride. There was a steady stream of riders headed back to Paris on the other side of the road. The terrain was getting hillier, but not excessively, when suddenly in the darkness I recognized the large radio tower that told me I was almost on the summit of Roc’h Trevezel. It was the highest point of the ride, but the climb to it had not been excessively steep. I was pleased that the “big climb” was already behind me without even realizing it.

Perhaps it was from climbing the Roc’h, and maybe the fast descent off it, but I was getting very cold and very sleepy. I thought about napping on the side of the road, but I pressed on hoping for some civilization so I could nap indoors.  I had my emergency bivvy, but had seen others that had been used and never again could be rolled up as compactly as when new.  I really wanted to avoid that if I could. Soon I rolled into Sizun, and found a small family-operated roadside water and coffee stop.  However, the guy in front of me got the last of the coffee. I tried napping in one of their lawn chairs, but it didn’t work, so I rolled on.  Less than a mile later I found an all-night café – PERFECT!  I put my helmet on a table and ordered a coffee. There was a rough looking young dude in there – tats and piercings everywhere (will never forget the cord hanging out of his ear lobe) – who seemed to be giving me a hard time at the bar, but it turned out he was apologizing (in French) for having gotten in my way.  He insisted I sit at the bar stool he thought he had blocked me from, and despite me pointing at my helmet at the table he insisted I sit at the bar, so I did while I drank my Americano. Then I moved to the table, set my phone alarm, and took a table nap for about 20 minutes, awaking warm and clear headed. Although I always set my phone alarm, not once during the ride did I sleep until it went off. Adrenaline? Fear?

Then it was on to Brest (610K).  I crossed the bridge that everyone stops on for a selfie, but it was dark so I just kept rolling.  I got lost for a minute at the far end of the bridge, then discovered the climb to the control was just as Gardner had described – one of the most annoying climbs of the whole ride.  I arrived at 7:00AM, setting a personal best for 600K along the way.  Once there I received a message from Bob that he had abandoned shortly after leaving Loudeac and was now returning to our Airbnb in Loudeac to sleep. He was having serious sleep problems. I took another short table nap in Brest, the halfway point of the ride, then set off to Paris into a rising sun.


The start of the return trip
Somewhere on the Roc’h I got sleepy again, so I pulled off the road in the sunny late morning, reclined against a grassy embankment, pulled my hood over my eyes, and napped for 20 minutes. 

Atop the Roc'h


After that It was Carhaix again (693K) at 1:00PM, and St Nicolas to gather food again for the overnight in Loudeac.  I was back in Loudeac (783K) around 7:00PM, stopping at the Airbnb to sleep before hitting the control 2K further down the route. It had been about a 22 hour riding day, with three naps. I remember the approach to Loudeac as being pretty hilly.

There was no sign of Bob – he was done sleeping, gone, and headed east for Rambouillet. This time I slept the full 3 hours, ate my food, gathered up all my stuff, secured the Airbnb, and headed into town to control and eat some more. When I controlled there, I had only 1h39m left in the bank, but it was a calculated risk to sleep before controlling. I would soon be putting lots back in because of the 12kph pace of the final day, even while slipping from 1 hour behind my ride plan to 4 hours behind by the finish.  Build in a time buffer - that saved my bacon at LEL.

I left Ludeac riding into a rising moon. As the night chilled again I stopped to zip up my clothing. While stopped I heard the unmistakable sound of a large group of riders coming up behind me. I turned to see: a rider in the front escorted by security motorcycle, a security vehicle behind them, then a tight group of maybe 50-100 riders moving smartly down the road.  As they were where I was, so this couldn’t have been some elite rider with an entourage.  Later some speculated that it might have been the PBP Youth Ride. 

I had a healthy appetite now, so I stopped at the Quedillac food stop (843K) around 2:00AM and ate some more. I was really feeling good at this point.


Somewhere after Tinteniac (869K, 3:50AM) I was joined by a silent rider who would not leave me alone. He drafted me when I was fast, sat on my quarter when not. I pulled behind a stopped garbage truck and he went by, but then he got back on again.  He was in group D group, 45 minutes less time than me, so maybe he was trying to leverage me to keep moving.  I later caught a train and never saw him again.

For the second time in three days I arrived in Fougeres (923K) in the morning (7:12 AM). Again, the two stalls in the men’s room were a time waster. I would find out later that day when Bob texted me that he was sleeping right there in Fougeres when I passed through, which then put me ahead of him for the return to Rambouillet.  I had previously asked him to ensure the key to our Airbnb in Rambouillet was in the key box when I got there.  We mused that it was now my responsibility. I got a 20 minute nap on a yoga mat on the floor.

Somewhere after that is when it started happening again – that thing from LEL.  To me, it looked like the riders ahead of me were leaning to the right.  What was really happening was my own brand of Shermers neck – head leaning to the left. That, plus the lack of sleep, messes with my sense of vertical.  The whole world tilts right, even when I hold my head vertical, sometimes making it hard to get rolling on my bike.

Around noon I was getting very loopy and unsteady, having a hard time separating reality from dreamland.  I stopped for a roadside nap on a grassy spot next to a cornfield under a tree, out of sight of other riders. Perfect (or so I though). Upon laying on the ground I felt my right arm stinging and saw ants on it.  I brushed them off and fell asleep.  20 minutes later I awoke to find ants all over that arm, which was all red and irritated.  I brushed them off and got rolling again (clear headed as always after a short nap).  As I was rolling down the road I felt a sting just below my navel – I had missed one ant. But I dispatched it without having to stop my bike. 

On the approach to Villaines (1012K, 2:14 PM) I remembered one ride report I had read: “Time to feel like a Pro”.  And it was – hundreds of spectators, noise, commotion, banners.  A little girl in a green t-shirt asked if I wanted to eat, and she then proceeded to fill up a tray with whatever I wanted and seat me at a table to eat. Riz au lait, cheese, chicken and taters, and enough other stuff to make it a large meal. I gave her a couple Euros in return.  On the way out spectators watched me entirely unload my rear bag looking fruitlessly for my phone charging cable.  I then put my phone in airplane mode to conserve battery, only to take it back out a little down the road fearing that the loss of “Find Friends” position reporting would cause Christine to think I had been in an accident. The cord turned up later.



For some reason every couple of hours my GPS receiver would go into a 10 second countdown to powering down, which you could override if you noticed it.  Once I did not, and had to restart it.  I was hesitant to make any changes to my equipment before the ride, so I lived with it until after the ride and I updated its software. The update solved that problem.

Sometime later that afternoon, after passing up many of them this ride, I stopped in the little concession in the center of some town to get water.  There were locals there, food, music, a party in the town square. 



As the sun was getting close to setting for the last time (I figured I would finish in darkness) I decided I needed to take a couple pictures of the countryside.  I stopped and dropped to one knee to take some pictures with my phone and knee started stinging.  What’s wrong with this place? Every time I touch the ground I get stung!



I got to Mortagne (1097K) at 8:17 PM after some healthy climbing into town.  On the way out one rider said the hilly stuff was behind us now, which wasn’t quite true.  There were still a couple big climbs coming out of town, with a group of spectators at the top of perhaps the biggest one.  I didn’t recognize the language (Italian?), but a man in the group seemed to be telling the riders that this was the last hill. And it essentially was. Some hard-to-come-by flatness would complete the route.

I stopped for one last nap around midnight, thinking an earlier nap was better before it got too cold.  I laid down on the ground and bundled up as best I could, with my sweat band over my eyes to cover them from the lights of the bikes rolling by.  I could hear the voices of the riders, even a couple walking around me. Although I shivered occasionally, I didn’t feel cold.  I still didn’t want to open my bivvy bag, my situation wasn't quite that bad.  On previous nights I speculated that the skies must be amazing here because of the lack of light pollution, but my headlight provided it's own pollution. I realized here was a chance to check it out.  Pulling my sweat band eye shade away from my eyes and pulling out my glasses from my jacket's breat pocket, I saw the most star-ful sky I had seen in decades.  Done sleeping, I got up and got back on my bike, but had a hard time getting going because of the vertigo that my neck problem was causing.

I arrived in Dreux (1174K), the penultimate control, at 2:06 AM, just 45K from the finish.  I knew I had a realistic shot of finishing inside of 84 hours, the time limit Clint thought I should have signed up for, and wanted to prepare for that final leg.  I took another 20 minute table nap, my 4thnap since my sleep stop in Ludeac over a day ago, and had a cup of coffee (only my second of the ride).  I rolled out of Dreux with a crystal-clear head, a man possessed with rolling up the final stage and finishing this thing before 84 hours. 

The ride was a rocket sled on rails, full throttle the whole way (in actuality I was only doing about 12 mph over this flat stretch - late in a long ride things look faster than they really are!)  A Malaysian guy joined me who spoke very broken English and was having some trouble navigating (no GPS, reliant on signs).  He stayed with me, following me for navigation, but at one point said something about wanting to slow down, then he stopped. I didn’t want to slow down, but when he stopped I got a little concerned, so I circled back to see what the problem was. No problem…HE WAS PLAYING WITH HIS PHONE!!  Later dude, you’re never more than 30 seconds from the next rider coming by, you’ll have someone else to follow shortly. 

The rest of the ride into Rambouillet was uneventful. There was nobody in streets when I finished, just after 5:00 AM with a time of 83h31m, and turned in my completed card. Although I finished 4 hours later than I estimated that I would, it was a personal best for 1200K by 6 hours. The other personal bests along the way were by minutes. That huge effort was probably the reason I couldn't manage a smile despite the achievement.


Despite the neck injury and outward appearance, ecstatic.

It had been a 31 hour riding day, with only four 20 minute naps along the way.  As soon as I turned in my card I experienced the same thing as at the end of LEL – the feeling of the remaining energy in my system just drain away (as the adrenaline turned off for the first time in 3 ½ days). Feeling like a bouncy house looks when collapsing on itself as soon as the fan is turned off.  They had a free meal for the finishers, lightly attended at this early hour.


I rode home, exhausted, and contemplated going straight to bed without showering, but that was too gross even when this tired.  I'm glad I showered - the hot water I stood in for the next 20 minutes felt very very good on my injured neck.

Six hours later I woke up, drank that beer, and greeted Bob as he arrived. Over the next 2 days I slept a lot, went for a recovery ride, hung out with other riders, dropped Bob off for his flight home, and packed my bike.  As a farewell present, Air France did not charge me the $150 bike fee, again.  Not sure why, and didn't ask.

With Hamid (Northern Virginia RBA) and Vinny (Seattle Randonneurs) after some sleep

Things to do differently next time?

1. One or 2 bags of snack food, no more.  A couple bottles worth of Gatorade powder, no more.  10 or so Gu packs, no more. 1-2 ounces of sunscreen, no more. I hauled way too many consumables all the way to the finish, unused.  Dumb!

2. Now that I proved I can finish in under 84 hours, sign up for 90 hours again and spend more time enjoying the local flavor on the side of the road.

3. Bring full fingered gloves for the cold nights.

4. Try to get a better exchange rate on Euros.

5. Finish in daylight. It was cold, dark and lonely at the finish.

6. Train more for climbing. It was more than expected. Dropping some body weight, to under 170 pounds, seemed to help a lot in this area.

7. And open the damned bivvy bag and use it. For crying out loud you cheapskate, a new one only costs $15!







Monday, September 24, 2018

Dressed for Arrest (Not!)




About the 21-22 September 2018 ride to Ocean City and back:

It started innocently enough.  I've been chasing a RUSA Cup for years (100k,
200K, 300K, 400K, 600K, 1000K, 1200K, and fleche, all in the US), but haven't
yet gotten them all in the required 2-year period. After riding DC Rand's Blue
Ridge to Bay 1200K  this year (the toughest on the list), I was only missing
the 100K (easy enough) and 1000K (had one once, but it "expired"), so I signed
up for the Bicycle for Life 1000K in North Carolina. Not having ridden more
than 200K since June, I had to throw in a longer ride 2 weeks prior for
training.  I decided to do what I did for my last 1000K back in 2014, ride to
Ocean City and Back on Earl's 200K routes - 400K total, and 400K RUSA credit.

Margaret, Clint, and Earl joined in, and we met near the Eastern Shore end of the Bay
Bridge Friday morning. Pre ride discussions included Earl saying to expect headwinds
both out and back (you've got to be kidding), predictions of finishing times
(2-4AM), and how you should try to eat normal food during a ride -
that once you need goo you are in a downward spiral).  All later proved to be
prescient.

We shoved off at 7AM under leaden skies, riding the usual Chester/Grasonville
route through puddles that were actually very high tide (the
spray from Earl's rear wheel tasted salty).  Once into Queenstown I finally
saw that mythical beast, the always-mentioned-when-we-pass
through-but-I've-never-seen-it white squirrel, along with two black ones.

We reminisced about past SPP Ocean City rides as we passed the spot where we
used to stop to phone in the breakfast order to Dave's Place in Ridgley, and
made a bottle stop in Denton.  Just before stopping Clint and I discussed how I'd
like to test ride his new solid tires and he'd like to test ride my new
Infinity saddle, so we departed Denton riding each other's bikes wearing each
other's shoes.  Clint commented how, up to that point, he and his bike had
been "monomagmous".  I realized that most of us are.  Only once in the last 30
years or so had anyone else ridden my bike - Christine, for a test ride.
Clint's tires didn't feel any different than conventional ones, but the
unfamiliarity of his bike, especially his saddle and saddle height, drove me
nuts and I had to get back on my own bike after less than 10 miles.

The skies cleared, the predicted headwinds appeared on cue, we got a reprieve
from the headwinds on the 10-mile northbound stretch in Delaware that made
this a 200K route, and we rode on to our lunch stop at Subway in Milton.
Rolling out of the parking lot to get into traffic at a red light, I heard a
woman yell "Mom?  Mom!"  It was Margaret's daughter and her family in a car, a
chance encounter on their return from the beach.  Figure the odds.

One discussion that was not prescient was about Lighthouse Road, that 4-mile
stretch that drops you onto the main drag in Ocean City. Someone warned about how much tire-damaging debris there was along that stretch, which made me realize I'd
flatted twice there - once so close to the finish that I just rode it in on
the rim.  But no flats this ride.

After the obligatory picture on the beach we started the trip back a little
after 5PM.  Ride endorphins caused "Haitian Divorce" by Steely Dan to play in
my head all day in sync with my pedaling cadence, and it continued to play the
rest of the ride.  At some point it was "who has a joke" time, but the best
any one of us could come up with was "What are the two things heavy coffee
drinkers do?  Number one and number two!"  We pulled into Irish Eyes in Milton
for dinner at dusk.  I was still in sunglasses, if it had been 10 minutes
later I would have stopped to get into regular glasses.  We all wanted to get
pitchers of water to fill our bottles, but they would only bring us individual
glasses, which they refilled a couple times.  Recognizing we were 95 miles
from the finish, with nothing open at night along our route, I wanted to fill
both my 24 oz bottles and 3 liter Camelbak, but only got the bottles plus a little in the
Camelbak. It was night when we finished dinner, and warm, so Margaret didn't
want to wear her reflective vest.  I lent her the reflective/mesh stuff I have
on my Camelbak, as I have done on a 300K last year.

After leaving Milton my legs felt dead.  Also, the predicted wind shift
happened, giving us a headwind for the return trip as well.  I started
pounding crackers to fuel the machine, and drinking water.  I felt really strong during the
day, but it seemed each of us had our "moment" and the rest of the ride would
be mine.  I wished I had put Gatorade powder in my bottles for something
sugary.  At one point Earl said "I'm fantasizing about taking a nap on the
front porch of that fruit stand in Bridgeville", and I cast the second vote
for that.  If you have ever been dog tired on a ride, you'd appreciate how
good that 20 minute visit to dreamland feels and how much fresher you feel
when you get up.  The porch was brightly lit, so I used my Camelbak strap as
an eyeshade.

Refreshed, we got back on the road and arrived in Denton, 50 miles since
dinner.  My bottles were empty, I'd been sucking on my Camelbak, and we still
had 45 miles to go.  I needed water, but incredibly the other riders had used
as little as half a bottle so far. It was 1AM, and nothing was open. Not even
the Irish Pub we thought would SURELY be open until 2.  Even the fire house
was locked up and unresponsive.  That's when I devised a plan to find a water
faucet on the outside of some business. Businesses were all closed, so the
risk was minimal (doing that at a house would get us noticed, maybe shot!).
The others looked elsewhere, but since I've never seen a working faucet on the
front of a business I went down alleys looking at the sides and backs.  On
only my second alley I hit pay dirt, filling my bottles with water and
Gatorade powder (finally, sugar!). I saw the others ride down the street past
me, so I called them into the alley and they filled up as well.  Nothing
between us and home now except 45 miles, right?

While crossing that bridge departing Denton I sensed a car following us.  Just
as I thought a Dentonian might have "seen something, said something", blue and
red lights came on behind me, while another car passed our group with its
lights on and stopped in front, corralling us on the bridge. Perhaps it was
the lighting on my bike, or on my helmet, or when I called out to the others.
Or maybe the back of the business was a residence, or the building next door
was.  Anyway, it was time to face the music, and it was because of me.  While
a cop talked to Clint at the front,  his supervisor came to me from the car in
the rear and told me a citizen reported people on bikes riding in and out of
alleyways.  I explained my need for water and the distances involved, and he
broke out in a big smile.  "Well, you all are dressed like bikers, so I guess
I believe you".  Better yet, we were in matching SPP jerseys - do burglars
coordinate their clothing? We exchanged pleasantries and parted company.

The rest of the ride was uneventful.  At some point Margaret set a personal
best - longest ride she had ever done. Although on multiple occasions Earl
commented on how out-of-shape he was, he seemed the strongest late in the
ride.  I was the anchor, the guy everyone else adjusted speed for so that I
didn't get more than a hundred yards behind.  We arrived at our cars just
after 4AM. I got home, showered, and went to bed.

When I first saw Christine, later that morning, she led off with "So,
how's my jailbird?"  Sensational news travels fast.

Jack

Monday, June 11, 2018

BRB, as I saw it



Ringed by Severna Park Peloton super volunteers, BWI overnight control


This isn't a fancy writeup, just the facts (mostly).

At 0500 on 31 May 2018 my fellow riders and I launched from the Leesburg VA Best Western on day 1 of the inaugural edition of the DC Randonneurs Blue Ridge to Bay 1200K.  51 riders, including 5 females, attempted the ride, which had a time limit of 90 hours 27 minutes.  Spoiler alert: all 5 females finished in time.

The weather at the start was foggy/misty, and only got worse as time went on.  After a couple of turns I found myself in familiar territory – eastbound on the W&OD Trail, the final leg of my last 6 fleches and at one time my bike commute to the Pentagon.  We moved at a rapid pace, which got me a bit overheated because sweat was not evaporating much.  Soon we arrived at the Key Bridge Marriott, the “happiest place on Earth” for any DC Rand fleche rider as it has been the finish line for many years. For the first time in over 20 years I rode to it but did not pull into its parking lot.

We pressed on down the Mount Vernon Trail, made one quickly-corrected wrong turn that sent us under vice over the 14thStreet bridge and rolled onto the Washington Mall, still largely in one group.  The first control was at the Washington Monument, where we were pleased to find Ed F. and Mary G. snapping photos of us and generally supporting us however needed. We then rolled on to the Lincoln Memorial, where we encountered Roger H. yelling directions on how to get headed towards Georgetown and Bill B. ready with the camera, as always.



We got to Georgetown, where I tossed my first cue sheet into a trash can and helped a couple of out-of-towners pick up the Capitol Crescent Trail.  Once on the trail we encountered a detour, and I helped a large group ignore bogus directions from a construction worker and get headed in the right direction.  We headed up the trail for several miles until we departed at a special control set up by the organizers (in case you needed anything to eat or drink at this point, which I did not).

Continuing north through the Montgomery County suburbs in light rain, we crossed the Beltway on the Bethesda Trolley Trail, which I had seen many times from my car, and through a mind-numbing series of residential neighborhoods with numerous turns.  My open lunch control was a McDonalds in Olney MD, where I found Hamid A.  Being still in contact with him, and having ridden to this point with Bill F. from PA Rand, I was wondering why I was in such fast company.  Call it the starting surge, it didn’t last much longer.

Although we were pretty much one big group up to this point it was inevitable that, with this open control with people going various places and finishing up at different times, the big group would fragment - and it did.  I headed out solo to continue northward, and recall seeing Gardner D., Theresa F., Steve S. and De’anna C. inbound for lunch as I left; all of whom I would end up behind later in the event.  Northward I went, through the familiar Gettysburg area and then towards South Mountain.  I rode with Jeff L. for a part of this, and eventually ended up in a larger group including Gardner and Theresa with whom I would ride for most of the rest of the event. It began raining harder as we started the climb to Big Flat, which was perfect for me because “my engine runs hot” and the rain kept me cool – just riding in shorts and a jersey.  There is a false summit on this climb and several in our group were fooled by it and even by another descent before it.  At the summit many stopped to put on more clothes to warm them for the long descent, but I just bombed it wearing what I had on. I was happy to be almost cold.  At the bottom we controlled at the Shippensburg PA McDonalds for dinner. 

As darkness fell upon us enroute to the overnight control in Shepherdstown WV our group grew to about 10 riders, and I spend much time talking to Jeff N. from Texas.  Somewhere along this stretch Theresa stopped suddenly and we all slowed until she caught up. She said she saw a kitten on the side of the road.  Once we got going again I heard a loud “MEOW” in the group, and a fellow rider told me she had it in her vest. For the next hour or so we heard from the cat periodically. Arriving at the Shepherdstown overnight control at the Quality Inn, we were met by “super volunteers” like Shab M. and John M. who could not do enough to get us settled and fed. I was assigned a room with Jeff L., who let me know that he was dropping out and that I’d have the room by myself the next night, which was convenient.  That next night when I returned I found a nice note from him wishing me luck on the rest of the ride.

Gardner, Theresa, and I departed for day 2 at 0630, having gotten 2.5 hours of sleep. They almost left without me – having been told (erroneously) by several people that I was already gone. They left the kitten behind in their room, but it was gone (to Theresa’s surprise) on our return later that day. While we were riding the housekeeping staff heard the cat meowing and reported it to management, who contacted the volunteers for an animal fee.  The volunteers resolved the situation by finding the kitten a good home, which was what Theresa was intending to do all along. 

I wasn’t feeling all that strong that morning as we headed south.  The stop in Berryville VA for snacks helped a little. We continued south into Front Royal, rolling into town down a steep descent which ended with Gardner and I at the bottom without Theresa.  I told Gardner I saw a small turtle in the road fly past my field of view and guessed that she stopped to rescue it.  She did.  We ate lunch at a BP station, where I tried a three-pronged approach to nutrition: something substantial (tuna sandwich), something sugary (ice cream), and a sugary drink.  For the rest of the event this “holy trinity” of nutrition worked great to keep my energy level high.  The tuna sandwich was a risk.  It was pre-made, with no “sell-by” date on the package, but I needed it and chanced coming down with food poisoning while climbing to nearly 3400 feet on Skyline Drive. Unlike the day before, this climb was going to be in bright sunshine. To stay cool, I filled both my drink bottles with ice cubes as much as possible, the topped off with Gatorade. I filled my 3 liter Camelbak with ice cubes, which melt over time to provide a constant flow of ice water. We finished up lunch, rode to the Shenandoah National Park entrance, paid our $15 apiece, and started our ascent.

The climb was challenging and pretty constant.  The annoying bit was that on several occasions, after gaining many hundreds of feet of elevation, the road pitched down and we would give back a couple hundred hard-won feet.  I was getting low on fluids as the summit approached, and eyed the many springs pouring out water along the road.  Much as I wanted to drink from them I stayed away, only realizing later that I could have taken advantage of them not to drink but to cool off by letting the gushing water pour over me. Eventually we arrived at the highest point of the ride, Hogback Overlook, where Bill B. and Nick B. were waiting with water and Bill’s camera. 

Gardner and me climbing Skyline Drive

After a short stop to enjoy the view we did the long, wild descent into Luray VA for the next control, followed by the climb over Edith Gap into Fort Valley. This was probably the longest steep climb of the whole event, and we all ended up pushing our bikes up the grade.  While doing so the skies just opened up in a torrential downpour, which kept up during the steep descent into Fort Valley, making it very challenging. The rain continued as we rode through the valley, and at one point was so heavy we could not see or brake.  At that point we stopped briefly to take shelter but found none, and donned additional clothing. A few miles down the road we found a covered picnic area where we sheltered for a few minutes while Gardner called the Shepherdstown control to ask about weather (it was bone dry up there), then continued to the Front Royal control and points north. 

It was during this stretch that I briefly considered dropping out of the event.  We had done a hell of a lot of climbing that day, and now were getting dumped on mercilessly in the dark.  The fun had just about drained out of it. At one point I saw a sign that told me I was closer to my car (at the start in Leesburg) than I was to the overnight control, and I indulged myself in thinking about riding to my car, driving home, and sleeping in my dry, warm bed.  I felt like I needed a small sheltered break to get my stuff together.  We found it on the picnic table on the covered front porch of the Locke Store in Millwood VA. The place was closed and darkened, but when we sat down a lady came out and asked what she could do for us.  After we refused several offers, it seemed she would not take no for an answer, so we accepted a bag of potato chips.  I took a 10 minute nap to clear my head while the others chatted. During this time the skies really opened up and I was glad we were there. When the rain subsided, we rode the final 38 miles back to Shepherdstown control.  The elevator was busted, so the super volunteers carried our bikes up to our rooms.

I got really lucky on my day 3 wakeup. The alarm clock in the room went off at 0700, but my iPhone did not.  After investigating I found that I had set my iPhone to PM vice AM, and my former bunkie Jeff must have set the room alarm clock before he left.  My bar tape was unravelling pretty badly after all that climbing and rain, so I did an emergency repair with duct tape. Gardner, Theresa, and I departed at 0730 after 3 hours of sleep. I didn’t have time for breakfast, so I stuffed a pocket with bananas and bars and ate breakfast during the first hour in the saddle. There was comical moment just a few blocks from the control when Gardner and I turned left on Duke Street to cross into Maryland while Theresa turned right to head back to Front Royal.  It turned out that the control staff had inadvertently given her the previous day’s cue sheet. We rode through familiar spots like Gapland and MarLu Ridge and headed for the Chesapeake Bay.  I have yet to find a flat east-west bike route through central Maryland, and this one was really hilly.  Mid-day we got dumped on again, but it envigorated me by cooling off my engine. I felt it rev up and I was off the front of a fairly large group in pouring rain until I stopped to wait. One of my Planet Bike tail lights went into my cassette at this point and was shredded, but it had gone bonkers the night before because of water intrusion (a design problem), so I didn’t really care. That night I had texted my wife Christine, who was volunteering at the next night’s control, to ask her to put an extra tail light in my drop bag. We rode across the state, and eventually found ourselves departing the BWI trail enroute Annapolis when a car suddenly appeared honking its horn. It was Christine with John and Janet B., who had tracked my iPhone on the “Find Friends” app.


Theresa, me, Kelly S., and Gardner. Tracked down by my phone

After a quick roadside conversation we headed to the bay.  These roads were our “home field” as Gardner put it, but after 3 days riding my rear end was feeling rough spots I had not noticed on local roads before, like the road just after the Eastport Bridge. It was a real hoot to ride our local everyday roads as part of a 1200K.  We did the loop around Bay Ridge, crashing a big party that was food on one side of the road, live band on the other.

Night was falling, as was some moderate rain, as we departed Annapolis for Crownsville, when I noticed that my helmet “map light” was dead.  I couldn’t find spare AAA batteries in my Camelbak (I found them there after the event), and the convenience store at Crownsville Rd and Defense Highway was closed. Some teenagers in search of cigarettes were equally disappointed, but were impressed that I was riding in the dark in the rain.  As our group of about 6 rode Bell Branch Road eastbound the skies dumped on us yet again, but it just made me feel better again by cooling me down so I rode on wearing just jersey and shorts.  At the summit I told Gardner I’d ride ahead in search of batteries. He pointed out that the High’s on Muddy Creek Road was a few miles ahead and told me to try it.  He also asked if they should look for me there, and I said yes. Headed south on Rutland Rd I found Tom and Mark from MN sheltered under the Route 50 overpass.  I set a fast pace for the High’s store, and found what I was looking for there.  I waited about 25 minutes for the rest of the group, but only Tom and Mark showed up.  I decided to continue on with just them.  Just before we left an ambulance went by, headed back up the road we had just come down.  I found out later that the other three – Gardner, Theresa, and Kelly S. had stopped for a flat and someone who saw them had mistaken their roadside activity as a medical emergency and called for help. Tom, Mark, and I hit the final controls for the day and arrived at the BWI overnight control around 0400.  I was expecting the easy approach that I was familiar with, but the routing instead was towards Patapsco State park and over challenging terrain. Christine watched the maneuver on Find Friends and thought I was lost at that point - I was not happy on arrival.  I hung out with my Severna Park Peloton buddies staffing the control and stayed up sharing stories later than I should have.  The store-bought lasagna was out-of-this-world good, as was the beer. Until this point I had skipped the nightly beer offered at the controls, but during this day I was told that drinks along the route were common during Paris-Brest-Paris, so I decided to start getting used to it.

The next morning I was a little rushed, after only 2.5 hours sleep.  After getting dumped on so many times I decided to lube my chain in my hotel room bathroom before heading out.  While doing so I was called by Mike B., one of my buddies staffing the control, checking to see if I was awake.  I was one of the last riders still there, and had not made an appearance yet.  He had already called Christine to ask if he should wake me at that point of let me sleep, but she didn’t know. When I got to breakfast I found out Theresa and Gardner had come in so late that they just showered and headed back out onto the course, a little ahead of me.  I departed solo at 0845 in light rain, blowing through both a stop sign and a red light closely monitored by policemen (who didn’t react to my traffic violations). After a few hours I spotted a familiar figure on the side of the road – it was Gardner, having just abandoned due to a couple injuries.  He had a car on its way to pick him up, so I gave him a couple of Janet's homemade chocolate chip cookies to munch on while he waited. Shortly after I left him the skies opened up yet again, so I called Gardner to tell him I had spotted a house under construction near his location without garage doors – a perfect spot to shelter. This day – the final day of the ride – was cooler and I immediately donned my rain jacket at this point. Charging down the road I caught a group of about 6 with Theresa, De’anna, Rudi M., Jimmy A., Emily R., and maybe others. They told me the forecast was for falling temperatures all day, and I wished at this point that I had brought my rain pants instead of leaving them in my drop bag as I had the rest of the event (check the weather next time!) We went to a Burger King in Damascus MD as the open control, on our way to hypothermia, and adjusted our rain gear for the rest of the ride.  I asked the staff for plastic garbage bags with which to fashion rain pants with my duct tape, but they did not give me any.  We helped Rudi adjust his clothing to keep him dryer/warmer, and headed on. Theresa and I ended up by ourselves by the time we got the Poolesville MD control, where I bought a box of small trash bags as a just-in-case. We also saw a sign that said White's Ferry was closed. We found out later that was due to flooding on the Potomac River.  We eventually caught the rest of the group, and also spotted Andrea M. from DC Rand pacing riders in her minivan with the window rolled down to talk. I remember asking her opinion about the Volagi she owned as I am in the market for a new bike.  She stopped at one point to give Theresa and me hugs and to offer me rain pants she had in the van, but they were impossibly small in the waist. 

Later that afternoon Theresa disappeared from the group without my notice when she stopped to remove some rain gear.  I saw a couple of guys associated with the event in an SUV along the side of the road and gave them her description so they could check on her, but they were unsuccessful. When I got to the Lovettsville VA control Gardner was there waiting for Theresa to arrive, which she did about 20 minutes after me.  She had called him because her cue sheet had gotten pulped in the rain, and he had texted her a picture of the sheet and went to meet her with another. I promised him I would not lose her again.  Theresa, Steve, and I departed together and stayed together from there to the finish, with night falling as we reached Purcellville VA.  Near the end of the ride Theresa seemed to get really loopy, asking where the hotel was, so we adopted a formation with Steve in front, Theresa behind him following his steady red tail light, and me behind Theresa just watching her.  We rolled down Dry Mill Road (not the W&OD) to Leesburg, and rolled up to the finish at 2235 (52 minutes to spare) to be met by a decent-sized crowd of volunteers and recent finishers. I immediately tossed my bike into my car and went inside to eat, drink beer, and party with the other riders until we shut the place down after midnight. Only 2 riders finished after us, but only 33 of 51 1000K/1200K starters finished this very challenging ride, so we were happy just to have made the time limit.


 Steve and me.  So glad to be done.
  

Sunday, May 6, 2018

Team Chain Reaction Flèche 2018

Note 1:  A well planned trip tends to be less eventful, as this was. This may be a bit dry.
Note 2: In February Team Chain Reaction (TCR) had 7 members 
Note 3: Every year, the weekend before fleche, TCR calls all its controls to ensure they plan to be open during fleche.
During the week before fleche the weather forecast was horrible.  5 inches of snow was predicted for most of TCR’s route on Saturday 7 April, which would have been unrideable.  After some discussions within the team and with fleche organizer Bill Beck, we discovered we had the minimum number of riders allowed for fleche (3 – Clint, Margaret, and Jack) available for a Friday start and a finish Saturday before the snow started.  But doing so meant that Earl and Pat could not start with us.  Previously both Mike and David had moved to Dan’s team because they were shorthanded, and Earl hopped over when we changed our start date, completing the reduction of team size from 7 to 3. After a little while it dawned on us that not starting on Saturday meant we no longer had to start at 7AM because there was no longer any 7AM Sunday arrival for breakfast.  Since we had spouses picking up in Arlington at the end of the ride, we gave them a bit of a break on getting up early on a weekend morning by delaying our start/finish to 8AM.
We were quite surprised/moved by the number of people who showed up for our start – we must have been outnumbered 5 to 1.  Margaret was on her first fleche, and received much ribbing about not having the flexibility of abandoning the ride without DQ’ing the team.  

We rolled out of the Big Bean at 8AM sharp under overcast skies and cool temperatures, and had an uneventful first leg.  One thing we hadn’t realized about a Friday start was rush hour traffic – something fleche usually doesn’t encounter – but it was mild and it was over by the time we left Benfield Blvd. We rode past Jack’s childhood house (only TCR members know where it is) and hit our first control at a brand new Royal Farms in Largo MD at mile 31. For this year's flèche Jack eliminated all controls that didn’t have both seating and restrooms (bye-bye 7-Elevens).  

We continued through the rest of Maryland, finishing with one of the high points of the route: a very nice ride along the Potomac River at National Harbor, then crossing the Wilson Bridge, then riding along the Potomac in Virginia towards Mount Vernon.  We stopped in Fort Hunt to shed a layer as the sun came out and warmed us. Perfect riding weather – warm with soft sunlight filtered by thin, high clouds. Headwinds were predicted, but were light at this point.
We pulled into our second control in Lorton VA at mile 65 for lunch – Paisano’s Pizza. The young guy behind the counter asked Jack “Hey, are you the guy that called last weekend about a group of bike riders stopping here?” – the first time that happened in 8 TCR fleches.  There were many food options at this shopping center, so Jack and Margaret got burritos at Chipotle and ate them at Paisano’s with drinks from Paisanos just to be fair. On the way out the employee asked the usual questions about how long the ride was, expressed the usual disbelief at the answer, and made a comment about how his best riding years were behind him (at about 30 years of age).  Jack assured him his best years were ahead of him.

We continued into Virginia, taking on the big climb of the day (climbing out of the Occoquan River valley) with little difficulty.  Traffic in Dale City was worse than previous fleches because of the weekday, so for the first time in many years of riding this route the team exercised the option of riding the bike paths that run along the route.  This route was planned many years ago to use roads with bike paths running alongside (just in case), but because Saturday traffic is lighter we had not exercised the bike path option until this year.  As we rode through Dale City the predicted headwinds arrived, and started to become a bit onerous.  Clint spent more than his share of his time at the front.
Following our next control at the Woodbine Winot Stop (a BIG improvement over Aden Grocery, a tiny bait shop with a porta-potty) at mile 81 on the edge of civilization, we headed into the Virginia countryside. Headwinds were now challenging, particularly for Margaret who was experiencing leg fatigue and a stabbing shoulder pain but keeping thoughts of quitting to herself at this point, but still better than 5” of snow would have been.  The biggest issue on Fleetwood Drive, which is a quiet 2-lane country road on a Saturday, was a continuous line of afternoon rush-hour traffic that made no sense for that location. As best we could figure, this was traffic heading southbound out of Manassas bypassing I-95 by going behind Quantico, and was flowing with us.  Safety concerns led Jack to move to the back and blast this line of traffic with his very bright Dinotte tail light.  At one point we pulled off the road, and could not get back on because there was no break in the traffic. We eventually forced our way back in by pulling in front of a car to force it to stop.
Because of the headwind and because this was our longest stretch between controls (45 miles), we made an unscheduled stop at a Subway in Elkwood, the only such service other than Aden grocery along this stretch. On the way out Clint’s Boa shoe closure broke, which was quickly repaired with some of Jack’s duct tape which had been in his tool kit unused since LEL. 
After a quick dinner at Subway in Culpeper at mile 126, 

we had finished riding southwest and headed towards Purcellville which was 61 miles to the north.  The headwind had become a (lighter) tailwind, it was dark, and the terrain is particularly lumpy along this stretch. Along the way we hit our Warrenton control along the way at mile 151, 

and rode down Main Street Middleburg. We had close encounters with herds of deer, and some of the dark descents on roads without lines to mark the edges were a bit scary.  To entertain us on this long stretch Clint played some Taylor Swift and Andrew Lloyd Webber tunes from his phone. We hit our control at the Purcellville McDonalds at mile 186 around 1:30AM, then hopped on the W&OD trail to head for the finish. At this point the wind was now from the north, and it was cold.
We arrived at our 22 hour control, the Amphora Diner in Herndon at 4:02, giving us nearly the entire 2 hour maximum time to stop in one location.  Each of us ordered what we wanted and napped on our own booth benches, which were large and comfortable.  When we came out at 6:00 it was cold and it was sprinkling, and we headed for the finish.  
With just a couple miles ago we found our fan – a guy Jack works with clapping for us on the side of the trail who knew we’d be in the area.  
With 27 minutes and about 1.5 miles to go we passed a Giant, the first open business we had seen for miles:
Clint: I gotta go! (departing the trail)
Jack: We’re a mile and a half from the finish – can’t you hold it?
Clint: I’ve been holding it for 5 miles!
So Jack and Margaret stopped and waited. And waited. And started to freak out (thinking about recent fleche riders who had snatched defeat from the jaws of victory in the final few miles of fleche). Finally, after almost 10 minutes Clint rejoined the team and off we went.
A couple of blocks from the finish, the trail was blocked by a construction barricade. Afer a moment of panic, we rode the wrong way down a street parallel to the trail, then realized that we were actually on a walled off section of that street that was set as a temporary trail.  In the final block the normal trail reappeared and we hopped onto it and into the parking lot off the finish, the Key Bridge Marriott.  
TCR traditionally takes a victory lap around the parking lot, but not this year.  We needed a receipt from the hotel before 8 AM, and we weren’t sure how (normally, for the Sunday finish, the fleche organizer sees you finish and nothing else is required).  We quickly parked our bikes, ran into the lobby and looked for a source of a receipt.  Spotting a Starbucks, we ran into there, only to find a long line.  We asked those at the front of the line for their receipts, explaining our just-completed ride, but all viewed us with suspicion.  While the cashier fumbled with the register to try to get us a receipt, Clint ran out to the concierge desk to ask him.  He wanted to gererate a receipt, but was told by his supervisor not to do it. Instead, he signed a business card and wrote the time on it . On the second try he got the time right – AM, not PM.  By then the Starbucks cashier, with some help, produced a suitable receipt: 7:47AM.
Clint’s wife and Margaret’s husband arrived and drove us home.

 Stats
Mileage: 233
Time: 23:47
Riding time: 17:29
Max speed: 34 mph (Kellys Ford)
https://ridewithgps.com/trips/21917974