I wrote a nice little report about Paris-Brest-Paris (PBP).  The Randonneurs USA, finally came out with their PBP re-cap and mine was published in full.  I read my report and realized I never published it to the blog.  I know I owe several blogs on my summer’s adventures, but until I get my stuff together on RAAM, Leadville, and IM Wisco, here is another version of August 2012 in France.

I went into Paris-Brest-Paris with very high expectations that I was extremely embarrassed to discuss.  I had done my homework in training, ride discussions, and gear preparation with some solid U.S. veterans of PBP.  The Rocky Mountain Cycling Club (RMCC) although not represented in huge numbers is likely one of the most consistent group of randonneur riders. It does help that we train in one of the best playgrounds for bikes. However, I was new to this event and even 1200ks. As one of the younger riders and likely due to my military background, I was respecting my elders and those who had come before me.  In the days before the ride I was still absorbing advice from anyone who would talk with me.  Some of my hotel-mates and fellow pre-riders were cognizant of my potential, but no matter what, I wanted to be a part of the group and have respect for PBP and its anciens.  Like everyone I was there to test my preparation, push my own limits, and ride my bike in France. I was also going to participate in the race within the ride. Therefore, with a bit of pride, I would like to share some of the story from the front of the ride.

Getting to the front of the ride was almost as exhausting as the 49 hours of riding I did.  At noon (for the 4pm start), on Sunday I arrived in a misty rain to stand in line with two other young U.S. speedsters.  We literally went from sitting on plastic bags in the rain to flopped over our bars in the blazing sun.  I took advantage of those four hours, attempting to meet everyone within chatting distance.  I thought that the more people I could be-friend before the ride, the better.  When the shades went on and the cleats clicked, everyone would be out just for themselves.  For those who do not start in this first group, you are smartly missing one of the most intense and unknown periods of the ride for the speedsters.  It is difficult to understand why you are being corralled in each area and how long you will be there.  I even understood a little French and had difficulty knowing what was happening during those hours.  I had brought about 6 liters of fluids to drink before the ride, so it was important to have some friends to hold my bike when I went to relieve myself.  When we finally started, the emotional relief was replaced with a cycling survival mode.

The first several hours of PBP at the front were some of the most dangerous miles of riding I have ever completed.  I am a professional long course triathlete so my comfort zone is 10 meters back in the aero position.  Despite my lack of group cycling skills there were others who just did not even belong in the front group due to their fitness.  It was amazing to see men on the rivets, others swerving all over the roads with large panniers trying to hang the Euro speedsters who rarely even carried a flat kit or more than two bottles.  The diversity of the group was both entertaining and scary.  It was no surprise that I was witness to three very nasty crashes.  One crash piled up a half dozen riders across the road sending me safely into the ditch.  These crashes split the packs and only the strong who could bridge back up were allowed to continue on in the premier group. The crosswinds were also trouble in the first two hours as we rode pro-peloton style- everyone echeloning on the LEFT side of the road.  Men were being curbed off on the LEFT side and pushing oncoming cars off the road.  Looking back it is funny, but at the time it was frightening.  After an amazing crash where an Italian was left screaming on the side of the road from a broken collarbone, the packs slowed and the sanity returned to PBP.

Into the dark we rode and blazed through the first controle.  I did not have support following me, so at 140k I found myself at the front of the small group.  I did not even need water, as I had enough food and drink on me to get to 220k (camelback, four bottles, and a couple thousand calories of bars and Gus).  It was funny then to be riding with the guys with absolutely no extra gear.  I chatted with fellow U.S. rider Ragsdale who was also a bit buzzed from the crazy first several hours.  Then I went to the very front of PBP and took a long five minute pull.  It was strangely liberating, but I knew that my time at the front was not for long as I would likely lose the premier group at the first true controle when I would have to fill my own bottles.  I enjoyed my five minutes of leadership and for the first time felt the fun of PBP.

As expected, and partially due to my own laziness I let the group go at the first real controle, Villaines. I found out later, that had I filled my bottles just a little quicker, I might have made the first group that had stopped just outside of town.  Instead, I began a 1000k TT which began with following the seemingly close group of lights from the lead group.  I met up with another triathlete from Spain and he spoke no English but possessed the insanity that it took to drive us through the night in a failing hot pursuit.  We worked together through Fougeres, the secret control, and Titeniac.  At both controls we shared some cola and began to encounter Frenchman who had splintered from the premier group.  However, by the time morning approached, I had to leave “the Spaniard,” the name I gave him at one of the controls in honor of Russell Crowe’s character in Gladiator.

I did have some support in the form of friends with my gear laid out like a triathlon transition area in Loudeac.  I arrived solo, five minutes after the premier group left.  With no real concerns, I gladly stripped and changed into my new set of bike clothes and took on food and water and cola.  My friends stuffed chocolate croissants in my jersey and they then spent the day on the beach as I set off on the next 400k of riding.  The trip in and out of Brest was relatively uneventful, as I began to pass more riders, many had decided to rest, or sit and eat.  Being of the triathlon mindset I just kept moving, time not on the road was a waste to me.  I wanted on my bike and wanted to be moving.  I guess it would be a contradiction then when I stopped to have some great people from Brittany take my picture on the side of the road before the descent into Brest.   I did have my camera; I felt it was appropriate at the time.

My second trip into Loudeac was identical in nature as my first, yet there were hundreds of people going the other way.  I really felt the spirit and camaraderie of PBP. I was feeling really good and most on the outbound were doing the same.  I saw several of my hotel-mates who knew I was rollin’, and they gave me the biggest smiles and thumbs-up.   I was in the midst of accomplishing my goals and loving the idea of riding solo through the French countryside. Then the dynamics changed a bit.  With clean clothes and full load of feed ready to crush the last 400k solo, I was asked to wait for several Frenchmen.  I agreed calculating it would be safer and smarter to ride with people even if I was doing 90% of the work.  I was correct in every way.

The Frenchmen I rode with through the night gradually dwindled to two gentlemen Phillipe and Gilbert.  They frustrated me at the controles with long stops to chat with their follow-on support, but around 2am on my second night in the hills outside of Fougeres I nearly lost it. I was beyond tired and could not even stay awake while riding.  My idea of sharing NoDoz with the Frenchies was good for them, but bad for me.  I had run out of ways to keep myself going, so I began to yell jokes in English. I consider myself a very good joke teller, but they not only did not understand, but we ended up having a conversation much like this.

“We do not understand you, Billy.”

“You don’t need to understand me.”

“Billy, what are you saying?”

“You don’t need to know what I am saying.”

“Billy, we do not understand.”

It was very productive, as this kept me awake for awhile, as well.  I did eventually have to stop, for about ten seconds.  I got off the bike and held it with one hand stretching my arm out, so I get as far from the bike, and took three deep breaths.  I remounted and then finished up the last of my darkest hours of riding.  I did hallucinate a bit and tried to catch a little man with a red light, actually there was a little man with a red light that I caught, so not a hallucination.

By day break, I was out of the worst weather, out of the worst terrain, and out of my worst bad patch.  The last day, or 12 hours of riding were relatively uneventful, but I kept Phillipe and Gilbert in tow.  I did spend much of the time at the front of our little groupeto, but I was so pleased to have some friends to allow me to abuse the French language.  (College French was finally paying off. )  I did learn in the final 200k that my bike position was way too aggressive.  By the time we got back to St. Quentin, my hands were mush and my lower back had pretty much failed. I would eventually have to put everything in my hotel room at hip level for the next several days because I could not bend over without collapsing.  I was very pleased to have my friends from support at Loudeac guide me off my bike at the finish, 48 hours and 46 minutes after having been sent off. My wife, an ancienne from 2007, was not there, but I did get to call her several minutes after finishing. Phillipe, Gilbert, and I finished only a couple hours after the premier group and under 50 hours.  I had gotten the Charly Miller and was very, very pleased with my first trip to Paris-Brest-Paris.

I know many may read this as a race report, but I think it’s just a part of bike riding.  It seems to be human nature and a bit more so in cycling, and I am pleased to say I was a part of that race within the ride. Please understand, it was a part of my personal goals to do it without a follow-on support and I am pleased to have pushed the way I did and when I met good sets of riders, worked with them. I look forward to doing PBP again and reconnecting with all those I met along the journey.

-Finally, PBP 2015 is on my radar and I will take a crew, so I can stay with that premier group!