Paris-Brest-Paris Ride Memories

Welcome to the first edition of Finmail. The past month has been full of adventure! My nyckelharpa is done, and Eli and I have begun our folk music studies. Those topics will be the subject of future Finmails. For now, I would like to thank all of you who were following Lara and my adventure in France, the Paris-Brest-Paris bicycle ride, or sent good luck wishes our way. I thought I would share a bit of my world during those wild four days and nights. I'll start by answering a few questions people have sent my way.

For those interested in some historical background information on PBP, here is a link to the RUSA website: http://www.rusa.org/pbphistory.html

Why did you take on this chalenge?

My reasons for doing PBP evolved over the course of my training and during the event. Originally, it started as a deal between Lara and me; I agreed to do PBP with her if she would complete the Border-to-Border triathlon with me. To my surprise, she agreed, so I had to start training! That was in the summer of 2006.

As I learned more about the history of PBP, I found out that the event was canceled during WWII because of the Germans' curfew. PBP does not stop just because it gets dark out, as I found out. I feel that it is an honor to be able to ride through the night in a peaceful country. The people in Brittany were incredible. They were also out day and night, cheering for all cyclists regardless of nationality, and offering us coffee, hot chocolate, and baked goods.

Another reason for doing this is for all the people who would not or could not. Lara and I knew several people who died this year. One of them was preparing for PBP. We wanted to dedicate our ride to everyone who has lost a loved one this year.
Tackling a big challenge like this also redefines a person's idea of what is difficult. If I ever have to do something really difficult in my life, I will at least have this experience to remind me of how strong I am.
One of my canoe trip participants a few years ago answered the "why?" question best: Someday I will be lying in a nursing home bed, wishing I could re-live the challenges that I face today. So even though Lara and I faced physical challenges beyond what either one of us had anticipated, we never asked to quit.

What were your goals for the ride?

The ride was organized sort of as a contract, where riders selected whether they would finish in 80, 84, or 90 hours. Lara and I both selected the 90 hour finish time. I had the mistaken idea that this would allow me to sleep for about 6 hours each night. I was never able to get ahead of schedule enough to sleep for very long. I slept about 1 hour each of the first 2 nights. By 4am the third morning, I was so exhausted I slept about 2 hours. That made a total of 4 hours for the 4 days. By the time I realized I wasn't going to make the 90 hour cutoff, I napped again for about an hour, in a parking lot. (Actually the people I was riding with will tell you I fell asleep while I was eating my food.) But I was determined to finish the 1227km route, and I (and four other cyclists) arrived back at the starting line five minutes before midnight on Friday, August 24, for a total finish time of 97 hours, 5 minutes. I am disppointed that I didn't make my 90 hour goal. There were many challenges, and I feel that I should have been able to succeed in spite of them. But I am glad that I finished the ride.

There were a record number of people who abandoned this year. What particular challenges did riders face? What was your lowest point?

It rained all four days; sometimes the rain was quite heavy, other times it was a drizzle. It was the worst weather for the event in 20 years. Rain dampens both spirits and clothes, and contributes to saddle sores. It probably also slowed people down; I know I stopped for longer than I should have several times because of the rain. Lara got the most sleep of anyone that she or I talked to, about 8 hours for the four days. I didn't think it was particularly cold, but some people may have not had sufficient clothing to deal with the weather. I hit my lowest point on the first day, after I had been riding for about 14 hours. I got so shaky I couldn't ride any more. I could hardly walk, and I couldn't figure out what my problem was. I had been keeping careful track of my caloric intake (250 calories per hour), and finally I wondered if I were low on salt. I had never had this problem on any of the qualifying rides, where I ate a steady diet of breakfast biscuits and hot dogs. So I sat outside a grocery store eating my beef jerky and potato chips. I knew this unplanned stop was eating away at my sleep time. I tentatively got back on the bike and started riding slowly. I only got about a half a mile to a park bench. Unless I could figure out a way to pull myself together, I thought I might have to quit. Then I realized I had drunk a bowl of coffee at the last checkpoint. I think that's why I got so shaky. I didn't drink coffee again the whole rest of the ride, and I made sure I got plenty of salt. Later on, I had swollen ankles and knees, I think from eating too much salt. A lot of riders who regularly drink coffee stop drinking it a few weeks before the ride so it will have more effect during the ride. But I don't usually drink coffee at home, and during this physically stressful ride was apparently not a good time to start. As I watched the riders go by, I recognized a face in the crowd, a Swede with whom I had ridden during the night. He turned around to see if I needed help. I finished my bag of chips and we started riding again slowly. I gradually regained my balance, and I was very glad to have a friend to ride with just then.

Wow. That sounds difficult. Was it ever fun?

"Fun" is hard to define. I did have some golden moments that will go in my book of good memories. Sometimes I would get these odd bursts of energy and I would start passing people, sometimes in the middle of the night. All PBP riders learn not to let their muscles "burn" because the lactic acid would build up in all your muscles and make you less efficient. I had a really good set of lights and they let me go faster than the average joe at night, which was good because I ended up riding at night a lot more than I had originally planned.

One golden moment happened as I was leaving Carhaix (the last checkpoint before the turnaround at Brest). I had just left a friend who abandoned at the Carhaix checkpoint. We had spent some time discussing his decision, and I think he made a wise choice. Just as I was going to leave, a heavy rain shower hit, and I waited for it to pass. When I got back on the road, I felt very alone. No other cyclists were around. I am sure I was one of the last cyclists to leave Carhaix. Well, not the very last one, because about 5 miles out a guy passed me. He wasn't going much faster than me. When he was about 100 yards ahead, he circled back. "Are you going to Brest?" he asked. "I'm trying, if they still let me." I gratefully accepted his offer to ride together. This part of the ride was the most beautiful, in my opinion. We were gradually climbing through a deciduous forest. No cars were on the road. We rode side-by-side having the usual get-to-know you conversation. (This was all in French -- one of many times I was very thankful for having kept up my French language skills since college.) He was helping me keep a fast pace. Soon a cyclist came into view ahead of us. Gradually we started passing cyclists one at a time, then in larger groups. By the time we were halfway to Brest, I felt like I was back in the game. I was very glad that a friend had come along just at one of my lowest moments and that I had the language skills to talk with him.

As we were coming down the hill into Brest, the afternoon sun came out. This was the only part of the ride that approached "hot." As I crossed the bridge into the city, a local woman started riding alongside me and struck up a conversation. She was apparently going home, riding her one-speed coaster brake bike. As we climbed the steep hill on the other side, I could barely keep up with her. "Let me know if I'm too slow, I'll get out of your way," she yelled over her shoulder. "It's only one more kilometer" (to the checkpoint). After 600 kilometers, my legs were so tired I couldn't keep up with a person on a one-speed. That was humbling. But I did enjoy talking with her. I made the checkpoint on time. I ate one of the best meals of the ride at Brest. They had made a porridge-consistency soup that tasted like they had put a whole bunch of vegetables into a blender. They had homemade bread and fruits. That meal kept me going strong well into the night.

The fourth night around 10PM I was riding with Jeff whom I had met at a Rochester brevet (qualifying ride). He got a bit ahead of me, and then I came to an intersection where he was changing the batteries in his lights under a street light. I kept going until about a half mile down the road where a family had set up a table outside their house. They were offering caffeinated beverages and cake to the passing cyclists. I decided to wait for Jeff by drinking some hot chocolate instead of pedaling slowly. The father in the family is a woodworker; he makes replica 18th century furniture, the kind with ornate oak carving. When Jeff got there, he wanted to see the wood shop. So we got the grand tour. Before we left, 10-year old Clara asked us if we could send her a post card from our home. I told her I wouldn't be going home for a year, and she said one from Finland would be great. When we got back on the road, we both agreed that that experience of meeting the family in Normandy would be worth missing the finish. Jeff and I both knew we were close to the time cutoffs, but I don't think either of us actually thought we would miss the finish.

I have lots of great memories -- those are just a few of them.

What you would do differently next time?

If I could figure out a way to sleep more, the ride would be closer to something I would call "fun." I felt well-trained this time, but if I did it again I would put more emphasis on speed training, not just distance. Even though PBP is a "non-competitive" event, I think I would have done better if I had approached it more like a race. I spent too much time off the bike, at checkpoints and in between. I waited for friends, which, in retrospect, was time I couldn't afford. I also stopped for over an hour to help a guy whose bike had a broken derailleur. We reconfigured his chain to make his bike a one-speed. While we were working, probably 50 - 100 cyclists went by. A few asked if we needed help, and three stopped. But none of them had any more know-how or tools than the two of us already working on the bike. I had understood that the officials gave time credit to people who stopped to help with mechanical breakdowns, but the official at the next checkpoint refused to give me any credit. He told me I was slightly late and I had better leave right away. Of course I'm glad I stopped to help, (I know plenty of people helped me) but I was disappointed in the French official. I didn't make any checkpoints on time after that, but I didn't realize I was beyond the time cutoff until three checkpoints later.

The official at Carhaix had told me there was a 2 hour time "credit" for reaching Brest. When I asked why, he said it was because of the bad weather. I assumed this meant everyone would have 92 hours to finish. Other riders on the road thought the same. When I reached the second-to-last checkpoint after they had closed, the official there explained that the time "credit" was actually a loan; riders still had to finish in the 90 hour limit. Up until that time, I was on schedule to finish within 92 hours. If I had clarified the time credit concept with an official earlier, I would have planned my riding differently.

I don't want to give the idea that the officials were mean -- they were, with the one exception, very encouraging. At the checkpoint after my bad experience, I asked the official if I was late. He looked at my card again and checked my start time. (I started in one of the last waves, so my finish time would be adjusted by an hour and 20 minutes.) "Let's just say you can't waste any more time," he said. "As in, no time to stop to eat or sleep?" I asked. "Well, if you meet your husband on the side of the road..." A Frenchman has his priorities!

Anything else you'd like to share with us?

I have plenty of people to thank. A huge thank-you goes to Susan and Lon of PAC Tour for lending me the bike I rode in training and during the event. They also gave me a wonderful head-start on my training season last April in the Arizona desert (very beautiful!). Also thanks to Martin in Rochester for lots of email advice and encouragement. Thanks to Fanchon who met Lara and me in Paris and helped us get around, and to all of our friends and family who sent us off with good luck wishes.

The Paris-Brest-Paris ride has its own pastry! It is like an eclair in the shape of a ring, like a bicycle wheel. Here is a link to one recipe:

http://frenchfood.about.com/library/weekly/aa070402a.htm

Thanks again and look for Finmail #2 which will be about finishing my nyckelharpa which I started building in 2002.

This is the advice I give to all my closest friends:

Take care and have fun!