Check-in
When we arrived, Debby took to a cab to the hotel with the bike box and I proceeded to the check-in and safety check with my bike.
So I collected my brevet card, book, and documents. The Super randonneur medals were in only some of the packets, not mine, they took my name down, and said it would arrive sometime in the mail.
First, it was nowhere near as close as Klaus (official US travel agent) inferred. Secondly, the skies let loose about a km from the gym with a hard driving rain (insert ominous foreshadowing music here!). I had my raincoat, but no rain pants and had not changed into bike clothes, since I thought the hotel was so close. So I literally slogged my way to the hotel where Debby patiently waited.
Start to Villaines
Two items of note: The chocolate milk and beans I lugged all the way from the states were available at the grocery store. Secondly, the CO2 cartridges we searched for all over Paris, were also available at the Go-sports ( like an Oshmans in the states) in St. Quentin.
I returned to the hotel, completed my bike prep, ate a light dinner of beans and a tuna sandwich and hit the sack at 7pm. I was up at 3:30 for a breakfast of beans, chocolate milk, and Ensure. I checked out of the room and rode into town to check in at the controle and line up. I arrived at 4:30 and most of the 600 or so riders were already there for the 0500 start.
After 2 or 3 cycles of French scattered showers; driving rain until you are soaked, wind until you are cold, clearing until you are almost dry, then repeat, I reached Villaines.
Villaines to Loudeac
I continued on alone and at about 0345 I had more difficultly staying awake. After nearly dozing off on the bike, I couldn't stay awake any longer and decided to take a nap at a bank parking lot I had come upon.
Crash! As I pulled in, my front wheel washed out on a wet granite curb and I hit the deck hard. I was able to dismount and take a step before I hit the pavement. That combined with the fact I was slowing saved my PBP. I hit hard on my shoulder and wrist.
Loudeac Brest Loudeac
I think I was loading up too much protein and local food, and didn't have the sugar on board to reload the glycogen stores to generate the necessary power.
A group passed me and one asked if I wanted to share the work and make the next controle in 4 hours. By the time I worked out the translation they were away. I caught them on the next steep section, apologized for my slow translation time, and we agreed to work together.
By now the 84 hour group had caught the 90 hour group and riding alone was rare. In Carhaix the sun came out and I put on sunscreen for the first time during the event. I pounded a gel and an Ensure and was out of the controle quickly, my new friends from Dijon stayed for breakfast.
Temperatures were dropping rapidly. The heavy rain hit at 2330 and I did not make Loudeac until 0310. I ate, grabbed two hours sleep, and left the controle a bit after it closed. Lots of riders were calling it quits, as the rain was coming down in sheets. When I left the controle two riders were being loaded into ambulances!
Loudeac to St. Quentin
I noticed during the rain that I was overheating and losing power in my raingear. By stripping down and moving fast I was able to hold a solid heart rate and generate some good speed. The weather was gray but dry.
Loudeac to St. Quentin – The Ugly
As I left the café, it started to sprinkle.
I got back on and hit the bottom of the hill and was able to generate heat to stay warm on the uphill. My neck got worse. I needed to stay upright to "balance" my head on my shoulders. So I rode sitting up, no handed for many kilometers. I descended sitting on the top tube so I could get some relief.
The doctor spoke little English, but he said it was a frequent injury; it was muscle, not nerve damage. I could continue. He gave me an equivalent of a super Advil and Tylenol. He said sleep would likely make it worse as it would stiffen. He had a paramedic give me a massage with warming lotion that was heavenly.
I decided it was better to risk a stiff neck in the morning, rather than crash again tonight, so I headed for the dormir for a 90 minute nap. That was all I could afford with my time cushion.
I was not gaining time like I had hoped.
Loudeac to St. Quentin – The Good
A Frenchman came up and asked if he could photograph my rig. He had the same problem and wanted a record of the solution. I was so happy with the support, I gladly allowed him to click away. I asked him to take a few shots with my camera and I was on my way.
The only problem, the controle closed 1:40 ago, I would need to make that up and build a cushion in case of mechanical like a flat tire.
I pounded gels and Advil like candy. I remember there being a long run before the next control without a village, so I pulled into a town for some fortification. I had been riding for more than an hour and I promised my self if I could hold over 22kph for that hour I could get a cafe.
Another rider was in the bar reading a paper. He had abandoned and was waiting for a ride. He was Danish and said "bon courage bon courage...you must finish" then he motioned me to get the hell out of there and I did!
Soon there after, I was working my way though the carnage that was the tail end of the event. Lots of riders, most in varying degrees of difficulty, suffering toward Paris. I can't recall if they caught me or I caught them, but I joined with David Lewis and Anne Learmonth from Great Britain. We were evenly paced and started working together.
We introduced ourselves and agreed we could make if we could hold 22kph through the next controle to the end.
We still had 5 hours of riding so we ate at the Dreux controle and left one hour behind. David and Anne had ridden PBP three and two time previous and they were confident we would make it.
Near the end of the course, there are some very steep grades. I was starting to come apart on the largest one and powered up to the top just to make the pain stop and waited for Dave and Anne. Of course there was a crowd of locals there watching and David explained in French my unusual headdress and neck condition.
We found the rest of the Cardiff club and enjoyed laughs, toasted our success with a cold beer, and regaled in stories from our adventure.
What a ride!
With apologies to Lonnie “Epic” Wolfe, I think an adventure with highs that can only be measured by the depths of the lows becomes epic.
Shouts of "bon courage," visions of locals standing in the rain, wind, dark, and cold clapping and cheering and offering drinks and support provided high points all along the way. Also, support of friends who endured my e-mail updates, following my progress, and provided moral support along the way provided 'virtual' support to keep going.
The best indicator of an epic: Old and new friends helping you when you are at your lowest, becoming the hands and feet of the Almighty God to carry you to the finish.
Yes this was an epic.
Steve Atkins
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