In the world of randonneuring – an obscure sport,
originating from France, of long distance cycling – the big event happens every
four years. It is a 1200 km ride, from
Paris, to Brest, and back, aptly named Paris – Brest – Paris. Since encountering this sport, in the mid
90s, each P-B-P year has consumed perhaps seven months of my life. After four successful PBPs, my luck ran out,
in 2011. At that time I assumed this
would be enough (AND that, sadly, I was getting too old and slow, if not for
this sport, at least for P-B-P). But
then 2015 arrived and I found myself again consumed by the desire to qualify to
return to France.
Qualifying consists of completing a “series” – four events
(200, 300, 400 and 600 km), in the allotted amount of time (equivalent to a 15
km/hr minimum speed). P-B-P takes place
in late August. One must qualify by
early July. For those of us residing in
the northern hemisphere, this generally means one must start preparing in the
winter.
For me winter means running.
Qualifying for P-B-P therefore involves segueing from running to
cycling. This is NOT how most
randonneurs approach it. They start
riding fairly seriously in the winter, increasing the distance as the
randonneuring season arrives. For me,
after having discovered long distance running (midway through my randonneuring
career), a lot of it is about avoiding burnout.
I feel fortunate to have the two sports.
My approach would be to do nearly my usual amount of
running, throughout the winter and spring, while easing into cycling near
winter’s end.
In late January I ran three half marathons in 14 days. On February 15 I ran the Birch Bay
Marathon. The year had begun!
In early March the randonneuring season began. March 7 was the 100k (this is NOT a
qualifier, but is a good ride to do, none-the-less, to ramp up to the longer
rides). The ride began at a park near my house, so it was easy to bike to the
start. It was a gorgeous day, the course
was NOT obscenely hilly (unusual for Seattle International Randonneurs). I rode it on a fixed gear. The ride finished at a pizza place; this
added a nice social touch.
On March 14 was the “spring” 200k. There was LOTS of rain in the forecast. As luck would have it, the ride began near
where I live, so I was able to bike there.
Everyone was sporting serious rain attire. After three hours it miraculously stopped
raining. If someone had told me, at that
moment, that that was the last rain I would encounter, on ANY of my
randonneuring events this season, I would have told them they were stark raving
mad. I would have been wrong!! This ride was reasonably hilly. It took a lot out of me. With about two miles to go I actually stopped,
put some electrolytes in my water, and took a very brief break to restore my
spirits. I finished with a minute to
spare.
Next came the first of several gutsy feats: two marathons,
six days apart. This first was in
Oakland, CA; the second was the Yakima River Canyon Marathon. I had NEVER done two marathons this close
together before. Throughout the entire
second marathon my legs reminded me of why it is prudent NOT to run two
marathons so close together!
On April 5 I rode a 200k on fixed gear. It ended in Bainbridge. I felt quite tired, at the end, and could NOT
refuse Duane Ishihara’s generous offer of a ride home from the ferry terminal
in downtown Seattle.
Two weeks later it was time for another gutsy feat. April 19 was the Wenatchee Marathon. It went well.
The next day the Redmond Cycling Club had a 40 mile ride,
starting/ending in Leavenworth, finishing via Tumwater Canyon. It too went well. The next day just involved killing time in
Wenatchee (though I ran five miles in the park). The next day was the 300k of Northwest Crank
Brevet Week. The winds were favorable;
the weather was gorgeous (though a bit hot by midafternoon). The course was not obscenely hilly. I finished with over an hour in the
bank. I returned to Seattle feeling
inspired.
Then came the 400k on May 2.
The weather was good. There was
sun. It was even warm in the
afternoon. It wasn’t obscenely hilly,
though there were some wicked hills near the midpoint (just before some
additional climbing on the east flank of Mt. Baker). There were friendly volunteers and good food
at the midpoint turn-around. I left
feeling inspired.
Then the sun went down and the temperature dropped. It was fortunate that I had read the forecast
and brought just enough clothes to make this tolerable. The Garmin showed that it hit 30 degrees. One expects the cold to keep one awake, yet I
struggled to do so during the long night.
At the control in Mt. Vernon – Haagen’s Foods – I had some Pepsi with
caffeine. The got me to the Centennial
Trail, but then I struggled again. I
made it to Arlington and had some coffee at the 7-11. Nothing happened!! This was a bit of a shocker because I never
use caffeine! I struggled along the
remainder of the trail, at one point taking a break to lay on a bench.
When the sun rose I was gradually resurrected. Still, I finished 25 minutes in the hole and
was not given credit. I reasoned that
I’d handled the distance OK, so would continue with my plan to attempt the SIR
Tahuya Hills 600k, at the end of May.
The weekend after the SIR 400k I went down to Oregon for a
double header. On Saturday I did the
Covered Bridges 200k. I finished with an
hour in the bank, in spite of getting lost trying to exit the metropolis of
Scio (this was a harbinger). The next
morning I got up at 0:dark:00 and drove to Eugene in time to pick up my packet
for the marathon.
The marathon went well, although my legs indicated they had
NOT forgotten I had biked 200k just several hours earlier. So, things went a bit slow. At the 18 mile mark a very pleasant female
groupie gave me chocolate, then ran with me a bit, then gave me more chocolate,
then gave me a kiss! This was my 66th
marathon, and don’t get me wrong – I enjoyed the attention – but I don’t know
if I have 66 marathons left in me for more chocolate and a kiss. In any case, Barbara
Tatge has nothing on me.
The end of the month arrived and I attempted the SIR
600k. We were again blessed with great
weather. Early on I settled into my
usual position: dead last. I don’t mind
biking alone; just knowing I’m part of an event is helpful.
The day one route is somewhat hilly and then there’s Skate
Creek. This is not a killer steep climb,
along the southern flank of Mt. Rainier, but it does go on for a while. On the way up I developed pain in my right
knee. It had been showing up for several
weeks, most notably on a 45 mile somewhat hilly training ride I did
occasionally, on fixed gear.
I made it to the crest and expected the knee to recover a
bit on the descent into Packwood. I was
surprised, during the descent, when a woman on a bike slowed down to chat with
me. She had just climbed up to lodge on
Mt. Rainier. She noticed my 1995 SIR
jersey and told me her husband, Tom Lawrence, had just done the climb with her
but taken a different way down. Of
course I remembered Tom from my early days of randonneuring! I stopped at the inn, in Packwood, and said
‘hi’ (and even had him sign my control card!).
Then it was off in a westerly direction on US 12. This was a flat stretch and the headwind
wasn’t excruciating. Occasionally there
was a slight hill and my knee reminded me that hills were now quite
painful. As I neared Morton I didn’t see
how my knee was going to handle the Tahuya Hills on day two of this ride.
I started to hatch a bail-out plan. I had a room reservation at Centralia (right
next to the control). This was NOT the
official sleep control but that was too far into the ride for me. I would fill up with water at Morton and push
through the hills to Centralia. Then I’d
call it quits at my room. In the morning
I’d bike to Olympia and catch the express bus north.
As I pulled into a mini-mart, to get water, I saw Bill
Gobie, a fellow SIR rider, seated inside.
I stopped to chat and learned he had pulled the plug. He said that Millison was driving down to
retrieve him. He suggested I give myself
a break and accept a ride also.
So I tweaked my plan and decided I’d take a ride to
Centralia. But Millison and his wife,
both very pleasant people, suggested I come back to their place in Olympia for
some hospitality. I succumbed to the arm
twisting (rather rapidly!).
In the morning Bill’s wife picked him and me up and took us
back to Seattle. All in all, considering
how far away from the start I was when I pulled the plug, this had been a
surprisingly successful bailout.
Now I was left to deal with the reality of how my PBP
qualifying attempt was going: I’d failed at the 400k and at the 600k. It seemed like I’d reached the end of the
road. Then I noticed there was a 600k
the very next weekend, down in Oregon!
I’d only ridden 162 miles of this 600k, so recovery wouldn’t be an
issue.
The next weekend I went down to Oregon and stunned myself by
successfully completing the Kings
Valley 600k!
There was an SIR 400k the very next weekend. That was too soon, however – that wouldn’t
give me the necessary amount of recovery.
Plus, it was gratuitously hilly.
This would put my back against the wall: a few weeks later there was a
400k out of Tumwater (Olympia). It was the
last weekend, anywhere in North America, that one could find a 400k.
The weekend arrived with a forecast for high heat. The route was a narrow figure 8, going down
to Vancouver, WA and back. There were
some hills, before getting to Vancouver.
One, Green Mountain Road, the organizers had referred to, in a pre-ride
write-up, as “puketastic.”
I biked to the start, from my room in downtown Olympia, a seven
mile warm-up. I discovered I had no pump! Luckily Albert was there, with his van, and
loaned me a pump from his stash.
The group took off with a vengeance and I was soon all by my
lonesome. I did catch Ron Himschoot
leaving, as I arrived at the control in Kelson.
“We’re about to find out what ‘puketastic’ means,” I said. “Oh, I *know* what ‘puketastic’ means,” Ron
responded, with a hint of sorrow in his voice.
On Puketastic Hill I caught up with Peg and we suffered our
way up together, in the high heat, on a climb that seemed like it would NEVER
end.
There was a majestic view from on top, stretching east to
the Cascade foothills, and south and west to the Columbia River.
I lost Peg on the descent, and then I double flatted. The second was shortly after the first, and
both were in locations with almost no shoulder to use to work on the bike.
When I got going again it was extremely hot. It hit 98 in Vancouver. By about 8:00 p.m., at the control coming out
of Vancouver, I encountered Ron, Peg, and Albert. I hung with Albert for a short distance,
though made a terrible navigational error near Woodland. I chose to follow the GPS instead of the cue
sheet.
When I finally got back on course, it was clear that I would
have to stay very focused to finish on time.
I took maybe three ditch naps, during the night, and one around
dawn. The rest of the time it was pedal
to the metal. I finished with about 15
minutes to spare.
I had done it. At 63
(nearly 64) years of age, I had qualified for Paris-Brest-Paris. Now I waited to see if I could get in. I didn’t have to wait long. By Tuesday RUSA had the data up. There were still a few positions available,
in the late starting corrals of the 90 hour group. I was in!!!
Now to stay in shape for another seven weeks.
Two weeks later was STP.
I had not ridden it in one day since 2008. I left my house at 3:30 a.m. and finished
just before 10:00 p.m., some 208 miles later.
Compared to my randonneur rides, it was very nice to have company on the
route!
Five days after STP there was a night start 400k out of
Tumwater. The ride started
simultaneously with a 1000k ride. I felt
like kind of a light weight, planning to ONLY ride 400k.
A bit after dark a cable broke. This was a brief test of my resolve. I replaced it, using the light on my helmet,
and continued. During the night I took
at least three quick naps in the woods.
Around dawn I approached the Astoria Bridge. The route didn’t actually go over the bridge.
A bit later I took a nap, behind a post office, in the small
town of Chinook.
In the afternoon I went into a restaurant for lunch. This seemed slightly decadent but I was up on
the clock, so decided to indulge. Also,
an army travels on its stomach.
Then it got warm. At
Montesano I had my traditional hot weather snack: Ice Gatorade and an ice cream
sandwich. A bit later, in Alma, I took a
nap on a bench on the main drag.
Then I pushed to the finish (which seemed like it would
never come).
I finished with an hour to spare. Albert was handling the control, at a pizza
parlor. He was a gracious host, while I
ate my pizza and drank a beer.
Then it was to bed for me, at the Motel 6 where the ride had
begun.
In the morning I was up early. I headed to downtown Olympia, where I ran the
Lake Fair Half Marathon. When I finished
I felt like kind of a monster.
A week later I ran the B&O Half Marathon on Saturday and
pre-rode the Brevet Weekend 200k on Sunday.
It was a hillaceous course, with ~8,800 feet of climbing. Ridiculous.
The following Saturday I rode the Brevet Weekend 300k. It had lots of gratuitous hills, was hot, and
a group that was faster than me insisted on adopting me. When I finished, with 1H40 in the bank, I was
really beat. There’s a reason I ride at
the pace I do.
And then it was time to taper. Two weeks until PBP.
