tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-78195760525002933042024-03-05T02:18:32.459-08:00Our PBP AdventureAmyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08119257437945590787noreply@blogger.comBlogger18125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7819576052500293304.post-46011346646912242662015-09-13T17:01:00.000-07:002015-09-13T17:01:57.230-07:00PBP 2015 Ride Report<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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Sophomore Jinx.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So,
Paris-Brest-Paris.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Big ride.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>760 miles this year.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was worried that my performance last time
was adrenaline-fueled, fear of not finishing driving me through hours of night
riding with little sleep.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I had put in a
ton of miles in 2011, and this time I followed John Hughes' same training
program, but with fewer miles, especially during the last couple of
months.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I felt stronger at the beginning
of this ride, certainly well-rested, but a nagging fear that I hadn't done
enough long rides festered at the back of my brain.</div>
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Nevertheless I was in the second wave of starters <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The weather was
forecast to be perfect: 70 degrees, slightly overcast, light wind.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The ride started fast, and we wound through
roundabouts and traffic islands, wary of riding with unknown compadres in the
dark.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Finally we hit the countryside,
the motorcycle escorts were gone, and we settled in.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
on Sunday
morning at 5:15am.<br />
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<br /></div>
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After the sun rose I found that I was repeatedly passing and
then being passed by a German on a beautiful carbon Canyon bike. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I settled into a nice pace and found the
German behind me along with his friend, a German woman.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Soon our threesome settled into a large pack
of riders, and we luxuriated in it, effortlessly cruising along at 20mph.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I started talking to the woman in German and
found out that she had completed London-Edinburgh-London, a 1400km event
similar to PBP, but limited to far fewer participants - evidently a strong
rider, and<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I resolved to stay with these
two, even as we stopped for a nature call and lost our lovely group.</div>
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<br /></div>
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I stayed with the Germans until mile 90 and our first stop,
an unofficial one, but much appreciated for a quick bathroom break, water
bottle fill and a munched sandwich.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Unfortunately I lost my riding companions, but the weather was good, and
there were plenty of others on the road.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I soon found another group with two Belgian riders at the front.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Once again we settled in at a steady 20 mph,
and the miles flowed by quickly.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>After a
bit I looked to take a turn at the front, but realized that nobody was sharing
the work, and the Belgians seemed unconcerned by their position.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Finally I made my way to the front, thanking
our leaders, who laughed and said, fine, I could buy them a beer for their
work.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Then, after I complimented one on
his beautiful wheels he told me that his mechanic used to be Lance Armstrong's
favorite mechanic, and the Belgian went to him not only for his flawless work
but neverending stories of Lance's outrageousness.</div>
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<br /></div>
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Once again after a control stop I found myself riding
solo.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The skies were clouding, and I
laughed to myself, thinking of the beautiful three day forecast I saw
pre-ride.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Within an hour there were
alternating showers and sun, but the warm temperatures made them bearable.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>By evening I was slowing down, getting
passed, and generally feeling down.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
had reached the point where Clif bars no longer tasted good, so I cracked open
a gel.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Almost immediately I felt and
rode better, and I doubly resolved to eat more and keep the gels going as I
needed them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So far I had avoided the
crowds and eaten quick ham and butter baguettes at the stops.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They tasted fantastic, sat well in my
stomach, and required no waiting in line to procure.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I supplemented this with Sword ginger citrus
drink mix in my bottles, a nice addition of carbohydrates and sodium, which
kept me cramp-free for the entire ride.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>The only issue was whether this was enough calories to keep moving.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaT6h36GYujyUYX_TahTorCWDKco6Ae8FrlYvTGGUZHsbeyIzXyIlWr4cqwHsCtonq-9V4cm6OX_oHITz10KvlspoPt7OOWVDvd8WHpe0eZ1xLJLy22AgpRTYwPWXMwslfq3JMne4j4-Ee/s1600/27533683.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaT6h36GYujyUYX_TahTorCWDKco6Ae8FrlYvTGGUZHsbeyIzXyIlWr4cqwHsCtonq-9V4cm6OX_oHITz10KvlspoPt7OOWVDvd8WHpe0eZ1xLJLy22AgpRTYwPWXMwslfq3JMne4j4-Ee/s320/27533683.jpg" width="213" /></a> </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Finally around 10pm I pulled into the stop at Loudeac, pretty
much the 1/3 point at 448km.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This was a
traditional sleep stop and the crowds were huge.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This was also the location of my drop bag, so
I quickly changed, ate a mountain of mashed potatoes, and resolved to get to
the next control.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Almost immediately I
met two Californians, who were hell-bent to get to the next stop, and we flew
through the night, bombing down hills and generally having way too much fun for
three sleep-starved riders.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Unfortunately we pulled into the next stop and were
immediately told that there was an hour wait for a cot in the sleeping
area.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Now what?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I nibbled on some food, laid on a bench for a
few minutes, but the commotion around me was continuous, so I got up, drank a
large coffee, got back on the bike, and pulled out into the COLD.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Suddenly it was chilly: mid-40's, and the low
blood sugar hit me with powerful shivers on the bike.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I struggled to keep a hold of the bars and tried
to spin to get the blood flowing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Luckily I had packed an extra thin wool base layer, and slowly I began
to warm up.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The coffee kicked in, and I
resolved to eat something at the next stop, caffeinate and plow through until
morning.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The only snag in the plan
turned out to be the pea soup fog in the early hours before dawn.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Many riders slowed way down, but I found it
eerily beautiful and charged through, despite the dampness that made the cold
even more bone-chilling.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The sun finally
rose, and I found myself in Brest the next morning, munching on, what else, a
ham and butter sandwich and some wonderful soup.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The day turned out to be gorgeous, and I spun along feeling
great, though knowing that sleepiness was going to creep in sooner or later. While
riding along a rare flat stretch an older gentleman on a beautiful lugged steel
bike appeared on my wheel.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He drafted
for a bit, then sprinted forward and took his turn at the front.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A few moments later he indicated that he was
done, my cue to come to the front, which I did, grateful for a break in the
monotonous solo riding.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When he sprinted
forward to take his turn again I looked down to see on his placard what country
he was from.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He had no placard!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He was just out for a nice morning ride and
thought we could trade pulls for a while.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Deciding that a risk for disqualification really wasn't worth the fun, I
drifted back and watched him pull forward toward the next unsuspecting
rider.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Soon I found myself drifting off while pedaling, and though
I was able to get a Coke in short order, I resolved to get to Loudeac and sleep
no matter what.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When I finally did reach
there, it was early evening, still light, and it felt wrong to sleep during the
daylight, but I knew that this was the perfect opportunity.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A shower was required to use the cots, so I
showered, put on clean clothes from my drop bag, ate a huge meal with a<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>bottle of cider and settled into one of the
cots.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I remember wondering how long it
would take to fall asleep and then being awakened, three hours later.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I pushed myself toward the cafeteria, ate
breakfast and a huge cup of coffee and headed out into the night.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Almost immediately I saw a pair of cyclists,
one leading the other off the road slowly, and asking if he could dismount on
his own.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>"Everything OK?" I
called out.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>"Yeah," the Dutch
rider replied.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>"He doesn't know
where he is."<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I rode on feeling
spooked by the previous scene.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The coffee worked well for a while, but I found myself
stopping at the next optional control for another sandwich and coffee, just to
get me through until dawn.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The next
control was a repeat, but the sun was up, and I felt locked in to a steady
pace, not too fast, but moving well.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
saw a group in the distance and struggled to make it to them, before settling
in, content to sit in the slipstream for a while.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I took a pull and then settled back, hoping
to show the Italians I was with that I was willing to work for my place in their
group.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Another pull and I was feeling
better, but I had dropped my group.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Ah,
well, I continued on, glad to feel energized.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>At the next control I happened to be ready to leave when I realized the
Italians were next to me and I heard them refer to "that
American".<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I have no idea in what
context I was referred to, but it greatly amused me.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Next came a hilly section, and the sun had risen, leaving
last night's shivery cold a distant memory.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>At the bottom of a hill a farmer family had set up a table with a cooker,
and the wife was cooking crêpes, two skillets at a time, and rapidly flipping
them onto plates toward her husband and son.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>The son would quickly sprinkle sugar on them, fold them into quarters
and hand them to us, piping hot.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The
husband explained that they were free, but any donations for them or the Coke
and coffee would <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>At that point I handed over 2 euros and thanked them profusely.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This got me to the next control, and I tried
to placate my grumbling stomach with two sandwiches and a baguette.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Our bikes were in a corral surrounded by
spectators, and as I was mixing my drink they peered over muttering about what
I was mixing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I looked up, and with the
straightest face I could manage I said "Methamphetamine".<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They stared silently, and I got up and left.</div>
be greatly appreciated.<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEju-QjrUqS9O1jMKayJLN_jctvosz16UEXWXa9YGTWrH5a6UeiQaIbBRoGki6RHM2cT0X5AA_iOniEkdaM36h0-mgNIFsOU7Iw1sLXyE_XlyxPYvSr6EZ5dfwBY24HI6iQaSjkCfvRqQfcy/s1600/27561612.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEju-QjrUqS9O1jMKayJLN_jctvosz16UEXWXa9YGTWrH5a6UeiQaIbBRoGki6RHM2cT0X5AA_iOniEkdaM36h0-mgNIFsOU7Iw1sLXyE_XlyxPYvSr6EZ5dfwBY24HI6iQaSjkCfvRqQfcy/s320/27561612.jpg" width="213" /></a>Now the eagerness was starting to take over as finishing
seemed in reach. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was sunny with only
a light breeze, and I hit the second-to-last control ready to go even though
they had sullied my baguette with paté in addition to the ham and butter.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A nice change or a bombshell in my stomach?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I remembered the next stretch to the last
control before the finish as being very difficult in the dark: endless ups and
downs and difficult to read intersections.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Now I was climbing the long hills slowly and starting to feel the
fatigue of the last 650 miles, despite the gorgeous scenery. The road seemed to
be a tunnel through the dense forest and traffic was nonexistent.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Once again I ate a gel and marveled at how
quickly my spirits rose, though I was still disturbed at how slow I seemed to
be going.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>After a bit I was riding with
a group of three.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I started a
conversation with an Australian, and we ended up chatting for miles.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Finally I asked how fast we were going.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>20 by my computer, he said.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My computer read 16.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Apparently the generator hub powering my
light played havoc with the wireless signal.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Suddenly I didn't feel so bad.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Just then a tandem went flying by, rapidly followed by a
group eager to stay in their slipstream.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>My group eagerly latched on, and I tried to stay with them, but I had no
kick.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>All of my 90 hour groupmates had
started 12 hours before me, and had something left.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I watched them disappear into the distance
and my Australian friend gave a quick glance back, but knew that the draft from
the tandem was too sweet to let go.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I arrived at the last control and found my riding buddy just
ahead of me in the line.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He apologized
profusely and offered to ride to the end, which I greatly appreciated.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Although I was eager to ride the last forty
miles and finish, I sat down with a coffee and a plate of carbs.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Many riders were heading straight for the
draft beer, and as wonderful as it looked, I knew that the darkness outside
would be doubly hard to manage after a beer.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>My Aussie friend seemed to<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>be
thinking the same thing as he offered to buy the first beer at the finish.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>With that we immediately left the control and
headed back out into the early evening darkness only to find no directional
signs.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We meandered around the last
marked turn, gradually picking up more and more lost riders until a local young
man on a bike said, "Hey, I know the way.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Here, I show you."<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Sure
enough he led us on an unmarked right turn, down a couple of miles until we saw
a welcome turn sign.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
We were back on course now with a large group, and we
meandered through strange roads cut through agricultural fields, then back to
narrow roads in quiet villages.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The
combination repeated over and over until we felt as if we were in a surreal
black and white movie.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The fact that we
were surrounded by Italian riders talking rapidfire only increased the
surrealism.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Suddenly we were climbing,
and I recognized the last miles of the course.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I had become separated from my Australian friend, but he appeared
miraculously, and we finished the last few miles together.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A hot meal awaited us at the finish, but the
stone-faced vendors announced that they had run out of beer.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We were crestfallen, but happy to finish
nonetheless.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I finally turned my smart
phone back on only to find urgent texts from Amy wondering if I was OK, as
computer issues had left large gaps in my online progress.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I reassured her that I was in fact all right,
and I thought of the 2011 finish, where I had collapsed onto the gym floor to
sleep for a couple of hours.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This time I
felt strangely mellow, though not sleepy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I got back onto the bike, rode the last couple miles to our lodgings,
showered, and slept like the dead, grateful to be horizontal and motionless.</div>
Amyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08119257437945590787noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7819576052500293304.post-4218691894740938612015-08-25T23:13:00.001-07:002015-08-25T23:13:45.220-07:00Hello! Chris and I leave for home tomorrow. Apologies for not keeping everyone up to date. Chris did finish the ride and in phenomenal time...just 68 hours! There have been many technical difficulties with the tracking system this year, so no worries if you checked his number on the PBP website. Many of the finish times are not posted, but Chris really did finish! He is tired and has some nerve pain in his hands and feet, but with a few more pastries and some more champagne on our last full day in Paris, he will feel better in no time.<br />
<br />
Chris will post a ride report soon. He did awesome and the weather was much better than in 2011. Our French hosts were amazing. Thanks, everyone, for your support!<br />
<br />
Amy and ChrisAmyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08119257437945590787noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7819576052500293304.post-80885370045334759302015-08-16T21:17:00.003-07:002015-08-16T21:17:50.195-07:00And he's off!Chris got up at 3:30 a.m. this morning to set off on his second Paris Brest Paris. François and Sophie are incredible hosts. Lloyd, François and I stood along the streets to cheer the early morning riders. Everyone is out on the course and the weather could not be more beautiful.<br />
<br />
Chris' frame number is Y133. You can enter it and track his progress as he checks in at each mandatory control stop. The website is here: http://suivi.paris-brest-paris.org. I will try to add pictures, but wanted to get a quick update out to everyone. Go, Chris!Amyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08119257437945590787noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7819576052500293304.post-53233934419859436032015-08-12T07:35:00.002-07:002015-08-12T07:35:50.807-07:002015 Paris-Brest-Paris - Here we go...<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
Hi, All,</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Amy and I are packed and headed to the airport for France...where
did the last four years go? There is a maxim in long distance cycling (and
other endurance events to be sure, and even life in general probably) that
after a time one completely forgets the pain, suffering and long down
stretches, and remembers instead the wonderful, sunny smooth roads, wind at the
back.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This selective amnesia allows us
to contemplate longer and harder challenges. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
So it is in 2015 as the last Paris-Brest-Paris fades a bit
in my memory.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>However, I can distinctly
remember the time and place in the 2011 ride when I thought "OK, it looks
reasonably good that I am going to finish this event, and I really don't have
to do this ever again".<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Nevertheless, again the tickets have been bought, the qualifiers duly
completed, and I am contemplating not only another round of Paris-Brest-Paris,
but even allowing myself to envision a finish in a faster time.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
A quick recap of a tumultuous year.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>One must complete four qualifying rides to
register for Paris-Brest-Paris ("PBP"): 200km, 300km, 400km and
600km.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There are time limits for each
ride, but they are rather generous.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
decided to try the series of rides in Kentucky instead of my usual Ohio venue,
based on the challenging terrain, and the early start.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This strategy almost backfired.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The 200k was in February, and the first date
was cancelled due to a horrendous ice storm in Louisville.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Scheduling required the make-up be held the
following Saturday, which was sunny and 8 degrees at the start.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>While a week of obsession produced the right
clothing choices (thank you, Pearl Izumi and Icebreaker merino wool), the
constant vigilance to avoid icy spots in the shade made for a nerve-wracking
ride.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The 300k was a completely different challenge.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Two days of constant rain led to flooding of
the Ohio River and the rain was pouring at the start.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The first two hours of riding were pre-dawn,
and I'll never forget seeing flooded portions of the road appear ahead of me in
my headlight and thinking, ok, I don't know how deep that flowing water is, but
here I go.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I finally finished, completely
spent, thinking that I was woefully out of shape.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I took a great deal of consolation when a
careful inspection of my bike much later showed that the crank bearings were
completely shot, making pedaling that much more difficult.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The 400k was a wonderful change.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Great sunny weather meant that we could
actually enjoy the course: back roads winding through Kentucky horse farm
country with miles of dry stack stone walls bordering the roads.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was lucky enough to ride with a good
friend, Tim Argo, who is a master of pacing, and we managed to finish the 250
mile ride in under 17 hours, which was quite a good time for me.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The 600k was quite a bit more challenging.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The course was a repeat of the 400k, with an
additional 200k loop.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We set out at 4am
in a light rain, riding quickly and stopping only briefly as thunderstorms were
predicted later in the day.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Within 20
miles I had my first flat tire.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
changed it quickly with the aid of friends, but there was a disconcerting
feeling of not being sure that I had found the cause of the flat.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>By mile 130 I had another flat, disturbingly
in the same spot in the same tire.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Now
the clouds were massing, and I had just used my last spare tube.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I sat at a stop, frantically trying to patch
my spare and wondering if the wal-mart near the hotel carried the right size
tubes.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The tire held through monsoon-like pouring rain in the
afternoon, and we stopped at the end of the 400k loop and decided to grab some
sleep.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I felt a bit of a let-down, as I
had hoped to ride the entire distance without any sleep straight through the
night.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>However, drowsiness, the rain,
and warnings about dark, pothole-filled roads led us to sleep a wonderful 5
hours and rise just before dawn to complete the last leg.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>20 miles later I had another flat in the same
spot.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Now I was mystified and down to my
last tube.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Tim suggested putting a band
aid on the inside of the tire, thinking that perhaps a small tear in the tire
was somehow causing these repeated flats.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Sure enough, his sage advice worked, and the band aid got me through the
entire rest of the hilly ride, 36 hours and 23,000 feet of climbing later.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Not a fast time by any stretch, but qualified
nonetheless.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
So after a rainy Summer I am ready to board the plane for
the next round, perhaps having learned a bit from last time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I will surely obsess until the last minute
over minutia, but I'm looking forward to the camaraderie and the challenge of
another go at Paris-Brest-Paris.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Follow along with us as we post updates to our blog. Thank you again for everyone's support and positive energy! --Chris & Amy </div>
Amyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08119257437945590787noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7819576052500293304.post-36812948334201029462011-09-04T17:17:00.000-07:002011-09-04T17:17:28.908-07:00PBP event & Paris vacation pictures - Vol. One<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj415HdGasNrmx4d4zxUvLppF4L6ggKS8eX_EDA5E5h_PtstzZtWvAXTPlyEyGf1STyIFT48xsTDI9ww8XMz57gPLzp4m8vl_TK5T1KmPy3UsFylMhEFEWTOh9zDlZs45K41-CBz_4SC3El/s1600/10815167.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj415HdGasNrmx4d4zxUvLppF4L6ggKS8eX_EDA5E5h_PtstzZtWvAXTPlyEyGf1STyIFT48xsTDI9ww8XMz57gPLzp4m8vl_TK5T1KmPy3UsFylMhEFEWTOh9zDlZs45K41-CBz_4SC3El/s400/10815167.jpg" width="267" /></a></div>Chris and I are notorious for taking our camera on vacation and then not taking any pictures. We did take pictures while in France, but not as many as we should have. Here's the <a href="https://picasaweb.google.com/100909183815952029471/ParisBrestParisEventParisVacationPicsVolumeOne?authkey=Gv1sRgCL3ytsCV98WMLQ#">link </a>to some of our better pictures. Enjoy! <br />
<br />
We are connecting with some of our PBP friends who stayed with us at our hotel and they have some fabulous pictures that we will steal (I mean borrow) and share here on our blog. We'll work on those next.<br />
<br />
For every photo we took, we have a hundred technicolor memories. PBP was, for us, a truly awesome experience. <br />
<br />
The feedback everyo<span style="background-color: cyan;"></span>ne has given us is tremendous. To our family and friends, we thank you for all of your support during our PBP adventure 2011. Who's with us for PBP 2015?! <br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjl4q_tsopLbYkR3Xi7mj3a6HJSAwCjnvFV_8QupKCV-S2qv8GJFIt2XbSmNC7LbY2T2eaca2dL5AJiQac11Tftwl02cRbKhX3WAXfZqaSuJmsZocfyF4GnJ7XfVr_nP891WeJz8OvACACi/s1600/IMG_0297.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="209" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjl4q_tsopLbYkR3Xi7mj3a6HJSAwCjnvFV_8QupKCV-S2qv8GJFIt2XbSmNC7LbY2T2eaca2dL5AJiQac11Tftwl02cRbKhX3WAXfZqaSuJmsZocfyF4GnJ7XfVr_nP891WeJz8OvACACi/s320/IMG_0297.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgh9fGj_FKqoK83w2krLrQ5qiYWtIxNXBzBKKqsIBa49kayXXCQkoHHvgA-gVtc4vokYxGOPIQ7SDT5lEX1X7Nk6au0bCJ_GgMauhgKgsZ3gcZvYNMM2L_nNG0fIg7QbONLjGLZB0UItkpl/s1600/IMG_0261.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="296" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgh9fGj_FKqoK83w2krLrQ5qiYWtIxNXBzBKKqsIBa49kayXXCQkoHHvgA-gVtc4vokYxGOPIQ7SDT5lEX1X7Nk6au0bCJ_GgMauhgKgsZ3gcZvYNMM2L_nNG0fIg7QbONLjGLZB0UItkpl/s320/IMG_0261.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>Amyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08119257437945590787noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7819576052500293304.post-19960509253770364382011-09-03T07:00:00.000-07:002011-09-03T07:00:29.234-07:00Chris' Ride ReportHere's Chris' ride report. We're working on our pictures (and stealing some from our PBP friends) and will provide a link to them this weekend. Enjoy Chris' report!<br />
<br />
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<div class="MsoNormal"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">A Paris-Brest-Paris Primer</span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">So most of you know by now that the Paris-Brest-Paris ride (“PBP”) is a 1200 kilometer (760 mile) ride starting in a suburb just south of Paris, continuing to the coastal city of Brest and back to the start.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Each rider can choose from one of three starting groups, depending on one’s expected finish time: 80 (the fastest riders), 90 (the maximum), and 84 hours.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span>I chose the 84-hour group thinking that I should still be able to comfortably finish in the time allotted and also that the 5am starting time seemed more like all the other rides I had done in the past (as opposed to the 6-7pm start time for the 90 hour group).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I also thought that since the 84 hour group was much smaller than the 90 hour one, there would conceivably be smaller lines at the controls (mandated stops) for food, bathroom, etc.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">My Bike & Equipment</span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">I rode on my custom Lynskey Cooper titanium bike.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s a pretty traditional sport-touring frame, but I ordered it with lengthened chainstays, both for a bit more comfort and stability, and also for the ability to run Continental 700x28 GP 4 Season tires with SKS fenders.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Components are Campagnolo Super Record, with a compact 50/34 crankset and a 12-29 cassette.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I won’t evangelize, but I love Campy, and the new 11 speed is a dream, and for a relentless spinner like me, the compact gearing is wonderful.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">My only Shimano concessions are brakes, which are long reach to accommodate fenders and wide tires, and SPD-SL pedals.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I used a Carradice Barley bag with a Bagman rack. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Saddle is a Brooks B-17, punched and laced for extra firmness and to accommodate my thighs.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Front wheel is a Schmidt hub laced to a DT Swiss hub, powering a Schmidt Edelux headlight.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Rear wheel is a bombproof Campagnolo Eurus.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">It was difficult on Sunday night watching the other riders pack up and take off, while I returned to the hotel and tried to get some sleep for the 3:30am wake-up call.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Half of a benadryl and a glass of wine didn’t seem to help at all, and I tossed and turned until I woke just before the watch went off.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">The Start (5 a.m. on Monday)</span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">I took it as a good omen though that the hotel staff had set out breakfast early, so I was able to get some bread and cheese and coffee before setting out on the quick ride to the start.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I joined the mass of riders and quickly was funneled out to the starting line in the first wave of riders.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I recognized a good friend, Scott, just behind and tried to wait for him, but a French official quickly shooed me into the line, and we were off into the night.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">I usually feel pretty awful at the beginning of rides, so I wasn’t too fearful when the pack took off quickly and my legs felt like lead.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I figured I would just spin a bit and wait for Scott to catch up.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Soon I was riding by myself and peering through the intersections to see the signs marking the course.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">A Penalty (Not a Great Way to Start!)</span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">At one roundabout I paused after a few particularly harsh cobblestones.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A rider behind me rattled off in French that my taillight was out.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I thanked him and switched on my backup one, but he continued his loud, staccato French and made cutting noises with his hands.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I realized that he was telling me that I had just had a time penalty imposed for riding without a taillight.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Now I would have to finish in 83 hours.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I took off in a rush of adrenaline.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span></span>Part of me was embarrassed, part a little pissed that the guy sat there riding behind me, saw the bump and then pounced without a warning.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Luckily, another part of me realized that it probably wouldn’t make any difference, and I should just try to put it out of my head.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So, I pushed a little harder and started to warm up and feel a bit better.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Finally, I started seeing riders in front of me and that encouraged me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Now things were feeling a bit more comfortable, and I settled into a nice pace as the dawn slowly started to peek over the horizon.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">The First Few Control Stops – and the Rain</span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">I continued on into the morning, knowing that this would be a longer stretch, but a little nervous at reaching the first control, having heard horror stories about huge lines for everything.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Also, it had begun to rain steadily.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Nevertheless, the optional first control was not crowded, and I was pleased to get in, fill my bottles, pee and get out in only 10 minutes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span> </span>It was still raining, and I just wanted to put in as many miles in the daylight as I could.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Along the way I saw a recumbent tandem, where the riders sat back-to-back.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was pretty disconcerting to come up to them, while the woman in the back just stared at me, facing backwards as she was.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Soon she began to whistle some sort of classical tune, staring at me the whole time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>For some reason it drove me crazy, and I finally sprinted ahead over the hill.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">By this time I reached the next control, and I was pleased to see a huge row of faucets for water and a long line of port-a-potties.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That elation soon was gone when I opened the first door – just a hole and a pair of footprints molded into the plastic.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Ugh.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A quick cup of coffee and a pastry, and I set off, feeling quick despite the rain.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The rollers through the countryside were never ending, and I reached the next control knowing that my long stretch of eating Clif bars was over.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Thankfully the cafeteria was not too crowded and had a nice selection of food.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I settled on a big bowl of rice and chicken.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">As I left the control the clouds were massing again with loud rumbles of thunder.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was dusk, and I was nervous about getting cold in the dark, as I had all of my clothes on: jersey, bibs, wool arm and knee warmers and waterproof jacket.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I knew if I could keep moving to the stop at Loudeac, where I could access my drop bag, I’d be OK if things got cooler, but I had to keep moving through the rain.<span> </span>For a brief moment I thought about stopping as the lightning flashed and the thunder boomed all around me.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span>Suddenly I saw a group of riders stopped in front of me at an intersection.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A French policeman was standing in front of a road closed sign, arms crossed shaking his head.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A couple of French riders were animatedly trying to get the guy to understand that we had to go on.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Finally, the policeman rapidfire described a detour, and we all took off, frantic to stay together.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The rain was coming down in sheets now, and we passed pig farm after pig farm, while I tried not to think of what was splashing up from all over the road onto my bottles.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Now we were back on course and came to a “secret” control, not on the schedule, but requiring a stop as well.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A bowl of warm, thick potage (split pea soup) was a godsend, and I quickly moved on.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">The fastest riders were beginning to come past in the other direction, already on the way back.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Somehow it was comforting in the dark, as I was beginning to get a bit drowsy, coming up on the 440km point and the control in Loudeac.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I promised myself a stop here, and I had a big plate of whipped potatoes and chicken.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Now another thunderstorm hit as I was curled on a bench under an awning and tried to nap, but the lights and noise were too much.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">The rain ended, and I thought if I’m not sleeping, and it’s not raining, I should just continue on.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There was another optional control only 25 miles on if I got tired.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So, I changed clothes and headed out into the 2am darkness, while the riders in front of me were reduced to pinpoints of red light in the distance.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">The Dark, Dark Night (and Some Crazy French Riders)</span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Now the riding became surreal.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The remote roads we were on were absolutely dark.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was impossible to tell if the road graded up or down, except that it suddenly became easier or harder to pedal.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The only sounds were the grind of pedals, the whirr of generators and an occasional rattle over the rough roads.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Without a reference point it was difficult to even tell one’s speed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Then, suddenly, I would enter a village filled with blinding lights and groups of people, clapping and yelling “Bon Courage”.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Then, just as suddenly, back into the still darkness.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This repeated over and over until the first pink tinges appeared at the horizon.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">While I was mostly riding on and off with individuals, I came onto a large group of French riders rolling along at a nice pace and joined them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><span> </span>Within five minutes everything felt wrong.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>All the rules I knew about riding with a group had no bearing here:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>people were passing on the right and left.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Some were leading at the front, then just as quickly dropping back, and there seemed to be a leader of the group.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Whenever a rider came from the other direction, he would yell “Badabadabada.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A droit”, and everyone would shift to the right of the lane, then just as quickly resume their weird formation.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">I couldn’t take it, so I slowly dropped back, realizing that a British rider had also slipped in, then out, of the formation with me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“What was that?” he asked me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“I have no idea,” I replied, and we watched them carry on ahead of us. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Getting to Brest (the Half-Way Point)…</span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Another control and meal and I was back out on the stretch toward Brest.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Now we hit some long, foggy climbs with traffic whizzing by, and the road continued to roll all the way to the bridge to Brest, where I stopped to take a picture.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Getting to the control turned out to be a mess, as the traffic was fierce and the roads were rough winding through the city itself.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>While we had had groups on the side of the road cheering us on for most of the last 36 hours, there were only speeding cars around us now.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">The control was cramped, and there were two bathroom stalls for the entire group of us – a line snaked out into the next room.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Thankfully they had placed gym mats on the floor of the makeshift cafeteria, after a bit of food, I laid down for a delicious half hour nap.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">I woke up refreshed and ready to get out of Brest quickly and steeled myself to deal with the hills I knew were coming.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I resolved to just spin the hills, and try to go a bit faster on the flats, and this seemed to help, as I was feeling better.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">The dry conditions certainly helped as well.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A quick meal at the Carhaix control, and I was feeling a bit woozy, watching the newly massing clouds.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Crash!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A rider standing behind me fell, completely unconscious, onto a cart full of cafeteria trays.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Soon he was surrounded by volunteers.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Time to leave!</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">So I rolled on back to Loudeac, the drop bag, and another promised nap.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was 10pm, and I was ready for a meal and a bit of sleep.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I went back for more mashed potatoes, and watched the Italians enjoying red wine with their dinner, the French white, the Germans and Austrians a beer, and thought, what the hell, I’m about to sleep, so I had a bottle of cold fermented cider (a specialty of the Brittany region).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It tasted wonderful, and after a quick shower, I managed to secure a cot in the sleeping area.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">I asked the volunteers to wake me at 3am, thinking I’d get 4 hours of sleep, but they understood it to mean wake me in 3 hours, so I slept like the dead and was awakened at 2am.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Ah, well, breakfast and I was off into the dark.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">It had always been explained to me to try to get sleep in one and one-half hour increments during these events, because that is one sleep cycle, and the body wakes up much more easily after a complete cycle than in the middle of one, so perhaps this was better anyway.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span> </span>I rolled on back into the surreal night.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Now I felt good.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The air was cool, but dry, caffeine was kicking in, and a steady stream of bobbing red pinpricks marked the way ahead.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Then things got weird... </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Hallucination, Mind Games, & Saddle Sores</span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">The lack of reference points meant that changes in the grade of the road were felt, rather than seen, almost like riding a roller coaster with eyes closed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I started to feel the ups and downs in my stomach and inner ear.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Then I saw what looked like a tandem ahead with the rear rider standing on his saddle staring at me, while the front rider pedaled on.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span> As I got closer it turned out to be just a regular rider, pedaling normally.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> Luckily, I think this was my only hallucination. </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span></span>Riders were passed out on the side of the road, cocooned in space blankets, looking like they had just tumbled out onto the shoulder, bike and all, and slept where they landed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The geometric patterns of their reflectors both dazzled and captivated my sleep-deprived brain.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Thankfully, another secret control came up, and I took a welcome coffee break.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This turned everything around.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I managed to keep pedaling past dawn, through another control and I even allowed myself to think that I might actually finish this thing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">The next control turned out to be one that seemed to take forever to navigate.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There were lines for everything, and by the time I had eaten I felt like I was moving through a fog.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I put my head on the table and drifted off a couple of times.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Finally I knew I had to get moving.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I reapplied some chamois lube and set off… and fire lanced through my backside.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Whatever saddle sores were there got irritated by the lube, and I could not sit comfortably on the saddle.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I moved around the best I could, but it was pretty hopeless, and I really began to despair that this was the end.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span></span>I stopped for a minute to shed my jacket and noticed that the laces on my brooks leather saddle had come unknotted.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I retied them tighter and took off.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Relief!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It changed the shape of the saddle just enough that I could sit comfortably.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was elated.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Ahh.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The sun had come out.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I had temporarily conquered my saddle demons and escaped the black hole control.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I started noticing the scenery around me: beautiful vegetable gardens (always with leeks, cabbage and carrots), flowers everywhere, and the most perfectly manicured hedges I’ve ever seen in my life.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I reached the next control and ate a big bowl of macaroni and turkey.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Gotta’ go.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><span> </span>It’s sunny.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m flying along.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>After a couple of hours I started getting drowsy in the afternoon sun, so I stopped at a bar/café for a heavenly cup of espresso.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I still felt full, though, and I was worried that my stomach wasn’t digesting anything.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">More long climbs and I got to the next control, which was loud and overwhelming: a narrow street filled with screaming people and an announcer on a pa, who yelled your name and country of origin as you enter the control area.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Gotta’ get out of here.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Now the mind games started:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>OK, 180 miles left at 15mph total, means only 12 more hours.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Oooh, that’s finishing in the middle of the night.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Should I sleep?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Will I need to sleep?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Just gotta’ get out of the control and back onto the road.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">I risked a baguette with ham and butter and an Orangina, which tasted awesome.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The road ascended to a gentle ridge around the town with gorgeous views of the valley to either side.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">A Quick Friendship</span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Now I rode along and noticed an older man riding next to me at almost the same cadence, which surprised me, as I tend to spin a pretty fast cadence, even up hills, while most people tend to pedal less in a harder gear.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We pedaled over some rollers, and he stayed right there, just behind me on the left.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span></span>It was oddly comforting riding together, and he seemed to pedal effortlessly.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We approached a group of riders on a long gentle climb, and I realized that it would be easier to just pass them rather than try to slowly go around them, so I kicked it in up and over the hill.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">I turned my head and my French companion was right there with a big grin on his face.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So it went for a few more miles.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span></span>Finally I said in my awful tired French that my name is Chris.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He said that he is Roger.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I asked if he had done PBP many times.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He smiled and said, yes, he is 69 years old and this is his eighth time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I am stunned, and he is amused at my expression.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">We reached the next to last control and he smiled one last time and said that this is where he’ll sleep.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I hesitated for a moment, but seeing the riders flying away from the hive of activity that is the control somehow got me motivated.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span></span>I grabbed a coffee, a fistful of Mars candy bars and headed out into the night, determined to finish the ride by morning.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Almost Done – or, Am I?</span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">I set out down a long descent, but noticed several riders hesitating, checking their cue sheets, their gps and their maps.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The reflective signs that had confirmed the route for us for the last 1000km were nowhere to be seen.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">I pedaled on, yet again on a stretch of inky black darkness, route undulating under me, then suddenly through a floodlit village where an official waved us around a corner.<span> </span> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">I could hear him yelling at a stopped group of riders who were questioning the lack of signs: “You can’t expect us to mark every turn”.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Well, you had done so up ‘til now.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Why stop?</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Suddenly a rider zoomed by me, whistled to his friends behind him and zoomed off.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I figured he must know the route, so I hustled to stay with him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Soon we were a group of 12, flying through the utter blackness.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Evidently no signs meant no turns.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The pace continued on at breakneck speed, as I watched the rider in front of me start to lurch to the left and right in front of me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Not good at this speed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span></span>Then the rider at the front was replaced by his buddy, the pace quickened further, and I dropped back, watching their taillights zoom away into the darkness.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>No matter, as I spun along, watching anxiously for the lights ahead of the town of Dreux and the last control and trying not to think about how tantalizingly close to the end I was coming.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">The last control was somber and quiet, and I wanted to leave as soon as possible, so I took off again into the night feeling a bit ragged.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The signs were back, but it was becoming difficult to concentrate at every intersection to make sure that I stayed on course.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span> </span>I managed to stay with another rider, and the two of us kept each other on course, until another rider zoomed past us. We took off after him, determined to keep his taillight in our vision.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">We reached a steep climb into the area around the starting town.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Now I could really feel the lack of food, and I was getting tired.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I labored - just had to keep that rider in front of us in sight.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> The </span>course led through the hills around the starting area, and we circled back around, seemingly in giant repeating loops.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Finally, spray-painted on the road was a message: <b>10km to go</b>.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">..! </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Two Taiwanese riders were now in front of me, and I resolved to keep them in sight.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>5km to go and we entered the city of St. Quentin proper.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We were nearing the finish!</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span>Suddenly, no riders were in front of me, and I had no idea where to go.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span></span>A sign reading Paris-Brest led me to an empty parking lot.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I tried to circle back, but had lost my bearings in the night.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I flagged down a woman and asked directions.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Her husband was also finishing PBP, but she had no idea where the finish was.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She pointed me in a direction and thought it was that way.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">As I cruised over an overpass, I saw a group of riders beneath me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I lurched down to the street and joined the group.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Finally!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Then they admitted that they were also lost.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Four others joined us, also lost.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">We were tired and pissed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Finally we saw a sign and turned a corner into the finish area.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">We were herded into a holding area where we stowed our bikes and led into the hall that served as the finish.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Inside riders were sprawled sleeping everywhere.<span> </span>I turned in my card and promptly joined the others on the floor, easily passing out for an hour nap.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span>I was done, and after my nap I pedaled the last 2 miles to the hotel – standing the whole way, as my saddle chafing had finally hit the unbearable point.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Everyone was up, eating breakfast and cheering as each rider made the slow trek to the front of the hotel.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span></span>A quick shower, a beaming hug and kiss from Amy, clapping and cheering from the hotel guests and staff, and I hit the bed for some of the most wonderful sleep I’ve enjoyed for a long time. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">The Big Question</span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Will I do this ride again?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Hard to say.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s probably good that it only happens every four years.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In true randonneur fashion I will forget the sleeplessness, the rough roads that caused my fingers and toes to still be numb two weeks after the event, and all the half-conscious stumbling around to find lines for food, restroom, etc.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">I will remember flying through the dead, still night, and the earnest faces of villagers yelling “Bon Courage!”.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Perhaps I will come up with new strategies to ride the ride faster and more comfortably.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">All through the ride I kept thinking of those riders I met before the start who had done the ride five, six, seven times.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What motivates them?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Does the itch just start again after two or three years?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Well, I know I have plenty of time to mull it over and see which memories get amplified and which get glossed over and selectively culled.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Who knows, I may be back at the starting line in 4 years, trying for 69 hours.</span></div>Amyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08119257437945590787noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7819576052500293304.post-72137808594059114122011-09-01T17:07:00.000-07:002011-09-01T17:07:05.459-07:00Velonews article on PBP & some cool videosChris is almost done with his ride report and will post it tonight (that's his goal.). In the meantime, you might enjoy reading this article on this year's PBP from Velonews. Thanks to our new friend and fellow PBP rider, David Litt in Japan, who shared this link with us: <a href="http://velonews.competitor.com/2011/08/news/feature-paris-brest-paris-the-ultimate-event_190550" target="_blank">http://velonews.competitor.com/2011/08/news/feature-paris-brest-paris-the-ultimate-event_190550</a>. (I think there is one correction, though. If I am doing the math correctly, 1200 kilometers is closer to 760 miles, not 746 miles, as mentioned in the article. Still, more miles than the average person is willing to do!)<br />
<br />
Also, another fellow rider whom we met at our hotel during the event, Jan Dembinski in Vermont, forwarded this link to some great videos. All are in French, but the images need no translation: <span style="font-family: Calibri,Verdana,Helvetica,Arial;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"></span></span><span style="font-family: Calibri,Verdana,Helvetica,Arial;"><a href="http://www.dailymotion.com/video/xksiu4_pbp-2011-best-of_news" target="_blank">http://www.dailymotion.com/video/xksiu4_pbp-2011-best-of_news.</a></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri,Verdana,Helvetica,Arial;">Chris is editing his report now...hope to get that posted very soon. </span> Amyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08119257437945590787noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7819576052500293304.post-22393709418559149072011-08-31T04:51:00.000-07:002011-08-31T04:51:13.156-07:00A Fellow Rider's Ride ReportChris and I flew back to Cincinnati yesterday. It is a surreal transition. Chris is working on his ride report and we will also post pictures soon. We were without computer access the last part of our trip and are now catching up on our family and friends' messages, facebook posts, and blog comments. What on earth did we do to deserve such a wonderful group of people in our lives? And how awesome that we now have many, many new friends to add to this fantastic group. Too cool!<br />
<br />
As most of you know, Chris is a bike mechanic at Jim's Bicycle Shop in Cincinnati (in Deer Park). One of Jim's customers is Todd Williams. He just posted a great ride report on the bike shop's blog. Here's the link: http://jimsbicycleshop.wordpress.com/2011/08/30/paris-brest-paris-todd-williams-fourth-ride/. Todd's writing really takes you along for the ride and all of its bumps, challenges, and successes. Read it and enjoy.<br />
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Chris and I took today off from work to recuperate a bit and reflect on our trip. Chris has jotted notes and his thoughts about the ride and he will do a blog post soon. We can't thank everyone enough for your support. We peeked at the statistics for our blog. It shows that people from the U.S., Sweden, Ireland, France, and Germany have visited and read our posts. How awesome! If they are PBP riders or friends and family of a rider, Chris and I hope that they are celebrating their accomplishments. More than 20% did not finish the ride, but I know that they are still heroes. Read Todd's ride report above and you'll understand what I mean. Anyone who sets PBP as a goal is a hero. Because PBP is more than a ride. So much more. <br />
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Amyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08119257437945590787noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7819576052500293304.post-11633926703459203992011-08-25T14:31:00.000-07:002011-08-25T14:31:40.994-07:0072 hours, 10 minutesChris is snoring next to me. Safe, exhausted, overwhelmed. He rode a fantastic ride. Other riders came up to me and told me how strong a rider Chris is and how well he rode his first PBP. I am so proud of him and of all the riders from our hotel. We had a big celebration dinner at the hotel tonight. Even the staff took pictures of our group. I met a local Frenchman who had turned out to cheer on the riders with us at the start of the ride. As it turns out he is in the champagne business. A few of the other spouses pitched in with me and we bought 12 bottles of champagne to toast our riders at tonight's dinner. We included the hotel staff and they did a very sweet toast to all of us as well. Such an awesome experience!<br />
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Chris finished his first PBP in 72 hours and 10 minutes. I am so proud of him. He will have stories to share with you soon. A few days rest in our apartment rental in Paris will do him a world of good. I will convalesce with him as it seems all of the spouses have come down with head colds! Sympathy pain? Doesn't quite match the saddle sores, road rash, and leg cramps of our spouses. They look like the walking wounded. And I know that our friends who did not finish the ride are very disappointed. But they really all are heroes. <br />
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Thank you again to everyone who has followed along on our PBP adventure. Chris will have more to write after some much needed sleep. Funny, I usually worry about snoring and keeping Chris up when I have a head cold. I don't think that will be a problem tonight! XO, Amy & ChrisAmyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08119257437945590787noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7819576052500293304.post-81395410636442865642011-08-24T16:00:00.000-07:002011-08-24T16:00:12.036-07:00Almost here!One of the hotel staff came up to me at dinner to let me know that Chris was at the next to the last control stop and that he expected to finish around 3 or 4 a.m. (it's almost midnight here as I type this.). He had taken our hotel's number with him and asked one of the volunteers to call for him and relay the message to me. <br />
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It has been an emotional time. Several of our friends have had to drop out because of mechanical failures or illness. They have come back to the hotel tired, worn out, and very disappointed. I went into Paris today with the spouse of a rider who had to quit the ride because of stomach problems. The rider had to take a train from Carhaix to Paris. With my limited French, I helped buy train tickets, find the correct train platform, and get everybody back by train and bus from Paris to the small town where we are all staying. It took most of the day, but it helped distract me from worrying and waiting for Chris.<br />
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I've been moved to tears several times in the last two days. When the first DNF (did not finish) rider came back to the hotel, we spontaneously clapped as he made his way down the driveway. We have given each rider a hero's welcome. They deserve nothing less. <br />
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I am not sure if news has made it back to you yet, but sadly an American rider from DC was killed. I have not heard all of the details, but news of his death has affected all of us and has certainly increased the anxiety levels for those of us waiting for spouses and friends to return. And has made each homecoming that much more emotional.<br />
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There are no words that I can write that can adequately capture the meaning of this experience. The people we have met are fantastic. The French people have treated the riders like rock stars. One rider told me that as he stopped to fix a broken spoke, a small crowd of children gathered around him. When he had successfully fixed the spoke, the children clapped and cheered, handed him a bottle of water and shouted, "Bon courage!". I know that hundreds of scenes like this have played out over and over again. Small but powerful reminders that simple acts of decency and kindness can restore someone's dignity and hope. <br />
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Thanks, everyone, for following along on this incredible journey. I know we all look forward to hearing Chris' stories. We'Ll update again soon. <br />
Amyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08119257437945590787noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7819576052500293304.post-23649744697446106382011-08-22T12:07:00.000-07:002011-08-22T12:07:41.141-07:00He's on his way...The alarm went off at 3:15 a.m. I don't think Chris got much sleep. I know I did not. We watched the first group of riders take off the night before. It was truly one of the most awesome things we've ever witnessed. The look of excitement, determination, and child like wonder played on every face. We cheered and screamed, "Allez!". Grins and waves and hoots of gratitude met our every shout of encouragement. Chris' time group left the next morning at 5am and all of us spouses turned and made as much noise for them as the night before.<br />
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Be sure to check Chris' progress by entering his frame number, 8248, on the PBP site. Chris included it in an earlier post. I am a bit loopy with no sleep, several glasses of wine, and adrenaline. The people we have met are priceless. They are and will be friends for a very long time. Once we are back we will post pictures and give you some bios on our new friends. One rider is in his fifth PBP. Amazing! Chris is well on his way...! Love to you all!Amyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08119257437945590787noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7819576052500293304.post-47747606511726973032011-08-19T00:57:00.000-07:002011-08-19T00:57:47.286-07:00We Made It!After a long day of traveling, Chris and I have settled into our hotel and he is already on the bike checking the lay of the land. There is no computer at the hotel, but we have quickly made friends with someone who has an iPad (thank you, Terry!)<br />
<br />
We have met people from Japan, New York, Minnesota, Arkansas, Seattle and Kentucky. We spent a lovely, cool evening (I should have brought more long sleeved shirts!) unpacking bikes, sharing food and wine, and adjusting to the new time zone with a great group of folks. Several riders have returned for their fourth and fifth PBP event! <br />
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Chris has his bike inspection tomorrow. He is nervous, but excited, and it is reassuring to talk to the veteran riders. Not much more to report. I think we are still in a bit of a trance - pinch us, are we really here?!<br />
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As always, we are grateful for the support everyone has shown us. Your good vibes follow us and will keep Chris company as he pedals his way through this amazing adventure. Mercy, mes amis! We'll try to post again soon. Love, Amy and ChrisAmyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08119257437945590787noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7819576052500293304.post-9737791596413848562011-08-17T08:34:00.000-07:002011-08-17T08:34:09.547-07:00A Big ThanksChris here.<br />
<br />
I wanted to take a quick moment to give a big round of thanks to all my friends and family who have inspired, encouraged, prodded and generally supported me over this past year. Thanks, everyone!<br />
<br />
If you would like to check my progress during the ride, we are wearing id chips that will register what time we reach each control (required stop) along the course. You can go <a href="http://www.paris-brest-paris.org/pbp2011/index2.php?lang=en&cat=randonnee&page=suivi_participants">here</a> and type in my frame (race) number, which is 8248. This is the first year they've done this, so there may be a few glitches, and I'm not sure how often they update the info.<br />
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I have to admit that I'm a bit nervous. But I am looking forward to the challenge and the experience. Thanks again to everyone for your support! --Chris <br />
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Amy here.<br />
<br />
I may have more butterflies in my stomach than Chris does. I echo his gratitude and love to each of you - the responses we've received to our attempts at "blogging" are heart warming. Chris deserves most of the credit for getting this far - but our family and friends have made the journey that much more meaningful. Thank you.<br />
<br />
We will make every effort to keep our blog updated over the next two weeks. I am so excited to meet the thousands of other riders and their "cheerleaders" who are making their way to France as I write this post. It's a pilgrimage of sorts. It's bigger than a cycling event. It's a testament to what an individual can do with equal parts inspiration and determination. It's about risk taking - betting on yourself and your abilities. How often do we really allow ourselves to take that kind of risk? Not nearly as often as we should or could.<br />
<br />
I'm not a betting woman, but in this case, I'm putting everything on #8248. The risk is so worth taking. We've got nothing to lose because we've already won. <br />
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Love to you all. --Amy & Chris<br />
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Amyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08119257437945590787noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7819576052500293304.post-78301978712655495542011-08-13T16:24:00.000-07:002011-08-14T18:34:13.130-07:00When the Other Woman is a Bicycle...<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNFDUV7OhekT5_JM-HuYhn2jQlhW7ImtNGvCH_gTOKMxvUBXwopl4EgvZTX9_e7f1v5vmSMvQDJj_Z3BBcPcQ93GJcAksP9MXmid4qXHlPlFSpyomPjnvAdIOKuUUeF1JvcV9LeH-Lze0Y/s1600/140609152331-01.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNFDUV7OhekT5_JM-HuYhn2jQlhW7ImtNGvCH_gTOKMxvUBXwopl4EgvZTX9_e7f1v5vmSMvQDJj_Z3BBcPcQ93GJcAksP9MXmid4qXHlPlFSpyomPjnvAdIOKuUUeF1JvcV9LeH-Lze0Y/s320/140609152331-01.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Chris at a motel during a brevet. Yup, with "her!"</td></tr>
</tbody></table>The text message I sent to my friends read: <i>Chris is with "her" this weekend. Anyone up for Mexican food and beer? </i>Chris was away (again) for one of his qualifying brevets and I had another weekend to myself. As anyone who shares a home with a long distance cyclist knows, long distance = LOTS of time on the bike. And when you are with a long distance cyclist who is training for the Paris-Brest-Paris event, the amount of time on the bike increases exponentially! Which means you, as the supportive partner, must get used to the idea of doing a lot of things by yourself. <br />
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No matter how rational you try to be, you will occasionally find yourself jealous of the bike and the time your spouse spends with her, er, it. Don't get me wrong - there are times when this solitude is a luxury. There are other times (like grocery shopping or cleaning the bathroom or taking three cats to the vet) when you wish you weren't flying solo. Weekends can be especially lonely since Chris works on Saturdays, and Sundays are always a big riding day. <br />
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<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEib8OUg6pgtLk10XMfkuXv3lEWO4iPmAnetGdy3csFXhxNng8N0mu4QJirVSBHz9XJPOg4-F4zd5yzjbla5cHS1piWDXFDjwoASNhPUbvEC1TQpsqxXdoPbMXvaJZlRPIyYHI3v3Ee_SUGK/s1600/Motel+6%252C+bike+rides%252C+etc.+May+%2526+June+2010+053.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEib8OUg6pgtLk10XMfkuXv3lEWO4iPmAnetGdy3csFXhxNng8N0mu4QJirVSBHz9XJPOg4-F4zd5yzjbla5cHS1piWDXFDjwoASNhPUbvEC1TQpsqxXdoPbMXvaJZlRPIyYHI3v3Ee_SUGK/s320/Motel+6%252C+bike+rides%252C+etc.+May+%2526+June+2010+053.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Other Woman...</td></tr>
</tbody></table>So how do I fill my time? I do a lot more cooking. Chris' mistress doesn't cook. That's one thing I've got on her. Chris comes home ravenous after his brevets. We do not have children, but to look at our grocery cart many people would swear that we have three growing teenage boys who are eating us out of house and home. No, no teenage boys. Just one endurance cyclist.<br />
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Over the last two years of goal setting and training for Paris-Brest-Paris, Chris, his mistress and I have worked out a pretty good relationship. He still chooses her over me on most Sundays. But I think I understand their relationship better. After all, I'm counting on her to get Chris over the finish line in 84 hours or less, and mostly intact.<br />
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But I've got news for her. On the flight to France, I get the window seat.<br />
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Amyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08119257437945590787noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7819576052500293304.post-5725656231991396712011-08-09T19:10:00.000-07:002011-08-09T19:10:59.315-07:00Details, Details, DetailsHi, it's Chris here. Amy's been bugging me (she's good at that!) to post some more details about what the heck this PBP is, etc., etc.<br />
<br />
Perhaps a brief explanation is in order. <br />
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Paris-Brest-Paris (PBP) is a 1200km brevet (rhymes with "Chevrolet"), or organized ride, in the sport of randonneuring, or long-distance, self-supported cycling. Organizers of these rides provide riders with a set course with stops along the way (controls). A card provided to each rider must be stamped at each control and then submitted as proof of completion of the course. Riders are not permitted to receive any outside help along the course (except at controls), so no sag vehicles or support crews are allowed. While not races, each distance has a maximum completion time in order to receive credit for having completed the ride (e.g. 40 hours for the 600km).<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKOhHRyjFoaO9rukVJ98ZlRhB32_IAuMA35AJ0cxuir5pwxk82UoWwowyZCeM5pD1B-0YSni6PbUEpYLLNYbciALmJTJr5QmVBo_m8kuF2Z7uPgMnMe8VIA2F0j-0yS1guCe0ZnxSuEOeP/s1600/130609085529-01.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKOhHRyjFoaO9rukVJ98ZlRhB32_IAuMA35AJ0cxuir5pwxk82UoWwowyZCeM5pD1B-0YSni6PbUEpYLLNYbciALmJTJr5QmVBo_m8kuF2Z7uPgMnMe8VIA2F0j-0yS1guCe0ZnxSuEOeP/s320/130609085529-01.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>For PBP each participant can choose a starting group based on one's expected completion time: 80, 84, or 90 hours (the maximum). I've decided to go with the 84 hour group, hoping that perhaps the crowds will be less at the controls with the smaller starting group, and also preferring the 5am starting time rather than the early evening starting time of the 90 hour group.<br />
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To qualify for PBP one must complete a series of brevets, that is a 200, 300, 400 and 600km brevet in the Spring prior to PBP. Because these must be done by mid-June, they start early in the year: the 200km brevet was 18 degrees at the start in early-March. Springtime weather is par for the course as well: the 300km brevet ran from Urbana to Oxford and back. In Oxford a thunderstorm started and kept exact pace with our lowly group, drenching us for four solid hours. By the time of the 600km brevet in early June, the weather had turned to the upper 90's, and 17 of the original 36 starters had dropped out by the midway point of the ride. By the end of the day salt crystals encrusted my helmet straps, eyebrows and goatee.<br />
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PBP will be a far cry from the ramble around Ohio with stops at out-of-the-way convenient stores as controls. Each control in France will offer food and drink of all sorts (being France most even publish their menus ahead of time), and later in the ride there will also be opportunities for showers and sleep. I've elected to pay for a drop bag, allowing me to have access to a small duffel bag twice along the route - changing clothes is heavenly after that many hours on the bike. This also allows me to restock clif bars, energy drink mix and batteries - the staples of randonneuring for me.<br />
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My race number (or "frame number") is 8248. For the first time, each rider will have a radio frequency chip, which will track each rider's progress. If all goes as planned you can go to <a href="http://www.paris-brest-paris.org/pbp2011/index2.php?lang=en&cat=randonnee&page=suivi_participants">this link</a> and enter my frame number. This will only tell you the time I entered the last control, so it will not be up to the minute accurate, but close enough. Amy will help fill in the blanks for everyone with pictures and blog posts while I am on the bike. With over 6,000 riders expected to participate, she will probably have some interesting things and pictures (hopefully!) to post. <br />
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Thanks for following along on our PBP adventure...stay tuned...!<br />
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Amyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08119257437945590787noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7819576052500293304.post-45368013417617584572011-07-29T19:05:00.000-07:002011-07-29T19:05:43.926-07:00A Surprise Bicycle Birthday Party (for a 40-year old!)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2bh6HZ0-VGn0hQiVODlefaDXH7zoXSoSIBA-mLTM3bpOzxGVAVq7jCQjerM_ySt1LJTO7mcoG3u1O8xcbOpcw8wJghSV6kvD1NAQuUhEkKSvwd-hS7MOh0ryZebnVv6w5QsD3gs5-Drfk/s1600/Chris%2527+40th+Surprise+B%2527Day+Party+066.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2bh6HZ0-VGn0hQiVODlefaDXH7zoXSoSIBA-mLTM3bpOzxGVAVq7jCQjerM_ySt1LJTO7mcoG3u1O8xcbOpcw8wJghSV6kvD1NAQuUhEkKSvwd-hS7MOh0ryZebnVv6w5QsD3gs5-Drfk/s320/Chris%2527+40th+Surprise+B%2527Day+Party+066.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The cake was a true work of art!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>Chris will be one week shy of his 41st birthday when he finishes his 760-mile trek across France. His 40th year rolled in on two wheels and it's only fitting that he usher it out in the same way. <br />
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I wanted to do something extra special for Chris' 40th birthday and I wanted that "extra special" to include recognition and celebration of his goal to ride in the Paris-Brest-Paris event. So I did the one thing that I swore I'd never do. I planned a surprise party for him.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtS1E71Wst3F5lBuBDJoeROgU-yLuuMZskUIs93n85qK4FO0oV4w8AOoCXa6I3nRi9KPqYigcgDfU_O21j-eI-o1fW4ZPLu5PDjioFFc8AH8bXvRlw10HzFzkiEy0vVou7-rAoRLmbnCMT/s1600/IMG_0137.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtS1E71Wst3F5lBuBDJoeROgU-yLuuMZskUIs93n85qK4FO0oV4w8AOoCXa6I3nRi9KPqYigcgDfU_O21j-eI-o1fW4ZPLu5PDjioFFc8AH8bXvRlw10HzFzkiEy0vVou7-rAoRLmbnCMT/s200/IMG_0137.JPG" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A true work of art!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>I can't keep a secret. I don't intentionally spill the beans, but invariably I do. I started planning Chris' surprise party months in advance. More than enough time to get things done, ordered, organized. Far too much time if you can't keep a secret. I would not be surprised if Chris, at some point, suspected I was having an affair.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEiqRQS0UgNBh6jcVbHLBGMPic7tmeARo9naJkY4_UrwHZVErWuNsCsajbzpemIdNxCDfmUtK7hPp53soK0RBvn71QLQlxXaotf8iCbFCdbjzwzVIlntTWwwjeofloCL3cRsmeHFOU3JYm/s1600/IMG_0123.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEiqRQS0UgNBh6jcVbHLBGMPic7tmeARo9naJkY4_UrwHZVErWuNsCsajbzpemIdNxCDfmUtK7hPp53soK0RBvn71QLQlxXaotf8iCbFCdbjzwzVIlntTWwwjeofloCL3cRsmeHFOU3JYm/s320/IMG_0123.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Chris and Glenn with well deserved beers in hand!</td></tr>
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I did amazingly well. Chris did admit that he thought something might be up when he saw next to my laptop a scribbled list of names of our family and friends. God love 'em. He never said a word or tried to figure out the details.<br />
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With the help of our amazing family and friends, we plotted to surprise Chris at the end of a long ride that our dear friend, Glenn, organized (a ride that would end up picking up a couple of new riders who had no idea what was about to unfold.)<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQOKgM-L2pFtcp30KBIcf36Gy09lJmpcB-im0HeE_6gKyKqbWysuDquceExK3jixbFjDbX5CKj8U7m4ykK1biVfclajwBHyh4ATo6VcE1vJjvjxhKSlnlCEPEOic2v_c4U1f_bpX3b5aUK/s1600/IMG_0132.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQOKgM-L2pFtcp30KBIcf36Gy09lJmpcB-im0HeE_6gKyKqbWysuDquceExK3jixbFjDbX5CKj8U7m4ykK1biVfclajwBHyh4ATo6VcE1vJjvjxhKSlnlCEPEOic2v_c4U1f_bpX3b5aUK/s320/IMG_0132.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Dave Might made this cake topper of Chris</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td></tr>
</tbody></table> Friends and family gathered at Laura's house (Glenn's significant other and another dear friend of ours). Glenn made up a story about leaving his wallet at Laura's house the night before and could the guys all take a quick detour so he could grab it from her? <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> As they rolled up to Laura's, she gave us the signal and we all came pouring out of the side yard, yelling "SURPRISE," and laughing at the look of confusion on Chris' face. Then laughing harder as he realizes what's going on. The outpouring of love, support, good-natured teasing, admiration, and encouragement for Chris was just plain awesome. He and I both realized how lucky, how fortunate, how truly grateful we are that these beautiful people are a part of our lives. You know who you are! And we know that your good vibes and positive energy will surround Chris every minute that he is on that bike, pedaling hundreds of miles across France and making 40 look pretty darn great!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2bh6HZ0-VGn0hQiVODlefaDXH7zoXSoSIBA-mLTM3bpOzxGVAVq7jCQjerM_ySt1LJTO7mcoG3u1O8xcbOpcw8wJghSV6kvD1NAQuUhEkKSvwd-hS7MOh0ryZebnVv6w5QsD3gs5-Drfk/s1600/Chris%2527+40th+Surprise+B%2527Day+Party+066.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2bh6HZ0-VGn0hQiVODlefaDXH7zoXSoSIBA-mLTM3bpOzxGVAVq7jCQjerM_ySt1LJTO7mcoG3u1O8xcbOpcw8wJghSV6kvD1NAQuUhEkKSvwd-hS7MOh0ryZebnVv6w5QsD3gs5-Drfk/s320/Chris%2527+40th+Surprise+B%2527Day+Party+066.JPG" width="240" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmMsCKJYM_YHAgRXZYYmJetzjpreokLJZDGmD4RvzfFEl1vLQCgnthr8dTm8WXVe8tsfNmr-TdBGjApvr0v7L8Y6kMv8-CAkuo1-afGDvDVJIjwkKAKG2m4acE5bywo1nfnSjBD5GNcCvV/s1600/IMG_0126.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmMsCKJYM_YHAgRXZYYmJetzjpreokLJZDGmD4RvzfFEl1vLQCgnthr8dTm8WXVe8tsfNmr-TdBGjApvr0v7L8Y6kMv8-CAkuo1-afGDvDVJIjwkKAKG2m4acE5bywo1nfnSjBD5GNcCvV/s320/IMG_0126.JPG" width="242" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhB2zK7EYJFgLQTdcSgrxYvWHUAudJLAUg0XqGdE_oqfmUp5NVo90f1lQlUpKPl8ql0FuPM0jtkXhDT82bNQn-gwjHSFsjJ08VXmOcXPYZeyPa0rVSokPDdve00kjN8739vp3vcd7hHmRWx/s1600/IMG_0130.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhB2zK7EYJFgLQTdcSgrxYvWHUAudJLAUg0XqGdE_oqfmUp5NVo90f1lQlUpKPl8ql0FuPM0jtkXhDT82bNQn-gwjHSFsjJ08VXmOcXPYZeyPa0rVSokPDdve00kjN8739vp3vcd7hHmRWx/s320/IMG_0130.JPG" width="264" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjacst5FGqplekUqf0_Yz0Km8z3ECtDg894I546uZTbdCx_4Nzwb_rfWgibiSfXWwsiDfL_eDr33Xkr6eoFQRFv1WJAOhhkHzGbrYyLl-FPkJ_hLhd2ReE4BkKAYmI0F60DVcullZ6B27I/s1600/Chris%2527+40th+Surprise+B%2527Day+Party+055.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjacst5FGqplekUqf0_Yz0Km8z3ECtDg894I546uZTbdCx_4Nzwb_rfWgibiSfXWwsiDfL_eDr33Xkr6eoFQRFv1WJAOhhkHzGbrYyLl-FPkJ_hLhd2ReE4BkKAYmI0F60DVcullZ6B27I/s320/Chris%2527+40th+Surprise+B%2527Day+Party+055.JPG" width="320" /></a> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><span id="goog_1500055664"></span><span id="goog_1500055665"></span>Amyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08119257437945590787noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7819576052500293304.post-50633474141165092472011-07-28T18:32:00.000-07:002011-07-28T18:49:12.737-07:00Paris-Brest-Paris: A Spouse's Perspective<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUeO-2XUrmurOp27nTmHLpb6oB2DzKLOyF-FnBYSZxVrtTFXPBQfq4st1J6Joi8y_IPltPfb0N00l36mBNKi8ScqExPUWtpIVW-YgvMw30Anx7ar5MYrRpIOpudHKD2ocG70Y3-PdDOFO9/s1600/IMG_0166.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUeO-2XUrmurOp27nTmHLpb6oB2DzKLOyF-FnBYSZxVrtTFXPBQfq4st1J6Joi8y_IPltPfb0N00l36mBNKi8ScqExPUWtpIVW-YgvMw30Anx7ar5MYrRpIOpudHKD2ocG70Y3-PdDOFO9/s320/IMG_0166.JPG" width="320" /></a>Chris is good for me because he's my censor. My pause button and impulse control. He reminds me to "sleep on it" before making a big decision. He's saved me money and a bit of pride on more than one occasion.<br />
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Chris, on the other hand, is careful and measured and rarely makes a bad decision. It's one of the things I love about him. But it means a decision can incubate for a very long time as he turns the situation and all the options over and over in his mind. As much as he reins me in, I try to be his kick in the butt.<br />
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When we first started talking about the possibility of him doing the Paris-Brest-Paris ride, he hesitated. Can we afford it? Would he be able to find the time to train enough, ride enough? Was the timing right? Was he a strong enough rider? <br />
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"Just do it. We'll figure out the details. We'll make it work. You can so totally do this," I tell him. I admit I was not totally selfless in my encouragement. A trip to France?!? Of course, as a supportive spouse, I'd need to go with him. He would need someone at the finish line holding that bottle of champagne in celebration.<br />
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I knew we were on our way to France when the alarm goes off at 3:45 a.m. on a cold, drizzly Saturday. Chris is not a morning person. The only time he willingly gets up at such an ungodly hour is the day we leave for our annual trip to the Outer Banks in the North Carolina.<br />
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When the alarm went off at 3:45 a.m. and he got up to leave for his brevet (one of the organized qualifying rides he had to do to be eligible for PBP), I snuggled into his side of the bed, with a smile on my lips, and dreamt of the Eiffel Tower.Amyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08119257437945590787noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7819576052500293304.post-55555997858941713752011-07-27T18:40:00.000-07:002011-07-27T18:40:53.046-07:00<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgljtjiTyju9OFrDPFjqCAD6GVmSEnWHv0CL2pa4ZWvcMQqC4V5W-1qUqhON1qRDmy38qzZguFJC7plZj6fSlJJ_xZN2cggmiZSkRBvEVczBTBza4hj5Rhwnt4s4P_0QXbfik20CC7G_Qus/s1600/260311083847-01.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgljtjiTyju9OFrDPFjqCAD6GVmSEnWHv0CL2pa4ZWvcMQqC4V5W-1qUqhON1qRDmy38qzZguFJC7plZj6fSlJJ_xZN2cggmiZSkRBvEVczBTBza4hj5Rhwnt4s4P_0QXbfik20CC7G_Qus/s320/260311083847-01.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>Amy's been bugging me to start a blog with our departure only weeks away. It seems fitting both chronologically and in light of the blistering heat outside now to start with the 200k, the first qualifier of the year. After all, it was 18 degrees at the start of the ride. Cold enough that I wondered if my shifters would just up and freeze. (But not mine. They're Campy, right?) 64 riders registered and less than half actually showed up. That moment of hesitation before the start: "Should I add one more layer of clothing? (Even though I know I'll shed it in an hour?)"<br />
The ride started on March 26, and it was a crystal clear, starry morning. I drove up from Cincinnati to Springfield at some merciless hour for the 7:30am beginning. By the first control the sun was out, but the wind froze my goatee solid. The teenybopper clerk at the convenient store stared at me with wide eyes and exclaimed "Omigod! Your beard! It's frozen!" Yeah, well, it's cold out there. Would you please sign my card?<br />
The trick was to keep moving and not let those nagging doubts about enough training after an icy winter slow me down. I ended up riding with a new, faster group of people, cramping miserably only miles from the end, but finishing nonetheless - ultimately the only important result toward qualification for PBP.Amyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08119257437945590787noreply@blogger.com0