I am blessed with friends who come up with interesting ideas- which
is a good thing because I have few of my own. Last spring, my friend
Kieth proposed a bike trip to the French
Alps. This spring, my friend Tim proposed a trip to France, this
time to do Paris-Brest-Paris, the famous and
grueling randonnee.
PBP is a 1200 km (750 mile) bike ride which must be completed in 90
hours or less, with checkpoints (controles) about every 40 km
that must be reached within a specific time frame. It begins in
Guyancourt, close to Paris, and proceeds westerly to the Atlantic
Ocean port of Brest, and then back to Paris. PBP is held every four
years; the 2003 edition is the 15th PBP- the first having been held as
a professional event in 1891. PBP was held every 10 years until World
War II, which interrupted the schedule. The last professional edition
of PBP was held in 1951. Changing to a quadrennial schedule, PBP was
next held in 1956, the first all-amateur version. It has remained an
amateur "noncompetitive" event every since- which doesn't stop some
from trying to set the best time and to "win" the event. It is now
held every four years. Thus the 2003 edition is the 15th PBP, despite
having first been held 112 years ago. All the names of all the
finishers, and their times, are entered into Le Livre des
Anciennes (The Book of the Ancients). The first American to
finish PBP was Charly Miller, who was fifth in the second PBP (1901)
with a time of 56:40. Over the 14 previous editions of PBP, 851
Americans have completed PBP- and one, Scott Dickson, has been first
back to Paris on several occasions. PBP is managed by the Audax Club Parisien
and Randonneurs Mondiaux. The
American affiliate is Randonneurs
USA, which certifies the brevets and coordinates entry to PBP.
One does not simply send off an entry form for PBP and turn up at
the start line. You have to qualify to enter, which means completing
a series of preparatory rides called brevets. There is a
standard series of these rides, which have to be done in order: 200
km, 300 km, 400 km and 600 km. Fortunately, there are
official brevets across the United States. The
nearest brevet series to us conveniently starts in Rochester
MN, under the auspices of the Rochester Active Sports Club.
Un course premiere: The 200 km brevet The 200
km brevet- like all of this year's series- began in the parking
lot of the Wal-Mart on the north side of Rochester. Sign-in was quick
and painless, and at 8:00 sharp a peloton of 37 randonneurs rolled out
of Rochester. The route was generally south and east, with some
meandering to avoid busy or poor quality roads. Martin Fahje, the
organizer, had been out marking the course which was clearly
identified with arrows. It was actually possible to do the
entire brevet without consulting the map or cue sheet! There
was a strong southeast wind which we would face for almost the entire
first half of the ride.
I was riding with two friends and club-mates from l'Equipe Lanterne Rouge, Tim
(the instigator of our involvement) and Mark. We rode together for
the first few hours, although Tim was obviously quite a bit faster
than me. The first controle was in Stewartville, 36 miles into
the ride. A few miles southeast of Stewartville, I developed a
stabbing pain in my left knee on each pedal revolution. I had been
having trouble with this off and on all spring. It was excruciating,
worse than it had been on any of my training rides, and I was
basically able to ride only with one leg. I debated turning around,
but if I did that was the end of going to France. You have to
complete the entire brevet series, no exceptions, in order to
ride PBP. Lagging behind Mark and Tim, I struggled into Chatfield,
the second controle. Fortunately the route was almost dead
flat and exceedingly boring between the two controles. In
Chatfield I bought a bottle of Aleve and took a couple of those.
There is a brutal ruthlessness to randonneuring:
the strong cannot wait for the weak. It's as simple as that. The
clock is ticking and is implacable. Tim went on ahead. Mark, who was
riding for fun and not planning on doing PBP, hung back with me. I
rode on slowly through the beautiful valley of Fillmore County Road 5,
hoping that the Aleve would dull the pain enough so that I could
finish the ride and fearing that it wouldn't. The rolling terrain
caused problems with every climb- I could only put power into the
pedals with my right leg, and I couldn't stand on the hills.
Eventually the Aleve started to reduce the pain, but my confidence was
shot by then. The beautiful valley finished with a long climb up to
Wykoff at 67 miles. Partway up the climb we met Tim on his return leg
to Rochester. We stopped and chatted, updating him on my condition.
The clock ticking, Mark and I carried on up the hill and Tim rolled
down it.
At Wykoff, we stopped for the third controle. We bought
some snacks, rested for a bit, and then got back on the bikes. There
was now a tailwind, more or less, and the first part of the ride back
was thankfully downhill. Brevets are out-and-back rides, so we
retraced our steps down the lovely valley between Wykoff and Chatfield
(I hate to be repetitive, but it really is a beautiful valley and was
the high point of the ride). By now my knee pain was a dull ache and
I could ride a bit quicker, thanks in part to not having to ride into
the wind up hills. We got back to Chatfield, and then had a big climb
up to the plain, with its long flat straight run in to Stewartville.
After Stewartville, the road turns quite a bit and is a little more
interesting. Somewhere between Stewartville's control and the Byron
control, I got the bonk and became rather silly. A quick snack fixed
this. When we got to Byron and got our cards stamped, there was only
11 miles left to go; at this point I had already been on the longest
bike ride of my life despite having been a bike nut for 30 years.
Mark and I rode up the last big climb (he climbed, I struggled) and
then it was just gently rolling terrain. Just before the end, we
caught up with Don, who was riding a gorgeous Chris Kvale bike
designed expressly for this type of riding. The three of us rode into
Rochester and back to the Wal-Mart where we got our final time stamp
on our route cards. We were done!
Tim had finished two hours ahead of us and had time to clean up and
have dinner with his parents, who live in Rochester, before Mark and I
got back. Mark decided not to turn in his brevet card, since
he wasn't planning on going to PBP and thought it would save Martin
some time and trouble.
RASC 200K brevet Official results:
May 3, 2003
Charles Breer 7:55
Bob Heath 7:55
Bjorn Carlson 8:15
Jim Joy 8:18
Martin Fahje 8:28
Brian Dukek 8:36
Tim Bruns 8:51
Greg Barkley 9:07
Bill Johnson 9:10
Rob Jackson 9:15
Bill Michael 9:15
Carey Fry 9:20 Female
Bob Thompkins 9:40
Jim Foley 9:48
Kevin Porter 9:48
Mike Lane 9:55
John Wharem 9:58
Robert Alwin 9:58
Tom Edgerton 10:10
Mark Rosen 10:10
Robert Wittmers 10:10
Steve McQuire 10:12
Scott Hawley 10:30
Greg Van De Mark 10:30
Mark Scarphol 10:45
Keith Klein 10:45
Don McCall 10:45
Tim McNamara 10:50
Jeanne Abbot 11:00 Female
Randy Catron 11:00
Chris Conger 11:50
Chris Laumb 11:50
Paul Reasoner 12:00
Jim Bergman 12:15
Tim Jenson 12:30
There is a brutal ruthlessness to randonneuring:
the strong cannot wait for the weak. It's as simple as that. The
clock is ticking and is implacable. Tim went on ahead. Mark, who was
riding for fun and not planning on doing PBP, hung back with me. I
rode on slowly through the beautiful valley of Fillmore County Road 5,
hoping that the Aleve would dull the pain enough so that I could
finish the ride and fearing that it wouldn't. The rolling terrain
caused problems with every climb- I could only put power into the
pedals with my right leg, and I couldn't stand on the hills.
Eventually the Aleve started to reduce the pain, but my confidence was
shot by then. The beautiful valley finished with a long climb up to
Wykoff at 67 miles. Partway up the climb we met Tim on his return leg
to Rochester. We stopped and chatted, updating him on my condition.
The clock ticking, Mark and I carried on up the hill and Tim rolled
down it.