M
MartinM
Guest
as submitted to my club's website
Paris-Brest-Paris 2007; the end (and beginning) of a long journey
This event is the natural zenith of many Audax UK members' riding, as
AUK itself came about partly as a means of allowing UK riders to
qualify; the Windsor-Chester-Windsor 600 being the first UK event to
enable PBP eligibility. The ride itself dates back to 1891 when it was
run every 10 years as a competitive event. In the early 20th century
it was run non-stop, with some riders apparently given a cocktail of
drugs even then to enable them to overcome the pain and sleeplessness.
Eventually the professional race was curtailed as the newer Tour de
France came to the forefront. But the ride continued as a long
distance "Randonnee" every 4 years; the 2007 edition being the 16th of
an event taking place in late August.
After riding my first 400km in 2002 I learned of PBP, and was
impressed by Paul Harris' account of his successful attempt in 1987,
although I did not consider going for it at the time. In the same year
Angela Nainby suggested going for an "SR" (a series of 200 300 400 and
600km rides in one season). I
Completed my first series in 2003 which was also PBP year, and felt
quite left out when many other riders departed for Paris and returned
with tales of the amazing atmosphere and exhilaration of the event; I
decided then to make PBP 2007 my goal. Building slowly over the next 4
years I completed another SR in 2006, mainly to prove to myself that I
could do it all again to qualify.
The 2007 qualifiers were all straightforward although the Hailsham 300
was to prove the only dry ride of the series (and even the later
events I rode as extra training were also wet in parts). In fact some
of the qualifying 600s saw many prospective PBP riders abandon their
hopes. I was relatively lucky with the Bryan Chapman which proved to
be one of the easier rides of this distance.
The useful online registration was easy to use and I soon had my frame
number and start time emailed back. I arranged to ride down from
Dieppe with Rob Bullyment, Mark Heffer, Richard Thomas and Chris
Tracey who all completed the ride in 2003 and with whom I completed
most of the qualifiers; and Garry Broad, the only other first time
rider in our group who rode his home-made recumbent and attracted
massive curiosity and admiration as we rode to Paris over two days.
We arrived at the Campanile hotel 9km from the start (where Matt
Chambers joined our party having ridden from Le Havre) to find that
along with the adjoining hotel and the roads filled with campervans
most of the Belgian contingent were there. Over the next two days the
truly international nature of the event began to sink in; with the
huge gymnasium where registration took place resembling a global
village. There were substantial national groups from most EU countries
as well as Russia, the USA, Canada, Australia and Japan; many wearing
specially designed jerseys for the ride. I had seen the designs for
the UK and French versions and decided to order the latter, but
promised myself not to wear it until I completed. On the registration
day I received my jersey, tee shirt, bidon, brevet card, swipe card
and ACP SR medal; this was for real now, no going back!
Monday
The next evening the 5000 plus field slowly swarmed around the start
and the surrounding roads like birds getting ready to migrate. And as
darkness fell and the rain started we slowly filed out of the playing
field to receive a last bike and light check and receive our start
stamps. At exactly 23.10 our party departed as a firework display
heralded the start of the event with local media coverage. The
exhilaration of the huge peloton passing the closed road junctions out
of the city soon gave way to an endless line of LED lights as we
headed into the unlit lanes to the constant applause and encouragement
of the spectators we passed; trying to stay in our group whilst
avoiding the numerous traffic hazards. After 70km we passed the first
water stop at a boulangerie with a large illuminated cyclist display
(the first of many) and soon small groups of riders began to appear at
the many cafes as people loaded with caffeine for the first overnight
stage. After a lumpy and very wet section we reached the first control
at Mortagne au Perche at 140km at about 0400. All the controls were
similar to those used on AUK rides but on a massive scale; often
taking over entire schools or streets, with queues for food drink and
sleep shaking around the corridors.
Tuesday
My rough plan (recommended by many veterans) was to get through to
Loudeac (451km) non stop; and this proved a popular choice as I found
out later to my discomfort. After Mortagne the first dawn broke and we
all hit the first patisserie to open; they were soon cleaned out! The
next control at Villanes sur Juhel was just like the finish town of a
Tour stage complete with inflatable arch and applauding crowds,
although the barricades were to lean the bikes against. We decided to
"bounce" this control, just getting a stamp and raiding the local
supermarket for food and drink. We did much the same at Fougeres as by
now the numerous free roadside controls had started to appear offering
quick and effective coffee and cake together with the friendly cries
of "allez" and "bonne courage". I could not believe how helpful and
friendly the locals were; such a pleasant change from some of my UK
rides.
At Tinteniac (about 300km) I met Alex Ball, another UK rider who I had
met on the Hailsham 300. He had unfortunately hit a very bad patch
with constant knee pain and was going to decide on continuing on
arrival at Loudeac. I didn't see him again; to see someone on the
verge of abandonment is a very sobering experience, all the best Alex
and good luck for next time!
As darkness fell on the second night we continued the long slog to
Loudeac. I can honestly say that there is almost no flat riding on the
whole route; although the highest point is only 244m the constant
rolling nature of the ride takes a heavy toll with 10,000m of climbing
(more than 6 Mid Sussex Hillies!). And this was to turn out to be the
wettest event since 1987 with reportedly over 1600 riders abandoning.
Just before the control we saw the first of the returning Vedettes.
These are the last vestiges of the former race; a select group of
about 25 amateur riders who still contest the event non stop and
heavily supported. The group was surreal, almost sci-fi, as a flash of
halogen lights was followed by a few support cars. It was to be many
hours before we passed the next returning rider from the 80 hour
group. Apparently the fastest rider completed in 44 hours. The race
has been criticized for not being in the self supported spirit of the
event; but I still doff my hat to anyone who can ride that distance at
that speed.
Loudeac was mobbed as expected but I was so shattered by then I
grabbed a quick drink, unrolled my sleeping bag and crashed out
outside under one of the buildings.
Wednesday
A fitful and cold 4 hours later I was awoken by the crackle of more
riders' survival bags and I rejoined my group (The "Hailsham Massive")
at 0500 for the next section, 320km to Brest and back. The overcast
sky didn't see the sun rise until nearly 0700 and there was a dark and
hilly section next, fortunately punctuated with coffee stops. We also
had the first "secret" control and were flagged down off the road for
an extra stamp in our cards; which proved to be a pleasant way to meet
up with many of the other UK riders I knew. By about 500km we were in
leafy and dry lanes and this was the undoubted best bit of the ride
for me; I felt that I actually might be able to pull it off. As we
climbed the long section to the summit of the ride at Roc Trevezil on
the only hot and sunny day of the ride the returning riders were now
passing us in droves; it was here I saw the first recognisable
returning UK rider Jo Wood. I finally saw the breathtaking view from
the estuary bridge at Brest at just before 614km; although my pleasure
at having got half way was diminished by seeing a rider being loaded
into an ambulance after an accident with a car. On the way back to
Loudeac darkness fell and the rain started again. At Loudeac I wisely
went for the indoors option across 3 chairs in my wet gear; I
abandoned the soggy sleeping bag there to save weight.
Thursday
At 0500 I was again awoken by Chris who was having trouble locating
first Richard and then my bike (mine wasn't the only yellow one!) but
soon we were all together; heading for the planned coffee stop at St
Meen le Grand.
I was now well into the unknown at 775km, almost 200km over my
previous longest ride. But soon the rain stopped and the mood lifted
as daylight broke. Another secret control appeared 10km before our
planned stop; and this was very welcome as it had also had bowls of
coffee, bananas and chocolate bars. At St Meen I decided some personal
gratification was called for and bought two large bars of chocolate;
devouring the first en route and the second with a coffee at Tinteniac
(860km) where we were photographed by a British reporter who had
ridden PBP many years ago. I was now about 24 hours from the finish in
Paris and felt good. I phoned home as I passed 1000km and was feeling
good. PBP looked like it was in the bag; how wrong I was. Returning to
Villanes the crowds were still there but I was in low spirits as the
hills and rain had taken their toll; this was the point that I met
Phil Chadwick and Peter Marshall and complained at how much I was
hating the ride by now.
1000km can do strange and unpredictable things to the human body and
over the next 20km both my Achilles tendons became increasingly
painful; the pain rising to a level where every pedal stroke was
agony. With 40km to go to Mortagne (1084km) I had to find a way to get
through; rubbing Voltarol gel on my legs had little effect. I tried
pedalling with straighter legs; my shoes pointing down like a
ballerina. It was awkward, clumsy and inefficient but it worked and I
finally grovelled into the control at 02.19 after much freewheeling.
This was the absolute nadir; everyone else was there feeling upbeat
about completion of the remaining 143 km and I could hardly walk; far
less pedal.
Friday
3 hours across chairs (not a good definition of sleep) had done
nothing to rest my ankles and with even more familiar faces by now I
was staring into the abyss of a DNF. I asked around and got much
helpful advice; freewheel as much as possible, spin a very low gear
and of course the inevitable industrial strength pain killers. The
medical room was not an option if finishing was in sight. I took the
maximum dose (thanks Julian!) and went back out. 40 lumpy km later and
the pain was less, I had settled into my unorthodox pedalling
technique (apparently splinting the feet thus is a common remedy for
such types of pain) and the sun rose again to reveal many roadside
sleepers; one had simply lay in the middle of a side road and a few
other riders moved him to safety.
And after slowly freewheeling into Dreux the last control I was able
to take a shower and have a shave before loading with coffee and
patisserie. For everyone lese it was a 68km victory parade but for me
the pain had returned and I could not take any more tablets. But
somehow I got through and after what seemed a day I was back in the
heavy traffic of the last 10km; praying for a green light at each
junction to avoid the agony of unclipping my left pedal. And I finally
crossed the finish line (which isn't really, you have to get your card
stamped to complete) at 86 hours. I can honestly say that I would
never have completed any other ride in half as much pain and
discomfort; which is testament to the desire to finish PBP above all
else.
And soon I met the dozens of other happy AUK riders as the pain
subsided and we revelled in the enormous relief of completion over a
few beers and a pizza. All that was left now was to collect my
possessions from Versailles and take the train into Paris for a
fairytale ride across the city by night (I don't like the new Eiffel
Tower illuminations; it looks like a big sparkler!) before catching
the RER to the airport.
In summary; PBP is the ultimate ride, extremely hard but also very
moving and satisfying, but do not underestimate what it may take out
of you. I will never try it again, as for me it marks a turning point
in my cycling as I will now concentrate on the shorter 200-300
distances.
Paris-Brest-Paris 2007; the end (and beginning) of a long journey
This event is the natural zenith of many Audax UK members' riding, as
AUK itself came about partly as a means of allowing UK riders to
qualify; the Windsor-Chester-Windsor 600 being the first UK event to
enable PBP eligibility. The ride itself dates back to 1891 when it was
run every 10 years as a competitive event. In the early 20th century
it was run non-stop, with some riders apparently given a cocktail of
drugs even then to enable them to overcome the pain and sleeplessness.
Eventually the professional race was curtailed as the newer Tour de
France came to the forefront. But the ride continued as a long
distance "Randonnee" every 4 years; the 2007 edition being the 16th of
an event taking place in late August.
After riding my first 400km in 2002 I learned of PBP, and was
impressed by Paul Harris' account of his successful attempt in 1987,
although I did not consider going for it at the time. In the same year
Angela Nainby suggested going for an "SR" (a series of 200 300 400 and
600km rides in one season). I
Completed my first series in 2003 which was also PBP year, and felt
quite left out when many other riders departed for Paris and returned
with tales of the amazing atmosphere and exhilaration of the event; I
decided then to make PBP 2007 my goal. Building slowly over the next 4
years I completed another SR in 2006, mainly to prove to myself that I
could do it all again to qualify.
The 2007 qualifiers were all straightforward although the Hailsham 300
was to prove the only dry ride of the series (and even the later
events I rode as extra training were also wet in parts). In fact some
of the qualifying 600s saw many prospective PBP riders abandon their
hopes. I was relatively lucky with the Bryan Chapman which proved to
be one of the easier rides of this distance.
The useful online registration was easy to use and I soon had my frame
number and start time emailed back. I arranged to ride down from
Dieppe with Rob Bullyment, Mark Heffer, Richard Thomas and Chris
Tracey who all completed the ride in 2003 and with whom I completed
most of the qualifiers; and Garry Broad, the only other first time
rider in our group who rode his home-made recumbent and attracted
massive curiosity and admiration as we rode to Paris over two days.
We arrived at the Campanile hotel 9km from the start (where Matt
Chambers joined our party having ridden from Le Havre) to find that
along with the adjoining hotel and the roads filled with campervans
most of the Belgian contingent were there. Over the next two days the
truly international nature of the event began to sink in; with the
huge gymnasium where registration took place resembling a global
village. There were substantial national groups from most EU countries
as well as Russia, the USA, Canada, Australia and Japan; many wearing
specially designed jerseys for the ride. I had seen the designs for
the UK and French versions and decided to order the latter, but
promised myself not to wear it until I completed. On the registration
day I received my jersey, tee shirt, bidon, brevet card, swipe card
and ACP SR medal; this was for real now, no going back!
Monday
The next evening the 5000 plus field slowly swarmed around the start
and the surrounding roads like birds getting ready to migrate. And as
darkness fell and the rain started we slowly filed out of the playing
field to receive a last bike and light check and receive our start
stamps. At exactly 23.10 our party departed as a firework display
heralded the start of the event with local media coverage. The
exhilaration of the huge peloton passing the closed road junctions out
of the city soon gave way to an endless line of LED lights as we
headed into the unlit lanes to the constant applause and encouragement
of the spectators we passed; trying to stay in our group whilst
avoiding the numerous traffic hazards. After 70km we passed the first
water stop at a boulangerie with a large illuminated cyclist display
(the first of many) and soon small groups of riders began to appear at
the many cafes as people loaded with caffeine for the first overnight
stage. After a lumpy and very wet section we reached the first control
at Mortagne au Perche at 140km at about 0400. All the controls were
similar to those used on AUK rides but on a massive scale; often
taking over entire schools or streets, with queues for food drink and
sleep shaking around the corridors.
Tuesday
My rough plan (recommended by many veterans) was to get through to
Loudeac (451km) non stop; and this proved a popular choice as I found
out later to my discomfort. After Mortagne the first dawn broke and we
all hit the first patisserie to open; they were soon cleaned out! The
next control at Villanes sur Juhel was just like the finish town of a
Tour stage complete with inflatable arch and applauding crowds,
although the barricades were to lean the bikes against. We decided to
"bounce" this control, just getting a stamp and raiding the local
supermarket for food and drink. We did much the same at Fougeres as by
now the numerous free roadside controls had started to appear offering
quick and effective coffee and cake together with the friendly cries
of "allez" and "bonne courage". I could not believe how helpful and
friendly the locals were; such a pleasant change from some of my UK
rides.
At Tinteniac (about 300km) I met Alex Ball, another UK rider who I had
met on the Hailsham 300. He had unfortunately hit a very bad patch
with constant knee pain and was going to decide on continuing on
arrival at Loudeac. I didn't see him again; to see someone on the
verge of abandonment is a very sobering experience, all the best Alex
and good luck for next time!
As darkness fell on the second night we continued the long slog to
Loudeac. I can honestly say that there is almost no flat riding on the
whole route; although the highest point is only 244m the constant
rolling nature of the ride takes a heavy toll with 10,000m of climbing
(more than 6 Mid Sussex Hillies!). And this was to turn out to be the
wettest event since 1987 with reportedly over 1600 riders abandoning.
Just before the control we saw the first of the returning Vedettes.
These are the last vestiges of the former race; a select group of
about 25 amateur riders who still contest the event non stop and
heavily supported. The group was surreal, almost sci-fi, as a flash of
halogen lights was followed by a few support cars. It was to be many
hours before we passed the next returning rider from the 80 hour
group. Apparently the fastest rider completed in 44 hours. The race
has been criticized for not being in the self supported spirit of the
event; but I still doff my hat to anyone who can ride that distance at
that speed.
Loudeac was mobbed as expected but I was so shattered by then I
grabbed a quick drink, unrolled my sleeping bag and crashed out
outside under one of the buildings.
Wednesday
A fitful and cold 4 hours later I was awoken by the crackle of more
riders' survival bags and I rejoined my group (The "Hailsham Massive")
at 0500 for the next section, 320km to Brest and back. The overcast
sky didn't see the sun rise until nearly 0700 and there was a dark and
hilly section next, fortunately punctuated with coffee stops. We also
had the first "secret" control and were flagged down off the road for
an extra stamp in our cards; which proved to be a pleasant way to meet
up with many of the other UK riders I knew. By about 500km we were in
leafy and dry lanes and this was the undoubted best bit of the ride
for me; I felt that I actually might be able to pull it off. As we
climbed the long section to the summit of the ride at Roc Trevezil on
the only hot and sunny day of the ride the returning riders were now
passing us in droves; it was here I saw the first recognisable
returning UK rider Jo Wood. I finally saw the breathtaking view from
the estuary bridge at Brest at just before 614km; although my pleasure
at having got half way was diminished by seeing a rider being loaded
into an ambulance after an accident with a car. On the way back to
Loudeac darkness fell and the rain started again. At Loudeac I wisely
went for the indoors option across 3 chairs in my wet gear; I
abandoned the soggy sleeping bag there to save weight.
Thursday
At 0500 I was again awoken by Chris who was having trouble locating
first Richard and then my bike (mine wasn't the only yellow one!) but
soon we were all together; heading for the planned coffee stop at St
Meen le Grand.
I was now well into the unknown at 775km, almost 200km over my
previous longest ride. But soon the rain stopped and the mood lifted
as daylight broke. Another secret control appeared 10km before our
planned stop; and this was very welcome as it had also had bowls of
coffee, bananas and chocolate bars. At St Meen I decided some personal
gratification was called for and bought two large bars of chocolate;
devouring the first en route and the second with a coffee at Tinteniac
(860km) where we were photographed by a British reporter who had
ridden PBP many years ago. I was now about 24 hours from the finish in
Paris and felt good. I phoned home as I passed 1000km and was feeling
good. PBP looked like it was in the bag; how wrong I was. Returning to
Villanes the crowds were still there but I was in low spirits as the
hills and rain had taken their toll; this was the point that I met
Phil Chadwick and Peter Marshall and complained at how much I was
hating the ride by now.
1000km can do strange and unpredictable things to the human body and
over the next 20km both my Achilles tendons became increasingly
painful; the pain rising to a level where every pedal stroke was
agony. With 40km to go to Mortagne (1084km) I had to find a way to get
through; rubbing Voltarol gel on my legs had little effect. I tried
pedalling with straighter legs; my shoes pointing down like a
ballerina. It was awkward, clumsy and inefficient but it worked and I
finally grovelled into the control at 02.19 after much freewheeling.
This was the absolute nadir; everyone else was there feeling upbeat
about completion of the remaining 143 km and I could hardly walk; far
less pedal.
Friday
3 hours across chairs (not a good definition of sleep) had done
nothing to rest my ankles and with even more familiar faces by now I
was staring into the abyss of a DNF. I asked around and got much
helpful advice; freewheel as much as possible, spin a very low gear
and of course the inevitable industrial strength pain killers. The
medical room was not an option if finishing was in sight. I took the
maximum dose (thanks Julian!) and went back out. 40 lumpy km later and
the pain was less, I had settled into my unorthodox pedalling
technique (apparently splinting the feet thus is a common remedy for
such types of pain) and the sun rose again to reveal many roadside
sleepers; one had simply lay in the middle of a side road and a few
other riders moved him to safety.
And after slowly freewheeling into Dreux the last control I was able
to take a shower and have a shave before loading with coffee and
patisserie. For everyone lese it was a 68km victory parade but for me
the pain had returned and I could not take any more tablets. But
somehow I got through and after what seemed a day I was back in the
heavy traffic of the last 10km; praying for a green light at each
junction to avoid the agony of unclipping my left pedal. And I finally
crossed the finish line (which isn't really, you have to get your card
stamped to complete) at 86 hours. I can honestly say that I would
never have completed any other ride in half as much pain and
discomfort; which is testament to the desire to finish PBP above all
else.
And soon I met the dozens of other happy AUK riders as the pain
subsided and we revelled in the enormous relief of completion over a
few beers and a pizza. All that was left now was to collect my
possessions from Versailles and take the train into Paris for a
fairytale ride across the city by night (I don't like the new Eiffel
Tower illuminations; it looks like a big sparkler!) before catching
the RER to the airport.
In summary; PBP is the ultimate ride, extremely hard but also very
moving and satisfying, but do not underestimate what it may take out
of you. I will never try it again, as for me it marks a turning point
in my cycling as I will now concentrate on the shorter 200-300
distances.
