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This might wind up being the only actual brevet I do this year (you might vaguely recall I did a 200km permanent on New Year's Day in Seattle; those are classified differently from brevets).

It was also the smallest brevet I've ever done. I was the only rider! The organizer actually contacted me on Friday to ask if I still wanted to ride, given that I was the only rider. I did, so I did. I mean, by this point I'm pretty accustomed to riding by myself, and more than anything I really wanted to explore this particular region and route, and I wanted to meet the organizer of these brevets. This was the day and time I had available, and it's far easier to do a 300k with minimal preparation compared to starting with a 400k.

Missions accomplished.

This route was an out-and-back, starting in Schuylerville, New York, with the turn around in the midst of the High Peaks portion of the Adirondacks, in Elizabethtown. I won't be able to download/upload the gpx track until I get home this evening, but here's more info about the route in case you're curious: http://www.adkultracycling.com/brevets/300.htm

One big benefit of an out-and-back route is that I can admire the scenery on my way out, and then when I turn around to head back, I can decide that I want to take some short films with my camera and then stitch everything together into a small video to give you a sense of the ride and scenery:



The roads were beautiful: peaceful and so quiet I could hear all the birds! Most especially the loons. Along the one section with the potential for extra traffic (near Lake George), the RBA modified the return route to send me along a bike path instead, as shown in the video above. I imagine that during the middle of summer the traffic picks up, but this time of year was quiet and divine.

When getting ready, I was a little perplexed by the timing for the brevet. The start was scheduled for 3:59 am, which meant a finish deadline of 11:59 pm Sunday night. After talking with the RBA, it made more sense: he said that the insurance costs double if a ride spans more than one day.

I had to get up at 2:05 am in order to have enough time to load up the car, drive up to Schuylerville*, and then unload and saddle up for the start time. The cats were very confused when I got up at the hour when normally only Martha is awake and preparing for her daily clawing of the bedroom curtain.

There were two benefits of the ungodly hour. Benefit one, there was virtually no traffic for the drive up and for the ride all the way past Lake George. That meant I could zoom along on the main roads through Lake George. The second benefit was that I finished before sunset, which turned out to be a bigger deal than expected, because as I got underway I discovered that the wiring to the dyno hub had failed somewhere, most likely at the spade connectors to the hub. So I had to use all of my battery-powered backup lights for the outbound ride, and probably would have had to do a lot of extra futzing with batteries if I'd stayed out past dark on the return.

Oh no, wait a minute, three benefits! I got home and was in bed by 10 pm!

Anyway, all told, it was a beautiful and very thoughtfully constructed brevet route in some lovely countryside, and I'm so glad I got to do it. I'd actually learned about the Adirondack series last year, when talking with one of the bike shop owners in Westfield after the soggy Bash Bish 300k, but at that point it wasn't clear why the Adirondack series had stopped or if it would ever resume again. So I was glad to learn from the Adirondack Ultracycling shop owner (and RBA), that the pause was largely due to the pandemic and the series is likely to continue into the future. By the way, if you are ever anywhere in the area, the shop owner is also an excellent mechanic and bike person to work with, so you should definitely go there and pay him a visit. I'm only sad I didn't have additional time to hang out and talk bikes with him, but I was definitely feeling the need to get on the road and get home.

And now, back to the day job.

*Side note: no stalls while driving, but I did have a couple other random funny moments of trying to accelerate when I wasn't in gear...oops.
rebeccmeister: (Default)
Another 200k permanent on the books! A note: in randonneuring, brevets are organized events that get scheduled well ahead of time. Depending on the scheduling procedures, some brevets are also sanctioned by the randonneuring international governing body, the Audax Club Parisien. In contrast, a "permanent" is a designated route that is available to ride at any time. All that one needs to do to ride a permanent, is to join the Randonneuring USA Permanent's Program and then sign up to ride the permanent route on a particular day. This is a change in procedure from 5-6 years ago, when permanent routes had individual owners, and riders had to coordinate with the route owner to ride the permanent. The new permanent system is really convenient, and now that I've gotten started I might just need to look up and/or create more permanent routes closer to home.

In any case. I finished, in spite of the fact that I was seriously underdressed for this one. I should have dressed for the forecast low temperatures, not for the forecast mid-day temperatures. I also should have borrowed one of my dad's STP jackets; I didn't bring my rowing jacket with me because I thought I would wind up overheating in it too quickly. The STP jackets are made of tyvek, and very compact, so it would have worked perfectly for the conditions. It was 31-32 degrees when we started, with a bit of fog and a lovely frost on the plants. It was around 38 degrees when the 5 other riders and I that made up the caboose finished. My motivation for finishing this ride was thinking about the heated seat in my mom's car, and even then, it took a long hot shower before I really warmed up again.

The Seattle Randonneurs are a chill, welcoming, friendly group. That was wonderful to discover. We saw snow geese and beautiful landscapes, most of which I didn't pause to photograph.

Bridge crossing the Stilliguamish River:
Stillaguamish River Crossing

I really, really wish I'd thought to pack along my PBP vest with its front pocket. That would have made multiple things easier. But still, I made it.

The entire group stopped for a photo op in front of the Nakashima Barn:

Past Arlington, at the northern end of trail

And the entire group actually regrouped for lunch at a tavern in Edison, at our turnaround point. It was a luxurious, hourlong stop, with no rushing along.
Made it to lunch!

I really needed it, too, as I'd packed along *some* food but not a ton, not knowing entirely what the eating situation would look like. And when you're cold, you need more calories to keep warm.

The food I stuffed in my face, plus the empty glass from a beer I split with someone (I love having a drinking buddy!):
Lunch

I was amused that multiple riders other than myself pointed out that we could see Mt. Rainier during the return ride. Apparently I'm not the only one who uses Mt. Rainier as evidence of a clear and beautiful day!

The distant white specks are snow geese, which are actually fairly huge:
Snow Geese in the Skagit Valley fields

This photo also gives you a sense of the fields we rode through in the Skagit Valley. It was lovely to be able to look out at Puget Sound and at the Cascade Mountains.

We also saw a pair of nesting bald eagles, a surprisingly up-close great blue heron, probably a bunch of ducks, and a countless number of bird photographers.

A very gracious group of 5 other riders maintained a sensible pace* for the return ride, and let me hang out with them, even when I created small inconveniences like needing to futz with my headlight and definitely needing to eat rider D's Vanilla Honey Stinger WaffleMiracle Cookie ASAP.

My motivation to finish this one out was that my mom's car has heated seats. Even then, I didn't truly warm up again until after a good 10-15 minutes soaking in the shower at home.

I'm optimistic that I will sleep well tonight.

This made for a wonderful start to 2024. Here's hoping for many more adventures to come.


*I.e. I could keep up with them, as opposed to the more enthusiastic riders that gradually disappeared off the front.
rebeccmeister: (Default)
Now that I have finally finished reading Saddle, Sore, I want to submit this to our national randonneuring magazine, but I also want to be sure it reads well. Your feedback is greatly appreciated! (most especially on whether I'm going off on too many tangents at any point; the World Toilet Day thing might be a stretch?)

Also, credit to my sister for being my impetus to try out pee funnels in the first place.

-----

Here is a story about a potential game-changing piece of equipment, one to add to your kit or suggest to the friends and family members you ride with.

It was the final morning of Paris-Brest-Paris in 2023, featuring yet another incredibly beautiful sunrise, but I had a small problem: I really needed to pee, but I was in an area of wide-open fields, without even one small shrub in sight for miles and miles on end. During my previous PBP in 2015, this small problem would have quickly multiplied into a much larger one, as I would have needed to devote simultaneous effort to hunting for somewhere discrete to drop my bike shorts, while also allocating effort to holding in the pee for however long it took to find the right spot. I had no such problem in 2023, where quickly pausing to pee was a trivial matter and I was able to get back on the road in short order. The big difference-maker for 2023 was the acquisition of and practice with that one small, handy, game-changing piece of equipment: a pee funnel.

My interest in pee funnels grew directly from that 2015 experience: as that year’s PBP progressed and I got increasingly tired, I became more and more resentful of how simple and easy it was for most of the men on the ride to just pull over and pee into the ditch as we traveled along, basically anywhere they wanted. In many cases, they didn’t even need to get off their bike! Meanwhile, I’d have to look out for a promising long driveway or road, safely set down or prop up my bike, go for a walk, and just cross my fingers (and legs) that I wouldn’t encounter a farmer at work. Sometimes the urge to go strikes when we’re still miles from the closest town and its public toilet.

I’m convinced that the disparity in bathroom access for women is a contributing factor in the ongoing gender participation gap in long-distance cycling. This participation gap is persisting even while evidence is mounting that women can thrive and even excel in ultradistance events. Really, just knowing how to safely go the bathroom outside can be a huge game-changer for all kinds of people, as illustrated by Emily Graslie in her Brain Scoop video on how to get outside in nature (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YXg55KU7mnQ). I also happen to be writing about this on November 19, which just happens to be World Toilet Day. Globally, it is estimated that 1.25 billion women and girls don’t have access to safe and adequate sanitation, and around 526 million don’t have a toilet at all. Having safe places to poop and address menstrual hygiene are a larger part of the global issue, but the ease of access to a place to safely pee matters, too. Holding in pee for extended periods can lead to urinary tract infections, incontinence, and kidney damage. And it is directly at odds with the crucial need to maintain good hydration during long-distance events.

In her book Saddle, Sore, author Molly Hurford includes a short chapter about strategies that women cyclists can use to pee while wearing bike shorts and/or bib shorts. The latest edition of her book was published in 2016, and while it addresses a slew of the big issues and questions that women cyclists experience, it is surprisingly quiet on pee funnels. Thankfully, a quick Internet search suggests that pee funnels are increasingly being adopted by outdoor enthusiasts, and articles that compare models and talk about how to use them are fairly easy to find. By now there are many different options to choose from, ranging from the classic and inexpensive (but bulky) oil changing funnel available at the nearest auto store, to disposable funnels, to funnels made from a range of materials that vary in shape, size, and flexibility.
Here are some of my experiences and suggestions for pee funnels, which I hope are helpful and inspiring for you and/or your randonneuring friends.


  • A compact funnel is best for randonneuring. I wound up getting a pStyle, along with its breathable organic cotton pCase, because it can easily clip on somewhere accessible. You can get pStyles in all kinds of fun colors, and they even have a model made from recycled ocean plastic. I keep mine clipped onto my Camelbak, causing more than one randonneur riding up behind me to ask, “What’s that thing clipped on there?” and then maybe regretting they asked the question when they are immediately subjected to my enthusiastic reply. The advantage of this arrangement is that the funnel is easy for me to reach, use, rinse, and then put right away. The breathable, washable case lets the funnel dry out, and the extra UV exposure helps reduce microbial growth.
  • If you’re used to peeing sitting down, it can feel strange to learn how to pee standing up. The best place to practice is in the shower, where you can get the hang of how to position the funnel based on your body’s anatomy, and learn how much control you have over the destination of the flow of pee.
  • Pee funnels are also phenomenal for sketchy porta-john situations. I started PBP 2023 exceptionally well-hydrated on account of the heat, so I wound up having to use the heavily oversubscribed porta-johns in Rambouillet multiple times before my departure in the (yes) P wave. Every time I visited those porta-johns, I was grateful all over again that I had my pee funnel along for the ride.


I hope this article encourages you to consider this game-changing piece of equipment. And I hope it sparks further conversations about how to continue supporting and encouraging women in our sport. A similar article could get written about menstrual cups, for example. I don’t know how the statistics look yet for PBP 2023, but in 2015 the US had the overall highest number of female participants out of all the countries involved. I have been proud to be a part of these statistics, and yet we still clearly have a long ways to go to reach parity in our beloved sport. It’s a project that can be tackled one pee funnel at a time.
rebeccmeister: (Default)
(This post was started on September 26, 2023; Finished November 10, 2023)

Last week, while bicycling home from work on a dark, rainy evening, I suddenly realized that something I'd grown accustomed to thinking while on that type of ride no longer rang true: the dreary, unpleasant conditions were no longer part of some larger-scale preparations for completing Paris-Brest-Paris again. I will have to rethink the things I tell myself to try and get through the tough commuting moments. Commuting by bicycle isn’t always roses and sunshine.

But I should back up for a moment. It's perhaps more interesting to reflect on the differences in my mental preparation for PBP 2023, compared to 2015, especially in light of some recent conversation threads about DNF experiences in a PBP discussion group. DNF is "did not finish," also known as "abandoning" a brevet. That's what I concluded I needed to do in 2011, after riding "only" 500 miles.

Long, rambling details... )
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There are some riders who are so well-organized that they take Things Organized Neatly photos of all of their gear ahead of big rides, and then share the photos on social media.

As for me, well, I am decidedly NOT that well-organized.

Here's my best attempt, ever, back in 2013 when I went on a bike-touring trip around the Olympic Peninsula:

Organized

Hahaha, yeah. Everything's in there, I promise!

Instead, here's a decidedly less photogenic version in the form of an extremely long list, with commentary.

I should also note, I did not use a drop bag service for PBP. A lot of riders do, for a lot of excellent reasons. The folks who ran drop bag service for American riders did a phenomenal job with it this year, so I might consider a drop bag for future PBP's, but after riding brevets in Nebraska without any drop service back in 2015, I kind of appreciate the style of riding completely self-contained. So that's what I did, and so I'll never know which method is superior, because you only live once. It is undoubtedly heavier to carry everything, but I've never let that stop me in the past, now have I?

Clothes:
1. 2 pairs bike shorts. One pair Bontrager brand, which was fine. The other pair Pearl Izumi, with the most horrible fat diaper chamois ever to exist. These. Note the reviewer noting how thick the chamois is. That reviewer isn't me, but I strongly agree with them. You can get away with that kind of nonsense for an 80-mile ride, but it turns out you CANNOT get away with it for PBP. A substantial amount of my undercarriage suffering was due entirely to those stupid shorts. I will not show you the strips of skin that peeled off a week after PBP ended - you'll just have to believe me on that one. I wore the Pearl Izumi for the first 400k to Loudeac, then showered and changed into the Bontrager. I changed back into the Pearl Izumi when I got back to Loudeac, intending to wear them again for the last 400k. I wore those shorts for maybe 20-30 miles after that, before hitting a point where I was just about ready to rip off the shorts and light them on fire in the middle of the road, then and there. Here are some things you need to know about a too-fat chamois: there are a bunch of delicate bits and pieces to one's undercarriage, and the volumetric arrangement of those bits and pieces relative to the bits and pieces of one's bike saddle is VERY IMPORTANT. If you try and wedge in an extra diaper's worth of fabric into that space, there just physically won't be room for everything, and stuff that really should never get squished WILL get squished, and you will be VERY UNHAPPY when that happens. That's not to mention the fact that when it's hot, beads of sweat WILL roll down your back, and travel, yes, straight for that chamois. By contrast, if you have a thinner, more breathable chamois in your shorts, as put in there by a sensible cycling clothing manufacturer, you can actually try and evaporate out some of that sweat by standing up and spreading your knees out while you descend down hills. But if you have a horrible fat chamois, well, good luck. Good luck and good riddance. Seriously, it would be better to just ride naked at that point. Honestly, I've had previous Pearl Izumi shorts I've liked. Here's hoping they never, ever ever repeat the mistake of daring to manufacture something so horrible again.

In any case, I knew going in that my shorts and saddle were going to be my weakest link, and lo, they were. I am now eyeing some Cima Coppi wool bike shorts to try out, but slightly side-eyeing them, because:

2. Tops: Wool Cima Coppi New England Randonneurs jersey, black wool t-shirt, rayon Carrefour button-up shirt, reflective gilet (vest). Let me first say this. I was SO EXCITED to receive the wool Cima Coppi NER jersey. It is BEAUTIFUL. Well-knit wool, beautiful color scheme, with gorgeous reflective detailing. It puts all my other wool jerseys to shame, it is so beautiful and well-made. After putting it on, however, I started to have a few questions. Hmm, snug arms, short torso. Yes, the label says size large. After washing it after getting home, I must sadly conclude that Cima Coppi must use pygmy people when determining the sizing for their jerseys, much as has been reported for the sizing of the commemorative PBP jerseys by other randonneurs. Alas, it is Too Small. I am crestfallen. It was custom. I can only hope there is another New England woman or otherwise petite rider who would be thrilled for my loss to be their gain.

But during PBP itself, I had not yet shrunken the Cima Coppi jersey to the point where it was completely unwearable on the basis of size. Rather, it was unwearable on the basis of being too warm to wear fairly thick wool in the midst of a summer heat wave. So instead, for most of the ride I wore the Carrefour button-up for sun protection (noting that I started PBP slightly sunburned, and things didn't really get any better from there). The black wool t-shirt mostly came into play when changing into clothes to sleep in Loudeac. I also spent some of the hot periods riding in just a wool sports bra and the reflective gilet (vest). I only regret that it took me several hot days and several hundred miles to figure out the wisdom of the gilet-only approach.

3. 2 wool sports bras. More companies need to make simple, straightforward wool sports bras, full stop. I'm looking at you, Smartwool, because you discontinued the good ones. Jerks. Don't try and sell me any of that nasty polyester business, either. Polyester traps odors and you know it.

4. Sleep and stop clothes: Long wool leggings, a long sleeve wool sweater jersey (GUP brand), wool hat, wool undies, sandals. Everything was comfortable and kept me warm when sleeping. I felt like I won at the sleepwear aspect of PBP. Except, the sandals were the stupidest thing I brought along. They were bulky and awkward to store, and I hardly used them. It would have been far better to have had some extremely flimsy hotel slippers instead.

5. Feets: Two pairs of wool socks, RUSA reflective ankle bands, custom-modified Adidas shoes (or more specifically, as the order info says, Five Ten Trailcross Clip-In Mountain Bike Shoes). Once again, after around 300 miles I figured something vitally important out: if I did not give into the temptation to over-tighten the Adidas shoes, all my problems with sore fifth metatarsal heads went away!! Loose shoes are the key! If only I'd figured this out sooner, my foot suffering levels would have been one-tenth what they were, on PBP and also on the last several qualifying brevets. This is extremely counterintuitive, as many styles of cycling shoes are designed to be extremely snug. Other than this, the only other aspect of my feet worth commenting about is that by the last day of the ride, it became strangely difficult to shift my feet around on my awesome MKS Lambda platform pedals. Kind of felt like the shoes became extra heavy. But that turned out to not be the shoe's fault. When I got off my bike after the finish and tried walking around, I discovered that the problem was that the muscles involved in foot flexion had become so fatigued they gave up working. By the next day they were fine again. So strange, the things one experiences when riding 750 miles.

Oh wait, I remembered one other thing well worth commenting about: when I went in for the bike fitting just prior to PBP, one of the things we did was add in Superfeet insoles to the shoes. The High ones were too High, but the Medium ones I wound up with were FANTASTIC. I am pretty sure they greatly reduced overall foot fatigue and discomfort, and I was beyond thrilled to learn that Superfeet makes insoles for cycling shoes. Ask your bike fitter about them today. Superfeet insoles are extremely well-designed.

6. Showers Pass Raincoat and rainlegs. Barely used this time, but I'm still glad I had them along.

7. Heavy-duty space blanket, very much like this one. This came along for PBP 2011, PBP 2015, and now PBP 2023. Yes, it's more bulky than the little mylar ones, but it makes up for that and then some because it is FAR more comfortable for every ditch-napping scenario you can imagine. I kept it rolled up and stashed in the bungee cords on the rear bag, so it was super easy to whip out and ditch nap on a moment's notice.

8. Pack towel. Doubles as a blanket. The smaller blue one would have been fine to save on volume, instead of the bigger green one, but I have no regrets. It was fantastic to have a real towel after showering at Loudeac.

9. In the trunk bag: all of the tools, the ones the other riders are reluctant to carry, in the hopes that maybe I can save someone else's ride (e.g. emergency cassette removal tool, Leatherman, multitool, fiberfix, chain breaker, tire levers, emergency boot, patching stuff, seatpost bolts, other bolts, spare cables, rope, tape, etc). Fenix flashlight as backup headlight, loaned to a rider who was glad to borrow it. Two cheapo backup taillights, plus one more expensive backup taillight. Thankfully the dyno hub and wiring repair all worked well, the entire time. Three FRESH spare tubes, lesson learned from this spring's 200k when I had just the thing for another rider who needed one, but no more than that. A fresh spare tire. Two mesh bags: fantastic for being able to air out clothing without having the sleeves wind up in the rear spokes. Also great for carrying clothing around at controls.

Not in the trunk bag, but kind of a trunk bag-adjacent item: Lezyne pump. Thankfully I never had to use it on this ride. I did put on fresh tires at the start of 2023, and I don't really ride Froinlavin much outside of brevets, so they only had around, let's see, 200+300+400+600 = 1500km or 932 miles of wear on them.

10. Gadgets: Hiking GPS with tons of spare AA batteries (Garmin Extrex 30x). I didn't download full maps of France, but I REALLY appreciated being able to see the Purple Line of Hope, especially when on a fast hill descent in the dark, because knowing that there weren't stops or sharp turns at the bottom of those descents meant I could take them faster. The Purple Line of Hope also helped keep me on course and avoid bonus miles. Smart-o-phone. That little mp3 player that saved me. A zip pouch with charging cables, which I did wind up using to charge my phone and mp3 player at Mortagne-au-Perche on the last night only. (Otherwise, charging stuff and futzing with gadgets sure looked like a huge timesuck, folks!).

11. Two bandanas. HIGHLY recommend. Without these I could not have achieved my full Lawrence of Arabia look, something I've never had to do before on a brevet, but which was VITAL this time around. Also so great as a towel to dry one's hands after using the restroom and discovering the paper towels have all run out. Also great as a towel to wipe off one's face after splashing one's face with water to rinse off all of the little flies that have gotten stuck in the 8th layer of sunscreen (yes, this happened).

12. Camelbak accessories (and for me, the Camelbak remains awesome for staying hydrated): Pstyle pee funnel, excellent for horribly disgusting porta-johns and peeing when all that's available are wide-open (and I mean wide-open) fields. Spare napkins, tampons, tin of Lantiseptic as butt-spackle (aka chamois cream), tongue depressor for butt-spackle application. The tongue depressor lives in a ziploc baggie and is fantastic for applying the Lantiseptic at points where it won't be easy to wash extra Lantiseptic off the hands. For the unaware, Lantiseptic is extremely sticky, so it's better to not have it mingle with the sunscreen. Speaking of which, the Camelbak also contains the rest of the pharmacy: tube of painkillers, allergy drugs, and Benadryl, none of which were used this trip! Also sunscreen and sunscreen-based chapstick.

In the future, I WILL add Wet-wipes to the Camelbak kit, as it was recently pointed out to me that if your Wet-wipes dry out, you can simply rehydrate them with water and proceed accordingly. I don't typically like using disposable products like Wet-wipes, but they seem worth trying for long bike rides when one hits the stage where it's no longer clear whether the substances on one's hands are chain grease, butt-spackle, sunscreen, pee, electrolyte drink, chapstick, manure, or any combination thereof.

13. What else am I forgetting? I did carry along one squeezie-water bottle, plus potions to put in it. All fine. For my second bottle cage, I put in my metal thermos. I should have brought another bottle instead, to fill up with water and use for Wizard Showers. I barely used the metal thermos, whereas on domestic brevets it is invaluable for stashing spare beverages (coffee, chocolate milk, etc).

Toothbrush: great decision. Bring one. At one point I was amused to see another rider brushing his teeth while riding along. So efficient. So hilarious.

14. Oh, other foods. I wish I had brought along more granola bars. I bought some ridiculously expensive ones at one point during the ride. An apple in the handlebar bag inevitably tastes amazing when you remember about it at just the right moment. I should have eaten even more of the dried apricots. There was a parade of other food items that passed through my handlebar bag but by now I mostly just remember the croissants, a couple baguettes, and those terrible crepes.

In contrast, I think I ate maybe 50% of the bananas I acquired, instead choosing to just smash up and discard the other 50% at various points along the road, along with most of the other cyclists on the ride, to judge by the sheer number of smashed bananas I rode past.

Oh, and I want to share my index cards with you. These traveled in my handlebar bag, and worked perfectly for helping me know how far to the next control, and how far into the hole I got.

PBP control cheat sheet

In theory this information was on the brevet card, but in practice there was no way I would ever be able to decipher the information when sleep-deprived on Wednesday night. In contrast, with the index cards, I knew exactly how far I had to go, how far I'd gone, and how much hustle I needed in my bustle.

Did I forget anything else? Probably. But this is probably a good starting point for the sake of developing your own packing list for your own next epic adventure.

Edit: Postcards! I forgot the two postcards! I preemptively brought them along and gave them out to a couple people/places that were an especial help and boost when I needed it.

I should still send more postcards to French people.

Edit 2: Headlamp! During PBP I figured out to put my Petzl headlamp onto my helmet, and it was invaluable for extra light on descents, and other miscellaneous occasions when it was necessary to see things in the dark. The fact that it worked so well was why I was able to loan out the Fenix flashlight.
rebeccmeister: (Default)
I want to write more about the Stuff and Things Preparation for this rendition. First, for some reason, it seemed like I needed to be able to carry more Stuff this time around compared to 2015. I'm not entirely sure why. It could be that my new handlebar bag has less volume than the previous double-bag combination did. In any case, after getting to the Huttopia, I got nervous that my existing cargo setup wasn't quite voluminous enough to accommodate all of the stuff I wanted to carry along, most especially all those spare warm woolens that I barely wound up using.

While shopping at the Carrefour, I found a 3-Euro rectangular black makeup bag that seemed like the perfect size and shape to modify into a mini-pannier. I had brought along a set of spare reflective ankle straps, and figured maybe I could use them as a way to attach the makeup bag to my rear rack:

PBP 2023: Rambouillet Preamble

If I needed to deploy them later as straps, I could cannibalize the bag, I figured.

I also brought along a small sewing kit for the trip, something I learned from 2015 when I had to run out and buy some impromptu sewing supplies for that year's last-minute projects. I didn't carry the sewing kit for the ride itself but it was great to have along in general. Seriously, make yourself a small travel sewing kit and haul it along when you travel. You won't regret it. If all else fails, you can use it to come up with some good practical jokes.

PBP 2023: Rambouillet Preamble
The makeshift pannier looks so professional when installed!

Ultimately I determined that the velcro of the ankle straps was inadequate in its strength, but my stitching efforts held up and I was able to use the velcro straps from the rack bag to hold the makeup pannier in place.

The extra cargo capacity wound up being helpful, overall. The makeup bag wasn't nearly as sturdy as a purpose-built object would have been, but it held up just fine, ensured that things were convenient to grab and put away, and the price was right!

The second thing that I made right before the ride is one of my favorite things ever: I added a custom pocket onto the front of the standard-issue reflective gilet vest given to every rider at registration:

PBP 2023: Rambouillet Preamble

Well prior to departure for France, I'd been thinking about modifying my 2015 vest to add a pocket, based on remembering what a hassle it can be to cart various things around at controls (money, phone, brevet card, reflective ducks, etc). But then at that time I wasn't really sure about exactly how to go about adding a pocket, especially because a zippered pocket would be the most useful, really. I wanted something kind of like the zippered pocket on the reflective vest I'd been wearing for commuting, although that particular kangaroo pocket is full of treachery and likes to dump out my phone if I forget to keep it zipped up.

Casting about, at some point I realized that I had some other really random reflective vest in my reflective vest collection, that came in a zippered pouch! Hmm, a zippered pouch sure looks like a pocket, doesn't it?

I stitched the pouch in place, and the neon yellow color of the pouch matches the vest so well that many people react with surprise when I point out it's a custom modification.

That pocket wound up being so incredibly handy. Seriously, one of the very best decisions I made for the entire ride. I could stick my phone in it, then pull the phone out to take photos at a moment's notice. Note that it's on the left side of the vest, and I am left-handed. I eventually realized it was also the best dumping ground for all of the euro coins I accumulated as change after buying food at shops and at the controls. Easy in, easy out. I kept the little patch tin full of reflective ducks in that pocket as well. Because of where the pocket was positioned, that meant that with every pedal stroke, I made a tiny jangling noise as my thigh came up and bonked into the tin and the coins. I actually liked the tiny jangling noise, because it meant I never snuck up on other riders in a way that would startle them and cause them to do any extra erratic and dangerous maneuvers (there were still plenty of erratic and dangerous maneuvers as it was!). And the jangle wasn't so obnoxiously loud that I got tired of it at any point.

With only a little trouble, I could also shove my brevet card inside, freeing up my hands to carry things like my helmet and water bottle when I arrived at controls.

There's a part of me that actually wants to write in and suggest the front pocket as a feature for the vests. But I suspect the suggestion would get turned down by people who are extremely concerned about aerodynamics. So in the meantime, I'll just enjoy my little inventions and be pleased with myself for them.
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It took me a long time to get all of my travel photos uploaded and annotated, in part because I wanted to track down a lot of information and locations for things. But! I'm pleased to report that I have finally gotten that done, yay!

I still hope to write a series of posts about PBP 2023, the 20th running of the Paris-Brest-Paris. But I also really need to finish up and turn in my tenure dossier, plus there's the regatta I'm helping organize that's taking place next Sunday, so it may be a little longer yet before I can get to it all.

So in the meantime, enjoy the full photo set here:

https://flic.kr/s/aHBqjAR36p

The photos include cultural adventures in Paris and Reykjavik in addition to all of the bicycling, FWIW.
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Just some things I want to remember to remember and comment on: I swear I had at least 6 different cyclists who blew snot rockets RIGHT in front of me. GROSS!! And unbelievable. C'mon people. Pull over to the other side of the road if you need to clear your sinuses. Have we learned nothing about vapor trails after four years of global pandemic??

Along with that, because of the international mix of riders, there's a chaotic international mix of riding styles. It seemed to me that many of the Asian riders are most accustomed to riding solo, and feel strongly compelled to attack on the hills, regardless of the fact that attacking on the hills did not seem to make them actually go appreciably faster than me (as evidenced by my leapfrogging the same riders over and over and over again).

Then there are some riders who seem accustomed to riding almost on top of the centerline, instead of riding on the right-hand side of the road. These riders are NOT people from Britain, Australia, Japan, etc., so this riding behavior is not explained by coming from a country that drives on the left. The centerline riders create a terrible dilemma for anyone trying to pass them: should we pass on their right side and remain safely in the correct traffic lane, but with the risk that they'll suddenly decide to get over and ride where they should have been all along? Or should we take on the risk ourselves and enter the opposing traffic lane? I'm curious to learn exactly where the centerline riders come from.

At the conclusion of PBP, I went with cabin-mate C to eat a huge feast of Indian food. We wound up sitting at a table next to a pair of riders from India. Apparently the only place where it's possible to ride road bikes in India is on the highways, which are multi-modal. The way the riders are able to ride, is by riding in the center lane on the highway, with one motor vehicle at the front of the group and one motor vehicle at the back of the group, to serve as protection from other motor vehicles. The highways tend to be fairly flat, and this overall arrangement very much helps to explain why the finishing rate among riders from India has tended to be somewhere around 30% successful (although apparently this year with the heat they managed a 40% success rate, wonderful!).

One of the big disadvantages to starting towards the back of the bulge in the P group is that after a certain point, all of the riders with any capability to paceline are ahead, and it becomes increasingly harder to try and catch up with any of them if you are riding solo, especially when it's hot and there's a headwind. The straggling riders who remain tend to all be individuals who have no experience riding in pacelines, and PBP is a terrible time to try and learn how to ride in a paceline for the first time.

Meanwhile, I was occasionally passed by the Danish Cycling team. At one point, they had a team photographer out and a drone that chased them along the course to film them riding along and looking all professional. It was really entertaining to ride just a bit behind them during that section, imagining that if they accidentally got any footage of me, they would delete it instantly because from my riding getup it's clear that I'm some sort of crazy joker out there. Eventually the drone had to turn off and they rode on into the distance. The Danish Cycling team was fantastic to watch because they were extremely smooth about maintaining a consistent cadence and pace. It wasn't as if they tore off at an insane speed; instead, they very patiently moved forward, holding the same pace regardless of whether they were climbing a hill, standing to pedal, or sitting to pedal. I think the only way to learn how to ride in this fashion is to officially join the Danish Cycling team and do every single one of one's training rides with them.

I accidentally tore past them on that last night heading to Mortagne-au-Perche. They really do have the best riding style, because they ride efficiently but briskly throughout the day, then they stop and have a full meal and drinks and enjoy themselves at the Controles, get a good night's sleep, and do it all over again the next day.

At one point I had to fire a British rider. He was already clearly going to be Hors Delai when I encountered him, based on his frame letter*, and seemed rather hellbent on sabotaging other peoples' rides as well, by chit-chatting at them while riding all the way over on the left-hand side of the road. After he had an extremely sketchy near-miss with an oncoming car, I had to tell him sternly that I did not want to be anywhere near him and he needed to leave and ride somewhere else.



*Riders started in waves, every 15 minutes. Waves were indicated by letters of the alphabet. Groups A through E were all people who signed up to complete the ride in under 80 hours. Group F consisted of the "special" bikes (recumbents, velomobiles, tandems, tricycles). I was all the way back in the P group. So if I was close to the control closing times, and saw someone with a lower letter, they were in trouble. I believe W, X, Y, and Z all started on Monday morning, with an 84-hour time allotment. I really appreciated the lettering system, although it has its downsides when one is feeling demoralized about finishing on time.
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My desire to write about PBP experiences and finish uploading photos is competing with the need to triage the disgusting cricket situation at work, and prepare for the start of the fall semester, which is tomorrow. But here we go.

Sometimes it makes sense to write about brevets in a chronological order, but I'm increasingly thinking this one is going to manifest in a non-chronological order instead. A large part of this is because what's most interesting to me this time around are certain contrasts between the 2015 and the 2023 experiences.

And I also want to write about certain parts more than others. For example, I have only a couple small snippets of memories from the first night on Sunday, but some very rich memories from the final night, Wednesday.

Sunday was the first stage, where we set out a couple hours before sunset, then rode through the night, arriving in Villaines-la-Juhel just as the sun came up. By the way - maps of each segment are available through the PBP website, should you wish to understand each stage in nearly as excruciating detail as one does when actually riding them.

Sunday was the first really warm day, so I tried to hang out in the shade near the starting line as much as possible before it was my turn to line up, have my lights and night-riding gear checked, get my first brevet card stamp, then finally process through the start chute. I was also nervous, both about the start and about the heat, as indicated by the fact that I had to pee no fewer than 5 times while I waited. Five uses of the PStyle, right off the bat!

Having Rambouillet as the starting and finishing location is far superior to the location in 2015, at San Quentin-en-Yvelines. For one thing, the organizers have figured out how to make good use of the grounds at the Chateau de Rambouillet. But secondly, as soon as the ride began, we were out on country roads. No initial trepidatious stage where the excitement from beginning mixes catastrophically with unfamiliar "road furniture," leading to crashes and premature endings almost before the ride has gotten underway. Instead, we could gradually stretch out our legs on the smooth country roads after all the standing around, and try to find that magical gear somewhere in between "hauling ass faster than prudent" and "gently cruising along." One should try to avoid blowing out one's legs right out of the gate, there will be plenty of time for that later on.

As the sun set and night fell, I encountered some of the other women participating in the ride: a pair of Canadian sisters, and a French woman, none of whose names I can recall by now. While we waited for our start, the announcer had informed us that a full ten percent (10%) of the riders this year were women, a cheering fact given that ridership by women had been increasing from the 2015 to 2019 editions (from 6% to 8% of the participants). As a member of the minority gender, this statistic encouraged me. I generally enjoy doing sports with other women, and don't often have the chance in randonneuring. It was only after the ride concluded that I learned the statistic had been inflated: we were only 7% of the participants this year. And yet. There we were, making it OUR ride.

That first night, I also remember being dazzled by the view of the stars out in the countryside. The first stages featured mostly rolling hills out among open fields, so we could see very long lines of bicycle taillights heading off far into the distance. A classic PBP experience.

But that's about all that I really remember of the first night, other than that I managed to keep my stop at the first control in Mortagne-au-Perche very brief, so as to work on banking time for sleep later on in Loudeac.

So let's now turn to Wednesday night. First, recall the Wednesday afternoon heat and hills. By the late afternoon and early evening, I was beyond tired. I'd had to spend a solid couple of hours Wednesday morning riding hard to get caught back up to the scheduled control closing times, then found myself just barely crawling along in the heat of the day, struggling mightily to stay ahead of the red line. I'd arrived in Villaines-la-Juhel at 8:46 pm by my chip time, 20 minutes ahead of the control close at 9:06 pm, just stringing along from control to control without managing to gain any spare time. After having my brevet card stamped, I was planning on just heading out as quickly as I could, but a woman volunteering at the control noticed me and asked what I needed. When I said, "Food," she indicated that she would not take "No" for an answer and insisted on leading me over to the restaurant at the control, informing me that the vegetarian options were great and that there was a separate priority line for the randonneurs (as opposed to the townspeople, who were also queueing up in a very long line to enjoy dinner).

I accidentally failed to take advantage of the kids who volunteer at the Villaines control to carry the randonneurs' trays for them, but I do have to admit that the vegetarian lentil stew was some of the very best brevet food I had the entire ride. As I gobbled it down as quickly as I could, I learned from a nearby randonneur that they'd learned of the cyclist who "won" PBP this year, who was an American! I must be pleased and proud of my countryman! Did I know him? At the time, I didn't think so, but later on I came to learn it was one of the riders I'd met while volunteering for the domestic New York-Montreal-New York 1200k brevet last September! Very cool.

Having successfully inhaled a late dinner and refilled my water bottle and Camelbak from the water pitcher at the table, I wasted no more time at the control and got back over to Froinlavin, gingerly hopping on* to continue pedaling with the Relentless Forward Motion I've learned can carry me from one control to the next. Survival mode.

The trouble was, it was still warm, and I was still exhausted and in want of some sleep.

Randonneur strategies vary when it comes to sleep management. Some people will ride even past the point where they are literally falling asleep on the bike. From my years of doing these rides, I've come up with a basic rule for myself, as first implemented at PBP in 2015. If I am so tired that I'm falling asleep on my bike, I will pull over and take a 10-20-minute power nap. This is not negotiable, because I have heard far too many horror stories that have resulted from riding while sleep-deprived.

Wednesday afternoon presented tough-enough riding conditions that I was forced to entertain some PBP possibilities that I'd hoped to avoid. My default is to do everything in my power to ensure I can finish on-time, pushing through all kinds of pain and exhaustion and discomfort, riding and taking short breaks or stops as strategically as I know how. After all, the average pace required to successfully complete a brevet really isn't all that fast, a speed of 15 kph, or about 9 miles per hour. But I also know that part of strategic riding in hot weather requires not riding too close to my upper thermal limit. Twenty minutes blowing past my upper thermal limit for the sake of speed will cost me several hours to cool back down, in the best case. So there really wasn't much I could do to try and go faster to work my way through the hills during the heat of the day. Gear down, spin up, walk as needed. Try to eke out speed on the downhills. It was frustrating to observe other riders who somehow retained the capacity to charge up hills in that weather, knowing such an effort would be foolhardy for me. So at last I had to let myself consider the possibility that I might just have to finish PBP "hors délai" - that is, having successfully completed the distance, but taking more time than the allotted 90 hours. Oh well. I would at least have my successful 2015 finish as consolation.

In any case, I knew I'd burned all of my hard-earned time buffer at the Villaines control, and then some. It was still uncomfortably warm, and I was having an increasingly hard time keeping my eyes open. I did everything I could to keep moving forward, but as the merciless sun finally set, I started keeping an eye out for a spot somewhere, anywhere, to lean my bike, pull out the space blanket, and close my eyes for a few minutes.

Finally, along a gentle descent, I saw a farmhouse conveniently right next to the road, with a promising-looking gentle ditch bordering the road. The ditch was more gravel than grass, but when you're tired enough, it's comfortable enough. Earlier on, I'd watched one of the Guardian Angel volunteers stop to get a Japanese rider who was ditch-napping to move his head further away from the edge of the pavement, so I was careful to set up my sleep space a good 2 feet from the edge of the road. I set a timer and closed my eyes.

Twelve or twenty minutes later, my cell phone alarm went off, and it was time to get up again and back in the saddle. I wheeled Froinlavin back up to the edge of the road, swung my right foot over, and then fell to the pavement with Froinlavin on top of me because I hadn't managed to lift my leg high enough to clear the luggage piled up on the rear rack. Shaken, I had to quickly scramble back up again and get Froinlavin back off the road to avoid causing further accidents with oncoming riders. I then darted out onto the road a couple times to retrieve a handful of batteries and othe items that had scattered out of my handlebar bag.

Shaken, I eventually attempted a more careful remount and succeeded, and gingerly pedaled onward, with a new awareness of just how fatigued I must be. Yes, the idea of a safe return, regardless of how long it might take, was sounding more and more like the correct tack to take.

On I went. At some point, tiring of the endless dispirited monologue that was playing and replaying itself in my head, I thought to pull out the mp3 player I'd been hauling along the entire time, to put on some music. When we first set out on Sunday night, I'd been delighted when a French rider had actually started to sing along with one of the Chants de Marins I was playing. But that song then proceeded to become my internal soundtrack for the majority of the brevet, and I was starting to grow a bit weary of the tune. Time to listen to something else.

Sifting through my playlists: ages ago, I created a playlist entitled, "Bike Rides," for the occasions when we go on social bike rides. Hmm, maybe it was time to fire it up? Worth a try.

The music was like magic. I was transported out of myself, singing along to certain songs as the rhythm, variety, and pep pushed me up the hills. The mp3 player is now a cherished and vital piece of randonneuring equipment.

But I was still tired. I am fairly certain I "ditch"-napped twice again in the city of Alençon, on some sidewalks, which was also a section where I saw the flashing lights of ambulances twice. Not all riders were able to avoid catastrophe.

After the second ditch-nap, which was on the corner of a somewhat prominent urban intersection, another English-speaking rider came up and asked if we could ride together for safety's sake. "Of course!" I said. She, too, had seen no small amount of sketchy sleep-deprived cycling shenanigans, and was prudent enough to realize that some nighttime conversation could help. Here, at last, was the equivalent of what had happened every single night in 2015: a chance to talk with someone to while away the hours of darkness! It had only taken three nights of relative solitude to reach this point this year! She introduced herself as L, a Texan now transplanted to Germany. She and I were both amazed to discover that I'd lived in Texas not far from where she grew up, so I was familiar with her hometown! An unusual occurrence, as that part of Texas is rural. I, in turn, was surprised and pleased to discover we were almost exactly the same age! I was also surprised and pleased to discover how helpful it was to have a conversation partner at that stage in the ride; at long last my mind was pushed out of the well-worn ruts it had been in for most of the brevet and I savored the chance to think about new questions to ask and favorite stories to share.

Alas, our time riding together was short-lived, as soon thereafter L was struck by her own nap attack and prudently decided it was best to heed the desire to sleep. Meanwhile, the conversation managed to completely perk me up and I was awake and ready to RIDE! After the afternoon malaise, what a feeling! Before we parted, I gave her my spare Fenix flashlight to use, as she was down to just a dim, battery-powered light that made it difficult to descend the hills at speed. And then I was off again.

It always feels incredible to get a second, third, or fiftieth wind. Awake again, flying along in the now cooler air under a star-studded sky, I observed a fatigued rider on the road ahead of me engaging in a textbook nighttime randonneuring activity: first, he slowly wobbled across the road from the right side all the way to the left. He paused, precariously, along the left edge of the road, then ponderously steered and wobbled his way all the way back across the road to the right edge. At that point, I thought, "Hmm, is he going to correct back out again and repeat his meandering route? I will need to be strategic about going around him." Instead, after another ponderous pause, he simply continued riding forward, straight into the ditch at the edge of the road!

He was quite fortunate that the ditches in that part of the countryside are forgiving to sleepy bicyclists: grassy, not too steep or deep. The ditch brought all of his remaining forward momentum to a halt, and he and his bicycle then simply flopped to one side, in a position where he could simply lie in repose for a minute or two, should he wish.

At this point, I had just reached him, so I asked, "Are you all right?" He groaned or mumbled something incoherent in reply, which I took to mean he was fine. I do hope he stayed in that ditch for at least a couple of minutes to sleep. As for me, I forged onward.

There is a dog-leg in this section of the ride, in a small village called Le Pont de Pierre. Coming into the village, there was one of the many small roadside support stands set up by locals to encourage the riders, this one managed by two young boys who couldn't have been more than 10 years old. Spying some coffee fixings, I pulled up for a quick stop. In addition to the piping hot coffee, which I gulped down, one of the boys held out a large bowl, and urged me to eat some of the olives and pickled beans therein. I obliged, noticing, as I did so, an open garage behind the boy containing several mattresses each occupied by exhausted, snoring randonneurs. It is a scene that will be forever etched in my mind: these two young boys up far past their usual bedtimes, doing what they could to keep the riders glued together and moving forward, working by streetlight late into the night. While I ate the olives, a paceline flew by at speed, and the boy interrupted his hosting efforts to shout at the riders so they would notice the turn they needed to quickly make to stay on the route.

I am fairly certain that a substantial number of riders, like me, owe their success to French people like those boys. I would love to go back and say hello and thank you to them someday.

Fueled further by the caffeine, I rocketed onward. I was so suddenly energized that I caught up to that peleton and then simply blasted right past it. The final stretch of that stage, towards Mortagne-au-Perche, features rolling hills along roads where the trees are so thick overhead that the roads become tunnels. I don't know if the cause was fatigue, simple nighttime optical illusion, or both, but as I continued along that section, I became aware that the only way I could actually tell whether I was pedaling up a hill or coasting down was based on feedback from Froinlavin; the tree tunnels created the illusion that everything was flat. If I felt resistance, I pedaled. If the resistance lifted, I coasted, always and forever flying forward.

At long last, arriving at Mortagne-au-Perche, the clouds of uncertainty lifted. I reached the control at 2:48 am, full hour and four minutes before closing. It was then that I knew: I could finish. And likely on time.

Not only that, I could afford to rest again. And so I did. I gulped down yet another quick meal of plain buttered noodles and some almond pudding, added my phone and the mp3 player to the electronics charging pile, set an alarm on the GPS, and got 45 minutes of glorious, heavenly sleep, sacked out along a wall behind the brevet card bénévoles.



--
*Weakest aspect of my preparation: saddle and bike shorts. Ouch. This was all known heading into PBP. Abundant pressure pain, chafing, probably some contusion pain, too. I'll be working on this with my bike fitter soon; the fitting right before PBP was too close to the event to make major changes.
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Transit modes this trip: bicycle, train, water taxi, airplane, airplane, bicycle, Bicycle, bicycle, train, bicycle, walking, train, airplane, FlyBus, walking, FlyBus, airplane, automobile, bicycle, automobile, train, bicycle.
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Hello from Paris. In case you have not been obsessively tracking my progress, I succeeded in completing the Paris-Brest-Paris once again! Hooray!

I have so many thoughts and so many stories. I do not want to tap them out on my smart-o-phone. So they will be forthcoming.

For the moment, my mind is returning to the most difficult part of the ride, on Wednesday afternoon. This year, thanks to all my efforts to prepare for rain and cold, we were instead treated to warm weather. I had some warning of what was to come when biking from Paris out to Rambouillet, when I wound up getting a bit sunburned, although it wasn’t hot. That convinced me I needed to pick up a long-sleeved shirt-one item I hadn’t packed along. I found exactly one suitable button-down shirt at the Carrefour, and that was what I wound up wearing for about half the brevet.

I think Wednesday afternoon might have been the hottest overall. It was on the return from Brest, past Loudeac, where I had opted to allow for some time deficit in order to try and get a bit more sleep on the cafeteria floor. Earlier in the morning, I’d hauled like mad during the cooler part of the day to reel the time deficit back in, but I was still reaching the controles just barely before they closed, then needing to spend 20-30 minutes taking care of things like shoving calories in my face, refilling water bottles, and reapplying sunscreen over my already burned face, arms, and legs.

My main thought for the afternoon was to just try and hang on in survival mode. If you can just sustain a base speed, you can make it through.

The trouble was twofold: chipseal and trigonometry. If you are riding on chipseal, a noticeable fraction of your effort just goes straight into the road surface instead of into forward motion. Meanwhile, if the hills are steep, more of your effort goes into upward and downward travel than forward motion. Every hill became an arduous ordeal, as I tried to make good forward progress while avoiding overheating. I cast about, trying to come up with some way of encouraging myself as I crawled up each hill at a slug’s pace. Maybe I could give each hill a name, so as to remember that I was still making forward progress, no matter how grindingly slow. A name surfaced: Martha. But wait a minute, Martha is Mamacat. I then realized I hadn’t been thinking much about the kitties and S, in the midst of all the preparations and hubbub of travel.

And of course Martha and George have no idea where I‘be gone, either, and I have no way to tell them stories of everything I’ve seen here. So instead of naming the hills, I decided to ride up each big hill while trying to think about all the reasons I love and appreciate each of the people and animals I’m closest to. They’ve all been sources of various kinds of support through my life, and it is far better to remember my good fortune than to internally grumble, steam, scream, and cry my way up the hills.

I think one of the funniest moments was discovering that the hill I dedicated to my mother went on and on and on, forcing me to think about how mothers so often must give and give and give again without expecting anything in return from their children.

At long, long last, the sun set and temperatures finally went from unbearable to barely bearable, and I pedaled on.
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I have a feeling updates are going to be very sporadic while I’m out, in the interest of conserving battery life. Inasmuch as one can ever trust it, the weather forecast is looking incredible.

Just getting to stay at the Huttopia has been fun. In the mornings I have been enjoying sitting out on the front porch and watching all kinds of birds fly through and hop around. I don’t know what any of them are, heh, aside from the unmistakable cry of mourning doves. A neighboring Brit staying by himself in a camper van and volunteering has been joining us for evening drinks. It turns out the rider who booked our cabin loves to cook, so I have been eating very well. It’s a relief to only have a short jaunt over to registration and the start.

Our rowing coach occasionally likes to remind us, when we’re really working hard in the middle of practice, that exercise is a privilege. I will certainly do my best to make the most of this opportunity.

Similes

Aug. 19th, 2023 02:42 pm
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The crepes at the Carrefour are the tortillas at the HEB.

https://flic.kr/p/2oWFqAm
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Just saying. People don’t generally throng to most other traffic circles, now do they?

https://flic.kr/p/2oWhJnN

I feel like I rode past the Arc super early in the morning, previously, which made it easier to join the fray circumnavigating it that time. This time I just pulled over to snap a couple photos before carrying on my way. Though I did also encounter a guy from Chicago there, on his way to find a bike shop for some headset woes.

Also it took me a bit to learn/remember some key French traffic signs. The key one is a white sign with a bike emblem in the middle, surrounded by a red circle. That one means “bikes forbidden,” whereas the blue rectangle bike emblem with a slash through it just means “bike lane ends.”

Dialect

Aug. 18th, 2023 08:48 am
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The French crow dialect is entertaining for how different it is from American crows.

I kind of wish I knew insects better, for the sake of better appreciating what’s here.

If nothing else I am really enjoying the place where we are staying for the bits of wildlife.
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I feel like “Huttopia” should be said in some sort of singsong voice.

In any case.

I can’t quite remember yet how much data comes with this roaming plan, so for the moment I am going to pause my photo uploads until I can go over by this place’s info center/main lodge where there’s Wi-Fi. I am writing this at 1 am French time because jet lag.

In any case! The ride out here was a fun adventure. I had the Bossy Lady give me suggestions, which I largely ignored in favor of following the red gpx track given to me by another randonneur. There was one section in particular that traversed across a park where I wound up doing a touch of mountain biking, but on the other hand, the park was quite scenic and beautiful so I can’t be all that mad. That all happened before I reached Versailles.

After Versailles, there was a section along a parkway that made me think, “Did they really put a bike lane on the shoulder here?!?! They did!!”* And towards the end, I had to really fight the Bossy Lady, who desperately wanted to send me across every dirt farm road she could scrounge up. But she eventually gave up, and I made it.

I have two companions at the Huttopia, with a third showing up at the last minute. We had fun grocery shopping last night and swapping bike stories-a neverending activity among randonneurs, heh.

I did discover that the wire running to my taillight may be totally out of commission. It may be impossible to replace while out here; if that’s the case I will obtain additional spare battery-operated taillights, as I do not want my flimsy backup to become my primary taillight right off the start.

Otherwise I’d call it a highly successful shakedown ride, as I was reminded of just how much I enjoy riding through the French countryside. It’s just something about the hedgerows and stone walls and stone houses, the forest patches, the roadside blackberries and other fruits.

Which also reminds me: food here seems to be far less expensive than in the United States. I’ll take it-after all, I’m going to need the calories.

More later, I’m sure.

*in Paris proper they have done a lot of interesting things with bike lanes. Looks to me like the engineering standards permit narrower lanes overall. Lots of counter-direction lanes wedged into one-way streets. In other spots the bike lanes weave onto and off of centralized sidewalks or side roads. Drivers are very much paying attention, as there are a lot of electric scooters flying around in addition to the bikes. I felt pretty safe altogether although I occasionally got overwhelmed and had to pull off to regroup. I also generally stayed at a snails pace so I could watch other riders and see where they went.

Hmmm

Aug. 17th, 2023 09:44 am
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Okay, hivemind, looking for suggestions. I procrastinated on booking accommodations for the nights of Aug 25, 26, and 27, and this hostel in Paris is all booked up. So is a fun but somewhat pricey spot in Versailles (I suspect Versailles will be thronging anyway). I could potentially travel somewhere from Rambouillet, although I will be very tired and will have my bike with me. I would just want to be back in Paris on the 28th.

I think I am going to use transit to get back out to the airport, heh.
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From the book of f:

I’m not sure whether I can fully declare “achievement unlocked” when it comes to biking from Charles de Galle into Paris. Early stages were about as harrowing as my first attempts in the San Diego airport. Soon as I hit the canal path, however, the rest was fantastic.
https://flic.kr/p/2oW46jj

Bonus content: a trip to Paris is not complete unless you visit some of the more international neighborhoods. Lots of fantastic African and Indian food out here!
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There is construction in the Sumner tunnel right now, apparently, so friends suggested trying the Boston Water Taxi to get to the airport (the ferry schedule would have had me arrive about 10 hours early).

I was nervous about it, but it totally worked!

When I got to the airport, apparently British Airways was having a meltdown because their pilot was sick. I am now worried that I am using up all of my good travel karma, ever. But I guess I should just remember last winter and just go with whatever happens.

I also paid a visit to the Boston Institute of Contemporary Art and saw fantastic objects. Then I went to Faneuil Hall and saw a whole lot of terrible stuff.
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I picked Froinlavin up from the bike shop yesterday afternoon, after she got a fresh drivetrain and fresh bearings and headset grease. That crisp shifting and all of the little bike fit tweaks from Wednesday made the ride home feel fantastic!

Today was bike packing practice. The overall transportation logistics go as follows:

1. Bike to the train station in Rensselaer
2. Pack the bike up in its bag and/or in the Amtrak box
3. Train to Boston
4. ??? to a hostel or other place to stay overnight
5. ???? to Logan Airport (I hear there's construction right now)
6. Fly to Charles de Gaulle via short layover in Keflavik
7. Reassemble bike
8. Ride to hostel in Paris, chill overnight
9. Ride to Ramboulliet
10. ??? for a day or so, then packet pickup, PBP snack prep, etc.
11. To Brest!
12. Ehh, Brest isn't so great a place. Back to Paris!
13. Collapse in puddle in Ramboulliet for another day or so
14. ???? Ride back to Paris? I think I have like 3-4 days with no plan still
15. Bike back to Charles de Gaulle, disassemble and pack bike
16. Fly to Keflavik, buy all the Icelandic wool and sweaters, soak in the Blue Lagoon, stay overnight
17. Back to Boston, stay overnight with a friend
18. Amtrak back to Rensselaer, reassemble bike, bike home

And then it will be Labor Day weekend, and then classes will start up.

A friend is loaning me a bike bag. I bought a bike holder thing from a different bike bag manufacturer, just to create more internal structure. I had to chop about 5" off the end of the bike holder tubes, and then it fit nicely.

Test reassembly

Here's how everything looks with Froinlavin all bagged up, ready to wheel around on the folding luggage cart:

Disassembly/assembly practice

And here's how Froinlavin looks all loaded up with all my luggage, with Martha included for dramatic flair:

Test reassembly

Disassembly/assembly practice

The bag is bulky, but not especially heavy, thank goodness.

Test reassembly

I'm so relieved that I don't have to take off the rear rack for transport. I think I did have to take it off in 2015. It just adds a lot of extra bits and pieces that could potentially go missing later on. I do have to remove and reattach the fenders, which is fiddly, but not too terrible. Altogether it took me 38 minutes to reassemble the bike and pack everything on. Not bad at all.

I am going to leave my computer at home while I'm traveling, so most updates will likely happen through Flickr.

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