What it’s like to be on the sidelines of #pbp2011

When my mom brought up the topic of going to Paris-Brest-Paris last year I didn’t think she was serious.  I thought it was an idea only and we wouldn’t really be going.  Imagine my surprise when my mom said in February that we were going.  Like, really going.

I’ll be honest, my planning for PBP didn’t involve much.  My sole job was to get mom across the pond, organize the sight seeing and help her with any cycling stuff pre and post ride.  As far as the actual ride goes, my responsibility was to just text her the weather.

Let me pause and explain what PBP is, since most of my readership is writers and readers and friends, not the cycling crowd.

Paris-Brest-Paris is the oldest organized cycling event in the world.  Started in 1891 to showcase the practicality of bikes, it was at that time mostly a race, not a ride.  A race is a timed thing, a ride isn’t a competition.  That first time in 1891 there were 400 cyclists.  This year they capped the entrants at around 5,000.  The ride is a 90 hour event with 15 controls, or check in’s.  The cyclists start in a western suburb of Paris and ride to Brest and then back to Paris, a distance of 1200K, or around 750 miles.  (Quick note: there are options for a 80 and 84 hour start, wherein cyclists have less time to complete the course.)  It’s a test of endurance and perseverance on the cyclists part.  God knows I wouldn’t be able to do it!

So, we arrived in Paris on Tuesday, August 16th.  First thing all the cyclists did when we got to the hotel was to ask about where the bikes were.  Because we were picked up in charter buses the bikes were delivered in a different truck.  As soon as those bikes arrived it was chaos!

There were bikes everywhere.  We stayed at the Campanile hotel, which was one of the more centrally located ones to the activities around the start/finish.  Because we couldn’t have bikes in the rooms, not that there was much room for them anyways, we utilized a lower room space in the hotel as a bike room.

Most of the cyclists went on pre-rides around the city or into the countryside.  My mom didn’t, we went sight-seeing around Paris and London instead.  That was a decision we were worried about before the ride.  She didn’t get to ride her bike and test it out, but she also didn’t start the ride exhausted and worn out from other rides.

On Saturday the 20th we had to do bike check and get drop bags done.

Bike check was crazy!  Everyone had a time slot to show up at the facility to get it done.  It was a few blocks from my hotel and also the location of the start/finish of the ride.  All cyclists have to get their bike approved before the ride for safety concerns.  But, it’s a mad house trying to get 5,000 people through there!  I couldn’t go into the building where the bike check was actually happening because I wasn’t a rider or crew person so I hung around outside on this track area, which you can see below, and found various people I knew and took pictures.  As a non-cyclist there wasn’t anything to do and no real reason for me to be there, but it was fun to be around the excitement.  You really catch some of the PBP-bug being around all these people.

We went to PBP with a travel agency that takes care of the riders, like you wouldn’t believe how well they were taken care of!  One of the things the agency offered was to meet the cyclists along the route with drop bags.  Drop bags are duffle bags with all sorts of cycling stuff in them.  New shorts, cycling jerseys, whatever the cyclist wants to put in that bag that they would want access to during the ride.  We had to get that together and take it a few blocks away to another hotel to drop it off and then go back to our hotel to get the bike ready.

The cyclists pushed off on Sunday afternoon.  All cyclists tackle the night before a big ride differently.  My mom set out to sleep about 12 hours if possible – and she did it.  I did my best to stay out of her way and be quiet until around noon when she got up and everything became hurry, hurry, hurry!  We had to get lunch, which proved to be difficult because Parisians take their Sundays seriously.  Nothing was open!  We found one bakery open and got sandwiches.  The line was crazy long.  It was also hotter than usual on Sunday, which was tough on the cyclists when we finally went to line up around 3pm, despite having a starting time of 6pm.

I’m not altogether certain of when all of the cyclists started, there were racing groups, a start for the tandems and recumbant bikes, a start fr the 90 hour crowd, a start for the 84 and then 80 hour crowd.  My mom was a 90 hour start, along with a few thousand others.  To prevent a few thousand people charging ahead at once, they do staggered starting in groupings of around 500.  Even though we got into line at 3pm, there were people already in line and she wound up starting in the 3rd wave of 500.

Sunday was hard.  It was hot, I went to the starting area with 10 bottles of water and an umbrella and wound up giving away all 10 bottles to the Texas cyclists standing in line for hours.  I ran out and needed more, so I was buying cokes and bottles of water from the vendors and handing over to the cyclists lined up ready to start.  You can see one of the waves of cyclists at the starting line above.

The start was festive.  There were stilt walkers, kids bike races, fire breathers and big presentations going on.  There were people lined up and police all over the place.  It was a big deal, and everyone was so excited about these cyclists.  Everyone in the area had been very nice to us, especially when they realized we were there for PBP.

My mom actually started around 6:50 pm, which was good because she got out of Paris before dark and had several hours to tackle the outgoing route in the daylight.

I stuck around the starting line and took pictures of friends and hung out with the Wife Club, aka the cycling wives.  These were the lovely ladies I had dinner with and saw around the hotel.  Being one of the ones left behind is an experience in and of itself.  We take comfort in one another, celebrate our cyclists progress together and worry together about conditions on the course or how morale is.

This year the cyclists had a chip they were given that was used to update the official site with the cyclists progress.  If you went to the PBP site and put in your rider’s frame number you could see where they had checked in and when.  Since majority of the family and friends left behind didn’t have a way to contact their rider, this was a huge relief to be able to see that much at least.  My mom and I planned for this part and we bought French phones to be able to call one another as well as home.  Of the wives staying at my hotel I think I was the only one with constant communication during the ride.  My mom called me once a day or more to check in, get a pep talk or find out the weather or latest updates.

As exciting as PBP is, this year was also tragic.  Tuesday morning after texting my mom the weather she called me asking odd questions.  She had heard of an accident on the route and had thought I knew what happened.  We didn’t learn the full story until after the ride.  On Monday evening a cyclist was in an accident with a vehicle.  An American cyclist was killed.  It’s super sad and hit the whole community hard.  Randoneurs are a close knit, welcoming crowd and any loss is tough.  I heard of riders dedicating PBP 2011 to the fallen cyclist and of at least one who decided to quit his ride early.  Even now thinking about it makes me tear up.  I never met the cyclist, but it’s sad and it makes me think about my mom and the chances she takes.  It also makes me want more cycling awareness in the USA.  Moving on!

So the days of waiting were tough, but in the end she came ‘home’ with about an hour and a half to spare.  The finish was no less exciting than the beginning.  There weren’t as many people there, but cyclists had been finishing as early as Tuesday morning and it was Wednesday around midday when I was there waiting for my mom to come in.  I was lucky, she called me leaving the last check in so I knew within a window of about half an hour when to expect her.  I came with her shoes and food, ready to take care of a sleep deprived, disoriented cyclist.

I was super excited when I saw my mom finish.  There was a lady who jumped in front of me right before she pedaled up, and I’m totally guilty of elbowing her out of the way to snap the above picture of my mom coming in.  Rude?  Yes, but I flew across an ocean to be there when she finished her ride.

Just because the cyclist crosses that line doesn’t mean they are done.  When a rider gets to a control, which the finish is, they have to get their cards signed.  The chips that were used to update the website might replace the cards someday, but for now the cards are still used and until the rider gets that signed they aren’t really finished.  At PBP there’s also a few other places to check out, like the photographers booth and the beer tent before you check out your bike and are free to go.

We walked back to the hotel so mom could walk out some of the kinks in her legs.  I would have thought she would have showered and crashed, but she showered, I got her more food, and we broke her bike down to pack it up.  After that, she did crash for some much needed sleep – and as the family member – that was a big relief because for me, PBP was a closed book.  There are lots of stories she’s told me about the ride, but they are hers and if you’re lucky you might get to hear them.

PBP was awesome.  We may never get to do it again, but this was a great experience.

From Paris to London to #PBP2011

Well, last I checked in we had arrived after the ride in a sweltering plane and poked around the area around the hotel.  Today we are much more traveled with a few more stamps in our passports!

Wednesday my mother and I did Paris via the hop-on-and-off boat tour.  It has about eight stops you can use to see the different sights.  We saw the tower, the outside of the art museums, we went to a chateau on the outskirts of Paris that has an old midevil castle and a more modern manor house.  We saw the national gardens and the menagerie, Notre Dame and so many other really cool things.  I wrote them all down in my red notebook.  When I get home and do a full report of everything we did, I can be more thorough then.Thursday we took the bullet over to London and did one of those open top bus tours all around London.  It was an exciting trip because we really didn’t know where we were going to stay or anything.  We just went.  So far this was my favorite, even if I didn’t get to go to the Globe or see the TARDIS.  I was really excited about getting to eat real fish and chips with a hard cider.  Silly, I know, but it was great.

So far I’ve only done souvaniere shopping in London.  Going to do my Paris shopping in a few days methinks.

Yesterday (Friday for me) was all about getting back to our hotel and eating a meal with some other cyclists.  Today (Saturday) has been all about getting bikes put together and doing the drop bags put together and delivered.  Tomorrow is the start of the ride later in the day.

My plan right now is to hang out tomorrow and then ride to Fougeres with another cyclists wife who is driving.  I’ll get a room there and hang out there on Monday, sleep there Monday night and come back to Paris Tuesday early and check back into our hotel here.

Check out my flickr for the unedited pictures thus far.  It’s slow going uploading them all, but I’m getting to it!  Link is in the upper, right hand corner on the menu bar.

Talking About PBP and Mom’s Ride

I’m putting off packing – surprise, surprise!

Since I’ve begged off blogging on my normal schedule, I thought I would do a blog about the whole cycling adventure.  Seeing as that’s why I’ve fallen down on my blogging, it only seems right that I’d share the reason for my ‘failure’.

Tomorrow we take off for Paris, arriving early on Tuesday when we’ll hit the ground running, doing various sight-seeing things.  Please check out my pictures by clicking the flickr link above.  The ride starts on the 21st, Sunday afternoon for me, morning for almost everyone else.

The ride is about 1200K, about 750 miles.  Above, you can see a route map which the cyclists will follow.  There’s a little variation between the two trips, but not a lot.  The riders have 90 hours, until Thursday at noon, to finish the ride.  At a few points cyclists will be able to get into what we call drop-bags.  Drop-bags are pre-packed duffel bags of whatever cyclists want to have access to.  Clothes, extra food, powders, medicine, you name it!

So there you go.  That’s what we’re going to Paris for.

Heading to Paris

I have seven days before I leave for France. Seven days and a few hours really. Things are crazy, and I’ve decided to give myself permission to take a break from blogging. I’m going to try to update from France, but I’m giving myself permission to not do anything for the next three weeks.

Randonneurs: there’s a story in that.

I wasn’t going to write this recap for my writing blog because it’s 100% personal, 0% writing related but there was so much interest in it expressed over twitter from all my updates that I decided, what the heck?

To recap, last week I worked as support crew for the Texas Rando Stampede, a 1200K bicycle ride that started in Waxahachie, Texas and looped through the hill country around San Antonio, Texas and then down to Houston, Texas and the piney woods and finally back to Waxahachie, Texas.  It’s a long ride, and considering our weather it was crazy epic.  But before I get to that, let me explain this society of randonneurs. 

A randonneur is a long distance cyclist by definition.  It originated in France, which is also host to the longest running randonneur event, PBP (I’ll be going there in the fall to attend!).  Randonneurs go on what’s called a  randonnée or brevet, which is French for an organised long distance, non-competitive cycling event.  That’s the general idea, I could go on at length to explain what I understand and still not get all of it down.

And yeah, this isn’t a competitive hobby.

Cyclists on Day 4 headed through the piney woods of Texas.

Looking at randonneuring from the outside, having no interest in cycling myself, but supporting it because of my mom – is a very strange experience.  I mean, you have men and women running around in spandex, their asses stuck up in the air, and putting themselves through really uncomfortable elements to just say they did it.  And yes, I know that some of you are googling or picturing a cyclist in their little bike shorts and I know what you’re thinking!  Yes, sometimes it’s very hard to ignore them.  Those shorts, unless they’re solid black, are dangerous when wet and you suddenly learn things you never wanted to know about strangers.  But you know what?  After about 24 hours they’re all carbon copies of one another and who cares?

At one stop one of the guys had crossed the gas station parking lot to throw something away.  A car pulls up, and slowly passes him.  A person leans out and says, “Nice shorts man,” and drives away.  This person pulled through for the one purpose of complimenting the shorts.  Yeah.  Let your 12-year-old brains giggle all they want now.

Now, lets talk about Texas Rando Stampede, or TSR as I’ll call it for the sake of this blog and brevity.  This is a 1200K ride, not a race, and since this is a PBP year everyone is getting ready and training for it by doing 1200K rides.  The organizers from what I understand expected maybe 40 riders to attend, we had 60!  There was a ton of prep work done to get ready for this event, and going in I was excited.

The distance was 1200 kilometers, or for those of us who are math challenged – 769 miles.  MILES!!

The Fearless Leader

The event kicked off on Tuesday, May 10th.  Riders were flying and driving in, we had registration, I was selling jerseys, and it was really a high excitement time.  A lot of the cyclists went out to eat on Tuesday night but I stayed at the hotel and wrote because I knew that the writing time would be few and far between over the next few days.  I ended up not getting as much sleep as I wanted to.  I’m too accustomed to going to bed around midnight to force myself to sleep at like, 9pm.

Wednesday morning was the start of the ride.  I got up around 3am with my mom and got her ready.  There was some concern about rain later in the day but energy was high and people were excited.  Now, getting a cyclist ready for a ride like this is a juggling act.  You’re always asking questions, like: Do we need to oil your chain?  Are your bottles full of ice/water/whatever? Do you have food? Is your drop bag ready?  Have you put on sun screen?  Breakfast – have you eaten?

My mother is on the right.

With my mom eating is always a struggle.  I literally stand over her and tell her to stop talking and eat.  She’s social so she’ll be too busy talking to remember to put food in her mouth.  There were several times when I told people to stop talking to her so she would eat.  This earns a lot of laughs.  As crew for this kind of event my one and only goal is to get cyclists on their bikes and keep them going.  Literally whatever it takes is allowed, so in the case of my mother it’s telling her to eat and sometimes putting food in her hand for her.  The other cyclists didn’t take offense at this, they just laughed.  I think a few were jealous.  I mean, not many of the cyclists came with support people on hand to help out, much less remind them to eat.

The cyclists pushed out at 5am Wednesday the 11th in one huge group.  This is the only time all 60 riders are going together in one big pack.  Since it’s not a race the start isn’t a push, push, push moment.  Yes, it’s exciting, but the goal is to go the distance, not be the first or the fastest.  That’s not to say that there were some people who had that goal, but they are the minority in this kind of event.  Randonneuring is not a racing event, and that is not the mindset that most people have.

I didn’t see my mother until much later in the night.  I caught about two more hours of sleep in Waxahachie and then drove with all haste down to Marble Falls, Texas which was the next overnight control stop.  The way these brevets go is that there is a course you must stay on.  Riders are given a cue sheet and along the route to each over night control are other control stops where they must get their cards signed or buy something from a gas station and use that receipt to prove that they stopped at that point on the route.  If you look at the map on the left the control stops are marked by letters. 

A is Waxahachie, B is a small town called Valley Mills, C is Lampasas, D is Jonestown, and E is the overnight control in Marble Falls.

I got to Marble Falls around noon and met up with the other volunteers.  There were a few familiar faces and new people.  We got the rooms prepared, which means making sure the AC is on, the microwave and ice box works, and when the trailer arrived with the drop bags we put a few of them in the rooms that were assigned.  Those were people with requested roommates or people who paid for a room they didn’t have to share.  The unassigned rooms were ready but without bags.

Cyclist coming into Marble Falls.

And then we began the waiting game.  We watched the weather, worried about rain we saw heading our way.  We got a call that the rider in the lead, who was a racer, hit a dog and fell.  His wife was running support for him so she came in and raided our First Aid supplies and went back out to take care of him, so we sat down and waited for the next cyclists to roll in.

The racer was the first to come in, and we had a rider an hour for the next two hours, but the bulk of them were still hanging back trying to let the rain and hail pass them by.  I know that a lot of the riders waited out the worst of the storm in Lampasas.

Yup, I'm writing.

Meanwhile, back at the ranch, the volunteers got the food ready, we wrung our hands and watched the skies – and I wrote.  No, seriously. I wrote actual words.  Impressive, huh?

Riders started really coming in some time after 11pm in the rain.  This was a flurry of activity.  On the support side we would watch for a rider. As soon as they pulled up someone was asking them if they could take their bike and get it out of the rain.  Riders were coming into the room we’d set up as the control room.  We were drying them off with spare towels, offering them food, getting cards signed, assigning rooms and carrying bags and bikes to their room.  It wasn’t a flawless process, but it worked out really well.

My mom got in a few minutes before midnight.  I took off about half an hour to take care of her and get her stuff together and make sure she ate and went to bed.

I meant to sleep that night, I really did, but with the bad weather and riders still out on the road in the driving rain I just couldn’t.  I stayed up all night anxiously watching for bike lights.  The last rider literally came in at 7am.  The kicker?  Riders started leaving Marble Falls at 2:30am.  My mother left at 5am.  This is serious business!  I think I went to sleep for about two hours at about 7am after the last rider came in. 

The weather on Day 2 was terrible.  The riders went from Marble Falls, Texas down to Sealy, Texas.  It was the longest day of the ride, well over 200 miles I think and it rained almost the entire time.  I know I drove four hours in the driving rain.  It was scary as hell on my side, I have no idea what it was like to be on a bike in that stuff. 

According to my mom it wasn’t so bad.  As it turns out I was driving along with the worst of the weather.  Yeah, go me!

I later found out that one of our cyclists was run off the road out of Marble Falls by a motorist and threatened with a gun.  When she approached a house looking for help the residents yelled at her for being a cyclist out on the road.  I feel so bad for this rider!  These people’s reactions to a cyclist simply out for a ride is unacceptable.  Sure, sometimes you get stuck behind one you can’t pass safely and it’s annoying, but it’s not worth threatening their lives over.  I can go on and on and on about how unacceptable this is but I’ll refrain.  Deep breath, and moving on…

Oiling the chain in preperation for a rainy day.

I hit Sealy, which isn’t a place I was supposed to be working.  I took advantage of the fact they didn’t need me to catch another hour of sleep and was up to do the Savvy Boot Camp challenge.  Guys, I wrote like 4,000 words that night!  I really turned on the steam and wrote my little heart out until a little before midnight.  I knew it would be another two hours before my mom came in and I would really benefit from another hour of sleep.  Literally a few minutes before I shuffled off my mother calls to say that the control stop in La Grange, a 24 hour Wataburger and the designated dinner stop for most of the riders, was closed.  CLOSED!  That’s bad.

Another gentleman and myself scrambled.  We grabbed bags of bread, peanut butter and jelly and drove like bats out of hell to get to La Grange.  We got there around 12:30am and hung out there until near 2am feeding and hydrating the cyclists until they had all come through the control stop.  The poor riders were wet and exhausted.  Thankfully the rain had stopped but they were wet and it was dark and cold.  People were cannibalizing their arm warmers and pulling them onto their legs.  I wiped one rider down with paper towels to try to get them dry enough.

I know that we went back to the hotel and my mother was there.  I think, and she’s told me, that I helped get her stuff ready for the next day but all I remember was passing out.  I think I at least put on pajama pants, but I crashed hard for about two or three hours until her group was getting up to leave for Day 3.

This was another of those mornings where I stood over my mom and almost physically put food into her mouth for her.  The previous two days were wearing on her and I wanted to make sure she had every possible opportunity to have things ready for her.  Heck I chased her down on her bike and shoved a biscuit-bacon sandwich at her.  Though this day was going to be much shorter, only 150ish miles, it was also going to be sunny and in the 90′s.

For our Texas riders this wasn’t too bad.  They hadn’t ridden in the heat this year much, but heat is something they can handle and it was only a high of 94.  It was the out-of-state riders from places like Washington and New Jersey we were worried about.  This leg of the trip went through rural, almost nonexistent towns that are barely surviving and often don’t have more than one little general store in ‘town’.

I did not sleep after the riders took off.  I waited around for a little, uploading pictures to Facebook and checking in on things.  I saw a few other riders off and then headed to the next overnight control in Crockett.  A cyclist rode in my car with me.  His bike broke the night before.  It was heartbreaking, but at least no one was hurt in the incident.  We got to Crockett and got him settled and then I got to spend some time with my Grandmother who was helping out with this stop.  I hung out there for maybe two hours and then we ran into another of those little problems.

About 25 miles away from Crockett at the only real stop between Huntsville and the overnight, was in Weldon, Texas.  It was nothing more than a little red general store – and it closed at 5pm.  I loaded up bags of ice, gallons of water and snacks and drove out to this little store in the middle of nowhere and set up shop to wait for cyclists to come through.  I iced them down, gave them water, fed them and sent them on their way.  There were several cyclists that I was worried about overheating, but thankfully we had no heat related illnesses or anything.

Hanging out in Weldon, meeting the locals.

Weldon was a cute little place – in the daylight.  But I was stuck out there until around 1:30 or 2am and in the dark it could have been the set of the next greatest slasher flick.  Thankfully one of the Dallas cyclists doing support came out and hung out with me for those last hours and together we waited and watched and cheered our riders on.  I took as many pictures of people at this stop as I could.  All in all this was a lot of fun, but I was glad when the last cyclists went through and I could wave goodbye and shuttle off to Crockett where I crawled in bed with my mother.

I slept around three hours – and you know the kicker?  My mother and her roommate never woke me up. I’m a notoriously light sleeper, and they got up and got ready and left and never once bothered me.  Now, I did wake up and come to 100% and panicked because they weren’t there and I didn’t know what time it was.  But it was okay!

Day 4 was the most fun on my end of things.  It was the shortest day for the cyclists, at around 140 miles.  The day was a little chilly, but sunny and beautiful.  The course went through the piney woods area and back into the rolling plains and it was gorgeous!

Another cyclist had opted before the ride starts to only do 1000K of the 1200K, so her ride was finished in Crockett.  The funny part was that before the ride her and my mother had talked that she would ride back to Waxahachie with me, and they knew that I would need to be told, they just forgot to tell me until the morning of.  It all worked out perfectly.  We both had time to clean up and get in the car and decided that rather than take the most direct route back to Waxahachie we would follow the route the cyclists had taken.  I hadn’t been able to do this yet, so all I’d seen of the cyclists was them getting off and on their bikes.  I never actually got to see them riding!

Mom and me.

So my cyclist and I took off driving this ride.  We would see cyclists ahead of us, slow down and wait until we could see a long distance ahead of us that no cars were coming and then pull up beside them and chat with them.  Since we were neutral sag we could offer water at any time people needed it.  There are a lot of rules here, I’m not totally clear on them, but offering water was okay.  I got to see my mom peddling her guts out, we saw beautiful countryside and took lots of pictures.

When we got back to Waxahachie there was a whole Texas themed set up with a flag and people with pop guns waiting to welcome cyclists back.  It was exciting and a lot of hurry-up-and-wait.  My mom pulled in around 9pm, exhausted but happy that she made it.  And you know what?  I was too!

The Herd.

Of the 60 riders supposed to start, there were 3 no shows.  Two people DNF’d (Did Not Finish) due to circumstances out of their hands.  Ten people DNF’d due to weather, exhaustion, etc.  And forty-five riders finished the ride exhausted, battered, and glad it was over.  We had anticipated a cool summer ride, hoped it wouldn’t be too hot, but Texas made it really hard on everyone with unexpected torrential rain, wind gusts and hail.

From a writer’s point of view, it’s amazing to see what kinds of things a person will willingly put themselves through for very little.  Many times we write things or read things and think, ‘No one would willingly do that.’  Well you know what?  Maybe they would.  Randonneuring is a glimpse of what kind of hell people will put themselves through for nothing more than the sadistic fun of it.  In this one trip there were so many slice of life stories to tell.  The guy threatening our cyclist.  The people who know nothing of what’s going on and stop to offer aid to riders stuck in the rain.  Police who take it on themselves to offer an escort through towns.  Riders taking naps in ditches so they can go the next few miles strong.

I haven’t written a cycling story yet, and maybe I never will, but I have some ideas.  This is a great group of people, and I’m looking forward to going to Paris with a lot of them and seeing the rest at The Texas Time Trials later this year.

Just a note, if you’re one of the cyclists reading this, no I don’t mention names.  I don’t on this blog, but thanks to each of you for making this a memorable trip.  Let’s just not do it again for a few weeks, okay?