I’m a randonneur romantic. Sure, longer brevets almost always include periods where I question my recreational pursuits due to discomfort, exhaustion, or some dissatisfaction with a route segment, but they don’t hang on. Eventually, those feelings fade and bike riding reclaims its place on my list of favorite things to do.
Another reason I love the randonneuring events is because they introduce an additional level of commitment and discipline to Felkerino’s and my riding. Early weekend wake-ups for training rides in the hills become standard routine.
I incorporate more focused cross-training into my weekdays. Overall time in the saddle goes up. Bike mileage steadily increases and peaks until the carefully scheduled taper goes into effect.
After all that, I stand rather anticlimactically at an uncivilized hour in a generic hotel parking lot with my brevet card in hand ready to see how our months of hard work will pay off. Despite the unassuming circumstances, randonneur show time has arrived.
Over the course of 10 years of brevets, I’ve ridden rides that while they were happening, felt they were devouring me with their difficulty. Yet after I completed them and time did its work to soothe the event-inspired discomforts, a blanket of bliss wrapped itself around me.
Almost always, my body forgets the fatigue and frustrations of an event. My mind looks beyond pain point memories, or reconstructs them as necessary parts of the ride experience. Without the low moments, there can be no highs. The post-ride sensations that usually remain are so powerful and positive that they compel me to take on the next big ride.
But that is not what happened on my most recent 1000K. In August, Felkerino and I rode a 1000K where the memories that lingered were primarily pain points. Despite the passing of time, my recall of this ride is not the savoring experience I’ve come to hope for and even expect from randonneuring.
When I remember this particular event, what I’m most happy about is that Felkerino and I pushed through and did not quit. We also enjoyed some pretty sweet night riding, too, but generally my point of pride is that we showed we can gut out a rando event even when we’re not enjoying it.
I’m still puzzling through why this ride’s memories evoke such overall dissatisfaction. One month before this 1000K, Felkerino and I were completing a sublime two-week bike tour of Colorado.
We liberated ourselves from the clock and were not constrained by a prescribed route. Having all day to travel 100 or so miles in the summer sun was a treat. Maybe bike touring through the Colorado Rockies spoiled us, and we were unprepared for the rigors of a 1000K brevet.
On the other hand, maybe it’s because I’ve been doing brevets long enough now that their novelty has worn off. I know the general flow of an event, from a 200K up to a 1200K. I know the fitness that’s required complete them. I’m confident that Felkerino and I have a fairly tuned system that sets us up well for finishing rides.
Perhaps waning sunlight and winter’s freeze dampened my enthusiasm for long rides, and the arrival of springtime will reshape my August 1000K memories and rekindle my affinity for randonneuring.
At the very least, I hope a brevet or two with Felkerino through the emerging blossoms and greens of spring will generate new memories and bring back to the fore the seductive sensations I’ve always loved about randonneuring rides.
I don’t mean to shock anyone, but the words “coffeeneuring” and “errandonnee” are totally made-up words. That’s right, both are fake words used to describe activities that people do on bicycles.
These terms were born out of similar circumstances.
Coffeeneuring: A Seattle randonneur said he’d like to earn a medal by riding his bike to the coffee shop. I thought I should run a contest through this blog that offered such a medal. Felkerino and I tossed phrases around our living room about what to name said contest. The result was “coffeeneuring,” a combination of coffee and randonneuring.
Errandonnee: I wanted to host a winter transportation-based challenge around doing errands. I’d come up with the word “utilitaire,” but it didn’t sound quite right. During a bike ride with our friend Eric P., we exchanged ideas about what such a contest should be called. What regular word and randonneuring word could be melded together just so? “Errandonnee. Errand plus randonnée,” our friend Eric said. We all agreed it worked.
Coffeeneuring has been a fake word for more than three years, and errandonnee is going on two-plus. While some linguistic purists surely shake their finger at my audacity to invent words, generally people seem to like them.
It’s much easier to say “I’m coffeeneuring,” as opposed to “I’m riding my bike to get coffee.” As for errandonnee? It’s tricky to spell, but fun to say, and wraps two concepts into one delightful word. And I don’t know when I’ll tire of saying “Errandonnee is a word with triple double letters.”
These two words emerged in fits of brainstorming. Both are examples of three minds thinking more creatively than one– unless you don’t like these words, in which case they show you that three minds can come up with truly unfortunate combinations of symbols and sounds.
Most of the feedback I’ve received about errandonnee and coffeeneuring is positive. People have even nabbed both errandonnee and coffeeneuring as domain names.
Someone wrote that they had originally heard of coffeeneuring through the New York Times, but they could no longer find the news article. Some have attributed the creation of both coffeeneuring and errandonnee to other people or sources.
When I learn of these situations, my instinctive reaction is grumpy and egotistical. “Those words originated on Chasing Mailboxes,” I think indignantly. “I’m not getting credit for these made-up words, ” I say, even though it took three of us to come up with the original word, anyway.
I’m transported back to graduate school where we explored the importance of sharing knowledge freely in an effort to create better ideas, products, and organizations. Then someone threw a wrench into our knowledge sharing theories by saying people gotta eat and what about the commodification and ownership of ideas if that’s your meal ticket. However, I’m not inventing words for profit; I just want them to be used and understood by people.
I know others who have poo poo’d my made-up words, remarking that they diminish the significance of randonneuring. It reminds me of my university days as a language and linguistics major and intense discussions with those who believed that simultaneously coding in two languages was dé classé– an affront to the pureness of language.
I don’t view language as static or pure. It is meant to evolve and change over time, depending on the circumstances of the day, the needs of communities, and as people look for ways to effectively share information with each other.
Over time, new words come into being and people adopt distinct ways of coding. I’m not claiming that the words errandonnee and coffeeneuring need to exist for the sake of humanity’s growth, but these words are not inherently bad or intended to minimize randonneuring. In addition, their ability to neatly combine two ideas into one word gives them a practical implication, at least in my eyes.
Some have suggested that I could monetize the Coffeeneuring and Errandonnee Challenges by securing local (or broader) sponsorship and selling souvenirs such as t-shirts. In my mind, that is not true to the spirit of these activities.
These challenges are about connecting to others through everyday, low- to no-cost activities. Hopefully they serve as an encouragement to be outside on our bikes. The challenges offer a virtual space to share simple moments with each other, free from commercial backing.
Now that the made-up errandonnee and coffeeneuring have had time to soak in the world, people have begun to use them and developed their own ideas about them. It’s surreal to watch something you created expand and take on its own life.
The words have become somewhat uncontrollable in many ways, and that occasionally disconcerts. Like I said earlier, a small part of me liked to think that I owned these words, that credit for their existence belonged with me.
Generally, though, seeing errandonnee and coffeeneuring increase their radius has been exciting to watch. I’ve connected to people I would likely not know otherwise. I see other people’s quirky, sometimes comic, creative interpretations of the errandonnee and coffeeneuring and I’m struck by their observations. People have embraced coffeeneuring and the errandonnee, and given them meaning and life.
If you’ve been around bikes long enough, you’re likely familiar with the “n+1″ principle. Velominati describes it as follows:
The correct number of bikes to own is n+1.
While the minimum number of bikes one should own is three, the correct number is n+1, where n is the number of bikes currently owned. This equation may also be re-written as s-1, where s is the number of bikes owned that would result in separation from your partner.
I became quite caught up in the n + 1 principle in my early days as a bike enthusiast, although I did not know it had a name. My stable quickly grew from one Fuji road bike to a road bike + fixed gear + light touring bike + a commuter/touring bike + folding bike + single speed folding bike + you get the idea.
As cycling became one of my central activities, bicycles also caught my fancy. I justified my n+1 purchases in different ways. I need a bike for commuting. I need this one as a back-up bike. I need a fixed gear to work on my spin. I need a single speed because it’s low maintenance and easier to clean.
I need this bike for randonneuring, and that bike for summer vacations and future bike tours, a mixte just because, and I must have this bike because it’s a limited edition and this other bike since it is no longer made and this might be my very last chance to own one ever.
S-1 does not apply at my house. There are no furrowed brows when someone in my house says “Have you seen this bicycle? I think I may need it.” We don’t hide bike purchases from each other or lie about how much they cost (which I have my own thoughts about for those who do) and I don’t say that my other half “won’t let me” buy a bike (also something I have thoughts about). My spouse and I know all about the need for bikes. Our dining room is proof of that.
Over time I’ve realized that n+1 is truth and nonsense, but more nonsense than truth. That’s part of the ongoing joke, I know. Even though we may be able to concoct justifications for another ride and the bike industry would have us continue to purchase specialized bikes for all types of cycling and road surfaces, who among us actually needs more than one bike?
I am proud of the bikes I own and it took some years and careful searching to acquire them, but it’s no feat to have a bunch of bikes. All it takes is disposable income, time, and a desire for bicycles.
Over the years, I’ve also learned that n+1 does not match my riding style. Generally, I ride three bikes: the Surly Long Haul Trucker, my Rivendell Quickbeam, and our Co-Motion Java tandem. While these are my everyday favorites, I think of my Rivendell Romulus, Bike Friday Pocket Rocket, and my Rawland dSogn as my preferred weekend single ride steeds. But I’m not riding much single bike on the weekend these days so they don’t see much time outdoors.
I’d likely ride my bikes more if I was doing more long rides by myself, but my current way of touring and randonneuring is by tandem. The other bikes are pulled out every once in a while, but generally they spend most of their lives in the Dining Room Bike Shop.
In contrast, Felkerino is more of an n+1 rider than I am. He frequently rotates through the bikes on his side of the dining room. He told me that he likes to switch his ride every two or three weeks. Felkerino gives all of his bikes equal love and attention, while I focus my affection on a few of the bikes I have.
I am happy with all my bikes and, with the exception of my torrid relationship with the Bike Friday Tikit, I’ve dialed in their fit and comfort so they ride well for short or long distances. It’s nice to have bikes that work particularly well for brevets, mixed surfaces, commutes, and touring, but it certainly isn’t necessary.
I don’t generally ride each of my bikes enough to truly justify owning them all. In the meantime, I keep the bikes I own as an indulgence. I already own them, and I aspire to ride them all more one day soon. Maybe tomorrow. Or next week. Or when it’s warmer outside.
I still look at bikes, admire them, and think about how they would ride and the ways they would complement my current bike family. Future bike is always out there and I want it. Practically speaking, though, my n+1 days are at a standstill. The dining room is far too crowded.
Since beginning my glamorous randonneuring career in 2005, I’ve not only ridden in places I never imagined, but I’ve dozed in an assortment of spots I never before would have considered comfortable or conducive to sleeping.
Like a lot of randonneurs, Felkerino and I have developed a method that serves us well in our preparation and training for brevets. I see our approach as one that works for people who have other activities vying for their time and attention (be it job, family, or other pursuits) and for those who have already developed a solid base level of fitness.
Felkerino and I are not racing our way through brevets. Our goals generally include the following: enjoy the ride as it happens and not just grind it out; finish well within the time limits; complete a brevet without any lasting pain or injury; and feel as strong as we can throughout the experience. Our way is not overly prescriptive, but it requires diligence, and some planning.
The Initial Build-Up: Time, Terrain, and Weather
There are three aspects we try to balance when building up to the century and beyond. The first is time on the bike, the second is terrain, and the third is preparing for weather. Not all rides are created equal– a ride through the gnarly bumps of the Catoctins during the early spring is not the same deal as the late-September Seagull Century on the Eastern Shore of Marland.
When I first began riding long, I primarily focused on the overall distance. By meeting a specific mileage goal, I built my confidence.
From there, I began to seek out hillier routes to prove that I could complete the distance and also cover it over an undulating course.
This is a similar formula we follow today– build the base for distance and add in hillier terrain as we progress. If you happen to live in hilly terrain with quiet roads around you, you’re already winning in my mind.
The third part of our randonneuring ride buildup is preparing for weather. Wind, rain, and temperature fluctuations all play a big role in randonneuring. By increasing our mileage during the colder months, we adapt our bodies to less forgiving temperatures and reacquaint ourselves with appropriate layering.
We don’t want to wear so much that we end up sweating up, but don’t want to spend the whole day with throbbing fingers and toes, either. Cold weather also rewards constant forward movement. By staying on the bike for sustained periods we avoid cooling down and having to warm up our bodies and deal with cold foreheads, hands, and toes after restarting. Obviously, our preparation for weather changes with the seasons and temperature fluctuations throughout the year.
Currently, I try to keep my base at a place where I can easily walk out the door for a rolling, but not nonstop hilly, 75 miles in my riding off-season of October through December and not feel wrecked by the end of the ride. Maybe I feel it some in my legs, but it’s not a big deal to walk or ride it off the next day.
Felkerino and I build our base mileage between January and February so that a century becomes “just another ride.” To give you a sense of one of our off-season ride favorites, here’s a link to our recent ride from D.C. to Sugarloaf Mountain. As you can see from the profile, there are plenty of flattish parts, with rollers mixed in, especially the further out we ride from the District.
During the month of January, we don’t worry about overall weekly mileage too much. I run, we both commute, and we make sure to do longer weekend rides when we can.
As February approaches, we like our average bicycling mileage to hover around 150 miles per week, with about 50 miles coming from weekday commute/transportation rides and the weekend rides making up the rest.
D.C. Randonneurs brevets tend to be decently hilly, in that short hop out of the saddle grinding kind of way, rather than a miles-long gentle grade that takes hours to complete. Your body really need to be conditioned to climb them or you’ll end up with complete rubber for legs at the end of a brevet (though this can happen on a long ride anyway).
Back-to-Backs and Time in the Saddle
As the brevets near, say around March, Felkerino and I will head out for back-to-back centuries and on another weekend maybe we’ll plan a ride that’s around 150 miles to prepare us for longer days ahead. During these rides, we exercise more discipline by taking fewer breaks, and acclimate ourselves mentally and physically to longer periods in the saddle.
Ideally, we’d like to ride about 50 miles or so before we take a break. Practically speaking, this almost never happens, so we end up taking short stops at around 25- and 75-miles, and a longer “sitdown” stop for food and refueling at 50 miles.
During a brevet, the clock keeps ticking and there will be consequences for stopping. That consequence may come in the form of riding longer in the dark, being on the course longer, and generally becoming more tired from your effort. It’s important to be deliberate about when and how long you spend time off the bike during a brevet.
Over time, I have worked on my breathing so I can manage a hard climbing effort better. In the days when I was first starting out, my breathing would get away from me and I’d start to pant and freak out.
Essentially, I worked on my breathing through regular attendance at spin class over the course of a year or so. I used a heart rate monitor to gauge my effort throughout a 45-50 minute class so I could see what a hard effort looked like as it related to heart rate.
I gained a good sense of my limits and, from there, began to work on doing hard efforts without going into the red zone (i.e., “I’m going to pass out” zone). Weekends were an opportunity to apply what I had learned in the safe space of a spin class on the road. Use of a heart rate monitor was key to understanding and managing my level of effort.
Now when I’m on the bike not only do I try to manage my effort on the uphills, I try to actively recover on downhill sections. This allows me to use my body’s energy more efficiently. We will push the pedals up to a certain acceleration, but beyond that I use my time to relax and recover for the next section.
During the off-season I’ll also work strength training into my routine when I can (although I’ve been bad about this over the last year or so), and make earnest attempts to sleep close to 8 hours per night. Sleep is a randonneur’s friend, although you wouldn’t know it from some of the distances we ride.
Nutrition is another consideration for long rides, both in preparation for as well as during and after an event. What foods work well for you on the bike? What foods can you pack with you so you do not have to rely on external sources for food?
Packing certain types of food tends to work well for rides that happen earlier in the year when temperatures don’t rise to the point of baking one’s food, and for rides that are around 300K or less. I like to pack hummus or almond butter sandwiches with me during brevets. They digest easily and provide good fuel for my rides. Beyond that, I don’t feel I can rely completely on my own food because I find it becomes impractical to carry that much with me.
My nutrition is consistently a weaker area of my randonneuring preparation and it also changes over time. Some foods that worked like rocket fuel in years past stopped working (e.g., turkey sandwiches!) and upset my stomach so I have had to recognize that and adapt to my body’s changing needs.
Nutrition after the ride is important, too. I used to eat whatever sounded good or whatever impulse moved me, but that generally led me to making poor refined sugar-filled eating choices.
I’m trying to prepare better nutritionally for a ride’s aftermath. That is tough because thinking about what one is going to eat after an event doesn’t seem as critical as the ride itself. Yet, after a ride is over, one’s body is often tired and it’s easy to make poor nutrition choices. (I rode a long way. Pass me the ice cream!)
During the week before the ride, I also try to eat a little more mindfully than normal, and cut the alcohol and junk out of my diet. Maybe it’s a placebo effect, but I think it helps.
Figuring Out Your Bike and Gear
The ramp-up to the brevets is an ideal time to tweak the fit of our bike and try out any new gizmos. What bags will you carry? Where are you going to put your cue sheet? How is the Garmin going to work, if you use one? What lights will you use? How long do those lights last?
What gear will you bring to deal with the temperature swings that are typical of a long ride? What about rain? Do you need a hydration system? Where will you store your brevet card during the ride? Do you have reflective gear? How will you make sure you can see the cue sheet in the dark? All of this and more must to be figured and tested well before starting a ride.
Relaxation and Mental Preparation
Finally, I prepare myself mentally, especially during the week before a brevet. I try to get plenty of sleep so I won’t feel robbed of sleep during the event. It’s mental gamesmanship, but it makes me feel good about dedicating so much time to riding that cuts into my sleep time.
I use the days leading up to an event to relax and focus on the ride ahead. I lay out my clothes and think about how the ride will go and how I’m going to approach it. In fact, I actually keep lists of gear I used from one year to the next so that I can dress and prepare by memory, and not by feel.
The temperature and weather at 4 a.m. is likely going to be different from what you experience at 4 p.m. What do you need to be comfortable and not overdressed or burdened by your wardrobe choices? I think some people would say that Felkerino and I carry a lot of crap on rides. We would say some people travel too light. What constitutes comfortable and unburdened is left for you to define.
Another element I find essential for brevet preparation is committing mentally to success. Sure, there are always unknowns that no one can account before they clip in at the start, and tackling a new distance can be intimidating. But the event is the time to showcase the results of the miles, hills, and overall conditioning you have put into the sport. When an brevet rolls around, you want all of your energy to be going into the pedals, and not into worry about things you no longer have any control over.
When I clip in for a brevet, I never ask myself if Felkerino and I will finish this ride. I only allow thoughts of success to enter my mind. We trained. We prepared. We are ready.
I’m sure there are parts I did not include, but hopefully others will chime in with their knowledge. Also, please do ask if you have any questions. Overall, I think this is a good starting point for beginning to pursue longer rides so what are you waiting for? Let’s go!
January– a cold month prone to dreary days and shades of brown on all sides– is generally an optimal time for me to hang out inside and ponder big ideas for the year ahead.
Usually at least two or three appealing active undertakings grab me and won’t let me go. Last year those big doings were our two-week Colorado tour, the Appalachian Adventure 1000K, and my bike tour-marathon combination in Harpers Ferry.
A year falls into place under the umbrella of these bigger scale activities, and free time is dedicated to condition the body and mind so events might be enjoyed and not endured.
I like shaping years this way. Felkerino and I share a few common goals that we work toward together. Big activities give me long-term structure, and I have concrete milestones to anticipate and hopefully achieve.
This year is starting out strangely for me, as I’m not seeing anything significant calling my heart and legs. I hope to ride the brevets, but I’m on the fence about PBP. I’d like to complete at least two marathons this year, but what else is out there? I don’t know.
I’ve jotted down a bike tour, but as to where it will take place? I’m not sure. I’m not setting any mileage goals, but plan to ride and run regularly and continue my commitment to active transportation.
Small goals occupy my mind, many of which have little to do with riding or running– eat healthy, prepare my own lunches, reduce sugar and alcohol consumption, return to regular strength training, and fully engage in my work.
These are not small goals, exactly, but rather the type that require more rigorous daily attention. They have a more general purpose of improvement to my overall health and well-being.
As I muddled through this post I had an “Aha!” moment. Maybe I don’t have to have grand bicycling or running goals for 2015. Who cares? They can be question marks for now, while I attend to the smaller-scale activities that demand my attention.
Felkerino and I will figure out PBP in the next month or so. We love being outside on our bikes and always manage to find places and time to bike tour. Running is my meditation. I will continue to do it, whether or not I write down a specific goal about it.
Question marks are okay. Question marks mean I’m taking my time. I’m open to possibility.
The turning of the calendar to 2015 also means the arrival of a “PBP year.” Paris-Brest-Paris, the most heralded, historic, and international of all grand randonnees now peeps its head around the corner and beckons to us randonneurs, a mere eight months away.
I thought that deciding on a return trip to PBP would take little internal debate. I would set my sights on it, no matter what. Yet, as of this writing, I feel mixed. Like the self-help books taught me, I drafted a list of pros and cons to aid my decision-making. Continue reading PBP 2015: To Go or Not to Go Again?→