Category Archives: Randonneuring

What’s Your Favorite Brevet Distance?

Four years ago, I interviewed 12 randonneurs from different parts of the country about randonneuring. One of the questions I asked them was, “What is your favorite distance of the Super Randonneur series (200, 300, 400, 600K) and why?”

With this year’s Super Randonneur series in full swing, I’ve been pondering this question again in my own mind and took a new look at their responses.

As I read through them, I think about how my brevet distance preferences have shifted over time and wonder what they would say today if I asked them what brevet distance is their favorite.

George S., Hudson Valley Randonneurs:  My favorite distance within the SR series is the 600K. This event seems like a real, unalloyed adventure to me. I love the other distances too, but on a 600K, it feels like anything can happen. The challenge of how much or how little sleep one will need and riding at night are also thrilling components of a 600K.

Dan D., Great Lakes Randonneurs and Minnesota Randonneurs:  First off, I have to say that any brevet is a good way to spend a day. However, my favorite distance in the Super Randonneur series is the 400K, directly contrary to conventional randonneuring wisdom.

I like the 400K because it packs almost every aspect of randonneuring into a one day package. A 400K invevitably includes several hours of night riding, numerous controls and the need to manage your food and liquids. Additionally, the time limits are generous enough that there is plenty of time for conversations and longish meal breaks with other riders.

Two of my wackier randonneuring memories come from 400Ks. On my first ever 400K in 2008, we ran into epic rains and flooding that caused numerous roads on or near the route to be washed away. A group of eight of us ended up spending the night in a Red Cross Shelter set up in church eating pizza and sleeping on the floor.

On another 400K, the group I was in noticed that a farmer on the route had set up a zip line in his front yard. By sheer luck the farmer was outside and invited us to give it a try. MG has referred to “necessary stops” in prior posts. At the time, a zip line adventure seemed like a necessary stop.

Barry B., D.C. Randonneurs:  I like the 400K. The distance is challenging, and I can complete it without sleep.

Carol, Bill. Warrenton 300K Brevet

Lynne, Oregon RandonneursI’d have to say the 200. More folks to ride with, and often at (for them) a more social pace.

I am not a fast rider, but I can ride a 200k with very little preparation and have a great time.

That said, the two 600s I’ve done have felt downright epic, and that is pretty cool, too.

Andrea, D.C. Randonneurs:  Favorite distance of the series? Why, that’s like asking which is your favorite child!

Vélocia, San Francisco Randonneurs:  I tend to enjoy the 200 and 300K distances the most. Somehow it seems like they’re more social and fun. The longer rides tend to be more serious with fewer new riders.

Joe B., D.C. and Pennsylvania Randonneurs:  The 600K is the most interesting because a lot of it ridden at night. Nothing is better than a dog chasing you in the black of night. Talk about fear.

DC Randonneurs 600K - Chris, Lane, Joe, Felkerino, and Dan B.
DC Randonneurs 600K – Chris, Lane, Joe, Felkerino, and Dan B.

Katie, New Jersey Randonneurs: 200K’s, preferably flat ones with my stokerific friend “Jet-Pack Jon B Levitt (JPJBL)” on the back of Team Tandemator. Our goal is to complete rides under the “3 B” auspice; Biking, Brevets and BEER (stress on the last part).

My other favorite distance is the Fléche, if for no other reasons that I’m usually waaaayyyy out of shape and the weather is ridiculous to the point of being just absurd. Fléche experiences seem to make the best stories.

Rob H., San Francisco Randonneurs:  I absolutely don’t have a favorite distance. Of course I’ve done more 200km rides than any other. SFR over the last two years has hosted 200km brevets nearly all through the calendar year and this complements the RUSA R12 award which a lot of riders shoot for, and it also appeals to all the newer riders that have been coming to SFR events in the last two years.

One of my favorite events though is the Fleche. I’ve ridden one of those in 2004, 2006, 2007, 2010 and 2011. I really love the team aspect of that ride, and the relaxed way we can complete the event. This year it rained on us for about 10 or 11 hours, but even that didn’t ruin the fun we had.

Chris N., New Jersey and Pennsylvania Randonneurs:  I think my favorite distance is the one I have just successfully completed!

Actually, it would have to be the 200K. I have ridden so many of them now that I feel really comfortable and confident. I can usually sleep pretty well the night before the start. Most of them start at a reasonable hour, not at the god-awful hour of 4:00 am. In the summer months, a 200K can be completed in daylight. The distance is short enough that I can have fun and be quite relaxed but long enough to still present a challenge.

Joe P., Seattle Randonneurs:  They are all good. A couple of my friends told me that it was good preparation for longer rides to be able to make 300s routine; it seems like good advice.

Bill B., D.C. Randonneurs: Hmm. That’s a hard question. I enjoy the 200K the most because it doesn’t require sleep deprivation or renting a hotel room and I can usually ride hard without bonking.

But I get the most satisfaction from the 600K because when I started randonneuring it seemed impossible to ride 375 miles in a weekend — and it still seems amazing.

Photo by Felkerino
Photo by Felkerino

Thanks again to everyone who dedicated their time and experience to the Rando Q&A series. As for me, my favorite distance changes.

When I first began randonneuring, I liked the 600K distance best because I felt it did not have the same sort of time pressures as on a 400K event. I saw the 600K as a physically intense weekend getaway into the country– two complete days of steady pedaling.

I then developed a preference for the 300K. I could watch the sunrise, spend a full day out riding, and generally finish before sunset. Sleep deprivation was minimal and recovery generally took a couple of days.

Around 2011, Felkerino and I surprised ourselves by finally shining on the 400K. We figured out how to ride effeciently and our bodies stood up well to the distance. I overcame my instinctive urge to want to stop riding when the sunset. Instead, I enjoyed pedaling into the evening, developed an appreciation for a good night ride, and found that Felkerino and I often had a surge of energy during the nocturnal hours.

This year, I’m not sure what I’ll find. What about you? Have a favorite brevet distance?

Experience: a Randonneur’s Frenemy

This weekend, Felkerino and I rode our first official brevet of 2015, the D.C. Randonneurs 300K out of Frederick, Maryland. I was feeling pretty lackluster about the whole thing, but the forecast indicated spectacular conditions, leaving us no excuses to skip out on a ride in the countryside with rando buddies.

Action shot. Courtesy of Mike Wali
Action shot. Courtesy of Mike Wali

My lack of winter cycling miles really has gotten into my head. As spring has popped all over the place, my urge to ride has returned, but too late for any brevet build-up.

The lapse in riding discipline means Felkerino and I are using the brevets to ride ourselves into brevet shape. I’m not sure what kind of sense there is to this method, but there you go. It makes brevets a little more mentally intimidating and physically difficult, but after yesterday’s 300K I’ve made some peace with that.

Sunrise 300K brevet

Even lacking ship-shape fitness, I knew from experience that Felkerino and I would finish, barring any major mechanical. After more than ten years of randonneuring together, I have finally found confidence in our abilities to pedal through a ride. There is also a familiarity with how these rides usually go, both when we are well-conditioned and when we’re gritting it out with rubbery legs.

The Frederick 300K course is front-loaded with climbing, and includes three significant climbs: through Catoctin Mountain State Park, a beast of a steep rise over Big Flat (not flat, NOT FLAT!), and a gentle but steady climb back over South Mountain. The final 60 or so miles of the 188-mile course are generally flat to rolling.

Tandem and ORF

Not surprisingly, the climbs hurt, especially the segment over Big Flat. My knees yelled at me, which they seldom do on shorter brevet rides, and my recovery after the effort took longer than normal.

As we descended the other side of Big Flat to our second control at mile 71, my ego reminded me of how we had gone over that ascent in previous years. Less pain, more seated climbing, slightly faster. With more winter hills and miles, that climb would have had less lasting impact on my legs.

Heading to Big Flat 300K brevet

One of the key elements to randonneuring is accepting that time is always moving forward. We ride out into morning darkness. Oranges and yellows begin to rim the horizon, and eventually sunshine peeks over the mountains (if you’re lucky!). The sun gradually swoops up and over us as we ride.

As the sun glides through the sky, we urge ourselves forward to make the most of the daytime hours. Given that Felkerino’s and my lack of riding meant that we were moving a mile per hour or so slower than usual, we silently agreed to brief refueling stops throughout.

Tractor on the 300K brevet

I carried extra pocket food, including a couple of sandwiches, to eliminate reliance on convenience store food. Sometimes eating junk from stores is a fun indulgence, but other times it leads to post-consumption regrets. [Insert post-convenient-store-consumption anecdotes here.]

Years of riding together have taught us that as long as we eat and drink properly, we’re fairly hardy. Our legs will eventually recover from hard climbing efforts and as the terrain lets up, we can move steadily. Based on our previous times on the Frederick 300K, I was hopeful we could complete our jaunt before the sun disappeared.

Felkerino tandem barn 300K brevet

Conditions for this ride were extremely favorable, and reminded me that it is much easier to make progress when the sun shines all day and the temperatures are warm. You can just ride more energetically when weather goes your way.

Over the last year I’ve begun to see experience as a dear randonneur frenemy. It reassures me that Felkerino and I have a grasp on the tips and tricks of efficiency, nutrition, and how time passes on a ride.

But experience also conjures memories of the ways that off-season riding and improved cycling fitness pay dividends when it’s time to show and go on a brevet. It dispassionately warns of the physical discomfort you will likely endure if the requisite miles aren’t already in your legs.

We rode much of the day solo and eventually intersected with Patty, Dylan, and Roger in the last 40 or so miles. Their easy conversation increased my enjoyment of the day. I smiled and took a few photos.

Patty, Roger, Dylan 300K brevet

We then grouped up with Paul D., Dieter, and Carol for the final twenty or so miles and again, time flew by in lively conversation. My body’s minor aches disappeared. Covering the distance of a brevet is always an accomplishment, but it is the social aspect– the opportunity to connect with new people and old rando buddies– that keeps me connected to the rando game.

At 7:05 p.m., we were done for the day, with sun still in the sky. My frenemy, experience, came through for us. I rewarded myself with a slice of pizza and control room conversation, and on the drive home, began anticipating the next brevet. Experience tells me I better bring my climbing legs.

Thanks to Mike for organizing, to the volunteers who helped, and to everybody who rode with us! Full set of pics from the day here.

A Dose of Reality on a 200K

Felkerino and I met up with bicycling friends Eric, Jerry, Barry, and Joel to ride the classic D.C. Randonneurs “Old Rag 200K” route. Jerry had some weird rattle in his rear wheel that would not go away, Barry was riding a loaner bike since his main rando ride was in the shop for repairs, our Schmidt generator hub failed, and Eric’s shifter broke in the final five miles.

Old Rag 200K

Other than that, the day was spectacular. Windy and sunny, but warm with temps reaching the low 60s. It’s been so refreshing to ride under these truly spring-like conditions. The winds I feared were– for the most part– not so bad, as the hills provided many sections of shelter.

While Felkerino and I rode consistently throughout the course, my legs still lacked pop. As I considered my less-than-lively legs, I realized that this course was softly doling out a dose of reality– the reality that if I don’t ride with discipline through the winter I will likely end up in minimally acceptable brevet shape.

Randos by the forsythia
Randos by the forsythia

I’ve posted before about Felkerino’s and my approach to preparing for brevet distances: overall miles; time in the saddle; hills; and weather tolerance.

From January through March, I logged less than 1,000 miles, completed only one century-length ride each month, and didn’t force myself to ride long and out in the hills on frigid days. The lure of the espresso machine was strong this winter.

I’ve run just over 300 miles for the year, but I’m here to report that good running fitness does not translate into solid brevet shape. Running benefited me cardiovascularly, but the muscles used from one to the other are distinct.

We managed to outrun this speedy dog.
We managed to outrun this speedy dog.

It is a rueful feeling to know what I should have done over the winter, but did not. As I rode on Saturday, part of me wanted to reach back in time to have the winter months back so I could follow the approach I penned in that randonneur preparation post and rigorously followed in previous years. Too late.

I admonished myself over my conditioning, but the spectacular skies, delicious panorama, and easy company of our riding group made it difficult to dwell on the negative.

Jerry on Etlan Road, one of the most beautiful roads around
Jerry on Etlan Road, one of the most beautiful roads around

Despite the lack of bike fitness, Felkerino and I still made it around the course without any physical problems. It was our bikes that suffered most, it appeared.

Now is too late to undergo any intense fitness-building. What is important is to stay healthy, keep our base miles strong, and our attitudes positive. I need to look ahead, rather than peruse mileage logs that tell a story I can’t change.

While I wish I was more ready to roll through the brevets, I really enjoyed the lack of bicycling discipline and a break from feeling as though I had to log miles on the bike. My dose of reality this weekend showed that I paid the price of losing some of my fitness, but the benefit of being excited to ride long again was worth it.

Randonneuring In Retrospect

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.

D.C. Randonneurs 600K. Photo by Bill Beck
D.C. Randonneurs 600K. Photo by Bill Beck

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.

Bringing Made-Up Words to Life: Coffeeneuring and Errandonnee

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.

Surly 2015-03-09 on Potomac

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.

The Truth and Nonsense of the N+1 Principle of Bicycles

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?

Rivendell Romulus

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.

The Randonap

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.

Ride long enough, sleep little enough, and you too will find yourself mastering the strategy of the perfect randonap. Continue reading The Randonap

Building Up to Brevet Distances

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.

Early miles outside Bristow
Early miles on a spring 200K
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.

Matt, Bill, Felkerino, and Andrea on the 300K
Matt, Bill, Felkerino, and Andrea on the 300K

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).

Carol and David 600K brevet

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.

Riders at the 400K Brevet Start (Photo by Felkerino)
Riders at the 400K Brevet Start (Photo by Felkerino)
Breathing!

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.

Randonneur lifestyle. 2014 Warrenton 300K brevet

Nutrition

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.

Randonneurs doin' what randonneurs do... on the Frederick 400K
Randonneurs doin’ what randonneurs do… on the Frederick 400K
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.

Civil War Tour 200K, Jeff M. and Bernd K.
Civil War Tour 200K, Jeff M. and Bernd K.
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.

Andrea and Jerry-200K

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!