What if we don’t finish? The thought shot through me as Felkerino and I rolled from our hotel to the packet pickup in Rambouillet. Felkerino and I had ridden Paris-Brest-Paris (PBP) on tandem two times previously (2011, 2019) and never had the idea of not finishing ever entered my head.
But the fraught years leading up to this ride messed with my head. I’m still unpacking them, like many of us, I suppose. In addition, the ushering in of a new decade of life where my body has informed me in so many little ways that what used to work won’t or at minimum warrants a new approach has shaken my confidence. I was left wringing my hands and asking if I was truly up for this challenge.
It was tempting to stay home and cheer Felkerino from afar, but PBP was calling Felkerino’s name and if it’s calling his name then I’m showing up too. We executed a pre-PBP training plan that mirrored previous 1200K preps we’ve done, rode through the summer while I wrapped up an MBA program 2.5 years in the making, packed up our bike and ourselves, and arrived at the start line four years older but with the same level of training as previous editions. Objectively, we were ready.
Still my confidence wavered. Did I really deserve a place at PBP and could we make it through the ride within the 84-hour time limit? I didn’t share these thoughts with Felkerino but they were occupying a whole lot of my head space. Self-doubt distracts and it’s also not the desired mindset for starting a ride you’d ideally like to finish.
Starting Out
We set out on tandem with the other “special bikes” in the first 84-hour wave at around 4:50 in the morning. I noted three total tandems in the group. It was good to be pedaling because then I could stop wondering about what-ifs so much.
Our friend Kyle caught up to us before Mortagne at 199km and we rode more or less together until Fougeres at 293km. Unfortunately, the warmer-than-usual temperatures in France got the better of him and we rode on alone while Kyle planned his next move.
Ultimately, while we had many people tag along on our wheel at various points during this ride and exchanged lots of hellos and small talk, Felkerino and I rode largely by ourselves throughout. It was a bit lonely at times to not have a buddy posse as we have in previous years, but it helped us ride our pace, our plan, and kept the tandem out of trouble with other riders.
Facts versus Feelings
The longer we rode, the more I fretted that we were behind. In the 84-hour group I’ve always had some feeling like we’re trying to catch up to the 90-hour riders who started pedaling the night before.
For this edition, I actually used our live tracker to assess our progress against our 2019 selves. We’d finished 2019 PBP in 81 and ½ hours then.
We’re not doing well, I’d think as we rolled into a control. Then I’d review our tracker and see that we were within an hour, or sometimes ahead of, where we had been four years ago. I’d never thought of using the live tracking in this way. Stop worrying so much, the tracker numbers said each time I checked them. You’re still good.
The People and Towns of PBP
As we left one of the first controls on Day 1, a woman who was not a rider caught my eye, smiled, and made the sign of a heart with her hands. I melted. As we passed through towns, people just walking along the sidewalk would pause to clap and give a “Bon courage,” or other encouragement. As always, kids loved seeing a tandem ride by.
Families set up roadside stops to give out water or other offerings. How much did they charge? Nothing! Towns were decorated with PBP signs and roadside displays. All of this boosted my confidence and began to sow belief in me.
Can you imagine what it must be like to see thousands of riders come through your town or pass your house every four years, for over 24 hours at a time – maybe even more if you happen to be on one of the out-and-back sections of the route?
And then you decide to be part of it all by donating your days to helping riders, people you don’t even know. This is something I could not ever imagine happening in the U.S.
The same is true for the controls. As far as I know, volunteers are not paid to staff these and yet I always felt well-supported. People were super kind to us. (And the bathrooms were clean, a difficult feat after so many riders, if you ask me!)
The people of France believed in us. They applauded our efforts, and supported us through sustenance, encouragement, and their personal time.
In Carhaix at 515km, I was interviewed by a journalist with the local paper. He asked why I was riding PBP for a third time. I choked up when I told him how it meant so much to see the people out cheering, how special it was to ride this historic event through these villages and towns.
In Tinteniac, we saw Chantal, a volunteer there who had also volunteered four years ago. She remembered Felkerino and me from 2019, and we spent a few moments chatting with her and her daughter. It was wonderful, and again, reassured me that we were doing A-okay.
As we rolled out of Mortagne on Day 4, Shab Memar checked in on Felkerino and me, saying that she might be able to sign our control card at the finish. It didn’t end up working out, but the feeling of support still helped me through our final miles.
An International Procession of Riders
Felkerino’s decision to study French this spring amplified our PBP experience. We (through his rudimentary French) were able to engage just that little bit more with the riders around us because he could ask their names, the number of PBPs they’d ridden, and simply inquire about how they were doing (or respond to them).
We rode a few kilometers with the German tandem team that started in our wave. I used my basic German to say hello. According to one of them, they were from the most beautiful city in all of Europe. Munich! I later spoke with someone else who made it seem like Freiburg might also be a worthy candidate. I loved these basic interactions shared in a language other than English. PBP is magical with how it brings together an international community of randonneurs.
We also rode with familiar faces from times and rides gone by. I saw Paul Rozelle in Villaines sporting his coffeeneuring socks. We rode again with Nigel, an Audax rider on a Dave Yates who we’d also seen on PBP 2019.
A contingent of the Seattle Randonneurs always seemed nearby. I met Masaru, a coffeeneur (and randonneur!) from Japan and we would intersect both on Days 1 and 3 of our rides. As we ate breakfast on the final day in Mortagne at 1099km, we crossed paths with our friend Oksana and urged each other on.
I said earlier that Felkerino and I were essentially on our own program, but it was reinforcing to see that our plan lined up well among a strong contingent of other riders.
Summer Days and Starlit Nights
Summer feels pervaded this year’s PBP. Days reached the mid-80s F under full sun and overnights didn’t drop below 60 F. Clouds were hard to come by.
I liked maximizing our progress by daylight – something the 84-hour morning start tends to do – even if it was a bit warmer than my personal preference. But we still had plenty of night riding too.
Star-peppered skies on quiet French roads interspersed with the occasional village. Randonneur headlights shone around, red taillights almost always visible somewhere in the near distance. I swore I could see the Milky Way and wished I knew my constellations better. I pondered ways to bottle this all up to experience again later.
The ditch-napping was a ten out of ten. Felkerino and I only took a couple of roadside stops, but because of the overnight warmth they were easy and delightful, provided we could find a decent stopping spot.
Not having ridden a 1200K since 2019, I wasn’t sure what to expect with so many aspects, particularly sleep deprivation. We managed at least 3 hours of sleep a night, though, which I was quite happy with.
By the end of PBP I was thoroughly convinced I could live off of two hours of sleep a night. Who needs 8 hours when you can do all the things and ride under the stars if you just stay awake all the time?
The Not-So-Many Low Points
I missed not seeing riders climbing back over the Roc’h as we made our way toward Brest. But the ride organizers changed the route this year so we all only traversed the Roc’h once.
Felkerino and I had a solid ride to Brest, completing the first 600km and reaching the midpoint at 34 hours and something. Under 35, in any event.
Unlike previous editions, the control was both well-stocked and well-supported, a welcome surprise. Someone came over and talked in French with Felkerino about our tandem and love and other things I didn’t quite understand but sounded great.
Still, entering and departing Brest is a section I will never enjoy as a tandemer. It’s too much stoplight to stoplight progress through urban traffic, and a tandem is a beast to get going from zero miles per hour.
The additional 2,000 feet of climbing from Brest to Carhaix at 697km tacked onto this edition was no joke, but it was also quite scenic and the section after it featured the best secret control ever in Pleyben. I ate pastries on the soft grass in a courtyard and contemplated what my life would be if I just stopped riding and moved here.
It would be wonderful. What would I do? Eat pastries all day under the sun! But that was no way to finish PBP so Felkerino and I pushed on over more scenic chop to Carhaix, where a starry night ride back to Loudeac (782km) awaited.
The third day of riding was tough, especially to start. I was able to wake up no problem, but the pedaling business was another matter. The discomfort of the long days accumulated, and for a while I could not find a comfortable spot from which to pedal. My quads did not want to work. Felkerino and I kept turning the pedals and resisted the urge to take roadside stops, plodding along until that third or fourth wind that could keep us moving in earnest.
Overall, low points were few and far between. No injuries, no mechanicals, no unexpected contact with the pavement or other riders. A fine outing for us.
Cheers from the Sidelines
Every time we reached a control I’d snap a photo and throw it up on Instagram. I’d note the location and maybe share a thought. This was a super-fun way to connect with people back home, and with others who might be interested in following along.
Some might argue that this social media business would distract from the actual ride, but not so for me. Not this time. Posting served two purposes. First, it was a visual log (in addition to my other photos) to reference after we finished. PBP is difficult to take in all at once, you’re just living so much in one day and exerting so much as well.
Second and more important, I found that it was a great way to keep our friends current on our progress in a way the tracker can’t. PBP in the moment from my eyes to yours. It was so fun! I can’t thank our friends and followers enough for the encouragement from afar. You gave us a virtual tailwind that further stoked my belief in us.
Time
The more kilometers covered, the more my body and mind connected to the ride. The support of the French people, the kind words from our friends and fellow riders, the solid teamwork with Felkerino, and the durability of our bodies erased my doubts. I fought through the self-limiting thoughts and fully embraced the belief that we could do this. We were going to finish PBP.
I’m not sure what Felkerino was hoping for as a finishing time, but my only goal for us was to complete the ride within the 84-hour time limit. We ultimately crossed the PBP finish line in 80:56. PBP number 3 in the books.
What a gift. It reassured me that Felkerino and I have an approach to these rides that gets us from the start to the finish. We are four years older than 2019, but PBP is still achievable.
These last years have been humbling in many ways – growth years, I’ve heard Felkerino remark. Still, we have chapters left to write and I’m so grateful that PBP 2023 turned out to be one of them.
Thanks to our friends, riding companions, volunteers, and to everybody who followed along and wished us well. You got us to the finish line.
P.S. More photos where the ones in this post came from. Find them on my Flickr page! Also, Felkerino wrote a great wrap-up of our ride on The Daily Randonneur, read it here.
Chasing Mailboxes 