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going the distance on two wheels
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A subreddit dedicated to the sport of unsupported long distance cycling known as randonneuring or audax. The original governing body for audax is...
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The original was posted on /r/randonneuring by /u/Apprehensive-Arm8412 on 2025-02-20 14:16:32+00:00.
I started Randonneuring one year ago and tackled my first 600k this past weekend through some gnarly riding conditions. Shifting failed 6 miles from the finish, so I mashed up the last few hills.
So far I’ve ridden a 100k and 200k this year. Aiming to make some more videos about the riding that I do in the future including brevets as well as other rides that I find interesting.
Link to my video
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The original was posted on /r/randonneuring by /u/brkt on 2025-02-21 06:29:01+00:00.
Back in Nov 2024, I wanted to dip my toes into something I thought was doable and try my first timed 200k ride. While not an official event, I wanted to see if I could make the 13.5hr brevet time limit for such a distance.
Hamilton - Brantford - Port Dover
I picked an out-and-back route on the Hamilton - Brantford - Port Dover rail trail (Ontario / Canada), which is readily reachable by region train. 200km / 1383m of elevation and 70% unpaved.
Trip Report:
Caught the earliest train from Toronto Union to Hamilton West Harbour, which unfortunately dropped me off just after 10:05AM which gave me a time disadvantage.
A brisk ride around the waterfront brought me into town, and I stopped to grab a bagel and coffee before continuing to the railtrail start. The trail's big incline out of Hamilton gave me a chance to get warmed in the cold weather and make a few final bike-fit adjustments (more on this later).
Riding up into Hamilton from the lakeshore
The ~45km ride from Hamilton-Brantford was fairly quick as the gravel was well maintained and the elevation tapered off. I stopped for food at 1:15PM, and pounded back 2 slices of greasy pizza before getting back in the saddle. This would turn out to be a major mistake, as within 15 minutes I was cramping badly and had to drop down to below the 15kmph minimum pace I needed to meet the time limit. Eventually I'd actually have to dismount and walk the bike for about a kilometer. I started noticing my bike fit issues at this point; my reach was too far and this stretched/angled position was exacerbating my cramping issues.
Entering Brantford from the East
By about 2:30pm I was making good time again, but had only made it about a dozen km past Brantford up to this point. The weather and scenery were great however, so my spirits were good and I completed the remaining ~45km to Port Dover by 4:45pm. My left knee for whatever reason was starting to hurt by this point. Learning a bit from my previous mistake, I had a much smaller meal at the Dairy Queen, and made sure to go easy on the burger and heavier on the sugar (icecream). I also took some food to go rather than eat all at once.
Getting back on the bike, my knee had really started to act up and the ride up the slope out of Port Dover was a trudge. I knew at this point I'd definitely be riding a lot through the dark. The ride back was mostly a blur but I did manage to make good time on the flats, but fatigue really started to set in, and fuelling became a challenge. I was relying on granola & fruit bars, but definitely did not pack enough.
By the time I was 1/2 past Brantford (~175km), thankfully the large downhill slope toke over and I could rest my knee. Unfortunately, the temp had dropped down to -1C and this + higher speeds meant I really started to get cold; despite switching to my thicker socks and gloves, I was not able to keep my toes and fingers and even body properly warm - probably due to fatigue. I also ran out of granola bars at this point so I was really fighting 'bonk'. The last 2-3km I was fighting hard to keep over walking speed and as I rolled into the train station at 10:45pm I had officially bonked hard. I was glad I made it when I did, in time to catch the last train of the evening AND because my headlamp was down to it's low-battery warning (oops).
Total Time / Distance: 12h51m / 201km (yay! made the cut)
A very empty 11pm Eastbound train out of Hamilton
Lessons Learned
- Fuelling is Key: Both the pacing AND the type of food! After cramping so badly, I'll be switching to frequent snacking without gorging, and also experiment with moving more toward simple carbs and away from fats/proteins/complex carbs on long rides. Real food still at food stops, but... just a bit lighter next time. And I will be packing more food/carbs so I won't get caught out with too little again.
- Enough Batteries & Lights: Without a dynamo I should have brought a 2nd light, or one that charged while running. I did bring a battery bank too - but my phone drained that surprisingly quickly while running GPS constantly. So - more batteries and lights next time, with a better margin for extra runtime.
- Bike Fit: So important. This was a relatively new bike, and while I had been riding it daily, this was my first >60km ride with it. It turns out the sizing was all wrong for reach; this threw off my seat adjustment as well when I tried to set it to something comfortable. This definitely was the cause of my eventual knee pain on the ride, AND it exacerbated my cramping due to a stretched position.
- Proper Clothing: I had rain gear and extra socks, but hadn't planned on how cold one could feel once they 'bonked' out. I shouldn't have tried to skimp on packed weight; an extra-thick pair of socks, a pair winter gloves, and a 2nd sweater would have done wonders.
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The original was posted on /r/randonneuring by /u/Maschinenpflege on 2025-02-03 17:07:19+00:00.
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The original was posted on /r/randonneuring by /u/mr_phil73 on 2025-02-03 06:48:02+00:00.
Its the middle of summer here in NZ and Im well on my way to completing a SR series (already knocked off the 200 & 300)
Weather is looking good but its going to be hot.
Wish me luck I'll be riding my trusty Kona Sutra again - fenders and all. Anything between 17 to 20 hours will be a win for me
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The original was posted on /r/randonneuring by /u/summingly on 2025-01-27 22:41:42+00:00.
This is a generic question I'm afraid. I'm 47M and a beginner cyclist (I have completed some metric and imperial centuries, the longest ride being 200KM).
My intent is to quality for the 2027 PBP and participate. I'll already be 49 then, and there's no telling what my physical state would be for the 2031 edition. So, participation in the 2027 edition is a priority.
Can you point me to some training regimen I can follow to build up endurance for 300KM - 600KM rides? I intend to spend 6-8 hours a week working on it.
Most of the training plans I find online are for distances less than 200KM or for races.
Thank you.
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The original was posted on /r/randonneuring by /u/pedatn on 2025-01-17 23:45:12+00:00.
Looks like I am! Anyone else applied and just got their confirmation? What’s your training plan? Did you ride PBP as well? Starting in London or Writtle?
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The original was posted on /r/randonneuring by /u/zonderweg on 2025-01-20 12:11:15+00:00.
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The original was posted on /r/randonneuring by /u/aedes on 2025-01-20 14:59:02+00:00.
Memoirs of a Rabbit
Part 7: Meditations
The number of people who are both interested in randonneuring and have read Gravity’s Rainbow by Thomas Pynchon is likely very low. This is unfortunate, as the themes of that novel, as well as the completely overwhelming and disorienting nature of reading it for the first time, are the closest things I can think of to compare the experience of riding PBP to.
I am not a writer, but I am a person who rides their bike too much. And on these long bike rides I have ample time to reflect on any random topic that decides to float into my mind that day (this is one of the great things about them) – like what makes something a story. This was not a story. A story has a purpose, a lesson, a moral, etc. it’s connecting data together in a way to make a point. There was no point to PBP. It was just an overpowering, disorienting, cacophony of experience; compressed into much too short of time and combined with enough sleep deprivation that you were left wondering what just happened. There was no meaning to it – it was just jabberwocky.
I’m sure that with enough time though, my mind will start to make it into a story. As part of the process of justifying what I’ve done to myself, I will forget some parts and invent other things, and eventually it will turn into a narrative with a point or moral. That’s probably already happened here to some extent, even though to be as honest to the experience as possible, it should just be a long description of observations.
I ultimately finished in 67:37:57, and with the increase in sensory stimulation at the end, all that mental weirdness went away in a minute or two. I was tired but thinking normally again. I met up with my parents, took some photos and chatted for a bit, but then went back to my hotel and crashed.
Maybe five hours later though I awoke fully awake. I rolled around in bed, delaying having to get up for as long as possible. But eventually hunger took over and I went downstairs to eat. I spent the rest of the morning packing up, trying to beat the rain. While I originally had some idea that I would bike back to Paris today, the reality of my Achilles still aching and my rear preferring to let my saddle sores start healing meant I just took the train. Apparently you can take your bike on it after all - or at least the rules for bikes are not enforced – because the entire train was filled with exhausted riders and their bikes. At the end of the line in Gare Montparnasse I got off and rode the remaining three kilometers through central Paris under a light drizzle to our hotel.
The sign of a good adventure is that you’re eager to go home. And know with certainty where home is. A few minutes after I returned, my wife and the kids got back from a walk, and I was there.
Epilogue:
At the end of all of that, I am quite happy with how things played out. 67-68h is what I thought my most likely finishing time would be, and I was right in the middle of that. Many of the other assumptions in my game plan ended up being pretty close to accurate too. My average speed was 30kph on day 1 (probably closer to 28kph without all those spicy pacelines), then 24kph and then 24kph again. This meant 14.5 hours moving time on day 1 and 2, and 18.5 hours moving time on day 3 (16.5, 17, 21.5 total time each day). Normalized power was 193w, then 166w, then 151w – the 151w on day 3 in particular I was quite happy about as that’s despite being impaired from my Achilles for a good chunk of it, and because often your day 3 power is your forever power, and ~150w is a pretty good forever power.
I’d come into the event in peak shape, with an estimated VO2max (per Garmin) of ~64mL/kg/min, an estimated FTP (per intervals.icu) of around 330w at 76kg (hadn’t formally tested in several months prior to this though), and most importantly, the upper end of my sustainable z2 power being around 240-250w. I’d done no rides over 160km since June (though have done many, many >200k rides in my life), was riding around 10-12 hours per week since maybe November, and roughly following a polarized model of training. I was also putting as much effort into recovery between training rides as I was into riding itself. Most other people riding were not as strong as I was – my guess is I was in the top 10% of riders in this regards. Ie: the vast majority of people who do PBP did not have numbers in the same ballpark as me, and more importantly, did not need numbers like this to complete and enjoy the event. Again, this was a deliberate strategic decision on my part, because I wanted to have the luxury of spare time for resting if I so chose, to make the mental side of the event easier.
Equipment wise I wouldn’t do anything different. Tubeless 28c GP5000’s at about 65-70PSI, 50mm deep rims, carbon gravel bike (Cannondale Topstone Carbon 105), dynamo hub on the front wheel for lighting, clip-on aero bars, a 9L saddle bag for most stuff, and a 1L top-tube bag for snacks and a battery back/wire for charging things on the go. This was actually quite close to what I’d call the “default” bike setup I saw for PBP: carbon road bike, 40-60mm deep rims, 28c tires, large saddlebag (almost always Apidura) and then a smaller top-tube or frame bag. Very, very few riders were riding anything much wider than 32c. Road surfaces, other than the occasional stretch of cobbles in a town, or short pothole-y stretch, were butter-smooth by Manitoba standards. If you were going to push me, the one thing I might consider doing is getting a slightly lighter frame, as the Topstone is on the heavy side, and there is a lot of climbing. Maybe a Domane?
Other than the Achilles thing, which I don’t really know what to do about going forwards, there were really no other significant physical problems. The Achilles thing itself was likely aggravated by the sheer volume of climbs that you do (the biomechanics of pedaling up hill often involve more calf usage then when pedaling on the flats) coupled with the amount of walking I needed to do while wearing SPD shoes (the pair I use has a negative heel-drop because of the cleat). Saddle sores were trivial – they were there but never prominent – kind of like how your tongue is always in your mouth, taking up space, but you’re not usually aware of it. I’ve had worse saddle sores after 400ks. I used a pair of Assos bibs day 1, then another pair of Assos bibs on day 2 (which have a completely different shape/style of chamois) after having hand-washed the first-days pair and leaving them to dry in my hotel room, then used this first pair again on day 3.
There were a number of things that surprised me. Probably the most important of which was stoppage time – time spent actually riding the bike was only about 47 hours – 30% of my total time was spent not riding. And that’s despite only getting ~4.5h of sleep during the event. Even with being aggressive with time management during controls, I averaged around 45min at each. In Manitoba, the same “style” of taking a control as I used at PBP means I average closer to 15min at each control. Some of this was because I needed to start eating more at the controls from day 2 onwards. But a lot was also just little things adding up – standing in line, walking around, etc. And then there was a lot of time wasted not-sleeping at the hotel. Despite spending 12.5 hours of my total 67.5 hours at the hotel, only about 4.5 hours of that was actually spent sleeping. Obviously the ideal set-up is to have someone meeting you at the controls with an RV so you can just eat and pass out immediately, but this isn’t feasible for me or most people. I’m not sure if planning to sleep at the controls or in ditches would really save that much time over the hotel though. But. If there was one high-yield thing I could do better for next time, it would be minimizing wasting time around sleeping. I’m just not quite sure logistically how I’d implement that.
It also turned out to be easier than I thought to just keep riding my bike forever. Your body starts forgetting how to walk and stand, your brain starts losing touch with reality, but your legs just keep spinning with minimal difficulty. It’s just “this is my life now” and you ride your bike 24/7. It’s not a zen state per se, it’s just that’s what happens.
The mental fatigue was also interesting. I have lots of experience with working 24-30 hour shifts at the hospital and doing lots of night shifts, and I thought that the mental fatigue would be similar to that, but it’s really not. I think because the cognitive load of cycling is so much lower than working, I never rea...
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The original was posted on /r/randonneuring by /u/aedes on 2025-01-20 14:43:46+00:00.
Those night shifts were some of the least offensive ones I've worked in a long time. I'll aim to post all the remaing parts this morning.
Memoirs of a Rabbit
Part 6: The Slithy Toves
I wake up a few minutes before my alarm goes off at 2am, and I feel alert. Nowhere near as groggy as yesterday. And I feel like I could eat. So I head downstairs with my bike, eat a proper “breakfast,” then hit the road.
It is dark, and a bit cold, maybe 12C. There are still lots of riders on the road, though not like it was last night, and there are people asleep in ditches everywhere. Including in some questionable places, like with their heads less than a foot away from the edge of the road.
My recollections here are few and far between like every other time I’ve ridden in the dark.
I remember looking up at the stars at one point.
5am comes along and it is noticeably colder, especially in the valleys between hills where the fog is collecting. I’m uncomfortably cool for the first time and have to do-up my jersey and vest zippers, and would almost prefer something on my arms. As the sky starts to turn grey on the horizon the fog deepens, and I can barely see twenty feet in front of me. Glasses mist over. Red lights rise ahead, front lights fade behind. Just the sounds of my breathing, drivetrain purring.
Then it’s Tinteniac at the grey-part of dawn, where I get a bowl-full of coffee, soup, and hamburger steak and potatoes. Apparently the perfect thing for breakfast. Stomach is less angry at me today in general and is tolerating maltodextrin-drinks again. I can tell I’ve been on the bike too much these past two days because I struggle to walk when I’m off the bike now. Not due to pain or stiffness, but due to balance, like with sea-legs. I’m liable to fall over if I’m not careful, and have to hold onto the railing to not suddenly sway while standing. Even doing that I lose my balance once or twice while in line.
I’m cold now from not biking but warm up quickly once I start pedalling again. The sun is on my side of the horizon now and the fog starts to break. No time for pictures, I’m in a flow state (or delirious) and all that exists in my world is riding. Shortly after leaving Tinteniac I notice a French rider from the wave after me and we’re riding at similar speeds, so we continue together. A couple other riders briefly hang with us, but they all seem tired and can’t keep up for long.
Left Achilles’ starts to hurt though.
Like problem hurt.
It’s worse with standing, harder efforts, and pedaling while on the aerobars, so I deliberately slow down and have to leave my French friend. End up in Fougeres and it’s late morning and sunny. Time off the bike and a Tylenol make my Achilles feel normal, and I start riding again. Soon I’ve run into French dude and we’re back riding together… but nope, Achilles comes back with a vengeance. I slow down and he slows down too – no don’t do that!
“Vous allez! Je ne pas rapide! (Gesture at ankle).”
He understands and is concerned whether I’ll be ok.
“I will be ok. It’s only 300km. Allez, Allez!” and laugh and wave him forwards, so he smiles and goes on his way.
In my mind I can get through 300km of anything, but my Achilles has other ideas.
I’ve never had problems with it before, but it is loudly proclaiming dissatisfaction with this situation. I start to wonder whether I’m simply causing pain versus actual damage. And how much damage I’m willing to do to myself to finish this thing. Start reflecting on the natural history of Achilles tendon injuries and in a worst case scenario how I’d feel about having to seek medical care for a tear while in France. Consider whether stuffing some leaves or something under my heel might help. Or maybe I can splint the ankle in plantar-flexion with some sticks and zip-ties.
Pain is worsening and is so much worse with climbing. Unfortunately there are still endless hills.
Unbearable.
Thinking more about it, I think some of the toe flexors span the ankle joint too, so maybe if I flex my toes when I pedal that will help. It actually does, but only for maybe 15 minutes. Now it’s even worse.
Do I need to just quit at this point?
I still have over 24-hours in hand, and maybe 250k to go, so I could always stop early, take the rest of the day and night off completely, then ride the last bits tomorrow.
But I’d promised my kids that I would be back by Thursday.
…I still need to get to the control at Villaines at least though. I guess I can limp there at like 10kph. But now I can’t pedal at all with the left leg, it hurts too much. So I spend the better part of an hour with my left leg unclipped, pedaling only with my right leg.
As this is going on my shifting has been deteriorating. It still works, but the front derailleur is sad and sometimes takes 5 minutes to change gears. And the rear derailleur drops the chain a bit while shifting sometimes.
Then while climbing a hill at like 7kph there is a loud clunk and I physically can’t pedal forwards. I unclip rapidly and manage to avoid falling over. The chain has dropped completely so I put it back on and get back on the bike.
I try to pedal but now my jersey has somehow gotten stuck on my saddle, so I have to stop again and unhook it.
I get on yet again, and there is another loud clunk and I can’t pedal at all.
This is a sign.
I should take a rest for a minute and just think and focus. I am so far down into my own mind I am being stupid and not paying attention.
Looking at my chainring I finally realize what’s happened. The chain has somehow ended up on both chain rings at the same time – it starts on the big one, then does a “zed” going back on itself for one link, then starts on the little chain. That’s fucking weird. Try and pull it off but I can’t. It’s stuck really good like this. Try with two hands but it’s still not working.
Stare at it for a few seconds, then decide to use the old hack of just kicking the stupid fucking thing, and it gets unstuck.
The shifting is… even somewhat worse after this, but still not a huge issue. Take a minute to collect myself. I just need to get to Villaines and then I can rest and make some decisions. That’s about two hours of riding. I can do that. But I’m in a really bad mental space, so it’s time to put on some tunes.
Let’s go.
The music makes a big difference and things start to feel much better. The ankle hurts less too – that’s suspicious. How much of this was just in my mind? But this is taking a long time. How far away is Villaines? There’s just climb after climb after climb… and this particular climb is fucking hot. And long. Holy shit. I’m almost there though, just keep going. This is the second time I’m hearing this song… that means it’s been over two hours… but finally there is Villaines. But where is the control. Why is the control so far away from the sign saying I’m in Villaines? Oh there it is. But wow is it busy. It’s full of local people. It’s loud, someone is saying something on a microphone, there’s music, I can’t focus. Where do I put my bike. I’ve been here before why am I lost. Oh there’s a spot. Careful getting off the bike. Oh it’s hard to stand. Right take things out of the saddle bag. Where am I. Where am I going? Right those stairs are familiar, go there. What am I doing. Control. Need stamp. Almost fall over. There go that way. Get stamp. (Volunteers staring at me with concerned faces.) Are you ok? Smile. Yes I’m ok. Food. That way. I know this routine. Croissants. Coke. Orangina. Sit down. Drink Coke…
…Oh…
…This is not normal…
…I’m really hot.
My faculties start to come back a little bit and I take in my surroundings.
It’s really fucking hot out. I am really hot, too hot. That’s the problem here.
I continue to drink cold fluids and continue to feel better and my thinking and concentration improve. I legit really need to cool down a lot and ASAP.
I chug my drinks and stand up to go outside to the water station where I can soak myself and lie down in the shade. I can stand and walk again without balance issues at this point. I completely douse myself in cold water, then lie down in some grass in the shade and close my eyes. I tell myself it’s ok if I fall asleep here for a bit if I need to. I drift off for maybe a minute, but then I’m wide awake again. I can’t fall asleep, so I just keep lying there to cool down and rest, but eventually I’m shivering and it’s time to get going.
It is absolutely boiling out, why hadn’t I noticed this earlier? Like more than 35C in the shade, let alone on the tarmac in the sun. I know the early signs of heat stroke in myself very well, having had issues with it on a number of occasions. I get into a really bad mood and start to get a headache… oh right. I’d taken ...
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The original was posted on /r/randonneuring by /u/aedes on 2025-01-17 01:17:50+00:00.
In case anyone is waiting on these with bated breath for some reason... I'm working nights for the next bit so it will probably be a few days before I put the rest of this up. Here is Part 5 in the meanwhile.
Memoirs of a Rabbit
Part 5: Beyond the Zero
My alarm goes off at 4am, a bit over three-hours after I fell asleep. I am groggy and tired and completely not rested. I’m also hungry after slowly falling behind on calories all day yesterday and then not being able to have a large meal before going to bed last night. This is not how I’d hoped to start the second day and I have essentially zero interest in getting back on the bike.
But I’m going to anyways.
The first task is just to sit up, and that’s relatively easy - just keep doing one little thing at a time.
Eventually I’m up, dressed, and walking downstairs with the bike to get some food. I know I need to eat a lot to catch up, but I have minimal appetite – the next concerning sign. I force myself to eat, just go slow, have some yogurt, have a coffee. I’m able to get some semblance of a meal down, but not as much as I know I need. Reluctantly I get up, go outside, and get back on the bike. It is 5:08 am, so only 8 minutes behind schedule. It is dark, I am by myself, and there are relatively few riders on the road around me now unlike last night – The Bulge moved on while I slept.
I feel like ass, but I am experienced enough that I know this feeling will improve after about 30 minutes of riding. Just go slow.
As I make my way out of Loudeac I immediately notice that the terrain has changed. There are more hills, they are longer, and they are steeper. And it’s not just the fatigue and low-mood playing tricks on me – the elevation profile confirms it. As I’m climbing yet another hill, a small group of riders passes me in the other direction, yelling something at me in French that I don’t understand as they pass.
I keep climbing, but I have a bad gut feeling about this. Am I going the wrong way? While the route is quite well-signed, it would still be fairly easy to miss one, especially in the dark as you’re tired. This feeling of disquiet grows and I eventually stop and pull out my Google Maps… confirming I had made my first wrong turn of the event and was going the wrong way. God Damnit! I turn around and continue.
It’s 30 minutes later now and I still feel like ass.
It’s also colder out this morning (14C and damp; almost cold enough to do-up my jersey zipper) than it was the first one, but that is OK with me – yesterday was too hot. The darkness takes longer to pass than it did yesterday as there is no excitement anymore, just vague discontent that I am only averaging 20kph because of all these stupid hills and calorie deficiency – I am supposed to be averaging 25kph today! My maltodextrin powder which saved me yesterday is also completely unpalatable today, making me want to gag a bit even thinking about it. But I still force myself to have a sip every once and a while.
When the sun does come up it is foggy, and the land is different. Unlike yesterday which seemed to be endless cropland at times, this country is wilder with fewer farms and more forests. There is a concerning nausea slowly growing and worsening in my stomach and I need to slow down even further. But as the day continues to lighten, I start craving food… only certain foods though. Like soup, or stew. In fact, I’m fantasizing about drinking soup. That’s a weird one, I’ve never had that on a ride before. I talk myself out of this, because I know it is exceedingly unlikely that they will have soup at the control. I come across the first secret control of the event, and keep plodding.
Eventually, I arrive in Carrhaix after riding those 80km at only 22.9kph, about 45min behind pace. I really need to go to the bathroom and am directed to a line of porta-potties. Opening door number 1 reveals a giant pile of shit all over the toilet seat. Wonderful. Behind door number 2 is… a giant pile of shit all over the toilet seat. Behind door number 3 is… a heaping pile of shit in the toilet at least, because the porta-potty needs to be emptied. I choose the lesser of evils, then make my way into the food hall (thank god for hand sanitizer).
AND HOLY SHIT THEY HAVE SOUP!!!
This day suddenly became a lot better. I decide I’m going to take as long as it takes at this control to feel closer to normal. I sit down with my gigantic bowl of hot vegetable soup, slurp it back, and am happy. Then I work my way through a plate of hot pasta with mushroom sauce, and a cup of coffee, and I feel much better. The nausea is gone.
As I leave Carrhaix and start the 90km to Brest, it’s obvious I’ve caught back up to The Bulge, as I’m once again riding through a stream of riders. It is still hilly and a bit cool and cloudy, and I have accepted that I’m just going to go slow today, and if I’m behind pace, so be it. Still not a big fan of the maltodextrin drink mix though, which means I will need to take in more solid calories along the road and not just at controls. Which also means more stoppage time. I make my way up “The Big Hill” which is 18km long, but only ~2% average gradient. At the top is a gentleman playing harmonica and singing, and offering riders free coffee and brioche. This seems like a good place to stop, so I hang out for a bit, eat half a loaf of brioche and take in the sights and sounds for a while, then continue.
I’ve managed to make some positive progression on the calorie situation with all the brioche and am feeling pretty good by now. Near Brest, a rider that I’ve passed reacts to me passing them, and grabs my tail. It’s a Korean dude who started Sunday night and looks exhausted, but managed to find a burst of energy to jump on with me. Based on when they would have started, they must be pretty close to their time cut off for Brest, so OK, you hang on, and I’ll pull you into Brest, let’s do this.
We get into Brest a bit after noon and I congratulate the guy. He’s obviously happy/excited, but doesn’t have that much English, so I never learned his full story. I also need to keep moving because I’m like 90 minutes behind pace now and feeling well enough that this is back on my mind. I’ve come to terms with the fact my stomach only wants to eat hot meals today though, so I eat a solid meal at the control and am feeling good right now. However, the first signs of sleep deprivation are starting to leak through. I’m definitely somewhat disinhibited, as witnessed by the fact I just reached into my bibs and put chamois cream on at the bike rack, rather than in the washroom… and in doing so flashed some older French rider… who I then small talk with for a bit. I recognize this is not normal, but also don’t really care.
Leaving Brest to go back to Carrhaix takes a different route than going to Brest. And this 93km stage is by far the hilliest stretch of the whole event, averaging 1.4% gradient. It’s also sunny out now and fairly warm (28C), but I’m off. I pass by the Atlantic Ocean, and the iconic bridge in Brest, but only take pictures very briefly as I’m focused on riding again. This is entering new territory for me – I’ve never done a ride longer than ~620km before.
I had been worried about this stage due to the mental hurdle plus all the climbing, but quickly come to realize the terrain actually plays to my strengths. The hills are relatively steep, but also short – they only take 3-5 minutes to climb, and that part of the power-duration curve is a strength of mine. Then there is a descent which is another of my strengths. So, the stage I had been worried about ended up being my favorite.
A few kilometers after leaving Brest, I came across an Indian rider who had gotten off his bike and was walking it up the hills. I slowed down to try and cheer him on, patting him on the pack and yelling “Allez!” but his only response to this was to look at me with dead eyes and respond “ne pas allez.” And yet, he was still carrying out the Sisyphean task of walking up the first of hundreds of hills, almost as physically far away as he could possibly be from the finish. I teared up a little bit.
This stretch leaving Brest was also jam-packed with local families cheering riders on. Every hundred meters would be some locals sitting in lawn chairs offering words of encouragement, or a class of school children screaming “ALLEZZZZ!!!” I teared up a bit at this too… which actually on further reflection is kind of odd. Huh, I must be starting to get some emotional lability from...
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The original was posted on /r/randonneuring by /u/aedes on 2025-01-16 14:16:56+00:00.
Memoirs of a Rabbit
Part 4: In the Zone
The events during the actual ride are unfortunately the hardest to tell because the story breaks down. There was simply too much that happened during those three days for my brain to make sense of things. And things are further complicated by the fact that near the end, I wasn’t even certain what was happening around me anymore due to sleep deprivation and some degree of resulting psychosis. But let’s start with the more certain parts.
The process of getting from central Paris to Rambouillet seemed complicated. You could take a local train, but maybe needed to buy tickets in person (?), but bikes weren’t allowed, but maybe they were… so I said screw it and decided to just ride there. It was only 55km anyways. I loaded my bike and bags up for PBP itself, then put everything else for the hotel Sunday night into my daughters purple dinosaur backpack and started my ride to Rambouillet. Riding in Paris is frankly hot garbage due to cobblestones, disjointed and poorly signed bikepaths, traffic and oblivious tourists (like me); but once you pass Versailles, the roads are very nice. I arrived at the Bergerie Nationale for check-in and received my frame badge and various other swag, then headed over to my hotel for the night.
Upon unpacking I realized I’d forgotten to bring my sandals, leaving me with only my SPD shoes to walk around town in. This was a nuisance as I needed to get lunch, supper, as well as buy breakfast for tomorrow morning (the hotel laughed when I asked if they would have any food available at 3:30am). This ended up being a very busy afternoon with essentially no down time from when I arrived, until when I went to bed shortly before 8pm. And 7km total of walking around in bike shoes left me with blisters on both my feet. Perfect.
At 3:15am my alarm went off.
I’d actually managed to sleep quite well and felt basically fresh despite the early hour. This was highly unusual as I normally sleep terribly the night before big rides, so I took this as a good omen. In addition, the somewhat maladaptive anxious-excitement I’d been feeling the past few days had transformed overnight into a feeling of calm and focus - I was in the zone. When I was younger, I never had any problems getting into this mindset; but since COVID, I’d been having more anxiety in general, and wasn’t sure I could still do it – apparently my brain still remembered how.
I scarfed down three of the croissants I’d bought the day before while (unironically) listening to DragonForce, and strapped the fourth to my saddle bag as an on-bike snack. I’d had high hopes of weaning myself off the 5-10 cups of coffee a day I normally drink before PBP… which of course I never even bothered trying to do, so I had some instant coffee I’d brought, then hit the road.
We were supposed to be at the start for around 4am – the only problem was there were no instructions on exactly where at the start we were supposed to go (Bergerie Nationale is a large area). However, given that there were several thousand people starting this morning, and hundreds of volunteers around, I didn’t expect this to be an issue, and it wasn’t.
Over the next hour there was a lot of standing still in a group, then walking a bit, then standing again. We had our bike/light/reflective vest check, then made our way towards the actual start line, where the ~250 of us in wave W queued up. I was at the front and looking back behind me hundreds of cyclists stretched out into the night, all wearing neon-yellow reflective vests. If the weather had been cold or rainy, this would have been an absolutely miserable process.
While my wife and kids were going to stay in Paris while I was riding for logistical reasons, my parents had gotten up at a very early hour to come see me off, and we talked for a bit as we were waiting to go. However, my mind was fully focused on the imminent start of the ride, so I wasn’t really able to have a meaningful conversation. There was a small stage at the starting line with an MC cranking out loud music and talking about various things that I don’t remember anymore. I do recall that it was someone in our wave’s birthday, and he had all of us sing happy birthday to them.
We counted down the last ten seconds until 5am on the giant electronic clock, and then we were off. The first 10k were moto-paced at “30kph” (reality: random speeds between 15-35kph) to help dissuade people from riding recklessly… however, it was immediately clear to me that this not successful. I came into the ride having no interest in riding with the front group, as I had wanted to generously pace myself. However, many riders were either too excited or too inexperienced with riding in a large group, and frankly their riding terrified me and I wanted to be nowhere near them. The riders at the front seemed to be safer and more predictable, so I decided to stay up there. Part of rando is knowing how to be flexible and when you need to deviate from your game plan.
The first two hours of riding passed in a blur of darkness and red taillights at a frantic pace reaching 40+kph at times. I only start to have snapshots of memories again as the sky started to lighten and dawn began. Golden fields, yellow vests, a touch of mist, and continuously passing recumbent and tandem bikes (the special bike wave had started 15 minutes before ours). “Don’t forget to eat. Don’t forget to drink. Don’t forget to stretch. Don’t go into the red.” I continued to stay near the front as we settled into a ~30-34kph pace, which was feeling sustainable. If there’s any parts of Manitoba that the first few hundred km of PBP remind me of, it’s the stretch between Notre Dame and Manitou - fields of crops and gentle rolling hills. But, no canola. And the roads don’t just go in a straight line, and the fields aren’t all perfect squares. And the land is left somewhat wild along the roadside, so trees provide some shelter from any wind or sun.
On the way out, Mortagne at 120km is just a food/service stop, not a control. As much as I’d love to stay meditating and just keep riding straight past there, I knew it was unwise to not take at least a quick breather to refill bottles and whatnot. My motto on these rides is to “be kind to yourself” – if there is any uncertainty about what to do, always defer to the option that involves pushing yourself not as hard. We arrived in Mortagne in a bit under four hours, and I knew I needed to keep my stop time as low as possible – even an extra 10 minutes of stoppage time equates to undoing several hours of an extra 10-20 watts of work – and in 11 minutes I was back on the road again. There had been no communication or talking at all in our paceline about anything, let alone plans at or after Mortagne, so I’d just assumed I was on my own at this point. However, within a few minutes, myself, a Swiss rider, and an American had come across each other and started riding in a paceline. Over the next kilometers, we picked up more and more riders and soon the spicy-W-train was back, and we were flying through the French countryside at 32+ kph.
Time also flew by, and soon it was a bit after eleven and we were at the first control in Villaines (203km), almost two-hours ahead of my planned pace. It had been six-and-a half hours of riding by this point, so it was time for a proper break. The control was quiet, as the riders who departed Sunday night were all still ahead of us, and we were at the pointy end of the 84-hour group. Despite that, the controls are physically very large, and there is much walking around to do: from where you leave your bike, to the place to get your card stamped, to the washroom, to the water station, to the dining hall. Easily 5-10min just walking (make sure your biking shoes are comfortable to walk in…). While eating some croissants, I chatted briefly with the American rider from earlier. He was from New York and just recently started doing rando rides. We both agreed that we needed to turn the pace down going forwards; but by this point it’d been almost 60 minutes at the control and I was anxious to get going again, so we went our separate ways. It was obvious that my 30-minutes per control assumption was too optimistic – going forwards, I’d need to be even more cognizant of stoppage time at controls.
The next control would be Fougeres (293km). It’s early afternoon I’m riding solo, and it’s getting hot out, but thankfully not unbearably hot. Much of this stage passed by in an unremarkable thumb-smudge of afternoon sunniness, monotonous countryside, indistinguishable small towns, and rolling hills. I was also starting to pass the occasional rider who had departed in the Sunday night waves – they were already hours behind the time the Fougeres control would close for them… but they were still going. Maybe halfway to Fougeres, I was passed by a few riders on a climb… who I then caught up to again immediately on a small descent (I’d noticed by this point that I’m faster at descending than most other rid...
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The original was posted on /r/randonneuring by /u/aedes on 2025-01-15 15:10:24+00:00.
Going to keep slowly submitting these as long as there is interest. Again, this is a long story because I am a wordy fucker. You can ask my students about that... They take a bit of time as I need to edit them a bit before putting them on reddit to remove certain peoples names, and also make sure the formatting is right with markdown.
Memoirs of a Rabbit
Part 3: Murphy's Law
We arrived in Paris on Wednesday, August 16th. This was mostly deliberate, as I wanted enough time before the ride started to adjust to the time change, and in case any issues came up with transporting my bike with Air Canada. Afterall, on a previous occasion back in 2019, Air Canada had completely lost my bike somewhere in Seattle, ultimately just providing me with the cash value to replace it. On the off chance that this happened again, I wanted enough lead time to sort out the logistics of getting a completely different bike in a foreign country.
I say mostly deliberate, because we were actually supposed to arrive in Paris on Tuesday, August 15th. We got to the Winnipeg airport late Monday morning to catch our flight to Montreal and then to Paris. Unfortunately, shortly after getting through security, it was announced that the plane had mechanical issues and the flight to Montreal would be cancelled. Oh no wait, they changed their minds and it’s just delayed by 4 hours.
This was problematic as it meant that we would miss our connecting flight to Paris. Air Canada staff were very helpful and managed to rebook us on a flight from Montreal to Paris that departed later in the evening, and we then commenced the process of entertaining two young children in an airport for 4 hours.
Three hours later, a terse overhead announcement was made that the flight to Montreal had been cancelled outright. No further comments or explanation were given.
I looked around in confusion as none of the other people in the same situation as us had reacted to this news. I wandered up to the gate agent to clarify that the flight had in fact been cancelled… with the implication that we would be unable to catch our connecting flight, which they confirmed. So we went into the Air Canada service line for the second time that day - ahead of the rush this time. While waiting, we got an email notification that we had automatically been rescheduled for a flight leaving Winnipeg tomorrow morning, and would then transfer through Toronto to Paris.
This was less than ideal as by now we just wanted to get out of Winnipeg and make some sort of eastward progress. Well, and because I hate transferring in Toronto – this was still the immediate post-COVID era where it was routinely taking 4+ hours to get through security there. The Air Canada agent was again very helpful and managed to schedule us for a later flight to Montreal that would leave around 9pm, gave us vouchers for a hotel to stay in Montreal overnight, and then got us a seat on a plane from Montreal to Paris the next day.
Given this at least got us out of Winnipeg that night, we went with it. The only problem was that all of our checked baggage had been spit out onto the luggage pick-up area when our original flight got cancelled. So I had to leave the departures zone, pick up all of our checked luggage, re-check it, and go through security again while my wife and the kids waited inside. The agent at the over-sized luggage drop-off did a double-take when he saw me and my bike for the second time that day.
After a painful entire day spent in the airport, and the new flight to Montreal also being delayed by over an hour, we finally arrived in Montreal a bit after midnight. The hotel was… questionable, but somewhere to sleep. And then, after another entire day at the airport (in Montreal this time), we caught our flight to Paris uneventfully and were off.
After a seven-hour “overnight” flight with a questionable amount of sleep and two exhausted children, we landed in Paris early in the morning on Wednesday. We got our luggage and were waiting for my bike at the over-sized luggage area.
And waiting...
...
And waiting...
...
This was not unexpected as it often takes a while for the oversized bags to come off the plane, but the kids were completely done at this point after spending over two days in airports and airplanes with minimal sleep. So they were rolling around on the ground alternating between screaming and silent despondency. There were a couple other Canadians waiting with us who were also waiting for bikes – they were doing PBP too!
But then their bikes came, and they went, and we were still there, and my bike wasn’t.
Completely heart-broken at this point, I made my way over to the luggage services area at Charles de Gaulle and started filling out the paperwork for missing baggage. The AirTag we had left in the bike bag showed that the bike was still in Montreal - I knew that the most likely thing was that it would show up at some point in the next few days, but still, I felt terrible. On the taxi ride to our hotel, I started making inquiries on Facebook into whether anyone in Paris had a bike they could lend me just in case, or if they knew somewhere where I could rent or even buy a bike.
However, we noticed during that taxi ride that the last ping from the AirTag was over 8 hours ago, which is odd, as you’d expect more recent pings if it was still somewhere near other people. And looking more closely at exactly where it was at the Montreal Airport, it was next to a departure gate. And the time of the last ping was close to when the next flight from Montreal to Paris after ours would leave… though had occurred 40 minutes after the scheduled departure time. Some quick google searching showed that second Paris-bound flight had indeed left from that exact gate, and that it had been delayed by 38 minutes! In addition, my parents were on that plane (they were coming out to France to see me off at the start, but more importantly, go birding), and it was due to land in about 10 minutes!
10 minutes later, we get a new ping from the AirTag at Charles de Gaulle airport. I messaged my parents and they went to the oversized luggage area… and they found it there! No word ever arrived from Air Canada or the airport that the bike had arrived, so I have no idea what would have happened if it wasn’t for the AirTag we’d placed in the case. Later than day, my parents brought it to our hotel, and I was reunited with my bike. Exhausted from both travelling and the emotional roller coaster, I went to bed early, deferring reassembling my bike to the next day.
And that was definitely the right decision to make.
As I started assembling the bike in the courtyard of our hotel the next afternoon, I quickly realized that the guide pulley, and the screw that attaches it to the rear derailleur were completely missing. Somehow they had fallen out of the bike box during transport and were now gone forever.
This is obviously a problem as the bike is basically unrideable without a guide pulley. And while a new guide pulley would in theory be relatively cheap and easy to source, the screw for it would probably be more problematic. Google Maps told me there were multiple bike stores within walking distance (we were in central Paris), so I set out on foot into the mid-afternoon heat with a half-charged cellphone running google maps.
The first bike shop was completely closed due to August holidays. The second bike shop had a set of pulleys which I bought, but no screw. The third bike shop I went to also had no screw. Somewhat exasperated at this point after walking 4km in 34C weather, I asked them if they had any idea if there was anywhere in town where I could find this screw – they suggested Cycles Laurent. Google Maps (on my now almost dead phone) showed that this would be a bit of a walk… but I really had no alternative at this point.
...
Thirty minutes later I staggered into Cycles Laurent presyncopal and dripping in sweat, all hope invested into this last chance.
The worker at the store had a somewhat skeptical look on his face as I told him that I have a problem and needed his help – he replied that he also has problems.
Not a promising start.
I hash together with some mangled and saltatory French that I am in town to ride PBP and I somehow lost the screw for my guide pulley, and was wondering if they may have one to purchase.
There was a long sigh…
...he said something in French to his colleague that I didn’t understand...
His colleague responds to the effect of “check the stash of broken derailleurs.”
This is promising.
He goes into the back, and a minute later comes back with the screw I need!
He wasn’t going to charge me for it, so I decided to buy a jersey from them instead. I eventually made it back to the hotel, several hours and the better part of 10km of walking later. I finished assembling my bike, took a nice long cold shower, and celebrated by drinking the entire bottle of champagne that came with our hotel room.
Note: this was a mistake. I am too old to do that now and woke up so hungover. The last time I’d had more than thre...
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The original was posted on /r/randonneuring by /u/aedes on 2025-01-14 19:20:15+00:00.
It's -30c out right now and I'm at home daydreaming about long rides this summer. Got me re-reading my write-up from PBP in 2023. I've had a few people suggest they enjoyed reading it and that I should share it more broadly, and for lack of anything else to do with my time this afternoon, today is going to be that day. Maybe people will enjoy reading it, or reliving their own experience by hearing about my own, or maybe even learn something useful.
It's very long because I am wordy as fuck, so I'm going to break it up into parts and post them as I get around to it. Alternatively if this is universally hated, I'm not going to do that lol.
Part 1: The Aftermath
Not much is written about the days after you finish Paris-Brest-Paris (PBP), so let’s start there. It is Sunday night, August 27th, 2023, and I am writing this from bed on the coast of the Gulf of Tropez in Provence. For the record, a family beach vacation is the perfect thing to do to recover from PBP. Today was unusually cool and rainy, so we spent the day on a road trip to Cannes, exploring various sites, tidal pools, and other errata along the road with the kids.
It is also the first day where I have felt truly back to normal since finishing PBP. The pitting edema in my legs has resolved (never had that before) - I can see the veins and tendons in my feet again - and my shoes fit normally. A day or two of doing nothing other than sitting on the beach has allowed my aching muscles to go back to normal, and my Achilles is almost pain free. The grip strength in my hands has returned – I can crack my knuckles again and massage my neck. My sleep has returned, and I almost feel motivated to go ride a bike. I still get occasional tingling in my toes but I’m sure that will heal with time as well. Though if it doesn’t, it’s not like there is anything I can do about it anyways.
I’m left reflecting on questions about how I got here, what I’ve just done and experienced, and what I am going to do going forwards. The last two of those I don’t have an answer for yet, but the first one I know.
Part 2: How I Got Here
Older stories are easier to tell because your memory and mind have already decided on the narrative – of how to connect the different events together so that they make sense - and the story of me and randonneuring is a relatively old one. It starts at the tail end of my emergency medicine residency in 2015, back when I was still power-lifting, and the summer our first child was born. I had bought my first bike and started commuting and riding for fun. I rode 20km to Assiniboine Park at 18kph and was exhausted… but I kept at it because it was amazing. I bought a road bike in 2017 and my first 100k ride came shortly after.
Long-rides had a particular allure for me, both for the personal challenge, as well as the adventure they always entailed. Even when you didn’t want one. That winter, I stumbled upon randonneuring (and the Manitoba Randonneurs) I think on Twitter of all places. In a bit of a coincidence, Sam Ehlers ran the club at that time, and he’d just done PBP in 2015. Sam and I had gone to high school together, sitting beside each other in several bands as we both played trumpet, though I hadn’t spoken to him since maybe 2003. At the time, the concept of riding your bike for 1200km seemed completely absurd and beyond plausibility. But I read his trip report on the club website with much interest, much like one might cozy up with a novel about Hillary and Norgay trying to climb Everest.
After several months of hemming and hawing, I signed up for my first 200k in May of 2018. I had never ridden in a group before (nor more than 125km at once…), so it was a bit of a crash course in bike handling, etiquette, and how pacelines and echelons work; but experienced local riders were very patient with me, teaching me as the ride went on. I could only keep up with them until Ste Gen though – they were way too fast! – but by that point I knew I could finish, so just plodded on by myself for the remainder of it, finishing in a bit under 10 hours. There was suffering… but it wasn’t as bad as I’d thought it might be and after a day of reflection I signed up for the Great Falls 300k, finishing that in just under 16 hours two weeks later. I had to dig a lot deeper to finish that ride, so that was it for me that year.
At that point, I had a vague notion that this was something I wanted to do more of, so I decided I needed to ride my bike more. I bought a trainer and rode my bike regularly through the winter for the first time, so when I did the 200k and 300k in April of 2019, they were so much easier than the year previously. So much so, that I decided to try and tackle the full series that year and signed up for my first 400k and 600k. I spent most of my time on those rides riding with Rob (another local rider) as we rode at a similar pace. He was trying to get his series done so that he could go to PBP that year.
My increased experience with long rides, coupled with talking to someone who was actually going to do this thing, started to make it somewhat possible to conceptualize riding your bike for 1200km. I told myself that if I was able to finish a 400k and 600k ride this year, that I would consider registering for PBP that summer. In the end, I wasn’t able to finish either the 400k or 600k though, DNFing on both. However, both attempts taught me a lot of valuable lessons about preparation and the mental headspace you need to be in for these long rides. They also taught me that I needed a better bike fit – I was regularly running into issues with a pinched nerve in my neck after these long rides, and Rob had mentioned he’d had good luck with getting a fit at a local shop. This ended up being a great decision, as I've had no major issues since then. Though I think increasing my core strength and sleeping with a flatter pillow at night also helped.
2020 came… and so did our second child, followed by the first wave of COVID literally a few days later. I had been training regularly indoors all winter and was in the best shape of my life. It was at some point that winter when I’d finally decided I was going to tackle PBP no matter what in 2023. There wasn’t an exact day or event that lead to this conclusion, it was just more I started the winter considering it, and by the end I’d made up my mind. COVID restrictions delayed the start of the rando season, but it still happened eventually. The 200k and 300k came and went uneventfully, but then it was time for the 400k – completing this was still new territory for me. After a PTSD-inducing flat early in the ride, where friends killed thousands of mosquitoes while I frantically tried to change my tube as quickly as possible (I still ultimately counted over 100 mosquito bites on my ass because none of them were willing to slap my ass I guess…), I was feeling pretty good. Until fatigue from working a bunch of overnights that week caught up with me coming into Morden and I died. I gave up and got a hotel to go get some sleep and called my wife to see if the family wanted to come out and rescue me… I mean, spend a day at the museum there… yes… but by the time I’d laid down for a few minutes I was already feeling a lot better. Looking at the closing times for the subsequent controls, I came up with a new plan where I’d rest for about 2 hours in Morden, but then continue onwards.
And so I did. And after digging very deep and riding in the dark for the first time ever, I limped back to the start a bit before 1am. I recall aggressively eating a quarter-pounder immediately after this, but then there is a large memory gap for the next day or so. There was a lesson learned there about never making a decision to quit until you’ve at least eaten and rested for a bit. The 600k came and went relatively uneventfully (well, other than riding for several hours through apocalyptic rain that destroyed both my lights and my bottom bracket) and with that, I was a super randonneur for the first time.
By then, I’d started approaching my preparation for PBP systematically. I read everything I could find about the event, watched all the YouTube videos that I think existed about it, and started making notes in a Word document about all the ideas I had, or potential problems I realized I needed a solution for (lighting? Is it better to start Sunday night and have 90h, or start Monday morning but only have 84h? Knowledge of the French language? Normal weather conditions at that time of year in that part of France? Etc.).
2021 and 2022 brought more successful brevets, completing my series each year, and collecting more experience along the way with things like weather (cold, heat, wind, pouring rain), equipment/gear, bike fit, nutrition, etc. Doing the full series every year for 4 years before PBP was a deliberate decision to try and build experience leading into PBP, and in retrospect, one of the best training decisions I’d made. It was a great way to collect the sort of experience needed to deal with all of the various unpredictable things that come up on really long rides and are typically the reason you DNF – it’s rarely a matter of physical capabilities. There were many long hours spent riding with various local riders and that was worth a lot too – there are many things to learn by talking to other people, or...
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The original was posted on /r/randonneuring by /u/mr_phil73 on 2025-01-14 07:05:23+00:00.
Foolishly my first ride of the season was a very hilly 300. Still happy with the just over 15 hours it took on my heavy but comfortable steed. I certainly enjoyed my 33x42 low gear. One of the riders gave me a hard time about full mudguards although I think I had the last laugh when we rode through quite a lot of manure on the road left from a farmer moving a large herd of cows. Plastic is fantastic but steel is real and for me Donkey (my steel kona sutra rando bike) is a safe and comfortable mount to ride.
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The original was posted on /r/randonneuring by /u/ChrisinNed on 2025-01-11 06:25:02+00:00.
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The original was posted on /r/randonneuring by /u/Proper-Development12 on 2025-01-09 02:20:15+00:00.
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The original was posted on /r/randonneuring by /u/kdmk94 on 2025-01-03 16:50:13+00:00.
A new year has just passed and the weather here is just magnificent - the last few days the morning temperatures of -5 degrees Celsius, yesterday the temperature was +10 degrees and today I woke up to a sleet. The will to ride outside is non-existent, but the weather is perfect for reflecting on the past year and planning ahead for what to do this year. I've done 20 randonneuring events to date, and 11 of them were this year. I wanted to share some thoughts and observations I've collected over the years on my modest collection of brevets.
Disclaimer: I am writing this from the perspective of a relatively young-for-a-randonneur guy (30) who is probably more fit than the average cyclist so scale fitness-related bullets to your level. In my country, the average age of a randonneur who regularly rides all distances (not only 200s) is around 45-50yo.
#1 Get to know yourself and stop when you've taken too large of a bite
This may be the most important thing that I've learned to accept. I am not talking about a temporary crisis. I put myself in such a situation two times: the first time was on a 1000km brevet, the second was on a 600km brevet. I was disappointed and angry with myself both times, but reflecting on it now, I made the right decision. And in both situations, I was inadequately dressed for the weather conditions. There was heavy rain the first time, and I only had a light rain jacket. The second time, the temperature was barely positive during the day with heavy fog (I considered temperature, but I didn't consider humidity level because of fog). Don't be stubborn in these situations. Quit before you endanger your health.
#2 Get to know route and have a backup plan
This overlaps a little bit with the last one. You never know what can happen on the road and when disaster will strike you. Before the ride, find where the gas stations, bike shops, shelters, markets, etc. are and when they are open. Is there a train line along the route that you could use as an alternative if you need to quit the ride? If possible, arrange for someone to pick you up by car if you're in a remote area without access to public transport.
#3 Have the tools for basic bike fixes and know how to do it yourself
I would say that the basic would be a few inner tubes, a puncture repair kit, a multi-tool with a chain breaker and spoke tensioner, two quick links, and a piece of an old cable (with a ball end) so you can manually "set" rear derailleur to gear easier than the smallest one. If you are doing a very long-distance event or you know that there isn't a bike shop near the route I would take a spare tyre and a few cables.
#4 Don't listen to anyone which bike you should be riding
This is always a controversial topic to discuss, but my opinion is that you should ride the bike that makes you happy. I am not saying that you should ride a bike that isn't the right fit for you, but if the bike is fitted to you, you can do brevet using it. I use an aero road bike (Giant Propel), I have a friend that uses a 26" wheels mountain bike, a few friends use steel bikes, and some use titanium frames. Whatever grinds your gears.
#5 Learn to ride alone
This is something that I've managed to overcome this year. Multiple factors can hinder someone's ability to ride alone, but the main ones for me were fear, insecurity, and boredom of being with your thoughts for 10,20 or 30 hours. Fear and insecurity are somewhat easy to fix issues. Find out the source and fix it (for me personally, it was a lack of #2 and insecurity in my fitness level, but more on that later). Fighting with your thoughts is a different beast and I don't think you can ever completely shut down that part of the brain. However, it helps the more tired you are.😄
#6 You don't need as much fitness you THINK you need
One of the first things presented to you when introduced to randonneuring is that brevet is not a race. You should engrain that to your mind and act accordingly. Of course, there will always be someone in the pack faster and stronger than you, but there will also be someone slower and weaker. And that's completely fine. All of you have the same goal - to finish the route. And the only thing that you are racing is the time limit. Some concrete numbers I can give you are that I've successfully finished 600km twice up to this date. My FTP was around 320W, and I weighed 73kg the first time I did 600. The second time was this year when my FTP was around 260-270W, and I weighed 90kg. There is a caveat on this one - the first one had 6000m of elevation, and the second one had 3400m elevation. But the second time, I did it 3 hours faster, but not due to better fitness. Instead, it was because of more experience, shorter breaks, and consistent riding.
#7 The limiting factor for distance and comfort will probably be your back side
This is inevitable, no matter what saddle you choose. I tried 8 - from normal ones, and not-so-normal ones (ISM without a nose and Infinity Saddle). Each solves some issues but presents others. Currently, I am using Infinity, and it has solved the major issue for me which was pressure on the sit bones and the pain that comes after 10 hours of riding. It presented another problem and that is chafing because the saddle is very wide in the thighs area. But that can be fixed with chamois cream, timely hygiene, and reapplying cream every few hours.
#8 You will benefit more from full body strength than from high FTP
This is one thing that surprised me this year. Most of the training that I've done was in the gym. I didn't have time to ride as much as I would have liked to, but it turned out that I didn't need to. The strength from all squats and deadlifts transferred nicely to the bike, and all the upper body strength meant I wouldn't get as sore the day after. There is also a caveat for that. I've changed the pedaling style to a lower cadence, which applied more pressure to the feet (greater torque on pedals for the same power output), which caused numb feet after ~25 hours into the 600km ride. So don't be lazy over the winter and hit the gym along with the indoor riding you do, and keep at least two sessions per week over the outdoor riding months.
#9 Eat real food
I can't stress this enough. The one thing that will make you probably the most miserable on your ride and have you question your life choices up to that moment is diarrhea. Gels are good, and liquid carbs are good, but only if you eat solid food every few hours (sandwiches, pizza, anything that doesn't irritate your stomach). And don't experiment with the food on your long rides. It's not wise to eat food for which you aren't sure how your stomach will react. Also, don't forget salty food and electrolytes. My most miserable combination was eating a few sandwiches at the start of the ride and then continuing with ice cream and Coca-Cola at the stops (that was a very intelligent decision, as you can imagine) since it was a very hot day, around 35-36 degrees Celsius. Later that evening, I finally continued with normal food, but it was only in the morning that my stomach stopped hurting.
#10 Cramps are not fun
But they are pretty common in my case. So, if you are struggling with cramps, you can try a few things to avoid them: ride at lower power output, drink enough iso-tonic drinks, and have something like salt/electrolyte capsules with you. Not so sporty advice, but when I am deep down in the cramp town and start to lose the will to live - the beer helps to raise me from the dead. I am not a nutritionist, and I won't get into details about why this works (you can google that), but chugging one alcohol-free (or if you are tolerant enough for a normal one, but you really should try that on a shorter ride) will be as a super instant kick of electrolytes.
#11 Don't put pressure on the other riders if you decide to ride with a groups
Try to be as collaborative to the group as you can. Do your time in the wind, but do not overdo tempo if you are stronger rider. If you decide to keep up with the group, do longer shifts on the front of the group if you feel like it. You'll help other riders to keep faster tempo and make them riding easier (ex. you are riding steady 200-220W and the first person in your draft will easily do only 150-160W if they keep close to you). And if you commited to riding with a group and see that you are beneficial to a group even if the tempo is too slow for you, don't be a d**k and abandon the group.
#12 Slow and steady is always better than fast and furious
This was something that I always got as a piece of advice from more experienced colleagues that I ignored until I almost blew out on a 400km brevet trying to keep up with a "racing" group of riders. To keep the story short, they were doing bursts with an average of 30-34 km/h on a rolling terrain, but they were doing ~40-60 minutes breaks. Given the conditions, it was a very ineffective way of riding: very high humidity, high temperature, and a public holiday - which meant limited places to fill the bottles. I decided to keep my tempo and minimize breaks. In the end, I finished almost 2 hours before them with something still left in the tank. They on the other hand, were totally tanked😄
#13 Good hydration keeps you from "hit by a truck" feeling the day after
Inevitably, there is a distance after which you'll feel pain in part...
Content cut off. Read original on https://old.reddit.com/r/randonneuring/comments/1hsqv8d/random_thoughts_after_few_years_of_randonneuring/
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The original was posted on /r/randonneuring by /u/Federal-Vacation-146 on 2024-12-26 11:09:11+00:00.
As the title says, is it worth upgrading to the comfort of tubeless for randonneuring? Or will it be a hassle in the long run?
Im currently running 28mm tires with butyl interiors. Planning on doing a BRM 400 in march next year 2025 and was thinking if it's worth upgrading.
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The original was posted on /r/randonneuring by /u/momeunier on 2024-12-25 13:43:52+00:00.
Follow up to the question I asked about freezing water in bottles
TPS is an annual fun event happening on 21st Dec every year. Second real participation. I did it once before but never completed. This year, me, Matthieu and Annina decided to ride together.
You can start Winter solstice (Talvipäivänseisaus) anywhere you want. Minimum distance is 150 km and you can start counting kilometers by the time sunset on 21.12.2024 on your destination. You must reach your chosen finish by sunrise on Sunday 22.12. A stop can take maximum of 2 hours and between stops and during last two hours before sunrise you must ride at least 15 km
We decided to get started from Helsinki, from Senaatintori and to go to Turku. Sunset is at 15:12 and sunrise the next day at 9:36 That's more than 18 hours to complete a ride that usually would take about 9 hours during the summer.
The conditions were great for the first 180km, but from Salo to Turku, it was just rain rain rain for 4 hours.
We understood that one of the important pit stop of TPS was a Laavu (a campfire) in Liesjärvi. About half way through our ride. And we were received like kings and queens, with coffee, sausages, and a pipari with our names on them.
We were REALLY hoping to find friends to join us for the second stretch to Turku, but we were disappointed to understand everyone coming from Helsinki was going to Tampere instead. Next time, we know. Everyone was giving the same reason. Connections from Turku to Helsinki are scarce. You need to book a train ticket with a bike place and there are just 4 spots per train. Whereas it's super easy from Tampere as you can just jump on a regional train without reservation.
We made it to Turku at 9:00! We had a quick sauna and huge breakfast, we waited for the train ride a few hours later to take us back to Helsinki.
About the freezing water in the bottles, I decided not to worry too much because the temperature wouldn't be that bad. -6 the lowest and only for a few hours. It was a bit of a struggle to drink but it was OK. I tried taping a toe warmer pad to one of the bottles and that did strictly nothing. My friend Mat, who's a trail runner had his camelback on his back under his jacket and it was perfect for multiple reasons. He could drink whenever he wanted and however much he wanted. But I couldn't because it was really tough to lift my hands from the handlebar with the kinds of conditions we had. Most roads were great but every now and then it would be super slippery full of patches of ice. We were riding with winter tyres with studs but it still makes the riding difficult especially when it lasts 18hours.
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The original was posted on /r/randonneuring by /u/CrohnstownMassacre on 2024-12-17 22:13:39+00:00.
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The original was posted on /r/randonneuring by /u/Proper-Development12 on 2024-12-07 06:45:53+00:00.
I thought it would be useful to have a starting point where newer riders could look at the setups others have used for their 1200k to get an idea of what different people like and what they could utilize. Let us know the details and anything you would change.
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The original was posted on /r/randonneuring by /u/Proper-Development12 on 2024-12-02 06:52:32+00:00.
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The original was posted on /r/randonneuring by /u/Federal-Vacation-146 on 2024-11-12 02:53:59+00:00.
I finished my first 300km BRM last Sunday, and I was more cooked than a well-done steak. This was my biggest ride ever and the most elevation I have gained. The whole day, it averaged 37-38C, and I was basically just surviving the heat. When I arrived at the finish point, I didn't feel as much achievement as I thought it would be. Maybe I'm burnt out of cycling? I don't know if I should take time off or continue cycling. Is it normal to feel that way?
However, it still felt like a big achievement for me, but not how I expected it to be.
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The original was posted on /r/randonneuring by /u/Randonneur_2023 on 2024-11-05 13:55:10+00:00.
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