Chasing Charly — Paris Brest Paris 2023
We occasionally throw around the adjective “epic” when describing a ride. Paris-Brest-Paris for me was more of the noun version of “epic” as in the tales of Gilgamesh, Odysseus or Achilles. The ride not only takes on poetic form, while encountering and overcoming various forces sent by the gods to punish the protagonist, but also leaves the rider with moral lessons in humility.
Heat
Heat has come to Rambouillet. Registration takes place on the Chateau de Rambouillet grounds the day before the start. Coming by car, it still ends up to be a 1–2 mile walk to the packet pickup. I’ve come armed with water to keep hydrated but every picture taken betrays the sweat I lose. This is not a heat that plans on going away, but I hope that the closer to Brest I get the more tamed it is.
The Start
Sunday afternoon, the heat is still everpresent and I drink from extra water to stay hydrated. In the A wave, I am directed towards the Chateau where I go through a tent, where the first stamp is placed in my brevet book. I continue into the corral pretty far back in the A group. I’m not even sure how this start plays out yet, but try to stay in the shade and continue to drink. Over the weeks prior to the event, I have watched many youtube videos by Regan Arendse.
He ends up next to me and we have a quick chat. We move from our corral to the start area which is fully exposed to the sun. One last bathroom break, and then I wait for the countdown. At 4:00pm sharp we are the first group off. The path out of the Chateau grounds is rough and narrow. Each wave is 250 or so riders, and going through the start gates, it seems to spread out and take a while.
By the time I’m through, the next obstacle I am wary of, is a patch of cobblestones where a left turn is made at the end of the driveway. I’m through cleanly and once I get on good road, I start to move up. I want to be near the front but not on the front.
At first there is some effort to get there, but once near the front, I can see that we have a lead car, and two lead motobikes that are creating a neutral rollout, which didnt feel neutral until I got near the front. During this neutral period, it felt like a Tour de France peloton where we had the full road, and our lead vehicles were making oncoming traffic pull off. We flew through roundabouts like you see in the Tour, and we were moving with such good pace, with so little effort. This could go on forever and I wouldn’t complain. The power of the pack, made any incline feel easier than it should have, and even once the pace vehicles pulled off, the pace settled in to a comfortable yet fast trip through country roads and villages.
Once the moto’s left the front, the one hazard I felt periodically was the bleed of riders into the oncoming traffic, especially to move up, and then a random car buzzing past at 50mph, sending my heart into my throat for the riders who had been in that space seconds earlier. We know the the center line rule in racing, but out here in PBP it’s all but ignored. It’s totally unnecessary as well. The road, this parcours, will make the selection of riders, not rolling to the front in the first 30km against traffic.
At some point in a small village, the pack turns to chaos. We hear lots of shouting and the everyone stops. The lead car has taken a wrong turn. People are panicked. We turn around and ride back against our group of 250 as we rejoin the prescribed route. We shake our heads. Bonus miles!!
I find myself riding next to Matt Roy and introduce myself. We chat a bit — I mentioned my favorite PBP related podcast where he is talking about riding a Super randonneuring series in R60 (all 2,3,4,600km rides in under 60% of the time limit) — Matt’s line is, there’s like 20 people who have done it, and maybe 30 that know about it. Matt talks about his connection with Chris Case and how it eventually leads to a ride around Iceland. Matt’s a super strong rider, and riding a Cervelo with nothing but a small saddle pack and a mini handlebar roll. His wife, famed cyclocrosser Mo Bruno Roy, is working support for him at each control, and according to Matt has no interest in actually riding.
We are now over 3 hours and 100kms into the ride, and we hit the first of two hills that do damage. On the first hill, I burn matches. Books of them. I come over the top and after a km or two, I rejoin the front. We hit a second climb. This one is it for me, and I understand my time with the fastest riders is over. It’s served me well. For most of the first 120km, I flew along with little effort banking time for later. Now I just needed to settle into a different group and find my stride. We arrive at the first control at Mortagne-au-Perche in 3:36 — an average pace of 33km per hour — over 20mph pace for the first 120km. To keep things moving, this first control is just a timing strip ‘tap’, no control stamp needed. I pull off into the bike parking as there is water for bottles just a few meters off course. I refill a bottle and top off another and start off again.
The beggining of trouble
After Mortagne, I am still feeling the impact of trying to survive the climbs with the leaders. I think it’s important to mention that I was so incredible impressed with the quality of riders that participate in PBP. Coming from the racing community to the randonneuring community in the USA, one probably has certain assumptions about both groups. In Europe, I think the riders doing PBP represent a more balanced cross section of the sport, and include a lot of riders who likely race, and or ride at a level of a categorized racer. They ride modern machines, with straped on packs, or large tail/saddle bags to carry gear. The whole Rene Herse/Grant Peterson aesthetic is a seemingly American one. Over at PBP — you find equipment/clothing as on a normal club ride. As I ride with various groups of riders, I find myself unable to survive surges on the hills, and drop back to ride on my own. It’s not long before I notice I’m riding with a big group of people with B-group numbers — so the front of the B group has caught up. However, I can’t hold with them either. Keep in mind the A, B, C, D whatever group of 80 hours riders are not placed based on ability but on when they were able to register and what groups had already filled up. I finally got caught by the lead C group and they were probably the best, holding back on the climbs, but motoring on the flat sections. Matt Roy had made the initial selection with the lead group, but had now dropped back with us, and may have even fallen off before the next control as he was having issues with getting power into his legs.
For me the night time and distance, had triggered a new peril, as I had started to just have this intense post nasal drip, that I was trying to blow snot rockets out left and right (where I could, to avoid other riders), but it was flowing so much, that I started to realize that I was not able eat. And even a sip of my high carb drink, would cause nausea. At some point, I start to vomit, but it becomes more of a dry heave. Eventually, I vomit up a ton of phlegm. It’s gross, but it actually made me feel a little better. I try to eat one of mysavory nature valley bars — as I figured the saltiness would taste good. I took one bite and regret it immediately. I look for other food items, I might have a SIS caffeine gel, but other than sipping at my high carb drink mix, I’m having trouble.
At some point — time has become a weird construct — we ride through a hilltop town. It feels after midnight, but until I figure out what town it was and look at my ride file, it’s hard to be sure. But it’s late and the town is out in force, with kids lining both sides of the road through town, collapsing on us riders as we approached with outstretched hands, looking for a string of high fives as we pass. I make no small effort to high five every single one of them I can, alternating sides of the road. It’s such a great scene — the people of this event are the absolute best. There’s nothing like this anywhere.
I arrive in Fougeres with an elapsed time of 9:26. Fougeres is km 293. My fastest 300k last year was 11:48. However, I head over to the portojohn area where I dry heave. I try to have the phlegm come up again, but after some heaving and little to show for it, I go back out to see if I can find something edible at the control — As I walk around the corner I run into Matt Roy, and we chat about our struggles, he’s had some issue leading up to PBP that are hurting him at this point. I mention to him, ok, as bad as things are, we are at 293 km in 9:30. Things aren’t really that bad. I mention my stomach issues, and he introduces me to his wife Mo, who offers some tums. I decline, as I think it’s something thats more complicated than just anti-acid. I spend a half hour here to try and eat something and dip my head for a second and then move on.
I ride the next 60km to Tinteniac. I dont remember much here. A lot more runny nose, but mostly good roads, not much climbing and I think I ride with several groups during this section. I stay about 20 min here before heading on.
Moving on from Tinteniac, I see it’s 80km to Loudeac, but there’s supposed to be a non-control services area at Quedillac. I find myself starting from controls now on my own, and needing about 5km of riding to get into a groove where I’m ready to ride with others. For this section, I remember a fair amount of a climbing section and after the climb, I was able to find a rider or two, that eventually swelled to 6 or 7. We did good with a lot of the roads towards Quedillac. There was an older rider from france who was strong, and was trying to help one of the other guys in our group who was trying to pedal too big a gear, and the veteran rider was trying to get him to spin more. We got on a long stretch of road where I was on the front, and at first I didnt notice but the streghnth of the light from the headlights behind me started to dim, as I had dropped the group. I made it to Quedillac, but a volunteer was roadside to inform that Wally World was closed becuase of the time of night — too early for them to be ready. I pushed on. There was a slightly urban area that I remembered the Rue De Louison Bobet. Louison Bobet was one of the greats of French cycling, winning the Tour de France 3 straight times.
As it’s all night riding, I dont remember a ton about the roads or scenery, other than there are long stretches of gradual uphill, and then long stretches of down hill. I come into the Loudeac control, and here I go into the cafeteria area and try to get something I can eat. It’s tough. I forget exactly what I ordered, but I remember a lot of it going to waste. Loudeac is also the first place I decided to put my watch timer on and get 30 min of sleep with my head down on the table. I ended up spending an hour at the control, which was more than I planned, but I felt was needed given my calorie intake issues and growing fatigue.
From Loudeac to Carhaix, I only remember the secret control in Canihuel. It was a quick affair, I dont remember much in the way of services, but it was a welcome distraction at the time. Continuing on to Carhaix, I had something to look forward to, in that one my teammates from Project 412 in Pittsburgh was visiting family there and was going to try and meet me at the control. I pulled in around noon, right about as I had predicted. I spend a decent amount of time trying to eat things, with limited success, and spent about 45 minutes there before moving on, right after exiting the control, I hear my name from the right — and see Tino and his family waiting. We get a picture and he asks me how it’s going — time wise it’s still to plan, but the food thing is a ticking time bomb.
Carhaix to Brest was another long one. The thing was, I was getting used to these long-ish uphills that were then followed by kind of longish downhills. However, my Garmin climb-pro was suggesting a fairly long climb approaching. It was in a nice wooded park area with a river alongside. The first climb ended at this lakefront town, but to my dismay, there was never a descent. The road flattened and then continued to climb. Somewhere on this section of road, I found myself with Brian Toone. Brian from Alabama, was unassuming, camelbak, SPD sandals, but nice bike and a really good rider. Brian is one of the people on PBP who flies under the radar, but he’s a solo RAAM finisher, a Tour Divide finisher, a former road racer who’s traditional racing came to an end in a near fatal accident getting hit by a driver. Brian and I rode together to the summit of the final climb — which seems like it could/should have been the highest point in Brittany, before taking a nearly 10 mile descent towards Brest. We rode into Brest together, with the final stretches of Brest consisting of a cycle of roundabout, hill, roundabout, hill, over and over. I was pretty much toast coming into Brest. I didnt committ to any stop strategy and we soon went our separate ways. We got to Brest in 24:33 — which is still a great time for 600km.
Something had to give
I knew continuing on with no real consistent food intake was madness. At first getting to Brest, I just wanted to rest in the shade. I set my watch alarm for 30 minutes and fell right asleep. After waking up, I went into the food hall, and while nothing was too appealing, I saw they had soup, and got a bowl of soup. I think it was a butternut squash soup with some good spices/seasoning. I didnt use a spoon, just drank from the bowl. It actually tasted good and didnt really make my stomach turn, I drank it all. I knew that getting calories was the key to keeping my ride going, and I needed to see if I could fix this whole nasal drip problem. Despite the fear of language barriers and admitting that I had a problem, I bit the bullet and went to the medical area for help. After pooling their personel for the best English speaker, they were able to interpret my issues for the doctor on hand and the end result was an allergy medication to stop my runny nose. They gave me one on the spot, and then two extras for the next morning and evening. I knew it would take some time for my nasal passages to dry up and then more time to clear my stomach, but I had the time! The next thing was to get going, and even after all that, I was still sluggish and putting off getting on the bike and moving. I was scared of the next stage, 93 km, 1310meters of climbing, the most of any stage, by more than 13%. And it was hot again. I filled bottles, and then right before getting on the bike, I decided to delay once more, to brush my teeth. (Colgate “Wisps” are great for this). Honestly that freshened me up and I finally swung a leg over the bike and got moving.
Getting out of Brest was a pretty fun, mostly downhill affair. I figure every km was one less of the 93km. Eventually we dropped onto a waterfront bike only route, that put us on a pedestrian and bike bridge over the bay. There is a brand new suspension bridge on the left and off to the right you can see the channel that leads to the Atlantic Ocean.
Upon crossing the bridge, we went through a park where French locals had come to give riders fresh strawberries. I took one and ate it and it was delicious. I still had the taste of strawberry in my mouth as I started to climb the first of many hard climbs on this section. There was no way I had any energy to attack these hills with any vigor. My bike’s gravel groupset had a great low gear that I could spin through any hill on the route. You might spin ok, but speed is pretty bad, and I was caught and passed over and over on the climbs. I’m not really trying to race anyone here, though, I wouldn’t mind a group to ride with. The heat was bad and so was the climbing. I just endured this section.
It was here that I started having these vivid memories, sections of road travelled, a group of riders. An English rider who we talked for a while. These memories troubled me, because while they seemed so real, they seemed like they happened months back, and after thinking about them in more detail, I realized that they were just some sort of dream/deja vu that had never happened and this ride was starting to take its toll.
The best thing that actually happened though, was that the organizers put a secret control on the stage — which broke up the ride and provided a short respite. They have you enter the building to get your control stamp, go past the toilettes, and then exit in the back where there was a nice outdoor bar serving up refreshments, and a table serving pasta. I went back to my bike for money, ordered a coke, and downed it. I passed (youtube) Regan at this control briefly, but he got out before I did. Once back on the road, I had a little more energy, and continued to chew up kms. I pass Regan and exchange a few words before moving on. Looking at my tracker, this was by far my slowest stretch with an average of 13.27km/hr. (That includes the stops at the secret control, etc).
The next control was back at Carhaix, but now going inbound, the outbound riders were there in droves. The bike parking was pretty full, and I sensed this stop could be a waste of time, so I decided to get my control stamp, fill bottles and leave immediately. I could tell there was another ‘services only’ control (no stamp) at Gouarec and it was for inbound riders only, so it would be dead when I arrived. I might be dead as well. Fortunately, it wasnt too bad a ride to Gouarec and as suspected, there was hardly anyone there. I got another bowl of soup, and then grabbed a baguette to dip in my soup. Another delicious soup. At least more food was going down. Once finished with my food, I set my watch alarm for 30 min and put my head down on the table — the ‘vitesse’ with which I fall asleep is astounding by even my own standards.
I get going and out the door, and just as I begin to grab my bike, I notice a couple of other guys getting ready to ride, and while it takes me a second, I realize it’s Brian, who has also chosen to get some sleep here.
We head off toward our next control at Loudeac. Brian has been riding now with an Austrian, Stefan. Stefan is a strong rider as well, and makes especially strong pulls on the flats. There are times I try to pull through, and feel like I’m holding us back, but I think we end up making a good enough team. Upon rejoining Brian, we revisit a prior discussion about both of us wanting to ride for Charly Miller time. I’m resigned to not worry about it, but it makes interesting conversation, and difficult math, to help the miles go. This far out, I cannot really make heads or tails of what kind of chances we have, but at least with Stefan contributing, we are making pretty good forward progress. We agree to do a quick stop for the control stamp and bottles only in Loudeac, as it will also be a zoo with outbound riders.
The section between Loudeac and Tinteniac ends up being one I actually remember many of the roads outbound. We were planning on stopping at Quedillac, but end up stopping at an unofficial stop in Illifaut. I suggested soup. Stefan Brian and I all enjoyed the soup. That said, we made quick work of our soup and water bottles and headed out, with an agreement that Quedillac was no longer needed, so our next stop would be Tinteneac. Somewhere along this route we had a gorgeous sunrise.
Less than 15 minutes at the control in Tinteneac and we were off again, still pondering whether that Charly Miller time was possible or not.
We get to Fougeres, km 928, at around 11:45am. Charly Miller would require another 300k in 13 hours. I couldn't work that out at the time, but we couldn't keep 25km/hr — and we had controls, so it was only mathematically possible and I hadn't yet had the last two perils I was to be tested with on this Epic.
At Fougeres, we were going to make a quick stop, but then got a little bit of food and ran into one of Stefan’s Austrian teammates in the food hall. I missed his name, but he was set up as a triathlon guy would, with that kind of position on the bike, and waterbottle holders on his saddle. After leaving Fougeres we made a pact to stop for Crepes at this Crepe stand they had seen on their outbound ride, apparently run by a former professional cyclist. We blitzed the section of road between the control and the crepes. The heat though, was unbelievable and the roads all seems to be exposed with little shade. I did enjoy my crepe, got a water bottle topped off, and in return, he was just asking for a postcard to be sent from your home city when you get back. It’s on my to-do list.
The Heat shows its hand
Continuing on, there were stretches where the Austrian Tri-guy is just crushing the front. I’m working to hold his wheel, but at the same time, we are making time like we havent for ages. The roads are all exposed and while I continue to drink, the heat is becoming a ticking time bomb and I can’t even hear the fuse.
We enter a town called Ambrieres-les-Vallees. The road sweeps down to a bridge and over the bridge we make a right turn. As I exit the bridge and begin to make that right, I start to strain to see the turn, the straining feeling intensifies, and then my vision goes black with a tiny light hole in the middle like a camera obscura. While my vision is gone, I am still conscious enough to stop the bike and call to Brian. We were at a park and I was going to need a few minutes. I used the toilettes, drank a bunch of water and lied on the grass and set my watch for 5 min in the shade. I told Brian the Austrians had dropped off, and I thought they said they needed a 5 min power nap, so Brian stayed with me until they came along. I told him to go, no worries, I wasn’t really interested in pushing the pace at that point. It was more about survival for me.
I made it up the road a bit where a girl was filling water bottles, I asked to be topped off — and she offered some with lemons, I was enthusiastic about the lemons, so she then ended up dumping all her lemon slices in my bottle. I enjoyed the lemon water at the time. Not sure if there’s any restorative benefits there, but it seemed like the thing to do. The heat and climbs on these next sections of road were brutal. I had ridden these roads in reverse on the way out at night, I believe, and they did not seem anything like they did in the mid afternoon sun. It was still a little over a 2 hour ride for me to the Villanes control. Besides the heat, there was some other fatigue going on, that I hadnt yet pinpointed.
The Villanes control is awesome. It’s the town center, and they close the road for the control. The bike parking is right on the main road, and there’s massive crowds and an emcee who calls out the riders and the nationalities as they come and go (based on the chip reader). I use the toilettes and then get some food and drink in the quick grab food hall. It’s still mid afternoon heat, I arrived at 4:47pm, Tuesday, km 1018. I decide to lay down in a shady bit of grass and set my watch alarm for 30 minutes. I sleep right through it. I dont know how long I slept, but all in, I was at this control for over 2 hours. I was a little more disoriented from the extra sleep, but rallied to rinse out all my bottles, run water over my head, fill them all up and get moving for the next control.
The Thinker
As I headed out for the control at Mortagne, I had a feeling something wasn’t right, and tried to stand up on the bike, roll my head around and try to shake this stiffness/fatigue I was feeling, but before too long, I recognized, in full, the “final boss” I had to conquer to finish this event.
Do me a favor here — open a new tab. Google “Shermer’s neck” and then click on the first website that comes up. Yeah, so at this stage in the game the neck muscles that support my head, had failed. They do not partially work, or intermittently work — they are gone. As a result, in a normal cycling position with my hands on the handlebars, all I can see is the road directly below me, because I cannot lift my head to see straight ahead. I found that I could stand up on the bike, or sit really up-right, with my fingertips just reaching the bar, and there was a position where my head would support itself looking straight ahead. I followed a French cyclists wheel for a while, trusting that he’s going in the correct direction, but a near collision with a parked car I couldn’t see, caused me to make the tough choice to avoid riding with others. I had to figure out a solution fast.
What I came up with, I like to call ‘The Thinker’
Excepting for the fact that I wasnt going to bend my wrist backwards like that, imagine that my elbow is resting on my aerobar forearm rest, and my hand is supporting my chin. It was an ‘ok’, if inelegant solution. I looked like I was very bored on my ride. Ho-hum. It wasnt completely practical, as regardless of which hand I was using at the time, I would only have access to one brake lever and the shifter on that side. I did occasssionally even use the other Aerobar as it was the most comfortable position at the time. I didnt really think about it at the time, but I probably began riding like this, almost 200km from the finish. I dont think I’d sign on to riding this way for a 124 mile ride, especially given the amount of time it was going to take to cover that distance at this point in the ride. Nevertheless, I had gotten this far, battled stomach issues, heat, and now this was not going to end my ride if I could help it.
I make quick work of the control at Mortagne-au-Perche. It’s at km 1099, 10:25pm, and while Charly Miller is long gone, I now start doing the math to a sub 60 hour ride.
Coming back, there is a control at Dreux, only about 42km from the finish, however, while the outbound trip to Mortagne was covered at over 20mph, the road to Dreux proves to be a challenging one for me, with a lot of roads that climb up in what woud be a state park with campsites in the USA. It’s all pretty pitch black though. I encounter riders at different points along this route. I am embarrassed by my riding with my chin on my hand, so I try to pretend like I’m stretching my back, or stand up for a second on my bike to hide my disability. Despite my embarrassment, I end up riding with a guy who suggests we stop at another random non-control service area. Here they are giving us coffee, soup, whatever we need and asking for nothing in return. Its a broth with noodles, I suck it down and donate some euros to their tip jar. I set off alone from here and eventually arrive in the somewhat urban outpost of Dreux at what appears to be a massive sports facility set up for the control. It’s 2:30 in the morning at km 1177. I am wrecked, and not thinking clearly, I take a few steps into the womens toilettes before abruptly changing course and dropping my glasses, the pin comes out of an arm, and I cannot find the pin. I grab a rice porridge and some coffee here, stuff the parts of my glasses in my saddle bag and then set off for Rambouillet.
The Finish
I start going as hard as I can for this final stretch (at this point of the ride, this is not at an impressive speed - 23 km/hr?). I see that sub 60 is out of the question, so my little mini-goal, is now just to finish, so the hour number is “60" even if the minutes end up being high. At night, the directional signs only reflect a small directional arrow in your headlight. I see a left turn and take it into a gravel parking lot and almost wipe out. Turns out that the turn was still a block away. I descend into Rambouillet and through the entry gate, seeing the finish arch and last timing pad coming up. I finish, officially with 60 hours, 54 minutes, and 46 seconds. I am handed my medal, and a dinner coupon for the food tent, and finally park my bike and head to control to have my book officially stamped.
Jorgeann is still en route, and while 5am is a little early for beef, potatoes, and vegetable dinner, I scarf it down. My phone has died, so I have no way to communicate. Somehow a text comes through my watch that she’s at the entrance, but I decide to finish off my meal, which includes a Paris-Brest pastry for dessert. I get up to leave the tent and see her approaching, we take a picture of me, looking like hell, for posterity, and head back to our hot box of an un-airconditioned room.
Equipment was all superb — I had no mechanical, electrical issues to speak of, other than my saddle slipping a little early on and needing to re-level.
Physically, my left knee was killing me, as was my shin just above my right ankle. I have a saddle sore that will become infected and balloon to the size of a golf ball on my butt — before I can get in to my PCP back home for antibiotics. I’ll be off the bike for a bit, but for that million dollar question you are asking yourself… Will/would I do it again. The answer is ‘yes’ — I spend a lot of time in this ride report (and thanks for reading this far), documenting my journey, but I dont spend nearly the amount of time on this event, from all the awesome volunteers at all the controls, at how cool these controls are, like mini cycling cities buzzing with activity. All the people on the roadside at all hours of the night cheering us on with Allez Allen, Bonne Route! Bonne Route! is just so amazing and inspiring. It’s the most special event I’ve every participated in, and the things I struggled with are all correctable by training, proper preparation for allergies etc, and the perspective of an Ancien who has travelled the roads previously. I’ll be planning to attend again in 2027 when the next edition comes.
