Paris-Brest-Paris 2015
I first encountered the Paris-Brest-Paris in the early ‘80s when my friend and cycling mentor Jack was training for it. I had forgotten about it over the years until 2014 when, after retirement from Microsoft, Sally and I were spending the winter in Montpellier in southern France. I had joined the local bike club, the MUC or Montpellier Universitée Club, and was a regular on the Sunday morning ride, when Jean-Pierre, one of the leaders, asked me if I was interested in joining the 200Km brevet the following Sunday.
A brevet is an organized ride where you pedal a fixed distance at a certain pace, somewhat like an American century ride (100 miles), but naturally employing metric distances and a bit more formal than a century — individual times are recorded, there is a maximum time allowance, and formal checkpoints/rest stops (contrôles) ensure that you complete the route without any shortcuts. I enjoyed the 200Km brevet and the French riders got a kick out of having an American as part of the group, as well as appreciating that I was riding the folding bike which I had brought to France that winter. They adopted me as a kind of club mascot and my mediocre command of French led to the impression that I was a bit “slow”, so they would make a special effort to look after me, for example, at the rest stops when it was time to depart they would inquire Où est l’americain to make sure I wasn’t left behind. The brevet was run Audax style, which means we all rode together in a peleton at a fixed pace (22.5 km/hr) led by the capitaine de route or ride leader. No one was allowed to go ahead and if anyone fell behind the capitaine sent a lieutenant back to help pace stragglers back to the pack. Their motto, partir ensemble — revenir ensemble, depart together — return together, emphasized solidarité, a word which you hear a lot in France and basically means we’re all in this together. I enjoyed this style of riding as you build good riding skills, it’s easier to socialize, it provided another opportunity to practice my French, and it’s just more fun riding in a group. Two weeks later there was a 300km brevet and again I was willing and showed up at 4:30am for the start. The 300km was more difficult but I completed it, although I suffered cramping from severe hydration due to forgetting to drink enough in the cold weather. Soon it was time to return to Seattle but that got me wondering about longer distances. I vaguely remembered the Paris-Brest-Paris and discovered that, although it’s only offered every four years, it would be run again in 2015. Upon returning to Seattle I joined the local club that sponsors brevets, the Seattle International Randonneurs, and began riding with them.
In order to qualify for the Paris-Brest-Paris you have to complete a series of brevets of 200km, 300km, 400km, and 600km. This makes sure that you both have a reasonable chance of finishing as well as serving as training rides in that they not only does the distance increase with each ride but also learn you necessary skills such as night riding. I completed the brevet series in the summer of 2014, realized that it was feasible that I might ride the Paris-Brest in 2015, and began planning in earnest.
Sally and I scheduled our annual time in France for the summer of 2015 to coincide with the Paris-Brest-Paris and I once again completed the brevet series in Seattle in the spring of 2015. You have to complete the series in the same calendar year as the Paris-Brest-Paris to make sure that you haven’t fallen off your game. We arrived in Amboise, France in the Loire region near Tours on July 1st and enjoyed a month of language classes, visiting the chateaux in the Loire valley, local bike rides into town and to the market, and for me training rides on the rolling terrain characteristic of the area. August came around, we moved to Versailles which is located close to the start of the Paris-Brest-Paris, and I nervously awaited the start.
So what is the Paris-Brest-Paris or Paris-Brest et Retour or Paris-Brest or PBP? It’s a 1230km (760 mile) continuous ride from the suburbs of Paris to the city of Brest at the western tip of France and then right back to Paris over the same route. You have a maximum of 90 hours to complete it and you are working against a continually running clock, so any rest or sleep counts against you. It was first run in 1891 and is one of the oldest continual cycling events in the world. It was originally a professional race but was soon superseded in the public imagination by the Tour de France, whose multi-day format, now 21 individual races or stages, proved more enticing both to spectators and to the media which covered it, first newspapers and now television. Eventually, in 1951 the Paris-Brest-Paris was abandoned as a professional race and became solely an amateur Grande Randonée — a very long bike ride.
A randonnée in common French usage means a hike and derives from early French meaning to run impetuously. Although the word existed as early as the 1200s and was often originally applied to the path a wounded animal takes before dying, in the 19th century as walking became a leisure activity rather than a necessary means of transportation, it came to mean a walk that went no where in particular but covered a lot of ground, that is, a hike. It has since been adapted to other modes of transportation: automobile, boat, bicycling, and so on, hence a randonnée à vélo or a long fast bike ride. Although finishing times are recorded, it’s not really a race as the Paris-Brest-Paris is run under the aegis of a bicycle touring organization while road racing in France is run by a racing organization. It’s also hard to view an event whose participant’s average age is in the high 40’s as a race (note: there are many bicycle races for people above 40 but they are segregated by age group). However, like most bike rides, even Sunday club rides, riders are interested in their times and have an idea of who is fast and who is not. It most reminds me of the Boston Marathon, which was the pre-eminent running road race where I grew up, in that there is a very small group at the front who are trying to come in first, a large group in the middle who are attempting to best their personal times, and then another group who are simply hoping to finish. Usually about 80% finish, so while the odds are in your favor you have the added motivation that there’s a reasonable chance that you won’t.
The Paris-Brest-Paris employs a staggered start to accommodate the approximately 5,500 riders. The majority start in the evening, and I started with the 6:45PM group on August 16th, along with my friend and riding partner Audunn, originally from Iceland but now from Seattle and a fellow Seattle International Randonneur. We had eagerly awaited the start as we had been training all spring and like everyone else had accumulated a great deal of nervous energy awaiting the event. The training regime dictates that you taper as you approach the event so that you maximize energy and minimize muscle fatigue. Unfortunately, without the usual outlet, this left everyone on edge and a bundle of nerves awaiting the start they had been anticipating for a year or more.
In 2015 for the first time the Paris-Brest-Paris commenced at the newly opened and long awaited Velodrôme National, the first indoor velodrôme in the Parisian region in over 50 years since the destruction of the infamous Vel d’Hiv, in better days the location of the celebrated Six Day races but now mostly known as the site of the rafle du Vel d’Hiv, the roundup and deportation of 13,000 Parisian Jews in 1942. We were shepherded through various staging areas to the starting line, dignitaries gave speeches, the announcer repeated a final caution to pull over and sleep if necessary, counted down the start, and we were on our way. We rode in daylight for a few hours and then into the night.
There are a number of note-worthy aspects to the Paris-Brest-Brest. First, you spend a lot of time chatting with fellow cyclists and since you ride with riders from many nationalities you have some interesting conversations. I rode with Brazilians, Argentinians, Italians, Indians, Singaporeans, Taiwanese, Canadians, English, Irish, Americans, and of course plenty of French, who make up about two fifths of the riders. Everyone was eager to converse if a common language could be found, as its simple human nature to talk to people, it helps to pass the time, and at night helps keep you awake. I especially enjoyed riding with the French and Italians, both because it was fun to talk to them, but also because their cycling culture has a well developed sense of riding together as a team at a steady pace. Sally, who had registered as an official support car and met Audunn and me at some of the controls got a chance to appreciate the French team culture from the support side. At meal time entire teams would pull up together at the control, go to their team support vehicle, and sit down for the requisite French dinner. Then the team would depart as a group as their support crew wished them “tranquille” or stay safe, the equivalent of the sergeant from the old Hill Street Blues TV show who used to finish roll-call with the admonition “Let’s be careful out there”.
One fun aspect of this year’s Paris-Brest-Paris was that it overlapped at times with the route of the Tour de France. The route of the Tour varies every year and this year’s Tour cycled three days through Brittany, that is, between Paris and Brest. The Tour is made up of the top teams worldwide, but the organizers have some discretion and in view of the extensive sojourn in Brittany they had invited a local professional team from the region. One night on television Sally and I had watched a documentary on “behind the scenes at the Tour de France” that showed the daily routine of the people who make up the Tour by highlighting a few people — a woman who worked in the advertising caravan preceding the Tour whose job was throwing baguettes to the crowd, a soigneur or team assistant whose job was handing out food to the riders as they whiz by, a hôtesse du Tour who stands by the winners on the podium and gives them the obligatory two-cheek kiss, and so on. The documentary also focused on a rider from the team from Brittany and showed how the the region was especially amped up to participate this year. As we rode the Paris-Brest we saw the road covered with painted encouragement to the local riders, “Allez Marcel”, and so on. Also, as is customary, the local people erect roadside decorations made up of bicycles or in the shape of bicycles. For the Paris-Brest-Paris they had simply repurposed the decorations for us, sometimes with new slogans, such as “Go Dad, you can do it”, or signs in the middle of nowhere that pointed out the distances to Brest and Paris.
For me and many other riders the most controversial aspect of the Paris-Brest-Paris was the night riding. Before the Paris-Brest-Paris I had considered the idea of riding through the night as a bit of a stunt, more akin to flagpole sitting than a real sport. The idea of basing one’s results on one’s ability to stay awake struck me as a measure that did not belong in a true sport. However, the attitude of the French spectators during the Paris-Brest-Paris helped me to acquire a new point of view which, while not entirely contradicting my original notion, provided additional perspective.
Along the entire route and especially at night spectators and bénévoles, unofficial volunteers, were there with coffee, water, and snacks, all for free and gladly given in exchange for a bit of conversation. In the middle of nowhere they appeared, by the side of the road, a light, a small table, some inspiring interaction, along with some needed coffee. They were in every town and at the top of every climb. At dangerous intersections they would appear with a flashlight to indicate the route. At 4 a.m. near the top of one long climb not far from the turn-around point at Brest we met a family in front of their house offering water and coffee. I said to the husband that you must be a true lover of the Paris-Brest and his wife immediately chimed in that the real fan was their eight-year-old son who was the self-proclaimed mascot of the course and who had just gone to bed. We could catch him, however, on our way back later in the day. We didn’t find him that afternoon but instead on a windswept ridge at the top of the climb groups of spectators had lugged jugs of water so we could refill our bottles. The next night, going through a village at 3 a.m. we met a high school student, her 9-year-old brother, and their 8-year-old cousin, in front of their house offering coffee and snacks. At the next Paris-Brest-Paris she would be at university and no longer at home. Unlike a bicycle race where the spectators are close to the action but rider support and interaction is reserved for team or race assistants, spectators at the Paris-Brest-Paris were offered a rare opportunity to participate in the event and interact with the riders.
The attitude of the population seemed to be one of appreciation of the difficulty of riding to one end of the country and back combined with an appreciation of our dedication to riding through the night in pursuit of their national sport. On the whole bicycling as a sport is less about technique and more about strength, endurance, and ability to withstand pain, and the French seem to have a natural sympathy for what, despite the sometimes inordinate cost of the equipment, remains a gritty, working class sport. Also, cycling spectators like to see suffering, they gather near the top of climbs not just because the riders are moving slower so there’s more to see, but also because that’s where you can witness the riders in their maximum difficulty. Watching an all night ride adds another element to the spectacle. It’s not entirely a new element as the famous Six Day Races held in Madison Square Garden and the Vel d’Hiv ran through the night and a part of the charm for the spectators in those days was witnessing rider fatigue and crashes. Altogether, the atmosphere of the Paris-Brest, particularly the night-time atmosphere, was truly awe inspiring and unimaginable anywhere else. And as they say, worth the price of admission.
At the same time the lack of sleep was for me and many others the most difficult aspect of the ride. Audunn and I made it through the first night and into the next day, riding about 24 hours and 450km straight to the côntrole town of Loudéac in Brittany. We stopped at a rental house that Audunn and his wife Marie had arranged and Sally and Marie greeted us with food, a shower, and a bed. We had made good time to that point so for me the only question was how I would feel after some rest. We slept for 3 hours and were on our way again in the evening. Once we were under way my legs felt fine and let me know that I was going to finish, barring a mechanical issue or a crash, so it would be best to avoid those. We rode out to Brest and back, a long climb in each direction, which had been anticipated by most riders as the worst part of the ride but ironically for myself and many of the other Seattle riders, turned out to be a welcome relief as it most resembled our native rides over local passes. On the other hand, what got to many of the Seattle group over time was the interminable climbing and descending, one hill after another, without end. And for many of us the lack of sleep.
I made it through the first 48 hours on 5 ½ hours sleep, but after that it became more difficult for me. I started to fall asleep at the wheel, so to speak, and needed to pull over. I slept on a bench in front of a church in broad daylight, on a lawn in late afternoon, seated with my head on a table at an impromptu coffee stop in the early morning, on the floor of a control at 4:00 am along with a hundred other riders, and by the side of the road in the afternoon. At one point in the afternoon I was feeling sleepy and pulled over. I had two bananas in my back pockets that I pulled out to avoid crushing them. I laid down and the sun was in my eyes, so I put the bananas over my eyes. As I was drifting off to sleep I heard some riders comment as they went by, “Look at that guy, asleep with bananas over his eyes.” Seemed natural to me. Toward the end of the ride, Sally, met me at each of the côntroles with food, water, and a chance to sleep in the back of our support SUV. After the other roadside sleep stops I have to say that sleeping in the back of the SUV was like sleeping at the Four Seasons.
Post the ride I did some quick research and discovered that there is a great deal of research on sleep deprivation, much of it as you would expect sponsored by the military, and realized that I was both under prepared for the lack of sleep and severely under caffeinated. The amount of caffeine I was ingesting was anywhere from 1/5 to 1/10 the typical dosage for sleep deprived subjects. There are other common supplements, for example, magnesium, that can help sleep deprivation, and even meditation can play a role. Of course, everyone is different and there are probably some people who can do this without caffeine or supplements and others who require even stronger stuff.
I finished the ride in good shape and still going quite strong –some of my most enjoyable riding was in the last 50 miles. Audunn and I celebrated later by drinking champagne and eating Paris-Brest pastries, created years ago in honor of the race. I didn’t suffer any of the usual side effects — no saddle sores, numb hands, or sore feet. However, I did notice that while walking around Seattle upon my return in a sleepy jet-lagged state, I found myself eyeing park benches and door stoops as potential nap spots.
Would I do it again? During the last night as we approached the finish I had a number of conversations on that subject as we realized that the ride was finishing and many of us were beginning to assess the ride. For myself both the history and the cultural aspect are unparalleled, and when you combine that with my love of the country, it’s people, it’s culture, and it’s bicycling culture, it’s hard not to want to do this again. On the other hand, I have to say that the majority of people that I spoke to indicated that probably for them once was enough. Of course, many were polled at their most difficult moments and perhaps after some distance from the event they will come around and reconsider.
One aspect of the ride that was disquieting was the lack of women participants. The number of women at the Paris-Brest-Paris seemed lower than the number of women in randonneuring which seems lower to me than the number of women in cycling in general. Women were not unwelcome at the Paris-Brest-Paris, but there was not a lot of encouragement and some discouragement, for example, at some of the contrôles the women’s restrooms were taken over by men. For a while I rode with a woman from Vancouver, B.C., who was riding the Paris-Brest-Paris for the mind-boggling 8th time, and she said that while she was sympathetic with the difficulties and had learned to tolerate them, she understood there are many women who can or will not. If I don’t ride the Paris-Brest-Paris next time, Sally and I thought that running a support crew for women riders might be a good way to participate.
Is the Paris-Brest the Burning Man of the cycling world? A cultural festival where you prepare all year to experience physical stress in a remote location while staying up all night with the help of stimulants. Or is it the world’s most interesting cycling event for both participants and volunteers. I have four years to ponder that question and decide whether to ride again. Of course on the other hand the Audax style Paris-Brest-Paris, where everyone rides together, is slated for next summer, so it’s not too early to start training.
