A Fleche of all seasons.

Maybe we should celebrate the start of a new year at the Spring solstice like the ancients once did. Gather with friends and strangers at the time of year when the seasons are in a state of flux and day and night balance for a moment on the needle of time. Maybe that is the time of year to celebrate new beginnings, not in the midst of winter's cold slumber but later, at the leading edge of Spring, as the world awakens, when anything seems possible and the promise of a new season of growth rises clean and bright on the horizon. Perhaps it is appropriate that a PBP finisher is called an Ancien because the Randonneuring season begins in the early Spring. At this time of year, in our part of the world, it is the season of the Fleche and this year, I rode a Fleche of all seasons.

Fleche 2015 - words unspoken.

Prologue:
 

How do you tell a story about human frailty without taking away the humanity of the frail? A story that takes place along the rough edges of the human experience, that seldom visited place where decisions are made on the fly, based on instinct and id, a place where, sometimes, you fall short of what you hoped to achieve, of what you hoped you would do? Sometimes this sport takes you to that place . . .

During the day, the tailwind made heroes of us all. From our start, just north of Quakertown, a stiff steady wind blew us south toward Philadelphia and New Jersey. With that wind at our backs, with that sunshine after weeks of gray skies, with that oh! so new Spring green grass after a long and cold winter, with all that, my god! we were supercharged: riding 21, 22 mph at a relaxed effort, laughing and chatting like performance drug enhanced pros out for a bit of a quick spin on an early Spring day.

The tailwind blew away the memory that, just 48 hours ago, I had a slight fever and congestion that forced me to take a rare sick day from work. That Spring sun and almost ideal temperatures blinded the thought that the Fleche is a 24 hour ride over 234 miles long and I have not gone so far or so long in one day for many, many months.

2014 Fleche: A video

The annual 24 hour ride called the "Fleche" took place this past weekend.

Fleche 2013 - A just 'cause.

At 4:45 on Sunday morning, the temperature in Frenchtown, NJ, a small town on the banks of the Delaware River, hovers around 30 degrees. I lay on a sidewalk bench outside of a closed restaurant and a closed cafe, closing my eyes for ten minutes, willing myself to rest for just a little bit before the cold seeps into my body. My three teammates, Cap'n Chris, Janice and Chris are nearby, sharing fig bars and snack food while seated at a metal table. Our next official stop is 12 miles away and won't open until 6:00 am. We've been riding together, basically non-stop, since 9:00 am on Saturday.

Another team, Bill, Guy and Paul, arrive. They are riding fixed gear bikes. They cat napped in the bathroom of a State Park just a few miles away. It was 70 degrees in the bathroom. They are also headed for the restaurant that is 12 miles away and opens at 6:00 a.m.They've been riding together, basically non-stop, since 9:00 am on Saturday. After a brief conversation, they go their way and we go ours. We will meet again. That is the way of the fleche.

One day's journey into night: an account from the 2012 PA Fleche

The 2012 Pennsylvania Fleche took place the weekend of April 14.

Time is a challenge of the Fleche. A Fleche takes 24 hours to ride. You ride it straight through and, with the possible exception of a few stolen moments of closed eye bliss, you ride it without sleep.

T.S. Eliot called April the cruelest month. In Pennsylvania, April lives up to his description. April can bring cold, rain, thunder, lightning, hail or heat. Sometimes, all on the same day. April all too often breaks its promise of showers and flowers. If you are going to ride for 24 hours straight in April, you pack for contingencies.