Million Meters of Milk - 1000 Kilometers in Wisconsin

"While the world spins underfoot, we start another day with wild hearts and fierce desire"*

Michele, the Great Lake Randonneurs' Regional Brevet Administrator, described the Million Meters of Milk as a 1000k where all riders would receive the same experience whether they were first finisher or lantern rouge.

New Holland 200K

It was a hot afternoon. Even now, sitting in the house as the last light of the June sunset languidly eases into the horizon, my body radiates heat. It's as if the afternoon sun soaked deep into my flesh the way summer heat soaks into asphalt and concrete and then lingers before it finally releases into cooler evening air.

The morning started off cooler. We met just before dawn. The New Holland 200K is the last 200K of the Pennsylvania 600K that started the day before. Some of the 600K riders who arrived in the night would start at 5:00 am with those of us just riding the 200K.

A good place to be (notes from the Boston 600K)

It is the middle of a sunny Saturday afternoon in July.

I am on an audacious New England adventure, riding my bike up yet another hill, in temperatures well over 90 degrees.

The sun relentlessly beats down on the sun sleeves that protect my arms and the white wicking skully cap that protects my head.

My short sleeve, green plaid bike shirt is unbuttoned to my belly so that passing breezes can lift the sweaty fabric and cool my back.Fortunately, after weeks of summer bike commuting, I've acclimated to the heat and humidity and actually enjoy the hot weather.

On the descents, the wind cools and refreshes. I soar through the curves of the rolling hills having earned these moments of flight.

This is my life today, any for most of tomorrow, because this is a 600K in July.  

Advice for a new randonneur

What advice would I give to a new Randonneur? 

Probably some of these gems that I've picked up along the way . . . 

 
Dan A.:  Ride your own ride.

Rick C.:  Greet people along the way.

Chris N.(from NJ):  Take pictures

Chris N.(From PA): A burst of slow can  salvage a ride.

Joe K.:  Challenge yourself

Living the dream. One account of Paris-Brest-Paris.

I thought I was prepared. I was wrong.

After five years of randonneuring over different distances, through a vast assortment of weather, after climbing hundreds of thousands of feet, after earning a shelf full of rando trinket awards, after a full season of training specifically for this ride, I thought I was ready for the 1230 Kilometer Paris Brest-Paris (PBP) bike ride that starts in the town of St. Quentin (pronounced Can-tan) located in the outskirts of Paris, goes to Brest, a port city located deep in the Bretagne (Brittany) region on the western edge of northern France, and then returns to St. Quentin. After all, according to my friend JB, who completed PBP twice before and would attempt it this time on a tandem, PBP was "just a bike ride." JB has been right about many things, but about this, he was just wrong.

One cannot simply ride this route whenever one chooses and then claim to have ridden PBP.

PBP is more than a bike ride.

PBP is an entire region of France coming out to welcome and support a diverse collection of worldwide adventurers.

PBP is a rolling Tower of Babel speaking the common language of cycling for three plus days.

PBP is an arduous personal challenge, testing body and spirit, that reaches back into history to the very birth of the cycling.

PBP is a moment in time.

PBP takes place outside of time.

PBP is its own reality.

PBP is a dream made real. 

This brief account cannot capture the experience of 6000 participants from 48 countries - no one account can. Add to that the fact that I spent the days that followed the ride in a narcoleptic fugue state, sleeping deeply, often and unexpectedly, as my mind and body swam up from the murky depths of exhaustion and sleep deprivation and the challenge of writing an accurate ride report grows greater. But, most of all, telling the story of PBP is like recalling the details of a dream - some are strong and clear, others linger at the edge of recall, slipping away from easy description and some may be lost in the haze of time. But this remarkable event remains a story worth telling, so, with those shortcomings in mind, I shall try to share a sense of living the dream that is PBP.

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.

December 2014. R1 Redux: Leave the lights on.

Can a ride report be a music video?

The back story: 

My streak of 200k or longer rides died in November. That was the first month to go by without my riding one since I rode my very first 200k in April 2010. Fifty-five months of consistency ended quietly, without drama, succumbing to inertia and a lingering lack of motivation. 

December was passing too, easily slipping past in the flow of year end parties, arrangements, wrapping up at work. 100K rides kept me in the loop, but the 200K is the benchmark of this sport and it was getting farther away while the distance was growing more daunting.

First Friday Writings for Randos: My discipline is audax

{First Friday Writings for Randos - A monthly post that features pieces from other writers that touch some facet of the Randonneuring experience, even if that was not the author's intent. It's stuff that's best read out loud - slowly.} This month it's an excerpt from the Accenssionist blog: 

My discipline is audax, riding long distances over set courses within certain time limits. The time limits are generous, no need to be an athlete to ride audax (although certainly some do.) Instead the challenge is mental, the willingness to stay on the road for twenty hours or more at a stretch, to press on when you are so exhausted that you would fall asleep in seconds were you seated in a chair. 

Sometimes a brevet is just a bike ride from then to now to next. Stillwater Retour 200K

Two weeks after riding around Lake Ontario, the recovery is well underway. Now, in between family and work, comes the thinking about, and preparing for, the next big thing, the farthest ride yet that is now just two months away. One thing about randonneuring, there is always another big thing.

Since the last big thing, after the three days it takes for my foggy mind to recover, during the two weeks it takes for the body to recover, I've been cross training a little. But, to prepare for a big brevet, you have to ride the bike. Luckily, sometimes, a brevet is just a bike ride.

Crossing boundaries - Lap of Lake Ontario 1000K July 2014

Take a look at a globe, any globe. Look near the eastern side of North America along the US - Canada border and you will see Lake Ontario.  Lake Ontario is 193 miles long and 53 miles wide. Its north shores are in Canada and its south shores are in NY State. The border crossings are bridges at Thousand Islands on the East and Niagara Falls on the West. Lake Ontario is one of the Great Lakes formed by glaciers thousands of years ago. 

The Lap of Lake Ontario is a 1000 Kilometer (622 miles) long randonneuring event that has a simply stated goal; ride a bicycle around Lake Ontario, carry everything you will need with you, and complete the trip in less than 75 hours. The ride had no drop bags or pre-arranged sleep stops. Each rider would be responsible for figuring out when, where and how long they slept, ate and rode.

I was one of the 42 riders who showed up to take on the challenge. Riding across an international border would be a first for me. Also, although I have completed one 1200K, this would be my first attempt at a 1000K. For several of the other riders this would be not only their first 1000k attempt but their longest ride to date. Completing the ride would put many of us in new territory - in more ways than one. Everyone of us would have a different experience taking on this challenge. This is a bit of mine.

On the day that the sun stands still: East Creek 600K

On the Solstice, the sun pauses in the sky before it transitions to a new season. As long as humanity has looked to the heavens and searched for meaning, we have taken this event as a cause for celebration. Less so now, but there was a time when people danced for rain. A time when we knew the meanings of the shape of clouds and the names of the full moon. We once built structures of stone that aligned with the stars on midsummer's day, the longest day, the Solstice. 

Call it what you will, but a celebration so specific in time yet so global in performance must come from a quality intrinsic to our very nature, one inherent to our humanity. If we, as Carl Sagan said, are made of star stuff, then on the Solstice day we celebrate our origin; our collective journey through the universe. 

 

Englewood 400K - The longest of the short rides.

We couldn't have timed it better. After riding 150 miles of seemingly endless rolling hills and short steep climbs on the route that trended up, we reached Ellenville, NY. Then we started the 4.5 mile climb up the Shawangunk (pronounced SHON-gun) Mountains just as the sun began to set. Our road, Route 52 East, climbs 1400 feet. On our left, the setting sun sets the bare rock aglow in warm light. On our right, a lush green valley of manicured farms and occasional pristine points of church spires unveils itself as we ascend; the buildings shrinking into the expanding scenery. The sun gently illuminates the valley, filling it with a final light, closing the curtain on a beautiful day. Miles away, west of the valley, another mountain range runs parallel to our route. The distant range receives the setting sun as a sleepy child receives a parent's gentle kiss: softly, with stillness, believing in the promise of tomorrow. 

I seem to climb in time with the setting sun, rising as it descends, which pauses it in the sky, slowing time, extending the spectacle. The quiet beauty of the vista magnifies the labored effort it takes for me to make this climb. A young couple, barely teenagers, watches the sunset from an overlook. As I approach, they turn to me and with the eager shyness of two young people on their first date, they smile, clap a little, and congratulate me on my effort. I smile, imagining that they see someone doing an evening fitness ride and think that they have no idea how I got here and how far I have yet to go. I call out "Thank you! But I'm not done yet!" The boy replied, "You're almost there!" I smiled, thinking - yup, just 100 more miles to go.

PA 300k: Grace and Humility

A while back, when I began Randonneuring,  I was talking to the husband of a friend of my wife - which kind of makes us friends by some marital variation on the transitive property of equality but not the kind of friends who do stuff together when the wives aren't involved which is kinda odd when you think about it in detail - but, I digress. Anyway, I tell the guy - I will call him "the guy" to protect his identity and because basically his real name is really not what this is about  - I said to the guy - 

"Yeah, we do these long bike rides under a time limit. The shortest distance is 200k  - about 125 miles- and the longest is about 1200K -about 750 miles.

Now the guy was no couch potato. He had ridden a bike across the country and had lots of  real outdoor adventure trips under his proverbial belt. When I tell the guy about the sport, he replied with something to the effect of  

"Wow, you must have some real demons chasing you." 

That kind of took me aback. Because even then, I knew that ultra distance bike riding is one sport where the one thing you cannot escape is yourself.

That conversation came to me again during the arduous 300K that the PA Randonneurs put on yesterday. In the course of that ride, I came face to face with some unexpected realities. But instead of demons, I would call them angels. And each of them had a name.

2014 Fleche: A video

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

2014 April 200K - a change in perspective.

Given a choice of climbing vicious hills or riding into hours of unrelenting headwinds, some Randonneurs will choose hills and some will choose headwinds.

But some will choose both.

First Friday Writing for Randos - The Rando Way

{First Friday Writings for Randos - A monthly post that features pieces from other writers that touch some facet of the Randonneuring experience, even if that was not the author's intent. It's stuff that's best read out loud - slowly.} This month it's an excerpt from Jennifer Chang's account of her Cascade 1200 Ride in 2010.*

Randonneuring is hard. It stretches you to your limits. And in a way, it’s a lot like life.

The Asterisk* ride (aka Montezuma's revenge)

Randonneuring offers many medals, but the R12 award has a special meaning. Earning it takes one year of monthly rides of at least 200K in length. Unlike a single event medal, the R12 awards consistency, perseverance - in short, commitment. Miss one month, and a year's worth of effort is lost. Other riders may be faster, more traveled, may cover greater distances but even a below average rider with above average perseverance can build a streak of R-12 awards that literally takes years to accomplish.

Living in the northern U.S. adds another level of challenge to the R- 12 as winter can close roads with ice and snow.

I have ridden at least one 200K rando ride every single month since my first randonneuring event in April 2010. This March would make 48 months straight - four years - without fail. But February comes before March and, weather wise, February in the northeast United States is no gimme. That was especially true this February.

In my part of the world, the polar vortex of 2014 brought arctic temperatures and layers of unrelenting snow. New snow fell on old snow and, in between the snowfalls, the temperatures dropped to single digits.

There were a couple of windows of opportunity. The Pa Randonneurs rode on February 1 and got the February ride done. I passed on the ride for a family event. Then there was my birthday weekend when the temps rose into the balmy 50s for a brief spell. I chose not to ride that day either. By the time the last week of February arrived, I had not been on a bike for over 5 weeks.

But I had plan. I had a work trip to San Diego in the last week of February. Just add a day, take a bike and *boom* problem solved. I would just ride my 200K in the Golden State where winter meant sunny 65 degree days. In fact, I would ride a 100K and a 200K! I made arrangement to ride a 100K permanent called Old Town to Carlsbad and two days later, the Montezuma to Mesa Express permanent. All together it would be 195 miles up and down the beautiful coast north of San Diego. Ha! Take THAT Polar Vortex! Life is good!

Since it was the first time I was going to fly with a bike, I decided to take the fixie. I figured that if a bike was going to get damaged by either my bad packing or someone's bad handling, the fixie was the bike I wanted to risk.

 {For those who may not know, a "fixie" or fixed gear bike has one gear. That gear turns with the wheel. If the the bike is moving the pedals are turning.No changing gears and no coasting - ever. To ride it is to keep pedaling. Always.} 

I hadn't ridden the fixie on a 200K since September but hey, the ride descriptions made the course sound relatively flat. No problem!

The first ride was just about as good as I imagined. Better in fact.

Riding Grand Randonees The Olsen Brothers' Way - an in depth interview.

“The quality of any advice anybody has to offer has to be judged against the quality of life they actually lead.”  Douglas Adams 

While someone can properly call themselves a Randonneur by completing a 200K brevet, successfully completing a Grand Randonnee - a 1200 kilometer (750 miles) brevet - can be considered the crowning achievement of the sport. The quadrennially held 1200k Paris-Brest-Paris may be the original and ultimate Grand Randonnee but there are now Grand Randonnees across the United States and around the world. 

Of the small percentage of cyclists who are Randonneurs, an even smaller number complete a Grand Randonnee. Of that small number, even fewer complete two in a year. Of that tiny number a select few complete more than two.

Mark and Bill Olsen are two of the select few in the country who have ridden more than two Grand Randonnees in one year. In fact, between them, the Olsen brothers have successfully completed over 60 randonneuring distance rides.

In 2013 alone, they rode 12 Grand Randonnees, with Mark riding four and Bill completing all eight of the grand randonnees offered in North America.

Even more impressive (to me), the Olsen brothers complete these epic rides at a pace that allows them to eat, sleep and enjoy the ride. Bill has described his trips as vacations and bike tours.

I want to have that kind of experience on Grand Randonnee. So, having struggled to complete one 1200K, I was eager to learn how they are able to complete so many. Mark and BIll graciously agreed to answer my questions. What follows are their detailed and informative responses.  

Audaxing through the snow

The New Jersey Randonneurs held their annual holiday gathering on Sunday. In true Rando style, it centered around riding a 112K permanent - the Great Adventure.  Joe "K-Hound" arranged it all including the meals and refreshment. We'd meet for breakfast, ride the route and then eat again. 

Central Jersey 200K: Come dance with me.

A big turn out. A fast course.  Challenging winds. A mighty fine group to ride with. Sounds like the making of a Rando video: