On the last day of Winter: Lackawanna 200K

The first edge of sunrise lightens the sky. The surrounding woods slowly materializes from the darkness. Close to thirty randonneurs are here, ready to set out on the Lackawanna 200K. Bill, acting as ride organizer, gives the pre-departure briefing. Outside of the Hostel, sharp crisp air reminds me that it is the last day of Winter, not yet Spring.  It's been a long time since I rode a Pennsylvania brevet. My mind wanders. Standing here, in this familiar setting, on the landing outside the hostel as the dawn breaks, random memories of past rides seem to emerge with the daylight. I relive them without intervention, a raft of consciousness floating on a slow river of thought. Collectively, they carry me back to this time, this place. I have ridden before but each ride is different. Am I wearing the right layers? I don't want to be too cold or too hot. I just want to ride. It's time to ride. Let's go.

First Friday Writing for Randos: The dreamers of the day

{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 a quote from 

T.E. Lawrence (Lawrence of Arabia)

 

The Rides of March bike challenge - Back by popular demand!

The month long March riding challenge is back and starts March 1, 2016. Let's get ready to PEDAL!!! 

Arrivee

So this arrived in the mail.

A fog like that deserves a name

First Friday writing for Randos: Luck

{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

Luck

By Langston Hughes 

 Sometimes a crumb falls
From the tables of joy,
Sometimes a bone
Is flung.

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.