My 2007 PBP (Paris-Brest-Paris) Cycling Adventure
By Theo Wyne
Original to Aquarticles

Singing in the rain, just singing in the
rain...
In 2006 I moved from Vancouver, Canada to the west coast of Denmark. I've
always enjoyed cycling, and since Denmark is something of a cylist's paradise (flat, lots
of cycle paths), I decided to bring a new racing bike with me. The next step was pretty
logical - I needed to find a race of some sort. A quick check on the internet led me to
the Paris-Brest-Paris (PBP) long distance cycle "event". I hesitate to use the
word "race" to describe the PBP; although it may once have been a truly
competitive race, it has evolved to become a long distance (1230 km) cycling time-trial.
Participants may opt to sign up for a fast group (80 hours), medium fast group (84 hours)
or regular group (90 hours). If one does not finish within their chosen time category,
they are registered as having not completed the event. Each time limit is inclusive of all
breaks for sleep and meals. Once the PBP starts, the clock is ticking

A map of the Paris - Brest - Paris route
A quick overview of the PBP shows it began in the late 1800's, was an organized race by
1902, and emerged in its present form in 1931 (see PBP History). The route traverses Normandy
and Brittany and has a total elevation gain of over 30,000 feet (approaching Mt. Everest).
The PBP pre-dated and served as a prototype of sorts for the Tour de France. The PBP is
only held every 4 years, attracts participants from around the globe (5300 participants
from 42 countries this year), and is considered the ultimate in serious amateur long
distance cycling or "randonneuring" (as the French call it). This all made me
eager to give it a go. But then I read the fine print
Each participant has to first
cycle a 200, 300, 400, and 600 km series of timed and certified "races" (called
brevets) in order to qualify. Hmm, as a 41 year old who has never been in a cycle race in
my life, would I be up to the challenge? How would I go about training for such an event?
Lucky for me Danes are strong contenders in the PBP. For the last several events,
Denmark has sent a larger contingent of cyclists in proportion to its population than any
country aside from France. Whereas most countries have a DNF (do not finish) rate of
around 20%, Denmark has usually been closer to 10%. Obviously these guys must know
something...or perhaps it is just that their windy and rainy climate prepares them for
cycling in adverse conditions?
Cycle Training in Denmark
I found cycle-training in Denmark a fantastic experience. From my vantage point on the
sparsely populated west coast I developed a 60 km cycle route that held fantastic views
including pastoral landscape, windswept fjords, concrete Nazi bunkers from the Second
World War, and quaint medieval villages.

Straightaway near Bremdal, DK
Ocean-side farm - Nissum, DK

Church overlooking Lemvig, DK
Nazi bunkers overlooking Limnifjord, DK

Two views of Lemvig, DK

Poor badger - evidence of road kill I sometimes encountered
I began training in earnest in February 2007 and tried to put in about 200 to 250 km of
cycling a week. I did okay in my brevet series, but was concerned about cloudy vision I
sometimes experienced. Thankfully this problem went away as I increased my training pace
and learned to eat more while riding. My Danish cycle club members taught me about single
and double pace lines, drafting, riding in large groups, proper nutrition, and training
routines. One funny tip from them was to use an anti-chaffing creme in my cycle shorts
used by farmers to moisturize the teats of cows when milking. I suppose if it is good
enough for the cow's tender bits it is good enough for mine. Some valuable internet
resources were the BC Randonneurs
and Randonneurs
USA websites. Finally, I learned from my own stupid mistakes. Like never reach for a
water bottle when taking a corner on a single file path with limited visability -
especially when behind another rider at high speed. I ended up cartwheeling into some
bushes for that one, lucky to escape serious injury.
If you are training for the PBP and wish to read a somewhat detailed recount of my
qualifying brevets, check out the following link: PBP 2007 - Riding the Qualifying Brevets
A Quick Trip to France
Besides cycle training in Denmark, I had a bit of extra fun cycling in the south of
France. Visiting with family near Aix-en Provence, I got to cycle train daily in the
Luberon valley, scaling hilltop villages, passing over minor cols, and even cycling up Mt.
Ventoux, the "Jerusalem" of every serious cyclist (or so someone told me - I'd
never heard of the place two weeks prior to being there). Feeling proud of myself for
doing the 1909 meter climb, I later learned that the "real" cyclists do the
climb three times in one day, starting from a different village at the valley floor each
time. Wow. That must be hard!

Freezing cold atop Mt.Ventoux
Me and my dad, village of Gord, Provence

Just below the summit of
Mt. Ventoux is the rather bizarre monument/shrine
for the British cyclist Tom "put me on the bloody bike" Simpson
who died here
of a heart attack during the 1967 Tour de France. Many cyclists today leave small
cycle-related mementos (like spare tubes for tires, energy bars, or small cycle
tools).
Cycling the 2007 PBP
When it finally came time for the PBP, I felt prepared. I had cycled about 6,000
kilometers in the seven previous months; now I only had to figure out logistics. The Danes
really helped me out here, offering a chartered bus, prepared meals, booked hotels,
transport for bikes, bag drops during the race, and tents set up in Loudeac for us to use
on our outward and return journeys. All this was provided for the equivalent of about $500
Canadian, a very reasonable sum I think. I can not thank the organizer's of the Nord
Jutland ARD enough. Special thanks go to Ib Bove and Lasse Olesen.

The Danes setting up their bikes on arrival
Registration day before the big race

Can you spot the Canadian?

A list of the nationalities participating
in the 2007 PBP

Festivities a few hours before the event

Race begins soon...
Final countdown...

Notice the line of cyclists snaking off
into the distance
My strategy for cycling the PBP was to go easy on myself the first day, cycle a bit
harder the second, and then go all out on the third. Hoping my knees and eyes would be up
to the challenge, I set out at 9:50 pm surrounded by many hundreds of riders. It wasn't
long before it started raining. Unfortunately this was to be a theme of the event - rain.
When I eventually made it to Loudeac at 10:00 pm the next evening, it was again raining.
And when I woke up the next morning at 5:00 am it was drizzling. And it rained late in the
afternoon of my second day of cycling. And it rained when I arrived back in Loudeac at
2:00 am the next evening. And it rained the next morning and late afternoon too. The tent
I slept in was wet with condensation, the clothes I had were almost always wet, and of
course I was wet. I especially regret sleeping in a Gortex-down sleeping bag rated to
minus 30 Celsius. I awoke soaking with sweat and then had to put on my wet cycle clothes
and go cycle in the rain. Yuck! One funny story I heard from the Danes concerned some wet
French cyclists who went into a laundromat in Loudeac, stripped naked, threw their clothes
in the dryer, and then just walked around nonchalantly. I guess the PBP can be a
clothing-optional event.
Our main tent in Loudeac became a mud-hole

Tents set up by the Danes
Futile attempt to dry cycle gear
There were a few unforgettable moments for me in the PBP. First off, I nearly wiped out
bad at 38 kmh when some loose clothing slid off my rear bike rack into my spokes. I
experienced full rear wheel lock and a semi-uncontrolled skid for many meters; got out of
that jam with only a bit of road-rash and my bike still okay. Thanks to Bob the Englishman
for helping me out. Then there was the kindness of all the French people lining the roads
and working as volunteers in the event. The boost in morale provided by the hundreds and
even thousands of spectators, some offering food and drinks, helped me a lot. Other sites
were rather bizarre, like the Australian woman who during a long climb up a massive hill
was engaged in business negotiations using a hands-free cell phone jacked into her ear!
Talk about being dedicated to your job. The guy using a rowing machine bike, the
double-reversed recumbent bike, the fully covered recumbent bikes that resembled cars -
all were rather strange
especially when you encountered them while sleep deprived,
late at night, on some dark road or dimly lit medieval village.

One of many fully covered recumbant
bicycles that resemble cars

A double reversed recumbant bicycle

A road side ode to suffering can hold
special meaning
My second day of cycling was spent mostly in the company of three cycle partners I ran
into from Denmark. I was thankful to cycle in close formation with people who's cycling
style I was familiar with. They also provided moral support for the stage with the most
climbing in the event (Loudeac-Brest-Loudeac).

My three Danish cycling partners on Day 2
(Jan, Svend, and Hans)

Half-way there (Brest)

The view on entering Brest
Jan in Brest
For my third and final day of cycling I decided to go it alone. Well, as alone as you
can be when surrounded by thousands of cyclists and spectators. I ended up making very
good time that day, and cycled on into the night feeling ever stronger. Even the weather
cooperated, sparing us any further rain. Having left Loudeac at 6:40 am on Thursday, I
finally made it to St. Quentin (Paris) at 5:01 am on Friday. I had finished my first PBP
in just over 79 hours. Having had a total of 10 hours sleep in the past three days, I
collapsed in a dark dormitory provided by the event organizers. Sleep came fitfully as I
lay with very sore knees on bare carpets. My knees would remain sore for the next few
days, my toes numb for the next few weeks.

The support crew - these guys prepared our
meals
and helped us out during our pit-stops. Thanks guys!

A glass of champagne to celebrate
Packing up: John Anderson on right - fast
guy who tauht me a lot!
The fellow on left is booked to cycle from Paris-Beijing in 2008
In the exhausted debrief that followed the PBP I heard many stories of victory or
defeat. I heard of an old Frenchman with a water bottle taped to the back of his neck to
keep his head up, crossing the finish line while refusing the offered help of his fellow
riders; of another old French finisher (ancien they call them), with a Coke can wedged
under his chin, also to keep his head up. I remember chatting with a disappointed Canadian
who had wanted an hour of sleep in Loudeac on the return journey, but who woke up 6 hours
later and was disqualified. I marvelled at the Canadian who literally woke up in a ditch
while cycling, having no recollection of his crash. He and his bike were okay, so he
continued on. Perhaps the most touching story involved one of the Danes I'd come to France
with. In the last PBP he had emerged so tired from one control point late at night that he
mistakenly cycled 80 km in the wrong direction. When he realized his mistake, it was too
late for him to make it to the proper control in time and so he was disqualified. This man
returned to the 2007 PBP with his two sons, both of whom are in their 20's. This time he
and his boys all succeeded. He looked very proud. Such anecdotes of perseverance and
triumph over adversity epitomize the story of my first PBP.

See you guys in four years?
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