Bon courage

“It’s just cycling. And we love cycling,” becomes our mantra as we can’t fathom the task ahead of us. It’s the Paris-Brest-Paris. A prestigious, most famous amateur ride taking cyclists from Paris to Brest and back taking place in every four years. 1200 km and 11 000 metres gained in total.

16th Aug, Sunday, at 19.45 we head off from the outskirts of Paris. We, the team of six Estonians Ain-Ivar Tupp, Tambet Tähepõld, Ahto Vink, Indrek Pak, Rainer Punga and Rivo Sarapik. The beginning of the ride is mostly downhill so the pace is up and nervous. Just like the first week on Tour de France - everyone is trying to fill the gaps, afraid of crashes and excited at the same time.

It’s easy to lose head and start competing with the others which would be a huge mistake. Prior to the start we had set some rules for ourselves - the pace should feel easy to cope with and we ride together. Peloton, well, many of pelotons really because there are 6000 riders from 65 countries on the way starts to cool down couple of hours into the ride. Fast groups have left and remaining are keeping the same pace.

It also gets dark. Our plan is to ride 24h nonstop as far as possible - we have 520 km mark in mind. We’ll later find out this was a bit optimistic mostly because of the hilly course (the highest “mountain” in Estonia is a little over 300 m high) and heat during the day.

Time from an every day sense soon loses it’s role. I haven’t bothered to bring any watch as it usually becomes a distraction. So control points - where everyone needs to get a stamp in his/her PBP passport, some food, even sleep and showers - become my timekeeping. There’s one in every 80 km which is about 3-4 hours of cycling.

This becomes the rhythm - ride for few hours, then stop, eat-drink and head on. The food stops don’t define the time of day either as they serve the same food for breakfast, lunch, dinner and in the middle of the night.

We and other head into the darkness which is not completely dark watching from the saddle. There are hundreds of people around you so you really don’t need a very bright light to feel safe and see the road. It’s kind of a bright tunnel. You can also see the riders ahead and behind of you and it is difficult to describe the sense of oneness - people connected to the same passion and fulfilling the same task. For different reasons.

Another thing are the spectators who are standing next to the road in the middle of nowhere and in the middle of the night treating everyone like heroes. “Bon courage (good luck), bon route (safe road) or just bonjour (hello),” sound every once in a while. PBP seems to be as an important to the spectators as it is for the riders.

“Bon courage” sticks with me for a while. It represents the experience both in French and in English. You can be prepared but need some luck as well - the weather, fast group drafting or every little detail fitting in it’s place. You also need some courage to even think about participating.

Sure, PBP is difficult both for your body and mind. It takes time to train and some effort to qualify for it. Everyone participating needed to cover a series of brevets - 200, 300, 400 and 600 km to prove the worthiness and endurance needed. These people in the saddle knows what it means to suffer and also how to enjoy a triumph.

The grass next to the road soon becomes bed for tired sportsmen-women. At first it looks weird - people sleeping somewhere next to the road. Usually it would be a sight to deplore. Here, they are heroes.

One of the fields become the bed for our team as well as we reach km 450 on Loudeac. The daily heat has taken it’s toll and we decide to cut 70 km from our target and push on in the second night which is 10-15C cooler than the daily desert. At 7pm six tired guys are gone in the dreams as soon as the head hits the pillow, a pile of t-shirts or the saddle bag. Best. Sleep. Ever.

In the second day i start to notice that we have moved too fast to collect #cyclingmemories - we had been passing people so there wasn’t really a chance to talk to someone. But this is something one should do at PBP as there is the whole spectrum of cycling - from lycra and aero to pullovers and rusty fixies. From first timers to 5-6 time veterans. Age span of decades. Everyone with a unique view on this ride, cycling and life. Why not share that

I soon find out about the roads in Korea (“wonderful, lot hillier than here”), about Mille Miglia (1600 km randonee in the Alps) and why one would come back to PBP (“I wanted to try the good weather. Last time it was lousy”).

Our jersey (blue-creamy messenger jersey) seems to be a great ice-breaker as well. “Cool jersey. Can i take a photo,” are the first couple of lines it brings up easily. The simple elegance works. Just as we expected.

DAY 2 ends at 330 km (780 km total) again in Loudeac.

DAY 3 starts with a mistake. Me and gluten have had difficult times in the past but i need the energy to turn into pedal power. So i swallow a pasta at the food stop as the other options are a “no-no” for me. The result is me, falling asleep in the saddle. The food didn’t give the energy but tried to take some instead. I started to understand those sleeping under the trees and in the bushes. When your body says it’s time to stop it’s time to stop.

Luckily only couple of hours of torture and things start to normalize. 310 km passes buy in 17 hours and Mortagne-au-Perche shall be our host for few hours before heading back into the road and into the night.

DAY 4 is only 140 km and the only day we see and feel some rain. It’s also the day i have the weirdest dialogue.

GUY CYCLING AHEAD OF ME: which control point are you going?

ME: the next one.

GUY: this doesn’t make any sense to me.

ME: I think it’s Dreux.

GUY: is this the last one?

ME: no. There’s one more.

GUY (SCREAMING): f..k, nooo.

As he falls behind the rain starts from the front and we reach Dreux soaked. But as the end is close it’s not a problem. Emotions run now and the finishing line comes soon.

Only that the end of the ride is less spectacular than the beginning when there was a group start in front of the velodrome. Now we are suddenly at the back, crossing just the line of time keeping. That’s it.

At first it feels weird but it also represents the idea of the ride. PBP is not a race and not putting emphasize on the finish, as usually in the races, turns the attention to the most important - enjoy being on the road.

It’s something that needs to be learned. I had done some 600 and 700+ km rides and even two 3000+ tours but found it challenging to overcome the vastness of the 1200 km. The key for me to make it more enjoyable would be a way to chop the distance into chewable pieces.

“I’m doing what i love. As long as i can do it it must be wonderful,” i repeated to myself. “Besides, some people are sitting at their desk dreaming of being out while we are spending 4 days outside.”

I think i want to come back for that meditation in 2019.