Tod Williams - PBP Story
Tim Weber
Subject: Todd Williams
Ok, you guys asked for this. Here is my brief ride report for Paris-
Brest-Paris which I completed this past week:
I just returned from a successful, although bizarre, Paris-Brest-Paris
bicycle ride. This ride originated in 1891 and is held every 4
years. To participate you must qualify by completing a series of
four rides, brevets, of increasing length. It goes from Paris, France
to the coast at Brest and returns by the same route. The distance is
a very hilly 780 miles and you are on the clock from start to finish.
You pass through several check points - controles - where you must get
your official card stamped and a magnetic card swiped. You have an
option of your maximum completion time of 80, 84 or 90 hours. There
is a set time by which you must pass through a controle. If you are
late you are pulled from the ride. The 80 hour group, typically the
fastest group, started at 8 pm. This is the group I started with.
This year 5300 cyclists started PBP.
I was successful in two previous PBP's (in '99 and '03) completing
them in 58 and 55 hours respectively. My number one goal for any PBP
is to complete it. Anything else is gravy. A lot can happen out in
the French countryside. And for me it did.
The 80 hour group, 1300 strong, started out in the dark at 8 pm with
its usual fast pace covering the first 80 miles in under 4 hours.
Then, at midnight, it started to rain. The wind picked up out of the
Northwest, a headwind, which I would battle all the way to Brest. And
it would continue to rain, heavy at times, for the next 56 hours.
I made Brest, the 390 mile point, 24 hours into my ride. I was
slightly off the fast pace of my '03 time but not too far. I wanted
my time to be close enough to make it up on the return. I tend to get
a little stronger as the ride goes on and I expected a tailwind. At
Brest I had the 45th fastest time there.
The rain continued and the wind became North to Northeast, a headwind,
but I made up time and actually by the time I reached Mortagne au
Perche in the dark at 9 pm on Wednesday night I was ahead of my
previous best time. At that point I was the 23rd rider there.
Ten miles beyond Mortagne au Perche, 70 miles from the end, I
encountered a particularly heavy rain. The wind had increased to
about 30 mph. The temperature dropped to what felt like the low to
mid 40's. I was getting cold. I started shivering so badly I could
barely control the bicycle. It was dark and I was alone. I started
to become confused. Then things went blank.
I remember little from the rest of the night. I remember talking to a
horse during the night. I remember thinking that the rain felt like
it was getting warmer and that I could just lay down there and would
be ok. And I remember thinking that this must just be a wild dream.
At about 8:00 the next morning the local gendarmes found me walking in
circles around a very tiny French village of about 8 houses. I did
not know where I was, who I was or what I was doing. I was mumbling
incoherently. And, worst of all, I was without my bike. They put me
in the police van and called an ambulance.
The ambulance came and took my temperature and ran an EKG. My body
temperature was very low and my heart was having significant
arrythmias. They were very concerned and called another ambulance
with a physician on board. While waiting they were attempting to warm
me up. As I warmed up I had a startling thought, where was my
bicycle? The gendarmes searched the village and did not locate the
bike. They looked along the road and could not find it. It was no
where to be found.
The physician arrived and he told me they were taking me to the
hospital. I told them they were not and that I was going to continue
the ride. They asked how I was going to do that without a bicycle.
Good point. The gendarmes and the EMT's, who spoke pretty good
English, were giving me some very good natured ribbing. They were
patting me and saying, "Don't worry, it is only a bike." But the
realization that I may not finish the ride was a sobering one. It
looked like I was heading for a French hospital in the middle of
nowhere. And I had lost my bicycle. I would never hear the end of
this.
Soon the cell phone of the gendarme rang. There was an animated
discussion. The gendarme turned to me and said, "We think we found
your bicycle. It is in a barn 5 kilometers away." But it gets
worse. Apparently, after I became cold I started walking. Away from
the route! At some point I came upon a farmhouse and broke a window
to open a door to get into the barn and put my bicycle there. I then
continued walking another 3 miles. Fortunately the farmer found the
bicycle that morning. I'm not really a thief. I am more like Santa
Claus. I leave expensive bicycles for French farmers!
I felt terrible about breaking into someplace and leaving my bicycle.
I offered to the gendarmes to arrest me but they said, "No, you were
crazy in the head last night." I felt even worse when I saw the
farmer wheeling my bicycle up the road. He had a sack with him. In
it he had two bottles of lemonade and a box of shortbread cookies.
For me even after I had broken into his barn! I talked to him and
apologized and offered to pay for any damages. He laughed. Everyone
around - by now the whole village had assembled - was having a great
time as I continued to warm. I drank both lemonades and ate the box
of cookies.
The physician said the hospital was all ready for me and that we were
about to leave. I said I did not want to and asked if there was any
way to continue the ride. He said that I may die. I said that we
have a saying in the U.S., "Finish or die trying." He asked if it was
worth dying for. I said it was. I had trained for this for 4 years
and didn't want to stop now. I pleaded as hard as I ever had. At
that point I truly rather be dead that have a DNF. He seemed to
understand. He said he would make me a deal, he would follow me for
10 kilometers. If I could ride straight he would let me proceed. But
if I weaved the slightest amount he would pull me from the course.
And he instructed me to see the medical personnel at the next
controle.
So I put my wet socks back on and off I went back to the route at a
pretty good clip mainly to get my body warmed up more. I didn't weave
and they waved me on after 10 kilometers. I blew off the instructions
to see the medical personnel at the next to last controle. I hammered
it in for a total time of 66 hours. It appears that my time was in
the top 200 out of 5300 total. Not great but not bad considering my
adventure.
Could I have prevented this misadventure? I am not sure. I was
dressed well. I had a long sleeve jersey, a thermal jersey and a rain
jacket. I even had fingered gloves. But you undergo 55 hours of rain
and temperatures in the 40's and 50's and it is going to take its
toll. Everything is going to be wet by then. If I would have
encountered the heavy squall ten miles earlier I would have been at a
controle. Ten miles later and I would have been in a town. I was
simply caught in a weather no-man's land. Doing numerous double
centuries and farther this summer in the midwest with temperatures in
the upper 90's may have helped my endurance but they certainly didn't
help me prepare for cool temperatures. I figure my insanity cost me
12 hours.
I refuse to use support on this ride although many do. This is
particularly true for the fast riders. I don't even use a drop bag
that holds items you can pick up at a controle. I just think it is
more of a challenge to do it unsupported. I don't want to waste the
time of others making them follow me around while I ride. It is
inconsiderate. My wife would be more than willing to help me on a
ride like this. But she would be a bad influence and sap my leg
strength beforehand! It just comes down to this. You are just plain
tough if you can do this ride by yourself. And I want to be tough.
Am I having any after effects from my ride? My big toe nails are
falling off. I have what could be described as immersion foot. Think
of putting your feet in a bathtub for 66 hours. It makes the tissues
swell. My bottom is a little bruised but not bad. There are no open
sores. My legs are slightly tender particularly going down steps.
But I could ride if I had to. And I do plan to ride to work on
Monday.
Initial reports indicate that at least 30 % of those who started PBP
failed to finish. All Cincinnatians - me, Fred Heiselman, Tom Brane
and Jim Koegel - finished successfully.
As crazy as I became during the ride at least I did not begin that
way. At the start there was a British rider who was wearing women's
underwear as a helmet. Wonder how nuts he got?
Thanks for reading.
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bike...@sbcglobal.net
That's just plain nuts. I think all those who qualified and even
attempted this ride (finish or not), should be very proud of
themselves.
Bikerdude
willingness for such sacrifice though. When you get in that groove
where nothing else matters it's hard to stop. I'm not sure I could
push myself that hard but it is an inspiration to folks who want to
eventually do this ride.
Congratulation again on another successful PBP!
milan
bike...@sbcglobal.net
apologize if they did. Rather, it was an expression of my shock, that
someone would go to those lengths. We all have our personal level of
obsession. Mine is the peace and freedom that cycling has given me.
I have seen more and gained more personally, than I could have ever
imagined. Last but not least, I have gained some friendships along
the way, that are very dear to my heart. So to those, especially
Tim...my words were not meant to offend anyone. I think you are much
braver than I could have ever been in those circumstances.
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