Well, some of you know I’m somewhat of a bike nut. Some of you may even know that I’m a little on the crazy side. That’s why, when I discovered the “sport” of Randonneuring, and I saw how crazy the people are, I had to get in on some of that action.
Randonneuring, or “rando” for short, is basically slower paced long-distance cycling. The official rules have options for 200K, 300K, 400K, 600K, and 1200K rides, all basically without support, and without stopping for any real length of time. You’re basically riding around the clock, and the 1200K rides are known to stretch into 3+ days.
I figured I would hook up with the New Orleans chapter of RUSA and see what the fuss was about. Now, to most people, I’m a pretty accomplished rider. I log about 3000 miles a year commuting, and I’ve done several 75-mile-a-day charity rides. I don’t think twice about knocking out 50 miles. How hard could it be to do 125 miles, right?
Hah.
Since the ride started at Audubon Zoo in N.O. I decided to hitch a ride with one of the other riders (it’s 90 minutes from my house). We stopped in at Bicycle World on Jefferson Highway, and man! What a nice shop. There was a cat sleeping on top of the drink cooler in front. When we got to the starting point, the temps were already in the high 90′s and the sun was beating down mercilessly. We met up with Pat, Mark, Jeff, Michelle, Doug, and Steve. Along with Eben and myself, we would make quite the motley traveling crew. Five of us were riding recumbents, I was among those who were on a traditional “wedgie” bike. We make a few introductions, Pat handed out the brevet cards and cue sheets, and we saddled up and left around 2:30 PM.
We hopped onto the Mississippi River levee trail, which was smooth and paved. It follows the meanderings of the river for miles upon miles, but we would only take it as far as La Place. We passed a few other cyclists, but the trail was mostly empty, probably because of the heat. I had downed about 40 ounces of water within the first two hours, and everybody else seemed to be hurting as well, so we stopped at a convenience store around mile 20, still on the levee trail. We bought a large bag of ice and everybody filled up their bottles and water packs. Eben was complaining that he wasn’t feeling well, which would turn out to be worse than he thought. We hung out in front of the store, chatting with the locals, until it was time to roll. Eben made it about a mile or two further down the trail before he started getting chills and had to stop… his body had shut down from fighting a cold, and the intense heat. The ride leader took Eben’s car keys and gave them to me so I could get home! We pressed on past stinky grain elevators, barges cruising up river, and assorted wildlife.
The wind on the levee came and went, but we eventually turned off and took Airline Highway over to Highway 51, and stopped at the big truck stop in La Place, about 36 miles total. Since I had gone through 3 bottles of water again (66 ounces) we tanked up and everybody ate till they were full. I had mixed nuts, a Cliff bar, a muffin, and a bottle of chai soy milk (I love Bolthouse Farms!). Over three hours or so, the group spread apart (I was a few MPH slower than the faster riders) but we grouped up again at each stop, which was nice. Everybody was friendly, and kept checking on me to make sure I was eating and drinking (that’s “fueling” and “hydrating” for the athletic types).
I was feeling only a little dehydrated from the heat, but otherwise 35 miles was easy. Little did I know what was yet to come. I discovered that my body didn’t like eating a full meal and jumping right back on the bike. I struggled for about 30-40 minutes until my body started to digest the food. It was difficult, because I had to keep drinking to stay hydrated! I felt like a had a medicine ball stuffed in my gut. Eventually, after some riding, my stomach slowly caught up and I felt good again. We pushed north on LA51 for another 28 miles or so. A large chunk of this is just a deserted road going through the swamp, and there wasn’t much to do except chat, or count center stripes on the pavement. The highway was infested with large grasshoppers called “lubbers” which swarm in the thousands. The road passed through Manchac, where there is a large port and several fantastic seafood restaurants. I could almost smell the fried shrimp and catfish!
As we rode along parallel to Interstate 55, we actually witnessed an SUV have a blowout and nearly crash into the guardrail. For most of this stretch, I would ride with the faster group when there was a tailwind, and I would drop back to about 13-14MPH when the headwinds got too strong. By the time we reached the Manchac bridge, I was starting to get tired again, but I only know how to climb one way, so I stood and honked over it, and hit 30MPH coasting down the other side. After a short scary stretch crossing I-55, we got back on 51 and wound through a few streets before hitting downtown Ponchatoula.
Once in town, we stopped at a local Sonic. I filled my bottles again (another 66 ounces) with ice, water, and a killer Sonic grape slushie. I downed chicken fingers, Clif bars, and tater tots. I wasn’t expecting to need to drink as much on the second leg, as it was now getting dark, and the temps were dropping down to humanly-tolerable levels again. It was almost 8:00 PM, and I was certainly feeling sore after riding 63 miles straight. I kept trying to not think about this only being the halfway point. We had made good time, but one of the recumbent riders had gotten three flats over several miles, and he didn’t catch back up to the group until after we had eaten and were leaving Ponchatoula again. My neck was very stiff, and my sides were starting to cramp up from having to drink so much. My arms were mostly atrophied from riding in one position for almost 6 hours. My face was slightly sunburned, and my legs, while not exhausted, were definitely tired. My butt was beginning to feel bruised. I was not looking forward to doing another 63 miles, but I was halfway through. I knew I could do it. How hard could it be, right?
After much talking, eating and drinking (that’s “strategizing, fueling, and hydrating” in athlete-ese) we turned all of our bike lights on, and headed back towards Highway 51. We must have looked like some sort of blinking alien flotilla going down the highway in the dark. It’s a little known fact that Ponchatoula has some of the worst railroad crossings on the planet, and for the record, they’re even harder to see in pitch darkness. Somewhere along the way, we picked up three more riders, who eventually peeled off before we got back to La Place. After the requisite 45 minutes of my stomach protesting, I started settling into a comfortable pace. As we continued down 51, I managed to get dropped and pulled back into the group several times, but at that point, I just couldn’t keep their pace. I struggled to keep up by standing in a tall gear and catching up, but I kept having to drop back down and spin, which left me falling off the back over and over. I figured I could do it as long as my legs didn’t give out (and my butt certainly needed the rest) but eventually I gave in and stayed behind. I hung back with one of the recumbent riders, Michelle, and we chatted about all kinds of stuff. She kept telling me to think about some nasty job at home that I didn’t want to do, like cleaning toilets. I replied “At this point, cleaning toilets doesn’t sound that bad compared to the pain my backside is in.” There were stretches of road where all I could do was follow behind someone, spin the pedals, and focus on their back wheel. We eventually made it back to the La Place truck stop, after a scary stretch going against traffic on I-55.
“Fueling” and “Hydrating”
Spirits were high, but the miles were showing on almost everybody. Pat suggested the Monster Coffee drink, and a Hubig’s lemon pie. At this point, I’d consumed several thousand calories, drank about 1.5 gallons of water, and had been on the bike for nine hours. My butt and I were no longer on speaking terms. Thankfully, my feet felt great, I haven’t had any problems with my pedals and toe clips! My hands were getting increasingly uncomfortable, because my elbows were permanently stuck at a 135ᵒ angle. My legs still felt okay, though I wasn’t exactly in shape to do squats. Knowing I was going to have to digest whatever I ate, I decided not to overdo it at this stop, and opted for mostly liquid calories for the last 36 miles. It only helped a little, and I still had to fight side cramps as we got ready to go. Steve, who had come back from getting three flats, finally caught up with us. I choked down two Clif bars and some Gatorade, and a small bottle of chocolate milk. I filled my bottles with Gatorade instead of water to help with the digestion, but it was only marginally better.
Finally, we mounted up and pushed off for the last stretch. The group, now numbering eight, made its way to River Road, Airline Highway, and eventually back to the Mississippi River levee trail. Somewhere in downtown La Place we passed a carload of drunken teenagers, who hooted and hollered and basically gave us a good laugh. We had a few scary incidents with trucks being impatient on River Road and passing unsafely, but thankfully nobody was run off the road. Once we hit the levee trail, we had no more incidents, and the group decided to pick up the pace and make it back to the start/finish line at the zoo as fast as possible. One of the riders (also a first-timer) was cackling like a maniac, rambling on about riding the last 35 miles standing up because his butt was in so much pain. I certainly empathized with him! The group took off like shot out of a cannon, leaving myself and Michelle to putt along at 12-13 MPH for the last 20-odd miles. The Mississippi River is a very eerie place at night, with the large refineries and processing plants working round the clock. Big industrial sulfur lamps cast a spooky orange glow across the water, and barges were constantly parading up and down the river. Despite the background noise, it was rather peaceful, and we didn’t see another person for 15 miles, until we passed one of the other riders who has already reached the finish, packed up his bike, and was heading home (he honked as he drove by, thanks, Doug!) When we reached the Huey P. Long bridge, we were only five miles from the finish. I was standing to climb over humps in the levee to give my butt a break. My butt didn’t hurt anymore, but not because it wasn’t sore… it had gone numb from 20 miles of riding on the smooth levee. My elbows refused to bend, and I had to change hand positions every 30 seconds to keep hot spots from forming. I kept pedaling, though, and as mile after mile rolled on, I reflected back on the day.
Nobody else I know in their right mind had done something like this. Not even 99% of my cycling buddies. It was a major feat, and something that I just knew I had to do to prove I could. For cyclists, doing 100 miles in a day is considered the milestone that marks you as a true rider, somebody who has the skills to do big miles on a bike. Not only had I done it, but it was more than twice as long as the longest ride I’ve done this year, and I had overshot it by 26 miles. I honestly don’t think I could have made it if we had started early in the morning, as the heat was simply unbearable, and I wasn’t prepared for 12 hours straight of riding in it. It was very difficult… possibly the most difficult thing I’ve ever done physically.
As we approached the finish, we heard the ride leader calling us to enter the parking lot by the side gate (the zoo was closed at 2:30 in the morning, who knew?) and Michelle and I coasted to a stop. I got off the bike, and looked down at it. I had made it the whole way under my own power, against all odds, and succeeded. As I loaded my bike onto Eben’s car and prepared to drive home, I couldn’t help but think about the mentality that goes into guys like Pat, who ride over a hundred miles every weekend and come back for more. It certainly is a special breed that can say they’ve done a true self-supported brevet, and now, I was one of them, too.
It was a great ride.