PBP 2007 Fini

I switched to riding brevets on a recumbent two years ago. Since then, I've ridden two 600kms with a lot of rain and on both of them I suffered from abrasions on the tail-bone—much higher up the back than bike shorts chamois protect. It's tough to diagnose a problem that doesn't show up on the 400km but does on the 600km. I installed a new seat cushion and cover, but by Fougères it was clear the problem wasn't fixed, so I sought balm from a cycling products vendor at the control and came away with an expensive tube of «Crème de Massage» which stung like mad when applied. On closer inspection, there were English instructions on the back: "Do not apply to broken skin." Dang. Time to buck it up and get across the moorlands to Tinténiac.

A couple blocks after the control in Tinténiac, a couple of volunteers were insuring that each cyclist had their lights switched on. My batteries were dead, so I borrowed some from a spare headlamp. It would have been better to have someone checking lights at the control exit instead of trying to stop eager cyclists at the bottom of a hill. There's a nice long climb into the town of Bécherel («Cité du Livre») as soon as you leave Tinténiac, then the route plunges down he other side of Bécherel through greenery on the west side toward Menéac and Loudéac. A diamond-frame caught and passed me on the descent. At the bottom he said, "Sorry, I saw a 'bent going downhill and just "had to." I understand, rocket-man!

It's a blast seeing the returning fast group on PBP. It's before midnight on some cold dark stretch of road approaching Loudéac and suddenly there's a bunch of bright headlights moving together, but bobbing just a bit, in two parallel well-ordered pace lines. Seeing only the lights in the darkness, with low mounted lights on the bike and high mounted headlamps, one has to imagine the structure supporting these points of light—and it all looks like some kind of ghost train coming down the highway in the opposite direction. There's a couple of groups like that, then individual riders. Are these poor lonely souls who, after 800km of working within the fast group, have fallen off the back, now struggling to get back on? Or hardy individuals hammering through the night, doing the ride at top speed without the benefit of drafting? Either way, they are 350km ahead of me.