NJ 400K Brevet: No hills but a sore butt

Report by the RBA Laurent Chambard

Our DC Randonneur 2007 schedule is packed with exciting Brevets and exhilarating C&C rides and so there is no reason to cross the line and philander. Well, it’s always tempting to look at the other side and a unique opportunity came up. My oldest daughter Molly, a Junior at Ithaca College, asked me whether I could pick her up at the end of the semester, May 13 to be exact. The RUSA web site quickly revealed that neither the Eastern PA nor the Upstate NY Randonneurs nor our friends in Boston and the Berkshires were offering a Brevet for that particular weekend. But there was one in NJ on Saturday May 12! Since I am a beginner in the Randonneuring business (or is it an art form?) the advertisement on the NJ web site sounded tantalizing: “This totally flat and easy route is ideal for beginners on the distance”. This was a no brainer and I immediately signed up for the 400K and also for the 600K as it was advertised as the flattest one in the world.

Maile, our DC Randonnette, and I decided to ride together and master the uncharted Northern territory. She also promised to pull the entire 257 miles, an offer hard to resist. (Maile's truth note: Clearly I am going to have to interject throughout this writeup to keep Lothar honest. After being abandoned by Dr. H. the previous week, he again suggested we ride a brevet, saying he will stay with me the entire ride. Knowing that I will not trust him, he offered to give me $100 Friday night. If he dropped me in a high speed chase on Saturday I was to keep the money. If he stayed with me I was to give it back. The potential for cash along with the promise of the flattest 400 in the spring schedule lured me north.) 65 riders checked in at the Days Inn in Hightstown and were sent off in two waves at 04:00. The night was warm and no traffic impeded our progress. A big cheer erupted at mile 5 when we approached the first climb of the day, a highway overpass. While on our DC Brevets I can only dream of hanging on to the lead group, here I was a member of this pack. Thus, all our DC rides (aka Christa’s Torture Fest Centuries) get particular credit for preparing us well for flat territory. Maile decided at mile 20 that the group was going too slow and took the lead, pulling us along quiet country roads splitting vast cranberry bogs. (Maile's truth note: I ended up in front when a car decided to try to take out the first 3 bikes in our group - we were all signaling a left turn when the driver decided to pass us on the left anyway. The people already in the process of turning had to abort and thankfully nobody was hurt and the speedier folks with proper headlights quickly reestablished the proper riding order.) But soon after, the premier tandem, captain Nate Morgenstern and stoker Mary Crawley, took off and left us in the dust. A crazy young stud named Sebastian (more about him later) held on to the flying tandem but the rest of us kept our testosterone under control. After all, we still had more than 220 miles to go. At around mile 50, while riding our own pace, a group of riders led by a senior citizen caught up with us. It was Lew Meyer followed by a group of young studs. Finally Maile had her wish as she had been talking all morning about her desire to ride with young studs. (Maile's truth note here: I mentioned ONE TIME that there were some young guys on the ride, quite a contrast to the DC Brevets that feature a more mature crowd). Over the next 10 miles or so Lew, Maile and I did the pulling in a fast pace ride but the young studs stayed behind, maybe out of respect for the elders or maybe to wait for a kill. I suggested to Lew to let the young studs do the pulling but he dismissed my comment with a few simple words: “they do not have the experience. And as Maile pointed out after the 400K: The young studs are weak. They didn't come in until after we were done with our burgers. They also didn't look so cute when they looked like drowned rats. (Maile's truth note: O.k, I did say they looked like drowned rats, but I do believe Lothar called them weak in his continuing attempt to convince me that mature men have so many more virtues than young ones.) Throughout the day Lew and I met at the various controls and again over breakfast Sunday morning, where he mentioned with a smirk on his face: “I was hanging on by my nails. It was enjoyable to talk to him and learn from an ancient more about the art of randonneuring. Lew will be among the oldest (most senior is more PC) USA cyclists at this year’s PBP. (Maile's addition: Lothar got to male bond with Lew over all things cycling but I am the one who earned a hug for playing domestique. Lew had lost a water bottle early in the ride due to a big bump in the dark and then somehow became separated from his other one after the first controle. I passed off one of my bottles to him in the paceline before he unceremoniously dropped us. He returned the bottle with the hug when we saw him at the second controle.) Cycling through South Jersey we passed streets with interesting names, such as “The Alps” and “Landis Lane“. I wonder whether the Landis Lane was named after Floyd Landis won the Tour de France and before the doping charges were filed.

While riding along we passed a very talkative rider, who turned out to be DC Rando Bill Olsen, who proclaimed that he was better known as “Wheelsucker Billy”. After we allowed him to suck our wheels for a while we pulled ahead. Sometime after we left Billy, Maile and I teamed up with 3 NJ/NY riders, Paul, the caretaker who made sure nobody got dropped, George the quiet one and Mordechai, the fixed gear guy. We cycled with them for the remainder of the day and this was very rewarding. We shared the weight of pulling and bonded.

The NJ web site continues poetically: “Progressively farmlands give way to trees, and then pine trees become more and more prominent as riders reach and cross the Pine Barrens. The controle at Batsto comes handy to feed by now hungry Randonneurs, who then head further South through promise-sounding Vineland towards Salem over pretty farmland country. “. Yes, lunch was yummy and the calories were certainly needed. Lew Meyer used the stop at Salem to alleviate his asthma (he told me that not the legs but his lungs are the limiting factor). Make no mistake, although he has asthma, he still left the young studs (but not the old mare) in the dust. So far the ride had been very fast paced, except when Maile was practicing her patented ‘we have a long day ahead of us’ restraint. We had covered the first century in exactly 6 hours and had reached the halfway point after 7 hours and 30 minutes. This was easy! But note the NJ RANDO web site: “Sea breeze is increasingly felt as riders approach the Delaware River estuary, so it is a relief to pause at the popular Oak Diner to admire the famously old Salem Oak.“ Yes, headwind kicked in and slowed us down. Now we were challenged and had to spend real energy. Having teamed up with the NJ/NY guys paid off and the “no drop policy” made the second half manageable. When someone got a bit tired we all backed off for them and we all took turns pulling. At the third control I was getting into some uncomfortable territory and had to be rescued by Maile’s chamois butt’r. So, Glen and Nick, she finally learned her lesson and came armed with many potions. At this stop, the young stud (according to Lothar’s nomenclature, not Maile’s) named Sebastian was sitting on the ground leaning against the check-in bench and looking quite worn out. It turned out that Sebastian, being so young and not knowing better, had tried to hang on to the Morgenstern-Crawley tandem to escape the brutal headwinds. Well, to cut a long story short, as expected they dropped him and he bonked. (Editorial comment by Mary Crawley: I recall that Nate and I slowed down and asked Sebastian several times whether he was OK; he insisted that he needed to go slower and that we should go on. He said something like “I will have to let you go ahead now”. We did not leave him like a carcass by the roadside. I am a samaritarian and I can prove it! I stopped for people who had had accidents at the Frederick 400k! I rode with Kelly on the Frederick 400k this Saturday. One rider had 2 falls, one into and over a curb near the beginning of the ride. That first fall was pretty spectacular; Kelly and I stopped to make sure he was OK. He was fine enough to continue, fall again, and finish before we did! Another rider spun out on a downhill curve and taco'd his rear wheel pretty badly. Kelly and I were apparently the first riders to go by after that. He kept saying that he was pretty disoriented, but he did not want emergency aid, and had enough water, so we left him after about 25 minutes to fix his wheel. Amazingly enough, he did finish, despite the fact that the wheel was way out of true. A tough bunch, you DC Randonneurs!) WELL SAID MARY!

We finally turned out of the parking lot and the next 37 miles to the pen-ultimate control passed quickly. Paul, herded all of us along and kept us together. In late afternoon we again crossed the Pine Barrens to Vincentown where we reached the control at the Wawa. Laurent Chambart, our RBA, waited already at the Wawa to stamp our cards. Only 37 more miles, that’s easy! But Laurent cautioned our enthusiasm as he had developed a challenging last stage. The NJ web site warns: "The final stage is an exercise in night navigation over delightful little lanes, so little that one of them is not even surfaced for about half a mile. " To make the navigating even more demanding, Laurent had ordered an increasingly heavy downpour (why should life be sweet, after all we are randonneurs). So much for a ‘30% chance of scattered showers’. The six of us managed to cover the first third of the last leg in daylight, but then night descended on us and the rain grew heavier and heavier. Our group riding was especially nice here because having multiple people checking the cues prevented us from getting lost when we were tired. We were looking for the ark. The nocturnal navigational challenge offered by the half mile of dirt road was even more of an issue for later riders as it had turned into mud. Despite the no-drop policy and regular roll calls in the dark, we 'managed' to lose Mordechai the fixed gear guy near the end of the ride and we apologize to him for that. Riding a fixed gear bike is probably not a walk in the park, riding it for 400K must be torture. (Editorial comment by Mordecai Silver: What happened to me at the end of the 400? I didn't bonk, but knowing how close we were to the end, I was getting lazy, and allowed a large gap to open between me and the group. There was a point where Rte 539 curved right, and there was also an intersection there, so it looked to me as though you had all made a right onto that other road. I made the right turn, and that's where I ended up getting lost. To be brief, although I eventually got directions from someone, and then met Paul down the road from Day's Inn (thank you, Paul!), it wasn't the best ending to a brevet. Standing in a parking ue sheet while the rain was coming down in buckets, wasn't fun at all.) MORDECAI, THE TRUE AUDAX RANDONNEUR!

After the final 10 miles (10 miles that seemed to take as long as the other 247 miles combined) we pulled into the DAY’s INN parking lot at around 21:40, got our cards stamped and headed immediately to the bar before it closed. The night riding in drenching rain was challenging and it was probably worse for those who came in later that night. Randonneurs seem to have a unique gift to suppress pain and exhaustion. An extra large burger with everything and a Sam Adams were the sweet reward. 17:45 was a PB for both Maile andme (well it was the first 400K for both of us) and not bad for a days work. After a good night sleep I felt good and could have done another ride, but my severely sore butt would have prevented such foolish actions. I had breakfast with Lew Meyer, who was on his way to Seattle to visit his son and ride the 600K out there. Lew certainly knows how to enjoy life!

After a second big breakfast in a diner in Hightstown (3 eggs over easy, corned beef hash, home fries and toast), I headed north to Ithaca and met my daughter Molly waiting for me with a big pile of luggage. Still hungry, we had a big lunch and when we arrived back in Chevy Chase the extra large meatloaf prepared by my dear wife Priscilla was waiting for us.

This was one of those perfect weekends that make life worth living: Family, friendship, cycling and exhaustion.

Afterthoughts

In talking to experienced elders, it is quite clear I made rookie mistakes that earned me a sore butt. I just did not get out of the saddle often enough. Otherwise it was the perfect day. Thanks so much Laurent Chambard and NJ rider for this great experience. I shall be back for the 600K.