12:32 a.m. Just over an hour of sleep. I reluctantly glance at my beeping watch in disbelief that I am actually getting dressed for the day. I throw on my bike shorts, jersey, and flops. After making 2 PB&Js, I brush my teeth (although it barely seems necessary after the 70 minute total sleeping time I’ve just had), and leave the hotel in Roubaix.
1:10 a.m. Mark and I arrive at the Roubaix cycle club parking lot to find the sound of shifting gears, clicking pedals, pumping tires. I feel relieved to be surrounded by the familiar sites and sounds of fellow cyclists, overcoming the uncomfortable feeling of being dressed for a bike ride at 1 in the morning.
1:30 a.m. The two busses are loaded with all males and predominately French cyclists. I attempt to ignore the odd stare that I get for being a female ready to embark on this challenging journey. Mark and I settle into our seats and catch some last minute sleep as the buses travel to a village just outside of Paris.
3:15 a.m. Groggily, I scarf down my PB&J, and try to think if there is a time in my life that I have eaten a sandwich at that hour in preparation for the day ahead.
4:05 a.m. The bus pulls into a town just outside of Paris and we make our way to the registration table. I deliberately avoid looking at the route because at that point in the day 160 miles can be a bit daunting.
4:35 a.m. We set out on one of the most famous bike routes in Europe, which has been
conquered by thousands of the world’s best cyclists…Paris-Roubaix.
4:05 a.m. The bus pulls into a town just outside of Paris and we make our way to the registration table. I deliberately avoid looking at the route because at that point in the day 160 miles can be a bit daunting.
4:35 a.m. We set out on one of the most famous bike routes in Europe, which has been
conquered by thousands of the world’s best cyclists…Paris-Roubaix.A bit of history…
The first knowledge I had of the famous Paris-Roubaix ride came from the family dog. As a teenager, I thought my dad and step-mom were a bit eccentric to name our dogs Campy (short for Campagnolo) and Roubaix (after Paris- Roubaix). In those pre-cycling years, I certainly did not probe into the origins of the dogs’ names. I accepted the seemingly odd choice. I never questioned why this ‘Roubaix’ ride was worthy of our dog’s name, in fact I don’t think I ever asked any details about the ride at all. I certainly did not contemplate the 160 mile ride with 50k of cobbles or realize that 15 years later I would be travelling through France with my friend Mark to embark on the challenge.
Pre-ride
Mark and I left England early Saturday morning, took the ferry from Dover, England to Calais, France and then drove to Roubaix. Passing time by consuming excessive jelly babies and reading the latest Cycling magazines, the trip went by very quickly.
The first item on the agenda was to resolve the early morning/late night shuttle ride. We noticed that my receipt did not show that I had paid for the shuttle. To avoid a crisis in the middle of the night, we went to race registration. Luckily, Mark speaks enough French to communicate the issue. After a lengthy exchange, it is determined that to resolve the issue, the bus driver will need to come to and discuss the situation with us (???). It made absolutely no sense, but it seemed as though in their own unique way, the ride organizers were trying to help. Waiting for the bus driver we made every attempt to get a television from the 1950s to show the English World Cup football match to play. Despite the multi-person attempt, the ancient television would not reveal score of the England match.
45 minutes later the bus driver appeared, had an elaborate conversation with the woman who was helping us, begin to add all of the numbers on the receipt I had, and then found my name on a hand-written list indicating that I had paid for the shuttle. Phew!! Issue number one resolved. The next item on the agenda was tracking down lights for my bike. It hadn’t sunk in that we would be starting the ride before 5 in the morning and that it would be dark outside. Mark asked where we could find lights and before I knew what was happening, we were in the race director’s car racing off to the nearest bike shop. The race director helped us with our communications and I finally had everything I needed to start the big ride. I began to recognize and appreciate the unique, yet kind ways that the French seemed to operate.
The beginning
The benefit of starting a ride just after 4:00 in the morning is that the miles tick by almost effortlessly. Perhaps it was the fact that any normal person is sound asleep at that point and I was in some state of partial slumber. The fact that Mark and I were fortunate enough to start the ride in a pelaton for the first couple of hours certainly helped our cause. Riding through a pitch dark forest in the middle of France I focused on the blinking red lights of the bikes surrounding me and the quiet foreign chatter that I unfortunately could not understand. We were quickly greeted by the early morning sunrise and our first grub stop.
Cobbles, Crashes
It’s quite tempting to start the day with blissful optimization. My first few sets of cobbles I commented on how they were such a nice change from the monotonous flat roads and how they really helped to break up the ride into different sections. By the time I was 120 miles into the ride and saw the sign that said 11 sets of cobbles remaining, 3k of cobbles on this particular section, my cobble enthusiasm had nearly diminished. One reaches a point that she will do anything to avoid the relentless jarring of the bike, the body and all internal organs. My risk aversion declined and I happily sought mud, sand, weeds or any alternate route that would minimize the pounding, even if for only a few seconds.
My cobble avoidance strategy unfortunately did come back to haunt me. Without embarrassing myself by disclosing all of the details, I admit that I naively selected to ride through deep sand and soon found myself lying in the sand and still clipped into my pedals just as I entered the Arenberg Forest. I am comforted by knowing that over the years hundreds of cyclists before me have also suffered falls in the Arenberg forest (Hincape 2006, ). I take less comfort in the fact that unlike the late-spring weather that the pros often find riding Paris-Roubaix in May, we had a perfectly sunny summer day with bone dry cobbles.
Rider and bike were fine- other than the slight pride issue. I had some nice war wounds- gravel cuts on my leg and shoulder, and mangled handlebar tape. I decided that I was destined to fall on all of the classic sections of the classic rides or else I wouldn’t truly experience the heart of what European Classic riding was all about (at least that’s how I’ve justified falling on both the Koppenberg during the Tour of Flanders and in the Arenberg Forest).
The highlights
On an 11 hour bike ride, I began to look for the simple pleasures to remind myself why cycling 160 miles was so enjoyable. The control stops (5 in total) and the unlimited cakes became one of the main ‘carrots’ that lured me to complete the course. For fun, and to pass the time, I attempted to count how many cakes, brownies, and other miscellaneous sweets I consumed. After reaching >20 I thought it might be best to let that topic rest in my mind or I might risk feeling a bit nauseous. Needless to say, we were very well fed for the entire ride.
It was certainly a first time experience that the body parts suffering the most after the ride were my hands. My hands were swollen for over a week and the black and blue marks on the palms of my hands took several days to go away. Daily tasks such as washing my hair were challenging after the ride. That said, Paris Roubaix was one of the greatest cycling experiences that I’ve ever had. The word ‘Roubaix’ is no longer synonymous with the family dog, but now conjures up images of cobbles, the Arenberg Forest and the final lap around the famous outdoor velodrome track, and the amazing French people who have a history, culture and passion for cycling and for one of the world’s greatest cycling events.
