As much as I want to blame not having a keyboard or tingly fingers from ulnar nerve compression on the fact it has been two weeks before I started writing my ride report, they’re not the reasons. The week follow PBP every time I thought about my journey tears formed in my eyes. I felt like a fraud. How did this back of the pack rider somehow make to the finish line in time when stronger and faster cyclists didn't? I felt guilty that my tempts with fate and stumbles throughout the ride miraculously landed me in Rambouillet at the finish. I felt silly thinking that somehow completing PBP would beat the impostor monster down to a blob of nothing. When instead the monster was roaring over me, raining down insecurity so fast my feeble umbrella was smoking so hard it would be nothing but a singed shell soon. And my oh-so-loving husband suggested I was just fishing for compliments. After my bike crash in June 2018, my anxiety which had been on the back burner turned full force to a rolling boil. And it has been hard not just for me, but for Steve as well. He's very analytical and I think he finds it hard to understand my struggles with insecurity and doubt. I can tell myself all day long that I'm a bad-ass female cyclist and build up a strong wall around me, but anxiety always seems to find the crack and creeps in. I suppose that's why I am drawn to randonneuring. If I ride these really big rides and do all the really hard things then maybe that will make me a cyclist? My PBP adventure isn't full of stories of crepes and laughter. It's full of tears, because - let's be real - I'm a feeling-person, and a ride like this you go through all the feels. But don't think this tale is only of pain (oh so much pain) and worry, because there were really beautiful moments too. And, yes, in those moments there were tears but of joy and love for support from fellow riders and the community. So here's my tale from registration to post ride thoughts: holding nothing back and no gory detail left untold.

We managed to sneak our bikes out of bike parking while the gatekeeper was away and joined the now much shorter bike check lane. I had trouble bringing up my document and angered one of the volunteers. The volunteer checking my bike was very thorough, spinning, pushing, and prodding everything. Steve came over and they had a lengthy hand gesture discussion that my brakes cables weren't tight enough. But, Racing Raspberry passed inspection! We headed over to a longer line to get our packet. By this time the rain was increasing in intensity. I was thoroughly soaked from the mist all day and starting to shiver from being cold and wet. A volunteer went over everything inside our bag with us and sent us on our way. The international women's photo was happening at 6 pm, but with a dampening mood we headed back to Versailles instead.

Leaving Rambouillet it felt like the entire town was lining the streets and cheering for us. I'm not talking about standing and occasional clapping cheering I'm talking about jumping up and down, fists pumping, screaming, high fiving cheering! And not just a handful of people along the roped off section, hundreds of people were cheering. The route took us north a bit through High Valley of Chevreuse Regional Natural Park before we would ride through our first town. Steve and I worked with a group of six and caught the main group. Waves of cyclists of about 250 were leaving every 15 minutes. The 80 hr time limit group started first at 4pm with special bikes following them and 90 hr start times were from 6pm-9pm. The 84 hour group would start on monday morning. Our roll out time was 6 pm. I was a little nervous about a night time start and was hoping my nerves would keep me awake the whole first night. My plan was to ride 500km by midnight the next evening and sleep for 3 hours before continuing on to Brest. Steve worked his way up into the middle of the group and I followed suit. The group was moving fast, much faster than I normally ride on my own. All rules seemed to be thrown out the window. I was stuck in a large peloton and not a single or double paceline like I was used to. I wasn't breathing too hard because I was sitting smack dab in the middle. I decided I should stay with them as long as I could. The effort was easier especially on the flat and downhills but I found myself braking more than I wanted to. Steve looked back and I could see the shock on his face. He smiled. After about 10 miles, he signaled he was moving on. I decided to stay put in the middle of a hardly ever rotating paceline moving at 18 mph.

After about two hours, on our first really big hill, I lost the group. Dumb! I didn't want to push into the red this early in the ride. But maybe I should have, because the benefit of a higher pace in a protected peloton on the flat and downhill sections would have been worth it. But the feeling of having to pee right now never went away and every little bump felt like one bump way for springing a leak. I pulled over at mile 24 and pulled out my Freshette- ah. I guess I didn't need to worry about being dehydrated. Now heading slightly SW, we passed through another town and rode past their church. I was surprised to see people lining the roads not only in the towns but before and after towns as well. It seemed like we didn't ride more than 30 minutes without seeing a group of people cheering along the side of the road. The groups would intensify their excitement every time they saw me! A woman! I have no idea what they were saying. But sentences would be pouring out and I would catch madame or mademoiselle vs the men just getting a Bravo or Allez. I worked with groups on and off because the wind was picking up, but nothing seemed to stay together for very long. I caught up with Bill, Indiana's RBA. You wouldn't believe who he was with - Maggie from the train ride the day before. She got a flat tire and he stopped to help her. Maggie and I had been following each other's journey on Instagram. I tucked in behind them and we spun away. The French countryside was gorgeous and in a way reminded me of home. We rode in and out of forested areas then through farmlands, all down lightly traffic roads. As the sun set it was time to put on our reflective vests and make sure our headlights and tail lights were on. I stayed with Maggie and Bill for a bit.

The route took us SW and immediately started climbing a "hill". Seemed more like a baby mountain to me, but what do I know? The traffic was heavy and there were several cyclists. I was probably smack dab in the center of the bulge of 6,000+ riders. I'm a turtle on the hills so I put Racing Raspberry in a lower gear and ground it out for several long minutes. Several cyclists were passing me, as the road twisted and turned. The dozies all of a sudden hit hard and even nerves of swerving into another cyclist or an upcoming car couldn't shake them off. I saw a cyclist sleeping in a bus hut just up the way and decided to join for a 10 minute power nap. Again, not so sure I slept, but counting my breath in and out seemed to help. I got back on the bike and still climbing the baby mountain.

After cresting the top and starting the descent, I saw two familiar Midwest faces hanging out in front of the Château de Caradeuc. One of the riders was currently experiencing some PTSD/panic attack. I agreed that last section had made me a little uneasy and could understand where the rider was coming from. The last edition of PBP this rider had crashed because another rider ran into them. We talked about different solutions to get the rider back on the road. One was to wait for another Midwest rider that the rider felt comfortable riding with. After 15 minutes of waiting, it was decided the rider experiencing PTSD would ride on the right, with the other rider staying to the left to keep other riders from passing too close. I would ride behind both of them and keep riders from drafting off the rider with PTSD. Off we went.

I was nervous at first because these two riders are extremely strong and faster than me and I was afraid I would get dropped. As the miles clicked by, we were traveling about the same speed I would have if I were on my own. At mile 240, we stopped at an unofficial control, Quédillac. I felt uneasy waiting around. I knew I didn't have much time to spare if I wanted three hours of sleep. I ate the last of my snacks in my rando bag. We didn't officially go into the control. We waited outside to try to spot the other Midwest rider. I had ridden with this other rider before on "qualifying" rides for LEL.

I went across the street to a line of trees and peed. Up to this point I had been very careful around wiping my entire region with multiple baby wipes to keep clean and then reapply chamois butter. I was a little sore but nothing to troublesome. Finally, the other rider showed up. The first other rider decided to stay and rest. They said they would catch up with us later. We headed off in the same formation. I was the only one with a mirror, so my job was to alert others when cars and other pacelines were passing. It was hard, sometimes, to keep other riders away from our wheels, especially if there was a language barrier. We moved along slowly but surely. We arrived in Loudeac around at 9:39 pm, meaning my time-in-hand dropped from three hours to two hours. My feet were beginning to hurt walking around. I was not sure what the plan was. It sounded like the other riders might bed down to sleep. They knew I had a airbnb in Carhaix and wanted to keep moving on. We found some food, and I devoured an order of fries and put the another in my rando bag to eat on the way. Why not? Superwoman ultra-cyclist Lael Wilcox does it?!

While two of us got food, one person was using the bathroom, then that person came back and the other person was going to the bathroom and putting on winter gear. I started panicking. I did not know if we were leaving right away or if they were going to stay to sleep and I didn't want them to have to wait on me. I had a drop bag here in Loudeac and went to go retrieve it. I grabbed a clean kit, and some cliff energy chews but not my long sleeved jersey. I didn't think I got too cold the first night and would be fine the next couple of nights without it. Stupid! I put my winter gear on, filled my water bottles, went to the bathroom, and waited near my bike. I thought they were ready to go but they never showed up by the bikes. My feet were hurting and I didn't want to waste energy to go back down some stairs and try to find them in the food tent area. Nervously, I waited a few more minutes then decided to go. A veteran had told me that the worst of the hills are from Loudeac to Brest and back; with the route change we were looking at about 38-40,000 feet of climbing, not 32,000. I knew that you have to always ride your own ride, and that any ultra-distance cyclist would know this. Therefore, I think that this group would have understood why I choose to move on.

I remember leaving feeling a little guilty and trying not to cry. I realized now there was no way I was going to get three hours of sleep. Did I make the wrong choice to stay and help a friend? It was dark now and I was running on 30 minutes of sleep/mediation in 36 hours. Hold it together Trott! I remember knowing I should be staying more to the right then I was but also slightly hallucinating huge drop offs to the right. My mind was processing everything much more slowly and guessing what things were. Trees started looking like buildings far away and signs like people. I tried to keep chasing red lights but knew I was the rabbit being chased by the dogs. I wasn’t passing no-one and was now getting passed by people that started a few hours after I did. It's not a race, Lydia.

Details are fuzzy, but according to Ride with GPS it looks like I stopped for a 10 minute power nap at mile 296. I remember feeling calm spinning up the hills, and reminding myself just keep moving forward and racing down on the other side. I was slightly giddy passing riders that were passing me on the uphill without even pedaling at all. Racing Raspberry and I are very dense. Some of the longer hills I did spin ups to stay warm on the down hill as it dipped down to the low 40s before midnight. I remember a few familiar faces passing in the night. As the temperature continued to drop I got sleepier and sleepier. I knew i couldn't afford to stop again so I called my sister. She didn't answer. Oh, come on it's only, like, 9pm back home. Again. Again. and again. After 5 times I called my mom instead. She answered and I stuck my phone in my jersey so that my bra was holding it in place. I could use both hands on the handlebar and hear my mom.

I said, “I don't care what you talk about but I need you to talk to me to help keep me awake.” She started talking about my cats. Perfect! Of course, less than ten minutes later, the cool kids train came up behind me. I couldn't tell you who all was on the train, but I recognized several faces from the East coast. I let Mom go feeling more energized. I was ushered into a non-official control. But, I don't want to stop, as I needed to get to Carhaix. I was about to head straight out the exit when I heard the words secret control, so I parked my bike and got my card signed. I went in to use the bathroom. No one was in there, and I was on the verge of a breakdown. I was so cold and so tired. A tear rolled down my creek. No matter how much I calculated it, I probably wasn't going to get any sleep for a second night. I took a deep breath and in walks Lisa from Germany. We have been following each other on social media. She asks what is wrong. I burst into tears and told my tale as she gives me a big hug. Then Misha from DC walked in. After a few words of encouragement I go to the bathroom.

Ha. This was actually the first time I sat down to pee since leaving the start. I had been using my Freshette the to save time. And, yes, in case you are wondering that means I haven't pooped yet at this point, and, in fact, I wouldn't the entire ride. Shivering, I got back on my bike and continued on to Carhaix. The uphills were intense and long and would warm me up, but the on the downhills I would start shivering so bad Racing Raspberry was moving under me. The temperature was now below 40 degrees, but down in the valley where the air was heavier it was much colder. In Carhaix, I got my card stamped and was on my way in under ten minutes. Our AirBNB was on route just a half mile down the road. Steve had been there for a few hours, I think.

I left my bike downstairs in a screened in room and headed upstairs with my arms full of stuff. I was still shivering. I hated waking Steve but I only had an hour time in hand at this point. It seemed like ages for him to open the door. The airbnb was pretty empty and the bedroom was a loft with a bed. I stripped down to nothing and cleaned the best I could with some baby wipes. I noticed my thigh/butt creases were a little tender. My legs were heavy and a little sore, and I was starting to get concerned that my hot foot was coming back. I put my phone and Wahoo and on chargers and set my alarm for 30 minutes. I didn't feel like I actually fell asleep. I think i was in that state of not being awake but not being asleep, either. Stupid nerves. It took a few minutes for me to convince myself to get out of bed and back on the bike. I brushed my teeth, hoping to fool myself into thinking I got a full night's sleep. I put a fresh kit on and headed out the door with Steve. We were behind schedule at this point. .

We left Fougeres around 2:30 pm. I don’t remember much on this section. I knew I was in pain but trying to keep my cool. I had made it this far without having a full blown out breakdown - I could make it to the end. I tried to stay positive. I could do this! I tried to race Steve down the downhills and remember on one tight turn I felt my back tire give a little and my bike shake a bit. Oops, close call! I tried to reason with myself how many times we stopped to grab a candy from a kid, stopped to “pee”/apply more cream, or hand out llama stickers. Just outside of the control was our AirBNB in the town of Hardanges. I knew we were going to be late to the next control, but a quick shower seemed worth it. We went down the lane and through the garden gate and knocked on the door - no answer. I called, and we heard the phone ring from inside. I screamed, “Hello!?” and knocked again. No answer, fuck! Ok, don’t cry you got this. Let’s get to the control and get some food. That will help and you can change your clothes there. Steve was furious that we had wasted time for nothing.

The next few miles seemed like ages. How many villages are we going pass? Remember, every village is on top of a hill! We finally rolled into Villaines. If I thought it was a party at 6am at the start, it was a festival on the way back at 8 pm! We rolled over the timing mat one hour and 24 minutes in the red. The streets were packed with people. I parked my bike and felt uneasy with a crowd of people watching me. Hmm guess I’m not stripping down to my bra here to put on my winter gear. Fumbling through my bags I grabbed everything I needed. The people tried to have a conversation with me. Steve went to the bathroom and I told him I would grab him a tray of food. Two pre-teen girls asked if they could carry my food tray. I said yes! I used Google translate to chat with them. I asked them if they rode bikes and they said no. I said #moregirlson bikes! I told them I was very tired but promised I would finish on time. I thanked them profusely. I sat down in the hall. I didn’t see anyone I knew.

Steve arrived later and we ate. I went off to change clothes. It was a huge struggle to get my new bibs on because my legs were so swollen! I decided not to put socks on to see if that helped my feet. My thigh/butt crease was so tender. I left the bathroom and brushed my teeth, hoping to trick my body into believing we “slept”. I got back to my bike. I think the volunteers somehow thought that after an hour, I would now know French. I put my hi-vis vest on and heard the words “Trump.” I gave a thumbs down and said Democratic. They roared with laughter. I finally found Steve. The volunteer was trying to hold me back saying, “Illuminare.” I know! I kept pointing to my generator, stating I need to pedal for a light to come on.

89 hours, 757 miles, 40,000 ft climbing. I was off the bike less than 20 hours and “slept” for less than three of those. I had six meals, plus two packs of fries, and some random snacks. I never showered, but changed my kit twice. I never brushed my hair but did brush my teeth, three times I think.

I walked over to the food tent. I was suppose to get food for Steve and I while he tried to have his first poop since Sunday. He thought it would be bad to try to eat again without getting some waste out. Apparently, I was ok to eat even though I was in the same shoes he was. The lady taking tickets wouldn’t let me leave the table until Steve came back. I sat in the chair for what seemed like a very long time. Familiar faces came in and I winced every time I stood to give hugs. I took my shoes off. Where was Steve? This lady is going to think I made the whole story up to eat more food. Finally, Steve came back. He said go sit by Bill and I’ll get our food. I walked over to the table and stood for a minute, but came close to passing out, so I crawled under an empty table by the edge of the tent. I couldn’t sleep, I felt the floor move every time someone walked by. Stomp Stomp Stomp. Steve came back with water, and I drank half the bottle in one gulp.

I announced my retirement from grand brevets after the finish and everyone laughed at me! Wait until the randonesia kicks in, they said. I don’t understand how everyone is talking about the double headwind and not the mountain at Brest! I don’t recall the wind ever really being that bad. But I’m from the Midwest, which is all short, punchy hills and all the headwinds.

I do feel very anxious that I won’t know until January if my ride will be homologated or if I will ultimately received a DNF for being late to too many intermediate controls in a row. I feel so conflicted about this. Rumor has it that the past couple of editions the ACP have turned blind eyes and as long as you made it back in time, they will still homologalate it. But there’s a first for everything, right? The DNF rate is sitting around 27% and if ACP is a stickler for the rules, it’s expected that the DNF rate will increase another 10-15%. Several of my friends are in the same boat as me. Indiana’s DNF will increase from 50% to 100% if it happens.

So, what if I don’t get homologated? What happens next? #PBP2023

Will I go back if it is homologated? Yes, but probably not in four years. I can see why it calls people back. Nowhere else will you find the community support like on this ride. Nowhere else will a lady driving her car in the opposite direction look up to see you and throw her fists in the air, screaming with excitement to see a woman on course. Nowhere else will kids line the streets to give high-fives like you are a pro-cyclist. Nowhere else will you immediately have 6,000 new friends. Nowhere else will every town be decorated for you along 750 miles. Nowhere else in the world will you hear Allez, Allez! at three in the morning.

I was in so much pain at the end of the ride. But, I’ll forget that. I won’t ever forget the kindness from strangers, like the two girls who gave me my first cup of coffee or the smile on Maggie’s face every time I saw her. If you have the chance do PBP, do it. Every rando rider needs to experience it at least once in their cycling career.

Back of pack riders, you can do this! If I can, you can!

Two weeks later and randonesia set in. The cool kids convinced me I shouldn’t volunteer for the Iron Porcupine but instead, that I should ride it. Shhh, don’t tell Steve. Also, I was accepted into the LSAH.