I got into cycling just five years ago and soon discovered the camaraderie and simple joy of ultra cycling, where I could push my limits. I was quite happy with that in my life, but I had never really experienced it in its full sense, as I just have in France.
The Paris-Brest-Paris claims to be one of the toughest cycling single-push challenges in the world, and, with more than a century of history, it is certainly this endurance sport's most established. That was how I pictured standing in front of Château de Rambouillet, the 2023 edition start line, on August 20 – just a natural step up for an enthusiast like me.
What I found instead, was that the PBP is not about the 1,200 km distance, the 10,000 metres of climbing, nor those long endurance hours on the bike.
I found the support of 28 other Chileans, a group who helped each other achieve the “entry pass” requirements for this once-every-four-years event. With whom, during our precious time together in France, we shared stories of our roads to be there; of hard work, suffering, resilience, sacrifice, discipline, strength, humble, smiles and joy.
I found the enormous kindness of the French people. Even in the darkest passages of the route, in the middle of a cold night, when the fatigue and sleep deprivation were pulling the legs backwards, a lovely family was always at the roadside, offering not only refreshments but also the warm shake of hands and smile that refuels you with the greatest energy.
I found the true beauty of sport. Out there on the open road, 8,000 amateur cyclists from all over the world are on the same journey together: we suffer together, laugh together, help each other. It creates a collective strength that enables you to give what you don't have to give, to overcome the bad times. It is all there -in the roads, in the places, in the atmosphere, in the faces, in the cheering through those uncountable hours- and we all live it. We breath it. And I am part of that.
And before I notice, in the night of the 23rd, I am crossing the finish line. After 74 hours of riding and almost no sleep, I realise that this beautiful gift -something I could not have dreamed of before- is coming to its end. It may take years to fully comprehend it, but in the next minute, I resolve to keep the dream going.
You are not sure of what you are able to do when tackling these challenges, but when you realise you can overcome them, you bring the experience with you as part of your life, and so you move to new and better things. After PBP 2023, I firmly believe I am in the right place and ready to embark on the next journey.
DAY 1
Sunday, August 20th. 20:30. The start for me of the Paris-Brest-Paris, an endurance cycling challenge I have wanted to be part of since 2019.
One foot on a pedal, the other on the ground, I'm with a fellow Chilean, Luis, in the middle of hundreds of Group S cyclists when we hear “Allez!” and we start the first of 1,200 km. The nerves disappear, the anxiety and tension step aside; letting the body go and the mind to focus on the next pedal stroke, for the next hours and days to come.
The first assistance point (CP1, at 120 km) arrives at midnight. There, I have a sandwich and refill my bottles. The stop lasts 30-40 minutes, and I realise that every stop point will be longer than I had expected.
DAY 2
I'm only wearing a base layer when I leave CP1, but when I arrive at Villaines-La-Juhel (CP2, at 202 km) at around 04:00, I decide to follow the lead of other cyclists and dress warm (jackets, head, legs, and feet) for the coldest time of the day before dawn. Shortly after leaving CP2, my front gear-shifting derailleur stops working and I ride for more than 20 km on a small 32-tooth chainring. I begin to despair over the impossibility of getting up speed, especially with 1,000 km still to ride.
Luckily, an unofficial supply point at 245 km has a mechanic service and the problem gets fixed. It also has hot soup and bread. Reinvigorated, I focus on reaching Brest (the mid-point, CP9 at 609 km) not too long after midnight. At Fougeres (CP3, 292 km), I meet other Chileans and feel quite good. Despite having had no sleep, I'm right on schedule.
Riding through the very hot morning, we arrive at Tinteniac (CP4, 353 km) at 12:45, just in time for lunch. I have pasta, take a rest, and set off again through a hot afternoon. It's still light when I reach Saint Nicolas Du Pelem (CP7, 482 km), but I dress warm again for the last push of the day. After Carhaix (CP8, 515 km), we pass through very dense forest, and the never-ending ups and downs slow my pace. It feels an especially hard stretch and, not knowing the way and because of the darkness, I get a little worried.
Fortune strikes again: I join a group riding at a perfect pace and stay with them to Brest itself, where I clock in at 02:49 and more than ready for deserved rest.
DAY 3
In Brest, I throw away valuable time. The hotel I have booked is closed, and after getting no reply at the door or on the phone, I get lost on the way back to the Control Point. Riding in circles around the city and seeing my rest time being eaten into, I begin to panic. When I do eventually find the CP and rent a bed, it's 04:20.
Two hours, ten minutes later and I'm up and heading for a shower and a big breakfast – all of which put me in excellent shape for the 08:00 restart. Rather than mulling over last night's mistakes, I focus on what's ahead, and a cold but refreshing breeze makes the first kilometres quite enjoyable.
The route to Carhaix (CP 10, 697 km) is tough and exhausting, but also surprises. Town after town, and even between them, we encounter people cheering and greeting at us with water and food. It's impossible not to stop and share a short few minutes with them. This is the best remedy for the tiredness and pain.
As the hot sun tracks its way over our heads and the horizon behind us, we pass through Guarec (CP 11, 732 km), Loudeac (CP 12, 782 km) and Quedillac (CP 13, 842 km), reaching Tinteniac (CP 14, 867 km) at 01:00, August 23. I'm ready for sleep, but decide to press on for another 60 km, finding just a few other randonneurs who dared riding through the third night.
The reward comes during a very steep climb, when up looms a party of local folks playing music and performing crazily, just like those Tour de France images we see on TV. Then the tiredness hits hard and, for the next 7 km, I'm battling against the sleep. I reach Fougeres (CP 15, 928 km) at 04:40 with nothing left in the tank, and slump on the floor right beside the official who stamps my card.
DAY 4
After an hour's sleep, I'm ready to get back on the bike to tackle (hopefully) my last day. I leave Fougeres at the dawn and pass the 1,000 km mark in route to getting my next stamp at Villaines-La-Juhel (CP 16, 1,018 km) at 11:40. The party here is in full swing, with a long street lined on both sides with bikes and full of people cheering, taking photos of us, and shaking hands. Once again, the fatigue gives way to the joy and emotion of it all. I'm back in the saddle at 12:20.
I ride a big part of this next 81 km segment within an international group, at good pace. As the hours pass, the heat drops off, allowing the legs, knees, quads, and the mind to continue pedalling.
We reach Mortagne-Au-Perche (CP 17, 1,099 km) at around 16:30 and I feel a mix of happiness and weariness, from the proximity to the finish and the accumulated fatigue. I also feel saddle sore. I try not to focus on the pain as we head off again, but it's difficult. A stop at an improvised assistance point, set up at a bar, helps me to realign my mind, and from here I ride alone. I can't recall much of the rest of this segment, as if I had turned off my senses and thoughts, to solely focus on moving forward.
At 21:00 I'm in Dreux (CP 18, 1,177 km) and with the end just a few of kilometres away, happiness is now here to stay. It completely renews my courage to overcome all the pain in the saddle (which is terrible at this point) for a strong finish.
A gorgeous sunset is the perfect company until we enter a forest, and it gets quite dark. It's in here that my derailleur stops working again. It's frustrating not being able to pedal the final kilometres like my heart and mind wants to. And just as I'm thinking the moment would never come, I see myself crossing the finish line in Rambouillet at 23:30.
All the emotions of the journey come out in a sort of shock. It's hard to believe what has just happened and what I have achieved. Some of the Chilean crew are there waiting for me, so bed must wait. When my body does call for rest, I'm still in shock - as I am still today.
Video of my PBP 2023:
Photo gallery of my PBP 2023:
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