09/08/19
194.2 Miles
15:25:53 hrs Moving Time
11,119 ft Gained
12.6 mph Average Speed
Waking up to the sound of rain is nice, but to the feel of rain on your face, slightly worse.
When I checked the forecast the previous night, the rain wasn’t supposed to start until 5am, however this was wrong. As is usually the way with weather forecasts.
I was woken around 2.30/3am with a heavy downpour. The tree cover above where I slept was keeping a lot of the rain from pouring onto my sleeping spot, but there was still a substantial amount getting through, soaking everything. At this point I didn’t care. I pulled the bivvy bag over my head and slept for another hour in the rain. There are upsides to be able to sleep through anything, but this was pretty grim.
With it being the final stretch to the finish line in Brest and only 250 mile to go, I thought I wouldn’t be needing my sleeping kit again, so soaking wet, I shoved it all in my saddlebag. I danced around while trying to put my bib shorts on without falling into trees and getting my feet muddy, then pedalled off into the rain.
My recollection of the ride that morning is pretty hazy, I can remember a lot of rain, not much stopping and a few busy roads.
My real first recollection of the day’s riding was in the afternoon. Outside of Lidl, perhaps just after Rennes. I had been in and stocked up for my ‘sprint’ to the end. At my current pace, I would easily make the finish in Brest around 3am the next morning. So off I set.
Not being able to find a toilet in the supermarket, I cycled for a few miles then settled for a roadside bush. The wind was definitely picking up by this point. In fact, the wind had gotten so strong as I was peeing, I got pushed over by the wind and ended up in a thorn bush! Much to the amusement of passers by, I quickly jumped back on my bike and tried to ride away from humility.
The forecast didn’t get the time of rain correct this morning but it got the high winds forecast spot on. I have ridden in some pretty crazy weather, this seemed almost biblical. Forcing my front wheel up and down the undulations of the rolling Breton hills was hard enough after nearly 2,500 miles, but with a 50mph headwind, made it ridiculous.
Sensing and feeling the finish line being so close I thought I was finished and I had imagined the last 100 miles to be a procession to Brest. Where all of the past 2 weeks of riding faded into memory and my legs would be fresh, with the sun shining and the wind pushing me along. How wrong I was.
Looking back, the last 100 miles of the race were the toughest. As night fell, I was getting message from people at home and my parents, who had come out to see me finish, of how close I was and that I would be finished soon. My plan this morning was exactly that, to keep riding into the night and into the early morning to finish after a big last push.
As the night drew in, i’m not sure if the wind or my senses intensified. There were no cars. The trees lining the roads sounded like screaming children in the side/headwind. I was being pushed all over the place, sprinting downhill in bottom gear, just trying to edge closer towards the finish line. It seemed like everything I was trying just wasn’t working. This was some tough riding.
I must have spent around 4 hours in the bottom gear.
Stops became more frequent, not beacuse I was tired. I just needed a rest from the noise and chaos of this riding in ever rising gale force winds. Trees and branches scattered the road and my mind was playing all sorts of tricks on me.
‘You said you would be finished tonight’
I know I did, but have you seen this!
‘This doesn’t matter, just finish, I have had enough of this.’
Me too, but I really cant go on.
People always asked me if I ever thought about quitting during the race. I think the closest I came to thinking about it was then. 11pm on the 14th day of the race, with only 60 miles to go to the finish. It sounds crazy, but when I stopped for a rest at the side of the road, the last thing I wanted to do was pedal any further.
Obviously scratching this close to the end would have been silly. So I carried on, at around 4mph, and agreed, with myself, that I would look for some shelter. The next place I found, I would stop for the night and hope that the wind would die down the next morning.
A bus stop. This was it, my place to rest for the night to see out the storm. I looked inside and found another TCR rider, who looked up at me and I could tell he felt exactly the same as I did, no words were needed.
He then explained he stopped a few hours ago to try and wait for the wind to die down and get some sleep, but the bus stop was like a wind tunnel and he was now shivering and hadn’t slept at all.
I urged him to get up and start cycling with me in an attempt to raise his body temperature as this was not the place to rest for the night. We both laughed at how absurd this was, especially being so close to the end. It was good to spend a little time with another rider as I hadnt spoke to anyone for a while and I was close to breaking.
It was around midnight and we passed a house that still had lights on. The other rider said we should see if they would let us sleep in their garage, but not wanting to wake anyone I thought this was a bad idea and we both carried on.
Coming into the outskirts of Carhaix-Plouger, the start of the Finish Parcours I saw a school, with a good cover and what looked like a boiler room door to the side. With this being my best bet, I said goodbye to the other rider who went in search for a hotel.
I went round the side of the school and to my amazement there was a dry, out of the wind and well covered entrance to a door. Perfect. There was steam coming out of a vent next to the door, which I assumed was the boiler room. I tried the door but no luck, locked. However the vent was pushing out some serious heat and I couldn’t have asked for anything better.
I rolled my sleeping kit out and crawled in with my cycling gear on. I had gone beyond the levels of personal hygiene and just wanted to get the sound of wind out of my head and have some rest.
The vent was warm and I knew I would miss the 14 day finish time I had being aiming for, but I didn’t care anymore. I had 50 miles of a 2,500 mile race left and I would be finished in time for lunch tomorrow, sipping a freezing cold beer. For the first time in the race I set no alarm. I fell straight asleep.
Jordan Matthews 