Karen Fig

I was discouraged from having wasted the morning charging my phone (and myself. electricity for the phone, french pastries pour moi) only to find that my "easy" day of trail riding was going to be another long day of road riding due to flooded trails, when a cyclist in spandex and a fast bike scared the living daylights out of me, whizzing past with a quick "Bonjour!" As they do here.

Yes, we all know that I startle easily, and this guy felt so bad about it he turned around and apologized.

Naturally, the conversation turned to "so....where are you going?" as it does, when you have socks drying on your saddlebag. And we spent a lovely 10 miles at a quick 13mph sharing cycling stories. He rides 30km (18 miles) each way to work, every day, even in the winter. I told him what i was doing, and that I was worried I wasn't going to make it.

This random man, he told me, "you can do it. I did the Paris-Brest-Paris ride. I am not young or a competitive cyclist. You can get there. Courage!"

Paris-Brest-Paris is a famous annual race where a shocking number of people do what is going to take me a week - TWICE. Without stopping, basically. He did it in 72 hours and slept once a day for one hour. So, here was a real, live, crazy person telling me I could do it.

And honestly, it helped.

My destination was a small town only known for being the hometown of famous French cyclist, Louison Bobet. And in a way that I've never really needed before - because I don't think I've ever attempted anything this ambitious - I drew on the inspiration from my new friend of a mere 10 miles of my life, and of the ghost of a cyclist I'd never heard of before to get me 65 miles to Saint-Méen-le-Grand.Okumaya devam et