It had been a long time since I was that wet on a bike ride. The temperatures were supposed to stay well above 40°F but my bike computer tells me today that we were actually in the upper 30s, which feels more true, and I don’t think it ever really did get above 50°F, either, or at least not until well after I’d come home and showered, when the sun did, finally come out triumphant (and really: it ended up such a lovely day). In the hours between 08:00 and 13:17, when I finally hit "stop," however, it rained, and rained, and rained a little more. Cold, wet, and riding a fixed-gear bike, though, you do feel like something impressive, making it through.

Like last year, I’m hoping to do a full "Super Randonneur" series again this summer. Right now I’ve got a conflict with the local 600k which means it might be a near thing, but in any case, I’ve got a 200, 300, and 400k scheduled, and on Saturday, April 1, we rode the "season opener," a populaire, which is a 100k ride (and technically too short to be considered a proper "brevet," which must be at least 200k). This is the "traditional" opening ride for the New England Randonneurs (NER), and I’d always had some conflict or other and so hadn’t yet ridden it. It goes from Lincoln, MA, to Sterling, MA, and back via Harvard, MA, and is "hilly." I admit that I’m still not quite sure what the descriptors mean on the NER site: "hilly", "challenging", "less climbing than most of our rides." This one felt "fine" to me, but there certainly were some very steep bastards along the way.

We knew that the weather was probably going to be kind of awful. The forecast changed a little bit in its details — what percentage chance of rain when, a few degrees up or down for the highs and lows — but the forecast remained "shitty" and "cold" all week, which if it’s that stable in New England, chances are it’ll be at least mostly accurate. And alas: it was.

To add to the challenge of weather, I’d decided as long ago as last summer that I wanted to do my next populaire on the fixed-gear bike. I’d changed the gearing slightly ahead of the hills to a more reasonable 46x18,^[1] threw on the drop brake levers that had originally come on dear old Schwinny,^[2] and drilled a bunch of holes in some old clip-on fenders so that they would fit more securely (with the help of some bent-out P-clamps). I was feeling pretty good about the bike: new chain, recently (ish) replaced brake pads, and I even cleaned it, something I almost never do. And I was also feeling pretty good about riding the bike, since I’d done a few solid ~30 mile rides on it, and the rule of thumb is that if you can ride half the distance of your target in the month before, you’ll probably be okay. Still, I didn’t at the time know what they meant by "hilly," I was out of practice reading RidewithGPS elevation charts (since I know the roads I usually ride well enough now to just go, instead of planning routes anymore), and it would be a long day, I knew, pedalling constantly (since on a fixed-gear bike you can’t coast at all).

BUT, all the cool kids in NER seem to have ridden fixed brevets at one point or another, and I wanted to join the club.^[3]

So that was about me. I spent too much time the day before laying out all my clothing options on the floor of my office and thinking about what I was going to wear, planning on dressing extra-warm because I am (a) a baby and (b) figured I should subtract a good few degrees from the temp I was dressing for given that I would probably be super wet. This turned out to be a good idea. The even better idea was thinking to bring a backup pair of gloves to put on halfway through the ride.^[4]

Despite my best intentions around carpooling to the ride, it didn’t work out with the two other folks who live near me that I knew were going to be riding also, so anyway, I got up early enough to eat reasonably well, drink a reasonable amount of coffee, ensure I had all the things I might want to need, and drove out to Lincoln.

The plan was to ride with my friend Alex, who I’ve been trying to talk into joining me on a brevet since I learned what a brevet was. He’s a teacher though, and they’re busy, and until this weekend it just hadn’t worked out. I felt a little bad: my first brevets were all in pretty good weather, and even though it was a cold ride on the March populaire I did last year, it at least wasn’t raining. Alex and I used to work at the same bike shop,^[5] and we’d closed up and ridden towards home together in snow, sleet, rain, hail, and also, you know, nice days, plenty of times. Still: it was kind of a shit (though very "randonneur") welcome to this corner of cycling sport.

He was already there when I pull into the lot and we chatted a bit about layers and the weather (it was only drizzling at this point), and he very generously gave me one of the rice cakes he’d made, based on this sports cookbook he’s recently gotten a hold of. It was truly fucking delicious. Some curry thing. Anyway. I ran to sign in, got my bike off the rack, stuffed my necessities into a dry bag and then into the bar bag, and clipped in, ready to go. There was the usual "hellos" and "be safe" and "what you can expect" chat at the beginning, and then we were off.

As usual, I forgot to take pictures. Even though I said to Alex at one point, maybe twenty miles in, "Help me remember two things: to text Alia when we get to the first control because I said I would text her when I got to the parking lot and forgot, and we need to remember to get at least one picture together." Alas, I succeeded in only half those things. Still — 

It wasn’t raining so bad at first. There were quite a few folks on the road with us and though we started maybe a bit behind, we eventually caught up to a good-paced group and rode along with them pleasantly and for quite a while. I got to say hello to some of the folks I met last summer and introduced myself to a few of the newer folks (I’m chatty: I can’t help myself). We were riding a reasonably good pace, and my legs felt good. The hills, funny enough, were excellent, because they warmed you up. I’d layered more or less right, and was glad that I though to do a little "shakedown" the day before to check the body-temperature gauge for base layers (two really would have been too much, one was perfect under my wool zip-up). My legs were spinning well and though there were a few very steep sections I really had to huff-and-puff and use the "zig-zag" technique to get up, for the most part I was climbing well. Descending, on the other hand — 

Well, let’s just say I still have a little more room for improvement when it comes to smoothing out my pedal stroke.^[6]

We made it to the first control pretty fine and happy, I think. The rain felt like it was letting up (or at least: we weren’t moving as fast and so it felt like it was letting up), there was hot coffee available to pour into a paper cup to warm your hands up a little, and there was a library across the street where you could do your business. We lost the group we were with in part due to me needing to do some business (and the attendant how-many layers one has to peel off when one is wearing bib shorts), but didn’t dawdle too too long there. I changed out of my late-fall/light-winter gloves, which were soaked through completely, and put on falling-apart (though still together enough for the purpose) wool liner gloves and some waterproof lobster gloves on top of those, and we were off. My chain was making a little noise but not too bad — it helped considerably that the roads weren’t salted anymore; out there, the only remaining sign of winter on the roads were the patches of sand strewn about certain corners.

I made a habit of checking in with Alex, since it was starting to look like he wasn’t having so good a time. He informed me that he was, just that he was cold. Fair enough. I suggested we try to motor a little bit out of the control to warm up a little, and he agreed, so we did a little pace-line and I pretended I was Tim Declercq.^[7] The first few miles after the control were reasonably flat, so this strategy worked, more or less, in terms of staying together, making up some time, and warming at least myself up. Once we got to the next nontrivial incline and went our own paces, I checked in again, and Alex still said he felt good, that his legs were fine and he wasn’t worn our or anything — just cold.

So the miles went by and by and we eventually made it to Harvard, MA, catching up with a fellow named Robert as we circled past the Town Hall info control. We chatted a little bit — I admired his amazingly bright orange rando bag — and set off. He was planning on stopping at the cafe/market and Alex and I planned instead to press on — but upon reassessing the how-cold-are-we situation, we decided to stop, too, and have a couple of hot apple ciders.

The ciders were delicious, and we sat with Robert and another guy named John (whom I’d ridden alongside for a while before the first control), and ate a little bit, refilled water bottles, and told stories. I’ve mentioned this before, I’m sure, but in addition to always having bikes and equipment choices to talk about (e.g., rain coats, the relative merits of various brands' bib shorts), randonneurs almost always have a ride story or two to share (and if they don’t, it’s usually because they’re too far ahead of everyone else, and I’m sure they’d have lovely stories to tell, too, if only I were able to keep up with them). We sat for a while, then John and Robert shoved off, and we discussed next steps. Alex was still feeling too cold, not warming up fast enough, and decided to call it. It was the right decision, I think, and happily his partner was able to come pick him up. He’ll have a better time later this month at the 200k, and we’ll have a great fucking time as that’s a great fucking ride.

But anyway, here I [went] again on my own.

And I like riding alone, if I’m being honest. I missed Alex’s company and ear (I am deeply grateful to have him as a friend for many reasons, one of which being his willingness to put up with my incessant chatter), but I was happy to settle into a pace that felt good, happy to enjoy the rain (though my backup gloves were certainly soaked through by this time, you know: wool keeps you warm). I ate another one of the blondies Alia had made a while back that I’d ferreted away in the freezer,^[8] made sure to keep drinking (since I’d learned the hard way during the winter in Wisconsin that part of staying warm is staying hydrated), and before too long caught back up with Robert and John, with whom I stuck with until my Garmin died, and then whom I caught back onto after plugging it into the battery in my bar bag.^[9][10]

We cruised back into Concord and picked up another rider on our way back down to Lincoln. The rain had ebbed nearly to a halt though I admit I didn’t wait to hang around too long at the finish control before heading back to my car (because I was still soaked through and kind of cold, which is much less acceptable once you’ve stopped pedaling). I hung around only to chat a bit with a few of the folks volunteering, some of the riders I’ve become road-friends with who’d gone up the road after the first control, and to down a snack-sized bag of Cheetos.^[11] I called Alex to check in and he told me they were almost there, so I waited to say hello to his partner and goodbye to him in the parking lot. I put the bike back on the car rack, took off my soaking-wet cycling shoes, and began to make my way home.

Another thing I’ve said before: the distances change the more you do them. 100k, or ~62 miles felt huge, once upon a time. And yet I found myself thinking at multiple points during the ride, "oh, it’s only another 30 miles", or "darn, I’ll probably be done in about an hour." I mean, so far as randonneuring rides go, this is literally the shortest possible option. But I wonder too what the 200k will feel like this year. I’m in (I think) better shape than I was last year, and it won’t be the case that each ride will be the longest I’d ever done before this year. There’s a kind of comfort in that.

And.

If anyone has a favorite domestic, easy-to-get-to-from-Boston 1200k they’d recommend for later in the summer…​

So far as the fixed gear experiment goes: 10/10, would do again. Especially if the weather is shitty (since that shit keeps you warm). I’m not quite ready to commit to doing the other rides this summer fixed (for a variety of reasons, including because it’s easier to pace with others when you’ve got gears, including because I think I’ve finally assembled the "final" drivetrain for ol' Stragglepus^[12]), but I think I like it. The sort of simplicity of it. I admit — there is more of a "connection" with the bike and the body (as much as I hate the trope of fixie-folks waxing poetic about it while waxing their mustaches). It’s a similar impulse as to why I prefer downtube shifters for these kinds of rides. But — I’ve got a geared bike to rebuild that I’m excited to ride, and hey: it’s got sliding dropouts, my fixed hub can be spaced out to 135 O.L.D (so it’ll fit in the dropouts), and maybe I fix up that other bike ahead of next winter…​ and maybe I keep it that way…​?

(And more realistically: maybe not. But a boy needs something to dream about, right?)