PBP inspiration
No comments on my sanity, but this is the kinda stuff that always seems to make ultra-distance magical to me:
At one point, the white line on the right side of the road changed to an actual curb, and I saw a rider a little ways in front of me hit it and go down. A second later, someone else right behind him hit it and went down as well. I met up with a fellow whom I had chatted with the previous night, and we tried gamely to converse. I was getting very sleepy, starting to nod off on my bike, and contemplating a nap. The fellow I was with was in worse shape than I was, and had no clue what we were doing or where he was. He kept asking me when we were going to get into Canada, and what part of Canada we’d be riding through. I explained that we were in France and couldn’t ride to Canada from where we were, and he didn’t seem to understand. . .I explained that we were on Paris Brest Paris, we were trying to ride back to St. Quentin in 90 hours, and that I needed a nap. He said, “Oh. So… we have an objective now. Okay, that’s good. Well, we’re not accomplishing anything by sitting here!” and rode off.
