OK, I *do* love you guys, but logging in to the forums did, in fact, take a lower priority to getting some much needed sleep. I wasn't even all that hungry afterwards, surprisingly enough, but man was I pooped! (I had a sandwich when I was done, but dinner ended up being just a veggie salad!)

Gosh, I don't even know how to sum it all up. I will do a ride report, I promise.

Quickly, though... the first two ride segments were amazing.
I rode 450 km (279 miles) to Loudeac in just 21:45. I had buckets of time in the bank (I was ~9 or 10 hours ahead of the control closing time!) and got 4:15 of sleep. Awesome. The ride from Loudeac to Brest and back to Loudeac was extremely hilly, but I covered the 340km (~211 miles) in 19 hours, which I was again very happy about. Still had oodles of time in the bank and took another 3:15 sleep break.

Day 3 was when things started getting tough. I was fine for the first few hours riding, but around 7 or 8 am, I suddenly realized that I'd just had a "micro sleep" moment on my bike. Scared the crap out of me. I ended up taking a 30 minute nap in the next control, which was good for another couple of hours of wakefulness. But by the time the sun went down on the 3rd day, I was *really* starting to struggle. My pace had slowed and my mood had declined. I ended up getting to my next designated sleep stop about 3.5 hours later than planned. Basically, it had taken me 22 hours - and a couple of woe-is-me crying episodes - to go just 310 km (193 miles). That sucks. Still with 4.5 hours in the bank, but I like to LEAVE a control with 2 hrs banked (in case of mechanical). Well, that just wasn't going to happen.

I woke up in INCREDIBLE pain. I could barely move. No exaggeration. Couldn't sit up, couldn't turn over. There wasn't a spot on me that didn't hurt (well, except my hands which were basically numb to the world). I decided to DNF. But Jeff wouldn't let me. I'd given him STRICT instructions to get my *** moving and that he did. But, not before I had the most violent episode of projectile vomiting ever. Jeff said he'd never seen anything like it. Even as it was happening, I was thinking "wow, that's impressive! Who knew the human stomach held that much stuff??" Clearly, my body had stopped processing what I was putting into it some time before.

Anyway, once I vomited (all over the spectacularly white and shiny bathroom in this lovely hotel.....) I felt much better. Or, at least, my stomach did.

So, somehow, I don't KNOW how, but I rode. The final 87 miles from that control took me 8:45 to cover. There was one interim control I had to stop at 40 miles before the finish, which sucked up 30 minutes, so basically I was puttering along averaging a whopping 11mph. (Well, truth be told, I was going UP the hills at about 4mph and coasting DOWN). But, when all was said and done, I made it to Paris with 1:15 left in the bank. It meant I didn't have to stress the last section, and could try to enjoy the accomplishment.

It's hard to express just how challenging this ride is. It isn't just the distance. It's the hills (38,000 feet!!) and the lack of sleep, and the unfamiliar foods, and the chaos of the controls (so very much NOT like getting in and out of a control in the US) and the epicness of riding in France.

So, here I am 29 hours later. My body has taken quite a beating. My knees (which have never given me trouble) are very very sore. My right shoulder (which I injured falling on railroad track in March) is really uncomfortable, 8-9 of my fingers have some degree of numbness, my butt is sore (though in remarkably good shape thanks to awesome shorts and Lantiseptic. I have no broken skin.), and obviously my quads are completely depleted. My lower back is definitely tweaked too, but it was sore most of the week leading up to the event for reasons having nothing to do with PBP.

Will I do it again? Probably not. It's a checkmark on the bucket list, yes, but jeez louise, it was really really hard. Really hard. I'm not entirely sure doing it again would be worth the damage to my body.