One of the things I like about cycling is its relationship with improvisation. As a younger rider I rode long distances solo with lightweight camping equipment and no real plan. The day was spent riding from one camp site to another, with only wind and terrain governing my path. The two traditions of Audax, one where all ride together led by a captain (Euraudax), the other allure libre (where one might only meet other rider at controls or choose to ride as a group), are different distances from these roots. Although the “free” riding of the latter allows me to embrace uncertainty to an extent, there is a part of my psyche that craves a rejection of the safety in rules that allure libre audax presents. Audax riding is a pragmatic compromise for me, however: it provides a temporally and spatially contained opportunity to ride with or without others which is coherent with family and work constraints.
Four recent stimuli have made me reconsider my dedication to the collection of brevets: the first is the change that a clear goal (Paris-Brest-Paris 2015) has brought. This was the stimulus that drove me to finally become a Super Randonneur in 2014, an achievement I have avoided for many years. It is also the impetus that is currently overcoming the inertia I might otherwise have experienced after finishing my final brevet of last year, and drives me towards another SR and PBP. That drive, however has an opposing force: PBP itself exerts an influence on long distance cycling. The Audax Club Parisien designed the SR series as a way of training for PBP, and ensuring that entrants were suitably prepared. That doesn’t mean that there are no other valid motivations for riding an audax: but it does mean that PBP is an implicit as well as explicit goal whether we as riders acknowledge this or not. Although I have yet to experience it, all accounts I have read suggest that PBP is about as far from improvisation (and the x-rated Audax UK rides I have come to love) as one can get whilst having a card stamped. Its roots in racing are still apparent, and there is a huge mismatch between the versions of self-reliance it presents and those of local ACP-validated qualifying rides. That segues neatly into the second stimulus, which has been incubating for about three months: my final brevet of 2014 was a DIY event as I had missed my calendar 300 due to illness. The route, although validated by AUK, was designed by the lone rider, and evidenced purely through two gps files. Although I found my other SR rides enormously satisfying in their different ways, this was a completely different level of self-inflicted challenge, and although driven by the desire to complete my SR, actually reminded me of the role self-direction plays in my love of cycling. The final stimulus was encountering a number of articles about the trip taken by Gus and Lachlan Morton across the Australian Outback (Thereabouts). Although supported by a car and one-person support team/driver, there were aspects of their approach that spoke to me and reminded me of one of the books that haunts my cycling (Journey to the Centre of the Earth): the journeys are very different but there is an attention to people, places and the interaction of inner life and environment that resonated. Lastly, the Transcontinental Race provides a different way of negotiation freedom and rules, resulting in some extraordinary stories (especially Martin Cox’s 2014 ride) where the constraints of the race battle with an authentic sense of ethical purpose (see especially this and this).
So, although I enjoy the balance between security and self-reliance of Allure Libre I also long for the bottom-up joy of “doing it myself”. In 2016 I think I might aim to ride more DIY Audaxes, and maybe think about some more radically individual challenges. But first, there are many kilometres to ride to get to Brest and back, most of which will be ridden on fairly familiar roads.