Randonneurs Are In It For The Ride, Not The Race A randonnée is a long-distance, self-supported bike ride. There are time limits — you can't go too slow or too fast — but it's not a race. It's about camaraderie and doing it yourself — and this approach to cycling is catching on in the U.S.
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Randonneurs Are In It For The Ride, Not The Race

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Randonneurs Are In It For The Ride, Not The Race

Randonneurs Are In It For The Ride, Not The Race

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The Tour de France is to professional cycling what Wimbledon is to tennis - the crown jewel. The tour was first organized by a French newspaper editor, Henri Desgrange, in 1903. He also had a hand in the creation of a very different type of cycling event, the Randonnee. It's a long distance ride that prizes camaraderie and self-sufficiency over speed, and even over winning.

Angela Evancie explains.

ANGELA EVANCIE, BYLINE: If you ask a randonneur how they got into the sport...

MICHAEL WOLFE: Oh, I had a friend...

EVANCIE: They'll give you an answer kind of like a randonnee - long and circuitous.

WOLFE: You know, I'd seen the word randonneuring or, you know, brave, bravette - I don't even know what the correct pronunciation is.

EVANCIE: Michael Wolfe, like a lot of riders, is somewhat new to this world and its lexicon. Some say randonneuring, others say randonniering. The simple definition of a randonnee is a long distance, self-supported ride. There's no direct translation into English. It can mean a long outing or a trip.

WOLFE: I think ramble, or a randonneur is a wanderer.

EVANCIE: But everyone can agree on what as randonnee isn't - a race. There are time limits, which means riders can't go too slowly or too quickly. Hence, my conversation with Michael Wolfe, which is happening on the road, during a 400-kilometer randonnee that loops from a town south of Portland, Oregon, out to the coast and back.

Wolfe is in the lead, but he slows down so I can ride next to him.

WOLFE: Do you want me to hold that or?

EVANCIE: He's on a recumbent, sitting low to the ground, peddling with his legs in front of him, so he even holds my recorder.

WOLFE: We'll be turning left here.

EVANCIE: Definitely not a race. Today's ride started without fanfare at 4:00 A.M. At this point it's 7:30 and Wolfe has already covered his first 100K. He's fast, but he says racing turns him into a nervous wreck and that's why he likes randonneuring.

WOLFE: I think, at its heart, it is very cooperative, although when it comes down to it, you are alone on the course. It is up to you to get yourself to the finish, right? But it's like life in that way. It's a sort of shared struggle, right, and somebody else doing well does not diminish your own accomplishment, you know.

JAN HEINE: A friend of mine in Germany once defined it as the search for the complete cyclist.

EVANCIE: Jan Heine is the editor of Bicycle Quarterly, a magazine out of Seattle about the history...

HEINE: ...the technology and the culture of cycling.

EVANCIE: He says that in randonneuring you have to be prepared for anything.

HEINE: It's not like in racing where it starts raining and somebody hands you a jacket out of a car window.

EVANCIE: Riders carry everything themselves - tools, food, lights. And if they get support anywhere but the official checkpoints, they're disqualified. This may sound like hell on two wheels, but the challenge was what tantalized the first randonneurs. They were riders at the turn of the 20th century from two camps in cycling culture.

The French camp was led by healthy-living guru nicknamed Velocio who touted the benefits of long-distance rides, fresh air and vegetarianism. In Italy, a style of group riding called Audax, Latin for audacious, became popular and was later imported to France by Henri Desgrange. Both styles attracted amateur cyclists, cyclo-tourists, as they were called, who did not get along with professional racers.

HEINE: Because there was a lot of animosity in France, actually, between the tourists and the racers. You know, the tourists said we are going in the mountains and we are a participatory sport.

EVANCIE: Participatory meaning that women could ride alongside men and people could ride basically whatever they wanted. This drove innovations and bicycle technology that today are widespread.

HEINE: Derailers to shift gears, aluminum cranks.

EVANCIE: But perhaps the biggest difference was socioeconomic. Racing was a working-class sport. Prize money was a way out of the coalmines or factories.

HEINE: We don't have the liberty to say, well, the other guy deserves to win if you're living depends on it.

EVANCIE: Randonneuring was more of a refined hobby.

HEINE: But if you're doing this for fun, like a lot of amateur racers do in the United States today, suddenly the distinction between winner and second becomes meaningless.

EVANCIE: The pinnacle of randonneuring today is a ride called Paris-Brest to Paris. You can probably guess the route. It's held every four years, 1200 kilometers in 90 hours non-stop. Americans can participate by completing a series of qualifying rides here organized by Randonneurs USA. Michael Dayton is its president.

MICHAEL DAYTON: It's maybe the best time you'll ever have on a bike, but a lot of people don't want to make that trip to France.

EVANCIE: Hence the 1200Ks now held here in the U.S. There's seven scheduled for this season. Randonneurs USA has 3200 members this year, up 260 percent from a decade ago. Dayton says there are clubs popping up in almost every state and, he says, manufacturers have started to sell bikes and equipment specific to the sport.

DAYTON: You know, when and industry sits up and takes notice, you can tell that something's happening, and that is what is happened.

EVANCIE: At mile 168 of the Oregon ride, I meet up with Lesli Larson and Michael Young, both from Eugene.


EVANCIE: How's it going? We're on an empty road in Kings Valley rolling through open fields. Mount Hood, glowing white, anchors the far horizon. Nothing but sun and Larson is pleased.

LESLI LARSON: Usually we're under - we sort of do this under rainy conditions and, you know, hovering in Safeways and getting hypothermia.

EVANCIE: Then again, it seems like these two would be having a good time no matter what.

YOUNG: Who could carry stress with them for 200-plus miles? You just have to leave it behind.

EVANCIE: And with that, they ride around the next bend. For NPR News, I'm Angela Evancie in Western Oregon.


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