The Long Distance Triathlon - Part 3: The Black Forest

I had chosen the Nordschwarzwald Triathlon as my long-distance triathlon because it did not charge exorbitant credit card fees. Its base is in the Swabian/Baden town of Nagold, known to me especially for the palindrome “In Nagold legen Hähne Geld, log Anni” (“In Nagold, roosters lay money, Anni lied”). Since my old steel bike, can calmly withstand the leaning of other bikes often necessary on railway cars, a relaxed journey through the idyllic Nagold Valley with the Deutschlandticket was possible. In the long-distance event, there were just under 200 participants at the start, which made everything more manageable and accordingly more relaxed. The start was at the Nagold Reservoir, about 20 km from Nagold into the Black Forest, and 200 m higher. As June had been very dry, the reservoir had a very low water level, which even the rainy July could barely improve. In the days before, temperatures had reached around 30 degrees Celsius, which was unwelcome for running, but about 30 degrees Celsius, which was unwelcome for running, but on the other hand, the water was pleasantly tempered at 20 degrees. The start in the lake at sunrise was impressive. Two laps were swum, each with a turning point near the dam. Due to my legs sinking down in the water, I couldn't maintain the freestyle for very long and had to switch to breaststroke, occasionally also floating on my back to relax, until I was ready for freestyle again. I took 1:43 hours for 3.8 km, but it took a while to get out of the wetsuit and onto the bike. 

Through various summer bike tours, I had already gained heat experience, but at the triathlon, there was a completely different time pressure. The elevation profile looked manageable despite some climbs, without me having to worry about walking the bike. The ride consisted of three laps; the first part of each went out of the Nagold Valley and moderately uphill (at Mindersbach there was a fan zone on the climb, at least in the first two laps) and then from the turning and refreshment point, a bit steeper downhill and back towards Nagold. Already at 40 km, tension in the lower back became noticeable and made me think about giving up. Apparently, my back was not yet accustomed to aerodynamic cycling and therefore stiff. This tension could be relieved with a bit of gymnastics on the saddle, so it was hardly a reason to give up.

A terrible thought had kept me awake in the nights before – what would happen if I got a flat tire? So I packed tools, a spare tube, and a pump on the bike – but this mainly served to help me sleep better before the event. Although I had slept quite well the night before the triathlon, during downhill rides a feeling occasionally occurred that almost felt like drowsiness. Could it perhaps have been caused by the heat combined with the repetitive perhaps due to the heat combined with the repetitive movement and the position of the head? Surely the thought of falling asleep on the saddle is almost as creepy as that of a fork break, even more so than the worry about a flat tire. Realistically, though, a flat would have caused me big problems with the time limit. But after just over 7:09 hours, I had completed the 180k cycling course without a crash, with air in the tires, and almost no sunburn, and all worries had vanished.

Finally, only the marathon remained, by far the best managed discipline, because when running, you can still walk if things aren't going well. By now, however, it was mid-afternoon, and the temperature in the valley was 29 degrees Celsius, which fortunately was lower than on the days before and after. The heat affects running more than cycling, but since I had taken quite a long time for the previous disciplines, the sun was already a bit lower, and trees and buildings cast shade in places, which I would, of course, take advantage of. After being at the back following swimming and even more so after cycling, I was able to make up some places while running. The course ran several laps through the city center, past a sculpture (surely these were the money-laying roosters), along an out-and-back route by the river, and finally once more across the river to the finish. Fortunately, there was a sponge station every kilometer, which helped to cope with the still heated road. Compared to other events, the weather was still relatively pleasant.

Other events, such as the London-Edinburgh-London bike tour and the Heidelberg Triathlon had to be canceled due to bad weather, and at the World Games in China, there was tragically a death during the orienteering event in 42 degrees Celsius heat. Even though I was significantly slower than the average in swimming and cycling, I was still in good shape during the marathon, and it was enough for a decent target-60 time (4:04 h). Afterwards, I was also able to easily ride back, now with bike lights on, to the accommodation not far from the start. Would I do a triathlon of this length again? Maybe, maybe not. Finishing is not unlikely, competition is out of the question. But after all, it's not really a defined game where winning is the goal, but an open-ended game.

Towards the Long Distance Triathlon - Part 2: The Swimming

Swimming would be something new: I had never swum longer than a few hundred meters on a time before, so I would need to catch up on all points here. After getting my ear professionally cleaned so that the sea would not stay inside for an undue time, I noticed an advert for a Liveguard swimming course at my nearest pool - something I always wanted to do. To successfully qualify as a voluntary lifeguard, you need to demonstrate some competence in the front crawl style, so this would hopefully provide some incentive to look into this technique (along with distance diving). I have a major problem commonly experienced by male swimmers, that my legs are quite dense, and they tend to sink down if swimming too slowly. With the help of this course, I was able to extend this speed from a few strokes to two pool lengths.

To gradually see which swimming distance length was still manageable and to get used to the organisation effort, I registered for the middle-distance triathlon in Heilbronn, a well-established event an hour away by train. As I got on my way to the train, I noticed just before departure, that I had not placed the inner tube in correctly, and over time it had been damaged. Luckily, at the last minute that I found a bike shop wthat was still open. Though on the verge of closing and not having time to replace my tube, they still lent me some tools that were better than mine. Everything fixed on the spot, I made it to the bike check-in in Heilbronn.

The 1,9 km swimming took place in the Neckar river, the same river I pass or cross almost every day. Fortunately, it hadn't rained much beforehand, but the current that had to be swum against in the first half was still impressive. Since I could hardly make any progress with breaststroke and I could not keep up the crawl for long, I switched to the more forceful backstroke. Because the current was stronger in the middle of the river, I swam along the edge. However, this came at the price of occasional contact with vegetation and submerged rocks. Luckily, my old wetsuit was sturdy. The lifeguard course also helped ensure that I was not among those who had to give up. Thirty participants had to get out here, some with bloody knees. The way back felt like it only took a few minutes. I was not the last to finish.

The cycling part of the race was hilly, through fields, vineyards and villages. The local audience was also well involved, complimenting my bike with "condition over carbon". In Iine with this, I was still cautious to use the tria handlebar especially on high-speed downhill sections, and the gearing was more suitable for flat terrain. At registration, we got only one bib, which I attached to the front of the jersey. However, a cycling referee made me turn the shirt, causing a sunburn at the resulting neckline.

Apart from this, the running part through town centre was the least complicated, as expected. The sun was now behind clouds, temperatures in the high 20 degrees with a slight distant rumble of thunder that soon passed, as I steadily made it to the finish.

Towards the Long Distance Triathlon - Part1: The Mental Preparation

I decided to participate in a long distance triathlon. But there were several things to be checked: Did I have the strength, technique and endurance, and finally, did I really want to do it?

So first of all, I wanted to see if I still had the desire for effort. So I signed up for a local Silvester run. The traditional cross country run, held in the woods near Stuhr every New Year's Eve, stretches about 10 km through sandy geest, forest, and over meadows (the open country necessarily a bit windy). It went great, and I even managed to get a Top 5 position! It still flows!

So the feeling was still there; now the proper challenge was to maintain this momentum over a longer period of time. To practice that mentally, I planned to participate in a few longer endurance events of different types.

In February, a 50 km run would take place very close by, namely in Ubstadt-Weiher. Even as part of the German Championship – it's never too late to participate in something like that! The run consists of several laps around a pit lake and is actually not so different from the New Year's Eve run in terms of the course. The weather was cold and unexciting, so excellent conditions for running. But going round and round, especially in dull weather, soon became a bit monotonous, although enduring boredom was exactly what was meant to be trained. The motivation was maintained by anticipation of the well-equipped food stations, which I passed on every lap. In this way, I managed to cover the marathon distance well, but then my left hip started hurting slightly when lifting my leg. So I had to reduce the pace a bit and occasionally walked, finishing in 4:24 h. Though the mental endurance was strong, the body might show some limits, requiring a bit of attention and, if needed, moderation in the future.

In order to put less strain on those stressed tendons, I next looked for something that could motivate me for a longer bike tour. The cycling part of the triathlon takes far more time than swimming and running combined. Though I had previously done some long events, for example 400 km cycling Brevets, I had not much experience of riding under real time pressure, since these Audax/Randonneur events are long, but not very intense, as they require only an average speed of 15 km/h.

Studying lists of Audax brevets, I found that a 200 km brevet would start from Prague in April. The timing was convenient, it was easily accessible location-wise, and above all, transport of the bike by bus and train was also possible. I used my everyday bike for this. Although construction work caused massive trains delays once again, that completely ate up a generous buffer time for transfers, I still made it to the start on the outskirts of Prague in time. The Czech randonneur scene is very small, with about 10 participants at the start. Like for the British and Germans, riding was more of a solitary activity. Exiting the Czech capital, the route initially ran flat along the Elbe Valley on quiet side roads – designated bike paths were hardly present, except in Mlada Boleslav. Apparently, one can go far in Czech politics if one rants against bike lanes. However, the road surfaces were mostly in good condition and there was not much traffic on the road. Historical cobblestones, however, sometimes took a toll on a water bottle. Rural route, slight headwind, cloudy. From afar, the high point and turning point came into view - the 1,017-meter-high Jested.

In the 1970s, a futuristic tower was added to this mountain, and it looks like the elevation profile of the entire route. Going up caused a bit of sweat, but going down made me realize it was just a few degrees above zero, and so I started to shiver downhill. The route back was the same, and even the man loading my bike into the bus was the same who had unloaded it in the morning.

Since running and cycling for a long time was not so much of a problem, the challenge would be getting to swimming - to be continued.

Oldest in Europe: The Košice Peace Marathon celebrates its Centenary

The Boston Marathon, which was first held in 1897, is world famous. Far less known, is the oldest marathon in Europe - the Košice Peace Marathon in the east of the Slovak Republic. In 2024, it celebrates 100 years since its inauguration. It has taken place almost every October since 1924, and while staying in the same spot, it has taken place in four different states: Czechoslovakia, Hungary, the CSSR and Slovakia. “This is mainly thanks to the commitment of individuals such as Vojtech Bukovsky," emphasizes Branislav Koniar, the director of this race. In 1924, Bukovsky and two other sports officials returned from the Olympic Games in Paris, dreaming of bringing “the noblest of the Olympic disciplines" into their city and country. Just three months later, on October 28, eight runners (out of 17 registered) faced the uncertain challenge of a distance of 42.195 kilometers, with seven of them reaching the finish line. One Mr. Tronka, who had never run more than 2 kilometers in one go, managed 26 kms, but had to give up soon afterwards. The victory, including the Slovakian championship went to local runner Karol Halla in a time of 3:01:55 hours. After dinner, the organizers were so enthusiastic that they decided to hold a marathon every year in the future, even with international participation. Only two years later, the victory of Hans Hempel from the SC Charlottenburg (a club nowadays known for their involvement in the Berlin Marathon) prompted the magazine "Der Leichtathlet" to sing the following hymn of praise: "There are only two big marathons in the world: Boston and Košice." Although marathons were held in several European countries in the 1920s, the Košice marathon was the only one to survive the dramatic events of the 20th century. Although world-class runners, such as the 1932 Olympic champion Juan Carlos Zabala, took part, the financial framework of the marathon was mostly at amateur level. Instead of entry fees, there was free food and a train ticket (3rd class). 

 In 1938, the Nazis invaded and broke up Czechoslovakia and awarded Košice to their ally Hungary. The race survived: except for 1938 and 1940, it was also held during the war years, but only Hungarian athletes were allowed to start. After the end of the war, the event quickly reached international level again. The professionalism of the marathon was also evident in the qualification limit of 3:45 hours introduced in 1949, which, however, meant that older runners such as "Grandfather Gottschling", who had only reached the finish line in the dark in 1936, were no longer able to take part. In the decades that followed, such illustrious runners as Popow, Bikila, Edelen, Wolde, Heatley, Clayton and Cierpinski took part. The most successful participant came from Košice’s West German twin city of Wuppertal: Christa Vahlensieck, who won the women's marathon five times. While the running boom in the West led to the founding of many city marathons, the Košice Marathon also opened up to a wider range of runners for its 50th official run in 1980. The qualification time was abolished and among the 1114 participants, more than five times as many as the previous year, 18 women ran for the first time. Still, it has a fairly strict time limit of six hours, which is probably why its median finish time was about 4 hours, with over 4000 finishers, in 2023. The running scene in Slovakia is relatively small, but performance oriented. The running tradition is very much maintained here; there is a runner's monument on the marathon square, on which the names of the winners are immortalized in golden letters, marathon flags hang everywhere and the post office offers special cancellations for stamps, and for 2024, a commemorative Euro coin. It is certainly a fame-limiting factor limiting that Košice lies in the far east of the EU, and this region is generally not often visited by tourists - apart from the High Tatras mountain range, which is 100 kilometers away. The race is set in autumn with usually mild temperatures, however in the long history of the race, there has been everything from heat to snow. After the marathon had long run from Košice along a country road to Sena and back, in 1989 the organizers decided on a two-lap course through the city area, which on the one hand allows the half-marathon runners to take part and on the other hand presents the beauty of Košice. This allows the residents to experience the top runners even more intensively. The start and finish are on the beautifully restored main street in front of St. Elisabeth's Cathedral, probably the easternmost Gothic church in Europe. The cathedral is considered the largest church in Slovakia, but was never fully completed as a real Gothic cathedral. The main street area is flanked by newly restored and colorfully plastered houses from Baroque to Art Nouveau. This is where most of the spectators applaud. The course runs mostly on asphalt, with some cobblestones. The course is carefully marked and closed to traffic.

Passing the Cathedral: Marathon in 2020. Source: Gosivity, wikimedia commons

Outside the historic town centre, the route leads largely through prefabricated housing estates. These were built during the rapid growth of the city and its steel industry in the post-war period. Here, the echo between the concrete facades amplifies the applause of the audience to create a powerful acoustic backdrop. A short loop through a park, along the Harnad river and the runners stream back into the centre. At the refreshment stands, helpers hand out candy-tasting sports drinks in dark red plastic bottles, occasionally also fruit or biscuits.

Marathon Monument. Source: Maros Mraz, wikimedia commons

The monument commemorating the marathon stands at the head of the one-kilometer-long finish line, one of the most impressive ones in the world. In 2023, Kenyan Cherop Philemon Rono was the first to complete the tough, following a duel to the finish line with Ethiopian Kebede Wami Tulu. The clocks stopped after a course-record time of 2:06:55 hours. In the women's race, Jackline Cherono won in 2:24:43. As a symbol of world peace, the winners traditionally release a white dove at the finish. www.www.mmm.sk

A Slow Journey towards becoming an International Super Randonneur

As I was never into competitive cycling, I needed a charity event to motivate me to ride in something organised. Inspired by the then upcoming London Olympics, participants of this charity challenge were encouraged to try themselves out in different sports: I did running (the only thing I am o.k. in), swimming, rowing and taekwondo. For the cycling part, I researched local events and the easiest way would be taking part in the 2011 Emitremmus Desrever 100k, organised by the CTC Stevenage. The spirit of amateurism was extended to the bike, a hybrid more concerned with all-weather-commuting (in flat country), shopping and pulling children’s trailers, and theft-proofed by its outward appearance. Having used it in these different activities for 15 years now, it has become so imprinted into my body memory that I get slightly dizzy on another bike for the first moments. And this ensures stability: I can only remember falling off three times: once I slipped on ice, once it was partially run over by a London Taxi, and once I was trying to mount it (at a very public spot; no alcohol was involved). Experienced on London’s glass-studded streets, it is also equipped with no-flat-tyres - for me, the peace of mind is worth the cost in speed. 

At the Emitremmus Brevet, the hills of Hertfordshire turned out to be a challenge indeed in the original configuration. In the following year, and equipped with a new gearing, the time had come for my first randonnee, the Cambridge 200. But I was still a shift-lazy fenland rider, and this showed when, on a sudden uphill turn, the chain jumped and got stuck between cassette and hub - impossible to see how it could get out (or how it could have got in) without a chain tool, which I didn’t carry. Fortunately it was less than 10 km to the next control in Olney, so I rode there in the traditional dandy horse mode to deal with this problem in a more comfortable atmosphere. And over a coffee, with a bit of patience and a Swiss army knife, the chain and the bike were put back on track. In this spirit of dilettantism I set out on the road of continual improvisations. Long rides and associated mental freewheeling led to such “inventions"; like a Baguette holder, an “energy drink” powder (whey, maltodextrin, instant coffee, salts; vitamins) or a tria-bar mounted headlight which can be turned around into a map reading lamp - I like to navigate by route sheet, because mental maths how long it will take to the next turn help me stay awake. To keep me motivated, I was now looking for a challenge that would not take too much time (let alone effort) at once, but also involved interesting planning, so I set out for the International Super Randonneur. To qualify for this, one has to do BRM brevets in four countries (at least one of each 200/300/400/600k or longer- check out Granbrevetto Europe Challenge Randonnée if these look too short for you). 

For the International Super Randonneur I rode:

 -October 2017: Dying Light 200k starting in Dublin. A great season-closer and the social event of the Irish randonneur community, after battling strong autumn headwinds on Irish roads that were so rough that my backlight cover jumped the ship.

 -May 2018: Green and Yellow Fields 300k starting in Manningtree and organised by Audax Mid- Essex. East Anglian cycling experience was not of disadvantage in this smooth ride, and the weather was so fine that I learned where sunscreen needs to be applied on a cyclist. 

 -June 2019: 400k starting in Dunkerque, France - most French brevets don’t have individual names. Riding in impromptu groups (and having regular breaks together, also for flats) is the norm here also outside Euraudax, compared to British rides that build more on the local tradition of time trials. Instead, club-managed controls are not so much of a social hub in France, since most events are self-supported. On the other hand, some riders are able to organise support on the spot, for example by persuading the mayor of a village to let a small pub open for refreshments in the middle of the night. Also, French hotel porters also don’t seem to be surprised about being asked to stamp brevet cards in the small hours: Everybody expects a French validation. And baguette vending machines exist.

 -August 2021: 600k. Gießen, Hessen, Germany. Now living in Germany again, plans for a 600k in 2020 were put on hold due to Covid. Permanents in Germany mainly narrow down to Superrandonnées, but the lines to calendar events become blurred in pandemic times: For 2021, the ACP allowed for homologated events the starting in groups of two, within a window of two weeks. The geographically closest one for me was the “Großenwiedener Antizykel”, named after its opposite point from the start and the fact it had historically an anti-brevet running the other way round at the same time. Early on Saturday, 14. August, two riders started at the pedestrian overpass in Gießen they call the “elephant’s toilet” for its big round opening.01 I used the smartphone app “Digital Brevet Card” for contact-free validation by uploading timestamped and geolocated images at checkpoints. Unfortunately, even on a summer night the airstream can cool an uncovered phone so much that no electrons would want to come out of the battery - shut down plaintively and the charger cable was far away. So I relied on snapshots with my emergency camera and on cashier receipts. Shop opening times on weekends are short (even compared with France), but gas stations are plenty and they often open around the clock. Since central Germany is full of mid- to small- sized mountain ranges, a brevet through this region should be expected to involve a lot of up and down between towns unless you follow a river. But in the prevalent Sunday afternoon mood, no motorist took care to honk at a cyclist on an uphill struggle, turning increasingly into an involuntary pedestrian. As I wanted to make it home in time, I took no time to doss and finished by taking a photo of my bike in front of the elephant’s toilet on Sunday evening before taking the train home.

After riding a 600k almost entirely on my own (I gave my starting companion was a go ahead soon after the start), some more social riding was most welcome, so I signed up for one of many brevets that globally celebrated the centenary of free-paced randonneuring in September 2021. On Sunday, 11th September 1921, 77 cyclists started from the Porte Maillot in Paris for the first free-paced 200 km brevet. Apparently, all of them, including a married couple and a one-armed veteran, completed the course within the 16-hour time limit, the fastest being Messieurs Lavenarde and Girardot in 10:19 h (Source: L’écho des Sports, 13.9.1921). The biggest number of jubilee riders turned up in India, where 400 of them celebrated the anniversary in Bengaluru alone. For me, it would be the easiest to get to the one in Munich: If I departed from Heidelberg in the small hours and took the high-speed train to Munich, I would arrive at the main station twenty-five minutes before the start at 8 o’clock. Although my train ran 80 minutes late, this problem had miraculously resolved after a brief nap, and I could ride the few kilometers to the start comfortably through the quiet and wide roads of Munich. 

In a gentle drizzle, the starting area was well visible by the fluorescent colour of jackets and vests of more than a hundred starters. Corona-related social distance measures had been partially relaxed, making this event probably the biggest brevet in Germany on this side of Covid so far. Starting in groups, we rode the first kilometers out of the city, first along the gravelly banks of the Isar and then continued southwards through the Perlacher forest. Sheltered from sun, wind, rain and hills this cycleway is ideal for cycle-based conversations. Soon the drizzle gave way to a clear sky and the Alps became visible, and the ascent was so steady it was barely noticeable. After the much-needed coffee and cake at the first control in Lenggries, it was now time to go into the mountains (but especially the valleys), and at the end of a tunnel we were received with a stunning panorama, with the blue waters of the Sylvenstein reservoir below us. We followed the Ache, the inlet feeding the reservoir, upstream into a narrowing valley and the road changed into a gravelly forest track winding uphill. It ended at a sign telling us that we were now in Austria.

However, this sign was for cars only. On our bikes, we had already crossed into Austria via a bridge over a tiny mountain stream a bit earlier. I wonder which brevet crosses most countries, Belgium might be a good place to look for it. Within slightly more than 600k, iIt should be possible to ride through eight countries: Beginning in the southernmost corner of the Netherlands, crossing into Germany with brief excursions into Belgium and Luxembourg, crossing the Rhine and touching the French border, then towards Bregenz at the Austrian end of Lake Constance, from there briefly over the Rhine (because the left bank is Switzerland), and back again onto the right bank into Liechtenstein. The first five of these countries would not even take 200k to cycle. From the border on the mountain pass, we rode on well-groomed roads up the Ache river until arriving at the lake out of which it flows. Among other leisure activities, the blue-green waters of the Achensee are an excellent cruising ground for Pedalos. These pedaled watercraft were developed not far from here, and did their first rounds on Bavarian lakes in 1810, a handful of years before Baron von Drais first rode on two wheels. I don’t know if it is possible to homologate a Randonnee on water, as the current record for a Pedalo stands at 194 km in 24h, but it might be possible with a pedaled hydrofoil, which can go as fast as 35 km/h. Soon after passing the end of the lake, the ride reached its highest (and halfway) point at about 968 m above zero - we were riding in the Alps now, but still without much uphill struggle. But the descent was moderate as well - trailing a livestock transporter limited the speed to an adrenaline-saving 51 km/h, but much faster than a traditional cattle drive down from the summer pastures would have been, albeit that would have had cowbells. At the bottom we reached the valley of the Inn river, and followed the Inn cyclepath through a well-developed tourist region towards the next checkpoint in Wörgl (133 km). I validated there with a traditional stamp, as the digital brevet card did not seem to work (expected if one travels abroad without turning on international roaming). We stayed close to the Inn (also a good mountain-grinder according to its gravel deposits) past the border fortress of Kufstein 07 and crossed another unnoticeable border back into Germany, and the horizon opened again. After a cake stop at the 175 km checkpoint at Brannenburg, we left the Inn cycle path - it would finally merge into the Danube cycle path downstream in Passau. Instead, our small group followed its tributary the Mangfall upstream, and cycled past tiny cascades, towards the beer garden finish, into the sunset.

A Century of Cycling Brevets

On the 11th September 2021, the cycling community will have the opportunity to mark the centenary of riding Brevets. Brevet, which is the French word for test, describes a ride with individual pacing, while this style is better known as “Randonneuring” in its motherland and several other countries. Following the first Audax-titled ride from Rome to Naples in 1897, group rides had already been flourishing whenever peacetime allowed it and by 1921, over 4500 French cyclists had earned their Audax. In 1920, due to a split between Henri Desgrange, who had set up the Audax rules (and also the Tour de France) and the Audax Club Parisien (ACP), the ACP developed their own rules, which allowed for individual pacing. The first event organised in the new allure libre or free pacing style was a 200 km ride on Sunday, 11th September 1921 in Paris. The peloton group started at 5 in the morning at the Porte Maillot and the final control closed at 9 in the evening. Of the 77 registered cyclists, apparently all managed to complete the course within the 16 hour time limit, including a married couple and a one-armed veteran. The fastest finishers were Messieurs Lavenarde and Girardot in 10:19 h (Source: L’écho des Sports, 13.9.1921). Originally limited to 200 km, the first 300 km Brevet was introduced in the next year, followed by increasingly longer distances in the years to come. From 1927, club sections in different parts of France were beginning to organise local brevets as well, and in 1976 international brevets were homologised by the ACP. The mandatory group riding style remains popular in France and other countries, where it is known as Audax or Euraudax, and is organised by the Union des Audax Francais (UAF), which also supervises other endurance sports. As British cycling tends to lean stronger towards individual time trials than the more group-ride oriented French tradition, the free-pacing style caught on in the UK, where it has become synonymous with Audax since. In 2019, over 3500 events were homologised worldwide in 2019, before COVID struck. However, in order to celebrate the centenary of the first brevets, more than 200 low-risk outdoor rides will be (hopefully) started in the weekend of the 11th September and an arrivee rewarded with a special medal.

A roll of honour for marathoning in all EU countries

Just read that Eddie Izzard is planning to run 28 Marathons in 28 Countries in 28 Days for peace and unity in Europe. We completely agree with these goals, so let's form a Complete EU Marathon Club!
Among the EU countries, I have so far run marathons in:

• Germany (2000)
• Poland (2001)
• Slovenia (2001)
• Czechia (2002)
• Finland (2002)
• Italy (2003)
• Belgium (2003)
• Luxembourg (2003)
• France (2004)
• The Netherlands (2004)
• Austria (2004)
• Spain (2005)
• Denmark (2005)
• Slovakia (2005)
• Sweden (2006)
• The United Kingdom (2006)
• Ireland (2007)
• Croatia (2008)
• Hungary (2010)

So there are at least nine more countries to be explored! But of course there are already several people who have completed them all, most of them in the Marathon 30 Country Club:

• Brent Weigner
• Jürgen Sinthofen
• John Wallace

Please let me know if you have completed them all, and I will put you on the list!