There is something about cycling that finds romance in completing a challenging ride during horrible weather.  Pairs/Robaix is fantastic when the weather is cold and wet and the roads muddy and slick.  Andy Hapsten, who was the first American to win the Giro d’Italia, is most remembered for the Gavia mountain stage of that three week long race where he took the race lead in below freeing, snowy weather.  

    It is the same with randonneuring and twenty of so of us might have been randonneuring heros yesterday had the weather for the Ground Hog Day 200K and 300K brevets been terrible.  Alas, it wasn’t.  We began in temperatures just below freezing, that’s true, but the sun rose brightly and before long we were all de-layering at the controls.  It was a glorious day and afternoon temperature rose into the 60’s.      

    If any ground hogs peaked out of their holes, they must have seen their shadows foretelling six more weeks of winter .  I can’t say whether or not they did, because I only saw, lots of dead opossums, plenty of live cows and horses, some turkeys, two camels, and lots and lots of bike chasing dogs.

    Here, I’m going to stray from stories about would be randonnering heros and speak instead of a heroic French general.  On May 19, 1804, Michel Ney was named a Marshall of the Empire by Napoleon Bonaparte.  This is quite an appointment, but in Ney’s case, well deserved.  

    Later, after Paris fell to the Bourbons, Ney turned on Napoleon and pledged to capture him and bring him back to Paris as a prisoner.  But, Napoleon won Ney back to his side by the simple expedient of a letter asking Ney for his help.  

    During the Battle of Waterloo, the battle that ended the hundred days war and the career of Napoleon, Ney fought bravely while five horses were slain beneath him, but the battle was lost.  Afterward, he was tried and convicted of treason against the Bourbon Monarchy.  His sentence, death by firing squad.

    Bravely standing before the firing squad, Marshall Ney asked that he not be made to wear a blindfold and asked that he be given the last honor of ordering his executioners to fire.  He was granted both requests.

    Ney admonished the soldiers to fire straight at his heart and proclaimed objection to his sentence saying that he had fought a hundred battles for France and not one against her.  Then Marshall Ney ordered the firing squad to fire.  His body jerked and then slumped.  Blood stained his jacket above his heart.  He was pronounced dead and buried in Paris.

    But, the execution was a subterfuge.  With the help of the Duke of Wellington, who thought it unfair that Ney should be executed for the cause of being an exceptional soldier, Michel Ney was allowed to fake his execution.  He placed packets of blood under his blouse and rigged a way to break them when he pulled back on his shoulders.  The soldiers were issued blank loads and when, on Ney’s command, they fired “straight at his heart”, Ney jerked back, then slumped, and a red stain oozed through and bloodied his tunic.  

    From the site of his “execution,” Michel Ney made his way to Cleveland, North Carolina where he lived the quiet life of a teacher under the name of Peter Stewart Ney.  When he died “the second time,” he was buried in the cemetery yard of the Third Creek Presbyterian Church on Third Creek Church Road, just outside of Cleveland.

    Since we were to pass this church, I planned to stop and take a picture of Marshall Ney’s grave.  Of course I realized I would not have time to find it in an old cemetery, but it turned out I was wrong.  In the picture above, you may see a small brick and glass structure in the background; behind the Red Randonneuse.  Inside that little house is the grave of “Peter Stuart Ney, a native of France and soldier of the French revolution under Napoleon Bonaparte.  Who departed this life November 15th, 1846 aged 77 years.”  Inside the little mausoleum, the grave is covered with red gravel and the white, marble headstone shines as though it were inscribed yesterday.

    While I was thinking about Michel Ney and about how glad I am that David Mills, a framebuilder who lives not far from Cleveland, in Advance, North Carolina, called me the other day and told me about the grave, the rest of my rando buddies were putting kilometers behind them.  So with a short prayer for the repose of the soul of Peter Stuart (Michel) Ney, the Randonneuse and I got back to business.  

    The 200K riders were behind me and headed home while the other four 300K riders were ahead of me working on the out and back portion of our ride that would give us the extra 100 kilometers the 200K riders had denied themselves.  At the 104 mile mark, I caught John, Joe, and Mary, three of the other four 300K riders.  Ten miles before that, I passed Joel, who was 14 miles ahead of me and headed to the barn.  

    John, Joe, Mary, and I finished the last 84 miles together sharing the pulls and honing our night riding skills.  We talked a lot too and the miles zipped under our wheels.  Finishing at 11:40, we found Tony, the brevet organizer asleep in his truck with his mouth hanging open and after Mary roused him with flashes from her headlamp, he signed us in and ended his long day.  

    Fifteen hours and thirty-five minutes is not a heroic time for 300K, but it is pretty darn good for Ground Hog Day.  And, by the way, it did cool way down after dark so we were kind of heroic.