My First BRM 200: 205 km of Heat, Headwinds and Resilience

For the past few years, endurance sports have slowly become part of my identity. As someone preparing for triathlons, I have spent countless hours training for long rides and building stamina. Over the last five years, I have completed several 50 km and 100 km rides, and once pushed myself to a 130+ km ride. Those rides gave me confidence, but somewhere deep inside I knew that 200 km would be a completely different game.

So when I registered for my first BRM 200, excitement and nervousness arrived together.

BRM (Brevet de Randonneurs Mondiaux) is not just a cycling event. It is an endurance challenge that tests your body, patience, planning, and mental resilience. When I checked the route map, my excitement suddenly mixed with a bit of fear. I knew that particular stretch of road very well – an industrial corridor packed with heavy vehicle traffic. Trucks, buses, container lorries… not exactly the calm countryside one dreams about for a long ride.

But the thought that kept pushing me forward was simple:

“This is exactly why I should attempt it.”

I wanted to test my endurance, my riding skills, and more importantly, my mind.

Guidance From a True Inspiration

Like most first-time BRM riders, I had many questions running through my mind.

What about the cut-off time?
How do control points work?
Will there be team support?
How should I plan nutrition and pacing?

Luckily, I got connected with Uma Shankar (@travelbytes365), a seasoned cyclist who has completed multiple expeditions and endurance rides. Talking to him was like opening a book full of cycling wisdom.

He patiently answered every question and helped calm my nerves.

But what truly amazed me were the rides he has done:

Chennai to Kanyakumari
Multiple Super Randonneur (SR) series
Everesting
And a 10-day solo expedition to Manali… on an MTB!

Honestly, when I learnt about his expeditions, my mind froze for a second.

Ten days. Solo. To Manali. On an MTB.

I can barely survive ten minutes of Chennai traffic sometimes. What a man!

His camaraderie and encouragement gave me confidence to move forward with the ride.

The Night Before

The night before the event, I prepared everything carefully.

Bike check – Nutrition – Lights - Spare tubes.

I booked a cab for 4:00 AM and went to bed early.

The alarm rang at 3:00 AM. I woke up, had a small carb-heavy meal with some protein, took a cold bath to wake the body up, and got ready. My bike was loaded into the cab and we started the ride towards the start point.

The cab driver was curious about the bike and asked where I was going so early. When I told him I was about to ride 200 km, his reaction was priceless.

“What? 200 km? On this cycle?”

That started a long conversation about endurance sports. By the end of the ride, he seemed genuinely fascinated and even wished me luck. Little did I know the real drama of the morning had not yet begun.

The Day’s First Adventure (Before the Ride Even Started)

After reaching the venue around 4:50 AM, I paid the cab driver through digital payment and walked away to join the riders. A few minutes later, I instinctively checked my pockets.

No phone.

My heart skipped a beat. I had left my mobile phone inside the cab. For a moment, I genuinely thought the ride was over before it even started. With mild panic setting in, I borrowed a fellow rider’s phone and dialed my number. Once… twice… three times.

No answer.

I was almost ready to accept defeat and consider quitting the event. And then, like a scene from a movie, the cab slowly returned to the spot. The driver stepped out and handed me my phone with a smile. That man saved my BRM before it even began.

I thanked him wholeheartedly. Sometimes kindness from strangers becomes the best pre-race motivation.

At the Start Line

With that mini crisis behind me, I finally settled down.

I did a quick bike check, collected my brevet card, checked my tyres, fixed my kit, tightened my shoes, and took a moment to absorb the atmosphere.

And what an atmosphere it was.

Most of my rides over the past few years had been solo rides. Almost 90% of my training happens alone on the road. But here, there was a crowd of cyclists – around 50 riders, many attempting their first BRM just like me.

There was a different energy in the air: Excitement - Nervous laughter - Last-minute bike checks - Group photos. You could feel the shared spirit of endurance.

Then, exactly at 5:30 AM, the ride was flagged off.

And just like that, the journey began. Cyclists rolled out into the early morning darkness, headlights cutting through the road ahead. I clipped in, took a deep breath, and started pedalling. 200 kilometres of unknown adventure were waiting ahead. And I had no idea yet that the ride would include punctures, brutal headwinds, scorching heat, and lessons in resilience that no training ride could ever teach.

But that, as they say…

…is where the real story begins.

The Ride Begins

The ride started from Just Buy Cycles, Velachery. With a crowd full of excitement and positive energy, I began my very first BRM 200. There was a sense of shared purpose among all the riders – some experienced, some like me attempting their first brevet.

As the ride began, the group slowly rolled out into the early morning streets. I clipped in, settled into my rhythm, and started pedalling. Right from the beginning, I was very conscious about not burning too much energy too early. In endurance riding, the biggest mistake is going too fast in the beginning and paying for it later. But at the same time, I also wanted to cover as much distance as possible before the city fully woke up and traffic started pouring in.

So I maintained a steady pace, focusing on smooth pedalling and controlled breathing. The morning air was calm, the roads were still waking up, and the excitement of the ride kept pushing me forward.

First Control Point – Periyapalayam

Around 7:40 AM, after riding roughly 55 kilometres, I reached the first control point at Periyapalayam. Reaching the first control always gives a small psychological boost. It feels like the ride has officially begun.

I stopped the bike and thought, “Let me capture this moment.”

So naturally, I pulled out my phone to take a selfie. Now here comes the comedy. I unclipped my right leg from the pedal. But in my excitement, I completely forgot that my left leg was still clipped in.

And then, like slow-motion in a movie, I slowly started leaning to the left.

My brain realized the mistake.

My body realized the mistake.

But my foot was still clipped.

I was about to fall.

Luckily, one of the fellow riders reacted instantly and caught me before I tipped over.

The funny part?

He was the same person who had earlier lent me his phone when I thought I had lost my mobile in the cab.

At that moment I realized two things:

Clipless pedals demand respect.
BRM riders are some of the most helpful people you will meet.

I thanked him once again for saving both my ride and my dignity. After a quick refresh and checkpoint validation, it was time to continue. I got back on the saddle, clipped in carefully this time, and started riding toward the next control point, knowing that the real test of endurance was still waiting ahead.

Rough Roads, Heavy Traffic and the First Real Test

The road ahead was not going to be easy. Almost the entire stretch involved heavy vehicle traffic – container trucks, buses, and industrial vehicles constantly moving along the corridor. On top of that, the roads were far from smooth. There were rough patches, broken asphalt, and long sections of concrete roads that sent continuous vibrations through both me and my bike.

After the first control point, I had a clear goal in mind. Reach the 116 km control point before the sun climbs directly above my head. The earlier I got there, the better my chances of taking a calm and relaxed break before the heat intensified.

I crossed Uthukottai and started heading towards Sathyavedu. The road between Uthukottai and Sathyavedu was particularly challenging. Large stretches of concrete road panels made the ride extremely bumpy. Every joint in the concrete felt like a mini speed breaker. My road bike and my hands were constantly absorbing those vibrations.

But nature had its own way of balancing things. On the left side of the road stretched a beautiful forest area, tall trees lining the route and creating a peaceful green corridor. The view was refreshing and relaxing for the mind, even if the road was shaking the bones a bit.

Of course, scenic routes come with their own surprises. Finding a good tea shop or restroom on that stretch was almost impossible. So the focus remained clear: keep pedalling and reach the next control point.

Third Control – 88 km

Around 9:25 AM, after covering 88 kilometres, I reached the third control point. The landmark for the control was a Muthoot Finance branch, which seemed to have become an unofficial checkpoint selfie spot for many riders. Naturally, I parked the bike and took a quick selfie in front of the building. It was a small moment of satisfaction. The ride was progressing well.

But the real milestone in my mind was still ahead. 116 km – the lunch control point. After a short pause, I got back on the saddle and continued riding.

The First Puncture

Shortly after crossing 100 km, around 10:10 AM, I started feeling something unusual. The bike felt slightly sluggish. A quick glance at the rear tyre confirmed my suspicion.

The tyre pressure was dropping.

Puncture.

Luckily, right around that time I spotted a petrol bunk and a small tea shop nearby. I pulled over and walked towards the shop.

“Akka, can I sit here and change my tyre?” I asked politely.

She smiled and said yes. I ordered a tea and a packet of biscuits, because when life gives you a puncture, you might as well have tea. This was actually my first time changing a tube during a ride.

Armed with tyre levers and determination, I started the process. But removing the tyre from the rim turned out to be harder than expected. Despite having the tools, I struggled for a while. Watching my wrestling match with the tyre, a kind man from a nearby vulcanizing shop walked over. Without saying much, he helped remove the tyre and assisted in installing the spare tube.

Problem solved.

From puncture to ready-to-ride, the entire process took about 30 minutes. I thanked him, paid for my tea, and before leaving, asked the shop owner if I could refill my water bottles. She kindly agreed. One bottle with water. The other bottle with ORS electrolyte powder.

Hydration is something I always take seriously during endurance rides. Throughout the ride, I made sure to keep fueling my body regularly with bananas, peanuts, and protein bars. In endurance cycling, food and hydration are just as important as pedalling. With everything refilled and ready, I got back on the bike and resumed my journey.

The Second Puncture – and the Mind Games

Five kilometres later…

The bike felt strange again.

I looked down.

No way.

Another puncture.

For a moment, I just stood there staring at the tyre. My confidence took a small hit. I stopped the bike and started inflating air using the pump. Around that time, two riders who had earlier seen me fixing the first puncture slowed down and came towards me.

“Again puncture?” one of them asked.

One of the senior riders then asked an important question:

“Did you check the tyre for any metal piece?”

I paused.

No.

I had not checked that.

And the bigger problem was this: I only had one spare tube left.

They suggested that we stop somewhere and properly inspect the tyre. But I looked at my GPS and realised something important. The next control point at Tada was just 10–12 kilometres away. And I knew that Madras Randonneurs volunteers would be there.

So I told them confidently, “I think I can manage till there.” They helped me pump the tyre again and encouraged me to push ahead quickly.

Riding on Hope (and Half-Inflated Tyres)

I rode about 5 kilometres.

Then the tyre pressure dropped again.

I stopped, pumped air again.

And those same two kind riders once again slowed down and helped me.

This process repeated as I pushed through the next 5–6 kilometres. Physically, I was still feeling strong. But mentally, the game had started.

My mind began whispering:

“Why are you pushing so hard?”
“You have a perfectly valid reason to quit.”
“Just hire a vehicle and go home.”

It sounded very convincing. But another voice inside me was louder.

“You came here to complete this BRM.”
“You can’t stop now.”

That internal debate continued while I kept pedalling.

Stubbornness won.

And finally, after what felt like a long mental battle, I reached the most anticipated control point — Tada (116 km).

Lunch, Repairs and a Fresh Start

At the control point, the Madras Randonneurs volunteers were extremely helpful. They assisted in fixing the puncture properly while I took the opportunity to finally sit down and eat lunch. A simple South Indian meals that tasted so good. After riding more than 100 kilometres with punctures and stress, that lunch felt like a luxury.

I rested for about 10 minutes, chatted with a few fellow riders, thanked the volunteers for their help, and mentally reset. After roughly an hour at the control, I was ready to get back on the road again. The second half of the BRM was waiting. And I had already survived the hardest test so far.

The Second Half – Where the Real Battle Began

I reached the Tada control point around 11:35 AM, had my lunch, got the puncture fixed with the help of the volunteers, rested for a few minutes, and restarted the ride around 12:30 PM. The moment I rolled back onto the highway, the ride changed completely.

The second half of the BRM was brutal.

The weather had turned unforgiving. By then the temperature had climbed to nearly 37°C, and the asphalt highway had started radiating heat like an oven floor. What made it harder was that the wind, which normally cools a cyclist, had turned into a strong headwind of around 20–25 km/h blowing directly against us. Instead of helping, the wind felt like someone constantly pushing you backwards.

Along with that came speeding container trucks, buses, dust from passing vehicles, and the dry hot air of the industrial corridor. The road itself didn’t offer much relief either. The route included nearly 20 flyovers, and each climb demanded just a little more effort from already tired legs.

By this time my body had already covered more than 120 kilometres, burned over 2500 calories, and spent nearly 6 hours on the saddle. But the real challenge now was heat and hydration.

Because of the scorching temperature and constant headwind effort, my water bottles were draining much faster than I expected. I kept sipping frequently to avoid dehydration, but the heat was relentless. Soon I realised something important.

My water reserves were dropping quickly, and I needed to refill them soon. So I started scanning the highway for tea shops, cafés, or small roadside stalls where I could take a quick break, refill my bottles, and maybe get a hot tea to refresh my mind. But the highway had other plans. All I could see were long stretches of road, endless flyovers, and fast-moving trucks.

No tea shops.
No shade.
Just heat, wind, and traffic.

Eventually I crossed Gummidipoondi and moved towards Kavarapettai. As another flyover appeared ahead, I decided not to climb it immediately. Instead, I turned left down into the service road near Kavarapettai, hoping I might find something there. And almost immediately, like a small blessing on a brutally hot day, I spotted a tiny tea shop.

I rolled in, parked my bike, removed my helmet and gloves, and walked up to the shop.

“Akka, one tea… and do you have ice water?” I asked.

She handed me a bottle of cold water. That moment alone felt like a reward after battling the sun and wind. I refilled one bottle with plain water, and the other with water mixed with electrolytes to keep my body salts balanced. As I was standing there, I noticed a large drum full of water beside the shop. At that point my body temperature had climbed high, and sweat had already drained litres of fluid from me.

So I asked her, slightly hesitantly, “Akka… can I take two mugs of water from that drum?”

She looked a little surprised but agreed. I took the mug and without wasting a second poured the water straight over my head.

Once.

Then again.

Two mugs of water from head to toe.

Instant relief.

For a few seconds, it felt like my core temperature had reset.

My body relaxed.

The burning heat on the skin disappeared. I sat down on a small bench and slowly drank my tea. The shop owner came closer and asked where I was coming from. When I told her,

“From Chennai… went till Tada via Periyapalayam and Sathyavedu… now riding back.”

She looked at me with disbelief and said,

“Ada kodumaiye! Yen thambi?”
(“Oh my goodness! Why would you do this?”)

I smiled and replied, “It’s a sport.”

She laughed.

In that small roadside tea shop, after battling 37°C heat, headwinds, flyovers, and traffic, that simple tea felt like a five-star refreshment. I thanked her, paid for the tea, wore my helmet again, clipped back into the pedals, and resumed the ride. The road to Chennai was still waiting.

And so was the final stretch of my first BRM 200.

The Final Push – Riding Home

I left the tea shop around 2:05 PM, feeling refreshed and mentally reset. When I checked my GPS, the number that appeared on the screen gave me a quiet boost of motivation.

Just 50 kilometres more.

After riding more than 150 kilometres, that number suddenly felt achievable. I made a small plan in my mind: the next break would only be at Red Hills or Porur. Until then, it was time to keep moving.

The weather still remained harsh. The temperature stayed close to 35–37°C, and the earlier headwinds of around 20–25 km/h had already drained a lot of energy. By this point in the ride, my body had already burned well over 3500 calories, and I had spent nearly 8 hours on the saddle.

But the difference now was mental.

I was ready.

The earlier punctures, the heat, and the long stretches of rough roads had already tested my patience. Compared to that, the last 50 kilometres felt like a challenge I was prepared for. I kept pedalling steadily, maintaining a comfortable rhythm. Around 3:20 PM, I finally reached Red Hills and stopped at a small sugarcane juice shop. That glass of juice tasted heavenly. Actually, I ended up having two cups of fresh sugarcane juice. It was the perfect natural energy drink after hours under the sun.

While sipping the juice, I mentally prepared myself for the next big challenge: city traffic. My plan was simple. Reach the finish before 5 PM, before the weekend traffic completely took over the roads. With that thought, I got back on the bike and continued riding.

The Final Control Points

Soon I reached Puzhal around 3:30 PM, which was the 5th control point of the ride. With every checkpoint crossed, the sense of progress became stronger. The next stretch slowly brought me back into the city limits. Surprisingly, the segment from Porur towards Kathipara turned out to be relatively kind.

For the first time in hours, the wind seemed to cooperate. There was very little headwind, and the ride started feeling smoother. Around 4:45 PM, I reached the 6th control point at BPCL near the Guindy flyover.

From there, the real Chennai experience began.

Traffic.

Lots of it.

Buses, cars, autos, bikes – everything packed together in that familiar city chaos. And there I was, navigating through it all with clipless pedals. To be honest, even now I am not fully sure how I managed to cross that traffic smoothly with my pedals clipped in. There were moments when I thought,

“If I stop suddenly here, unclipping might become another mini drama.”

But somehow, skill, focus, and a bit of luck helped me move through the traffic safely. After that chaotic stretch, I finally entered Race Course Road.

Suddenly the environment changed.

The road was calm.

Traffic was minimal.

Tall trees on both sides created cool shade across the road.

After hours of heat, dust, and noise, it felt like nature itself was welcoming me back.

The Finish

And then, finally…

Around 5:00 PM, I rolled back into Just Buy Cycles, Velachery – the same place where the journey had started at 5:30 AM.

The final control point. The end of my first BRM 200.

I had covered over 205 kilometres, faced two punctures, battled headwinds, scorching heat, rough roads, and heavy traffic, and spent nearly 11 hours on the road. But the feeling at that moment was simple.

Relief.

Satisfaction.

And a quiet pride.

Because this ride wasn’t just about cycling 200 kilometres. It was about proving something to myself. That the body can endure more than we think. And more importantly, that the mind becomes stronger with every challenge we refuse to quit.

Happy Ending!

Happy me after successful completion of my first BRM 200!

Looking Back

My first BRM 200 was not a perfect ride.

It had punctures.

It had heat.

It had doubts.

But maybe that’s exactly what made it special.

Because endurance sports are never about perfect conditions. They are about continuing forward despite imperfect ones. And somewhere along those 205 kilometres, between the punctures, the tea shops, the flyovers, and the headwinds, I discovered something valuable.

Sometimes the real finish line isn’t the one at the end of the road.

It’s the moment when your mind says “I can quit”…

…and you reply, “Not today.”

And after 205 km, two punctures, and 37°C heat… I learned an important lesson: cycling may end at the finish line, but saddle soreness definitely continues.

Ride Statistics – BRM 200

Event: BRM 200 – Madras Randonneurs
Start / Finish: Just Buy Cycles, Velachery

Total Distance: ~205 km
Moving Time: 9h 11m
Elapsed Time: 11h 37m
Average Speed: 22.3 km/h
Elevation Gain: ~662 m
Calories Burned: ~4056 kcal

Environmental Conditions:

Temperature: up to ~37°C
Wind: ~20–25 km/h headwinds in second half
Road Conditions: rough concrete patches, heavy vehicle traffic, multiple flyovers

Ride Highlights:

First ever 200 km brevet
2 rear tyre punctures
Rode ~10 km with low tyre pressure to reach control point
Battled heat, headwinds, and traffic
Completed within official BRM cut-off time

My First BRM 200: A Ride of Heat, Headwinds, and the Power of Not Quitting