After the Ride News
A warm greeting and salutation to everyone reading this! I made it to Los Angeles safe and sound. All the training in the last five months paid off. In fact, I would have to say that I over-trained for this event. But that is how I wanted it. I remember, back in January, a talk I had with a biker that did the Ride last year. He told me that if I can do the Three Bears in the hills of the East Bay, the Ride will be simple. In my mind I knew he was right, but I didn’t want to find out the hard way if he was wrong. So I kept with my training regiment, biking every weekend, rain or shine. So let me tell you how easy the Ride was...
Day one: Fort Mason to Santa Cruz, 90 miles
The day began way too early. I had to be at Fort Mason by 6:30 for the Opening
Ceremonies. My co-worker and her boyfriend, Linda
and Dan, picked me up a little late, so when we arrived, there was the
standard last minute chaos that accompanies any large-scale event. The pavilion
that was holding the ceremonies was jam-packed, so I just waited outside.
The organizers tried to let everyone go to their bikes in an orderly manner,
but there is only so much organization with 2700 people trying to get to their
bikes and only two entrances. I managed to get to my bike early and was out
of Fort Mason at around 8am.
As I got on the road, it was tire to tire traffic through the whole city.
We started through the Presidio, the Golden Gate Park, then meandered to Mission
Street/El Camino Real. By the time I reached South San Francisco, the clusters
of bikes were thinning out, allowing bikers a little elbow room to maneuver.
After seventeen miles was the first Pit Stop. This was quite a welcome site,
because I had not seen a bathroom since waking up. The urgency had been propelling
me to the Stop for the last four miles.
Pit Stops appear every ten or fifteen miles.
The main attraction, for a weak-bladdered person such as me, are the portable
bathrooms. There are at least fifteen of them and can draw a line twenty-people
deep at times. Besides the Port-a-johns (and actually sometimes beside) are
snacks galore. Bananas, oranges, Clif bars, and Gatorade are provided. As
the Ride progressed the snacks got more abundant. By Day Seven, they were
offering marshmallow Golden Grahams and Oreo cookies. At a pit stop just outside
of Ventura, popsicles were given. Themes were instituted at the stops. One
stop had a Heavy Metal theme, and the crew were dressed in spandex and long-hair
wigs with Judas Priest on the tape player. Another was the Playboy Lounge
– women and men dressed in bunny outfits were walking around, serving
up the Gatorade and water.
I
finished at Santa Cruz at an early time. I surprised even myself when I realized
that probably only ten percent of the riders were at the campsite. I had a
lot of nervous, anxious energy to burn and didn’t really take any substantial
breaks at the Pit Stops. While training, I would only stop a couple of times
for this kind of distance. So I would just pull in, use the facilities, eat
a banana then jump on the bike. All that within ten minutes.
Day two: 102 miles to San Lorenzo Park in King
City
This was the easiest hundred miles for one simple fact: the wind was to our
backs. Well, there was also a solid thirty miles of flat land that helped
out. The temperature wasn’t a factor, either. Only when we moved inland
did it get hot. But otherwise, the weather made for another picture-perfect
sunny California day. We passed through Soledad Mission, but I don’t
really remember why it would be considered worth stopping into.
Our lunch spot this time was in Salinas’ Central Park. Lunches were
the lamest part of the Ride. They consisted of usually a pre-made sandwich,
salad, fruit and some pre-packaged cookie. The only problem was that the lettuce
was consistently frozen. The sandwiches were simple- turkey and cheddar, salami
and turkey, and the old-standard peanut butter and jelly. Grapes or oranges
for fruit. The lack of substance and sustenance didn’t bother me, though.
By this time, I would have already eaten a couple bananas and at least a couple
Clif bars. Lunch was just for variety of taste and something to tide me over
until the next pit stop.
Day three: 77 miles to the Midstate Fairgrounds in Paso Robles
Soooo hot. Senegal hot. Someone made the statement that the temperature reached
115 degrees somewhere during our route to Paso
Robles. I’m not sure about that, but it was damn hot. The last Pit
Stop was at the Mission San Miguel. A special trough was filled with iced
water for the purpose of dunking and therefore cooling any body part. But
my days in Senegal gave me the endurance for this day. Since I was drinking
water and Gatorade at each stop, I had no problems with dehydration and heat
stroke.
Today was the first major hill to climb, literally. "The Quad Buster" is a half mile climb up some four hundred feet. On paper, this looked like a massive hill, the first of only two major climbs on this Ride. Indeed, when I found this out, I was almost regretting all the over-training that I did. But I used these opportunities to cheer others on as I would pass them; at one point I turned around and went back down the hill to ride up with others. Meanwhile, I was cheering clichéd slogans, like "You’re rocking up the hill!" "Push it to the limit!" "You’re almost to the top, keep pumping those legs." There was so much of a communal feeling -one man helped push a woman up the hill as he peddled them both up. Everyone supported one another.
Day four: 71 miles to Oceano Airport
The Evil Twins were our first challenge for
the day and the last big hill for the Ride. They reached the highest elevation
of the Ride – 1800 feet. The reward was sweet: a seven mile drop with
a wide road to maneuver around in. The only mistake that I made was that I
left the camp too early. While climbing the Twins, I could see some clouds
coving the top of the second Twin. The descent was fun, but the clouds and
fog reduced visibility and made for a cold wind-chill factor.
I got to meet, greet and chat with Gary Fisher
while going up the hill. This was odd for a couple reasons. The legend of
Gary Fisher is that he is always the first one to leave the campsite, blows
past the pit stops even before they are set up, and is the first one at the
next campsite in time to help remove the tents from the truck. Granted cycling
is his life, but this guy is amazing. He’s probably in his fifties and
is still kicking ass on the roads. So I was shocked to find myself side by
side with a legend in action at this late time of the morning. I would guess
that he was taking it easy and was there to offer his support to his team.
I thanked him for "making so much of a great bike that it has taken me
from San Francisco to, well, where are we now?"
After that, it was another easy ride. The last twenty miles were filled with
minor incidents with shin splints. I had the bad habit of using my toes while
pedaling up hills. I should be using the hamstring and calf muscles while
pedaling. Shins should not be used in any part of that motion. In a way, it
was good to have that shot of pain to remind me not to do that. Unfortunately,
I was having a hard time remembering. Every approached Stop sign would give
me the chance to use the toes when starting again.
The last few miles along the Ocean were breathtaking. The waters were almost as blue as Hawaiian coastlines.
I rolled into the Oceano campsite just in time for the major perk of this
AIDS Ride. UCLA Medical and Chiropractic students volunteered their services.
The Massage services are made available at 1:30, and I was able to get an
appointment for the 2pm session. Another day I got a spine and neck readjustment.
They even held stretching sessions and knee pain clinics.
Day five: 54 miles to River Park, Lompoc
Finally the elements play a roll in this year’s Ride. Overnight rains
gave many riders and crew hypothermia. The only problem of camping is that
these coastal sites can get downright chilly. To mix in rain was too much
for some. Morning at the campsite was not a jolly mood. I particularly was
not too happy. I don’t mind riding in the rain, generally speaking. What
I hate is the fact that the insides of the shoes get wet and stay wet. The
first thirty minutes of my ride was filled with rainfall that would slow down
for a couple blocks, then intensify while waiting at a stoplight, only to
weaken again. I’m not sure what "Agony Grade" was. The rain
was so heavy and there were so many bikers clustered that I didn’t really
concentrate on the difficulty of any hills climbed.
The
weather finally cleared up after the twentieth mile and proved to be another
spectacular day. I was able to ride with a new
friend for most of the day. The great thing about this Ride is the level
of ease it is to just hang out with people you don’t know. Speaking to
anyone was so effortless. I never got the sense of pretension or apprehension
by anyone. During the Ride I must have met over a hundred people, including
people that I’ve seen during the training rides during the past five
months. The event is so huge, that I didn’t even see some friends for
more than a few minutes for the whole week. But then again, there were people
who had a similar time schedule and pace as me and I would see them repeatedly.
Another fun aspect was the layout for Tent
City. Tents were assigned to every two people with a site assignment beginning
with a letter from the alphabet followed by a number. I would always have
permanent ‘L’ neighbors to the left and right of me. But behind
me and across from me, the people always changed. I would see people from
‘K’, ‘M’, or else other ‘L’s. Having consistent
neighbors allowed me to get to know some people
well, but was still able to meet new people with the tent rotation. I found
that this also helps rotate the snoring tents around. On night one, someone
from ‘M’ with a heavy snore terrorized us. But the next day, the
‘M’s were replaced by the much quieter ‘K’ section.
Day six: 87 miles to San Buenaventura State Beach, Ventura
Early morning headwinds made for a rough start. But they died down by the
time I reached Santa Barbara for lunch. I can tell we were getting close to
Los Angeles because of the amount of traffic that we were encountering. By
this point we are using highways 101 and 1 for
several mile stretches. Nothing more than ten miles, but it always seemed
so. Aside from the added danger of close encounters with motorized vehicles,
there is still the factor of passing and being passed by other bikers. Usually
the shoulders would be sufficient for such passing, but there were times when
parked cars, broken glass, or no shoulder were encountered . Actually, the
speeds of the cars would make my pulse speed up and I would want to try and
race the cars. This was actually beneficial because I was able to get off
the highway quicker.
I got my first flat tire of the Ride. I’ve come up with two possible reasons why. The first case is an example of stupid, poetic justice. This story goes all the way back to early in the year, when people on the training rides would always ask me if I would get a road bike for the Ride. The reason being that I am wasting so much energy with a heavy bike that has wide tires causing excess friction with the road. My reply was that the flat tire factor is not an issue with mountain bikes. The advice I received from a friend that did the Ride was that the ratio of flats were overwhelmingly against road bikes.
When it rained at Oceano, I saw flat tires being replaced on the side of
the road at least once every mile for the first twenty miles – maybe
one was a mountain bike, but the rest were road or hybrid bikes. Unfortunately,
I interpreted that to mean that mountain bikes never get flats on the road.
Silly me. Prior to my flat I found a dirt path along the Ride route in Santa
Barbara. It really wasn’t a long distance off the road, maybe twenty
yards. A mile after that, I had a blowout. But when I changed the tire, I
could not find any punctures in the tire. This leads to my second and more
practical theory. The inner tube looked like it was pinched. What makes me
dispute this is that it took over five hundred miles for the tube to burst.
Day seven: 65 miles into Los Angeles!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I rode out early to get a head start on the day. Though it was a short ride,
Linda, Dan and I wanted to beat the beach traffic that would inevitably swarm
the highway on this sunny Saturday. There were hairy moments of cars passing
by at sixty miles per hour and the shoulder for us bikers was barely wider
than the white line of paint. The whole day was very easy elevation-wise,
not a hill worth noting.
It struck me as slightly odd that this is the seventh day of the Ride and my spirits were still very high. Physically, I did not have any real soreness or fatigue. The abundance of pit stops were a major factor. The training was another contributor. But I think most of the credit should be given to everyone on this Ride.
First and foremost, being with the other riders and seeing the physical and emotional stress that they were going through on this Ride was very powerful. I’ve got to spotlight the crew of volunteers that made sure services and our needs were tended to. The one factor that I did not anticipate was the turnout of supporters along the route. Day after day, at random and not-so-random spots, there would be people cheering on the bikers. Some had signs, some had licorice sticks, some had grape popsicles to give. It was kinda cool to see schoolchildren pass out sandwich bags filled with two homemade chocolate chip cookies. A group of past years’ AIDS Riders in Santa Barbara made their own pit stop, serving hot dogs, ice cream, strawberries, caramel popcorn and other sweet treats.
Crossing the finish line just outside FOX
studios let loose the elation of the end of half a years’ worth of effort,
sweat, flat tires, automobile exhaust fumes, and an insatiable appetite. People’s
faces were on perma-grin.
At this holding area, I was treated to one last massage and all the free
food I could eat: burgers, Ben & Jerry’s ice cream, Jamba Juices,
and iced coffee from Peets (sorry for the plugs, they did give free tasty
stuff, so I don’t feel bad for mentioning their names).
But with the end of one thing comes the beginning of another. The physical
demands of the Ride were over. But for me, the emotional toll started. Having
the whole week being with the people and talking to the people that participated
in the AIDS Ride finally flooded my senses. I visited the Remembrance
Tent and read the dedications that people
wrote to their loved ones lost by AIDS. I saw the pain in faces of those in
quiet mourning. I heard the stories from riders who have lost family and friends.
Each story was an example of hard love, honest expressions of their heart
and soul. I was at this point in the Ride that I realized why I did it –
the fundraising, the weekends in the rain training, so many miles on the road.
Of course, there’s the surface reason of helping those using the services
of the San Francisco AIDS Foundation. When I committed to doing this event,
I doubted myself as to why I should. No one directly in my life has died or
has the HIV virus. But from the moment I started training that changed. So
many new friends have I, so many new reason to
do the Ride.
As I and 2700 other bikers reached the Closing
Ceremonies in Century City, Los Angeles, another reason hit me. I realized
that this Ride was a reminder of what a charmed life I have had to this day.
The heartache of those that rode to LA is something that I have never felt
personally. The weight of each burden has, at times, overwhelmed me. It is
something that I hope never to feel, though its inevitability is always present.
There is so much to this ride. I ride to prevent / minimize such pain and
loss for myself, my family, friends and for strangers. I want to allow those
infected to live and persevere with dignity. People of all races, all ages,
all lifestyles came together with one common goal. While riding to Los Angeles
doesn’t meet that goal, it is a start.
Would I do the AIDS Ride again? My initial reaction is of course. The mood,
the atmosphere, the honesty and integrity of the people is something that
I miss as I write this down. The only thing dragging my feet to do this again
is the fundraising aspect. With training taking up the bulk of my energy,
I regret not taking a more active role. I guess that’s what prevents
me from running for public office – I have a hard time making "the
Big Ask" for money. Please give me some input if you would be interested
in sponsoring me for another year!