From June 2nd through June 8th I was one of 2,203 cyclists riding from San Francisco to Los Angeles on AIDS/LifeCycle 12, the biggest and most successful AIDS charity event EVER. I could regale you with statistics and stuff (and I probably will through some in) but this will be mainly a personal recollection of my experiences, based in part on some updates I posted on Facebook while the event was happening, plus other stuff and, of course, pictures.
This is the first part of a two-part diary (it was running way too long). There'll be a poll at the end of Part II which I'll likely publish almost immediately after I publish Part I. Also my intention is for this to be a pretty much a non-political piece, though given the cause it addresses, I'm sure it has political ramifications.
One other disclaimer: While almost all of the pictures in these diaries were taken this year, there are one or two that came from other years because I couldn't find precisely what I was looking for among this year's photos.
With those disclaimers and explanations out of the way, let's get to it, right after the great, enormous orange whatsit...
Things really began (not in a good way) the Wednesday prior to the start of the actual ride. I woke up that morning, my final day of work, with a scratch left shin. At least that's what it felt like. I didn't give it too much thought; when you live with a cat you get used to this sort of thing. By the time I got home from work there was an enormous THING down there; it looked like a pimple, but was ten times as large a zit and it HURT. I showed it to a friend who works as a pharmacist technician at a local Walgreens. Without specifically saying what it was (he isn't a doctor after all) he said "Oh, I know what that is" and asked me WHEN I was going to go to the ER. After dinner might be a good time? He and his husband and another friend didn't think it was wise. They grabbed me by the wrists and walked me directly to the ER. Yup...a staph infection. Lucky for me I'd caught it early. They drained it and dressed it, took a culture and told me I should be okay to ride. Since I couldn't recall the date of my last tetanus booster, they gave me one of those which made me feel kind of crappy for the next day or so.
It takes a great deal to pack for a week's worth of biking. One of the secrets I was shown early on involves laying out each day's outfit (jersey, shorts, base layer, socks and head cover to be worn beneath the helmet) and placing each set in a two-gallon ziploc bag, taking care to squeeze out as much of the air as possible before sealing it. So many decisions. Over the years I've accumulated an enormous amount of cycling gear so it's mainly a question of what to leave home. I study the weather forecasts assiduously; this year it was apparent that one of the days of the ride was going to be quite toasty so that day's outfit (the bags are actually numbered) included a sleeveless jersey.
Friday I volunteered to help set things up for the following day's Orientation (an hours-long process each participant must go through). I was down at the SF Cow Palace, which is in fact located not in San Francisco but in Daly City, a couple of blocks beyond the city limits. The Cow Palace is a big barn of a place, which should not be surprising given that its original purpose was to host agricultural events featuring livestock. We fill it up rather handily. The logistics are actually quite complex.
My first task was to help unload the bikes of those coming up from Los Angeles, who'd be riding home, and placing them on bike racks indoors. There was also a truck from Colorado which fields a fairly robust team of riders every year.
After unloading all of the bikes there were tables to set up.
This...
...is where the folks who don't have previously selected tentmates go to get their tent assignments and, if they are on their own, to get a tentmate assigned to them as well. Over the course of a week, strangers can become very good friends.
A bit of ride-related lingo for you: Not everyone likes to sleep in a tent (and I can't say that I blame them). There are motels within reasonable proximity of each campsite and those who choose to avail themselves of that option for the entire week are said to be on the "Princess Plan." Generally speaking they are still required to have a tent assignment, meaning that their tentmate has the tent to himself or herself for the week. This year it was decided, apparently for the first time, to set aside a section of the tents for "princesses," hence the crown...
Personally I like to spend most nights in camp but a couple of re-charge nights are definitely worth it (Tuesday and Friday; the third and sixth nights of camping respectively).
We took a break for lunch. I'm not sure how it came about but we were fortunate to have, in a non-riding capacity, several young men and women from China with us for the week. One of them was responsible for organizing China's very first AIDS Walk, on the Great Wall (he related that he had done the walk in stillettos and major drag. I cannot imagine such a thing myself; not only can I barely walk in flats, but it requires a great deal of courage to be out and open in China, and if you think we don't deal with the realities of HIV and AIDS well in this country, we're a beacon of enlightenment and openness compared with China). By chance I sat opposite these kids at lunchtime...
This booth here...
...is where people go to sign up for NEXT year's ride. I was lucky; I was hanging around, ready to leave and decided to avail myself of the option. They'd just finished setting up the wi-fi network that they need to implement it and needed a guinea pig. I was happy to volunteer.
And then I headed home. On the Friday night before Orientation, the group of participants living with HIV known as the Positive Pedalers (I am a long-time member), hosts a spaghetti dinner for all interested parties. There was good food and a DJ.
Once the dinner was over and done with some folks headed towards the Castro for another "official" kickoff event at the Lookout Bar but I'm really not much of a bar person so I headed for home.
The first OFFICIAL day of AIDS/LifeCycle is Orientation. We get to the Cow Palace and the first thing we do is form a line to drop off our bikes.
Bikes are parked indoors and stay there until we ride out the next morning.
For a variety of reasons there is a good deal of process involved in getting ready to ride. There's training of course but there are also the more technical aspects. The ride is intended to raise money for its beneficiaries of course, and to raise awareness about all aspects of HIV and AIDS. However, it's a large cycling event. Cycling is a sport that comes with certain risks (I can tell you this from personal experience). Staging an event with a large number of participants, that passes through numerous political jurisdictions, requires buy-in from a large assortment of folks--the California Highway Patrol, local governments that issue us permits, owners of private property that we use for rest stops and, of course, insurance companies. So among the ancillary aspects of AIDS/LifeCycle is the promotion of bicycle safety.
We have a code of conduct; every participant must sign it. There is a safety video which every participant must watch. There were some 2,755 participants this year. The video gets shown every half hour in two different rooms.
Each showing is preceded by welcoming speeches and other live talk that mainly focuses on the importance of maintaining a safe environment for cyclists with varying degrees of expertise. First ride personnel (this is my friend Julie who has been a rider previously and now drives one of the safety vehicles during the week)...
...and then we get the heavy hitters. San Francisco AIDS Foundation Executive Director Neil Giuliano...
...(as you can tell by looking at the orange band on his wrist, he's already watched the video)...and LA Gay and Lesbian Center Director Lorri L Jean....
Once the video is over we get our wristbands and move on the check-in. We get another band that has our participant number on it as well as an emergency number we can call if we need to, and numbers to put on our bikes and on our helmets. Vegetarians get a green wristband since only they are permitted to access the vegetarian meals at lunch and in the camps...
When we get that second wristband we also sign one waiver provided by the ride and a SECOND waiver that allows us to bike in Santa Cruz County (there isn't a route worth doing that would circumvent Santa Cruz County). Bands stay on all week.
After it's done, we head back home, or to our hotel rooms, or to our friends' homes (depending upon where we're staying and whether we're local or from out of town). An early dinner is recommended since we need to be up very early in the morning. As usual for me I run around the apartment, unpack and repack the bag, trying to be sure I haven't forgotten something important.
And so we begin. Up at 4 a.m. (surprise; I actually managed to sleep well), makes sure nothing important's been left unpacked, try to eat some breakfast and then into the car and down to the Cow Palace. After Friday and Saturday's atypical warmth, the fog starts creeping in to cool us off. We're inside the Cow Palace and Opening Ceremonies begins. There are 2,203 riders and 552 roadies. The best news of all: we've managed to raise $14.2 million, a record (by the end of the week this figure will have increased by another $300,000). There is a procession of memorial flags carried by Positive Pedalers, to commemorate those who are no longer with us, for whom many of us are riding.
There's the final speech, we head to our bikes and line up.
At some point those of us in the front are told "One minute," and then we're underway. I don't know how they did this but I pass an SUV that has two riders' bikes (complete with frame numbers) on the back of it, sitting right outside of the Cow Palace on Geneva Avenue. It's amusing to me somehow that the route sheet says "Exit Cow Palace; begin climbing." We're not required to ride single-file for the first seven miles; until we reach the water stop. By that time we've already gone around the south end of Lake Merced and have covered the first hill along Skyline. The fog shows up in earnest. We pass the site of the 2010 gas explosion in San Bruno and then we're briefly on I-280. Then we exit and pass under the freeway. There's a bit of a hill here and as I begin to climb it I feel a hand on my back; it's my friend Mok, a super-strong triathlete, offering me an assist which I gladly accept. Help is always good, right? As often happens, once we've reached Rest Stop One the sun has returned, at least for a bit.
(That's Mok on the right by the way. Have I mentioned that we have more than our fair share of very attractive people on AIDS/LifeCycle?)
Then we're back on the west side of 280 again, bombing down Skyline and Crystal Springs Road...
...only to climb the detour (past the reconstruction of Crystal Springs Dam) on Polhemus...not my favorite hill, then down again along the side of Highway 92, off of 92 and then back on for the big climb towards Half Moon Bay and Rest Stop Two, back into the fog.
At least the fog back is high enough not to affect visibility.
We stay on Highway One all the way from Half Moon Bay to Santa Cruz, a distance of 47 miles. There's lunch at San Gregorio State Beach and then the post-lunch climb which you can see in the picture below, looming above the ever-present tents we use on the route.
As I was grabbing my lunch a pair of women (also cyclists on the ride) approached me and told me they'd read one of my pre-ride diaries. I unfortunately never was able to catch up with them so I could find out if they are members here; I turned around for a moment, and when I turned back they were gone. I didn't know them well enough to be able to recall who they were off-hand. Such are the mysteries of AIDS/LifeCycle.
The big nasty hill behind us we continue motoring on down Highway One. For a good portion of the trip to Santa Cruz we ride right along the coast, with views of the beaches and water to inspire us. Two highlights on this stretch: the first is Pigeon Point Lighthouse, which I believe is on the National Register of Historic Places. It's historic; it's also pretty.
Shortly before Rest Stop 3 a group of ALC veterans was handing out popsicles. I would never be so foolish as to turn down a popsicle.
Then there are the windsurfers at Davenport Beach...
...and we're into Rest Stop 3 which is located at a small beach turnout.
Not far beyond there is my favorite downhill. I took it easy this year; only 46 mph (my top speed of the week as usual). The theme at Rest Stop Four is the Running of the Bulls. Of course there are more pictures.
I get to camp a bit before 5 p.m. Regardless of what the route sheet says (it thinks we've gone 82 miles or so), my computer tells me I've ridden 85 miles at a quite respectable 14.9 mph. and my tentmate, a first-year rider and a real go-getter, has of course already arrived and gotten the tent set up. I slowly get organized and head for the shower trucks. As I'm finishing up, a face somehow familiar appears. He mentions he lives in DC; I ask him where and say I used to live in DC too. Having passed each other repeatedly during the day, Ricky and I finally recognize each other. We last rode together on California AIDS Ride 8, millions of years ago back in 2001. It's a great way to finish the day. By 9 p.m. pretty much everyone is tucked into their sleeping bags in their cozy tents.
(No, not MY tent; I'm not that creative. People use various means to identify their tents so they can find their way back to them in the event they need to be up in the middle of the night. Some of those means are simple and some...well...)
Day Two takes us from Santa Cruz to King City, a small farming town in the Salinas Valley. With an official distance of 108 miles it's the longest day of the week; fortunately there are no extended periods of climbing on this day. Any day longer than 60 miles or so will, in addition to four official rest stops, include an official "water stop." Some days, such as this one, where we go really long and into remote areas, also include stops with little more than porta-potties (and water; there's always water available. In order to minimize the risk of health issues only bottled purified water and pre-packaged purified ice are used throughout the ride).
As is the case pretty much throughout the ride, the day includes some fun activities, not all of which are "officially" part of the event. The route takes us through the town of Castroville, the artichoke capital of the US. There are several places where we can stop for steamed or fried artichokes but only one of them is the real deal.
On most days, the ride route opens at 6:30 a.m. and closes at 7 p.m. The closing time is intended to ensure that, for safety reasons, everyone's off the road before dusk. There are some exceptions: on the final day of the ride the route opens at 6 instead of 6:30; although it's a relatively short and easy day, all riders have to be into the VA Hospital before 3 p.m. for Closing Ceremonies. Day 5, being a short one, also closes up on the early side--4 p.m. That's the day most of the teams have their group pictures; it takes some time to organize that and lighting conditions deteriorate after about 6:30 in the evening. Each rest stop has its own opening and closing times. If you aren't out of the stop before it closes your choices are: skip the stop and ride like hell or turn in your bike and be bused to camp. The latter is referred to as SAG'ging. SAG is an acronym specific to cycling events; it stands for "Support and Gear. Turn it into a verb and it means "you got on the bus, either because you couldn't keep going or because you ran out of time." If you SAG, your bike is loaded onto a truck and taken to camp, to be parked in a specific part of the bike parking area (so you don't have to spend all morning searching for it). Then there is the "caboose," a vehicle with warning lights that marks the very back of the ride. Nobody is supposed to be riding behind the caboose. The caboose is a marker of how much of the route has been shut down...and whether you should hurry up. On the other hand, it very often is a slow, struggling rider who stays just ahead of the caboose all day long despite his or her best efforts. For that reason, the last riders to finish each day are given a rousing round of applause.
I'd heard that there'd be an attempt to open the route prior to 6:15, though of course that wouldn't have mattered to me. Due to the staph infection I was required to visit the medical tent each morning and evening to have the wound site cleaned and dressed. Camp services, including medical (other than emergencies of course) open in the morning at 6 a.m. Add to that the fact that I am slow getting on the road in the morning under even the best of circumstances. So if the route did in fact open at 6:15, I didn't see it. Instead I headed out about an hour later, a good half-hour behind my tentmate. All things considered, a 7:15 start is actually pretty good for me.
The route for Day Two changed significantly two years ago; I didn't get to see the end of it either year. Two years ago I SAG'ed at the Water Stop which on this day is also known as the "Otter Pop Stop" (I'll explain why in a bit). Last year this day was partially canceled due to bad weather. About 1/3 of the riders managed to complete it by staying ahead of things but I covered a mere 32 miles before the route was closed (and I nearly ended up with hypothermia). So this year my goal was to follow the route to completion.
Some of the route changes for Day Two were dictated by problems we've in the past moving a large number of cyclists through downtown Santa Cruz on a Monday morning at the beginning of rush hour (yes, Santa Cruz DOES have a rush hour). The solution was a somewhat circuitous route which was slightly different this year from last year. In most ways it was actually better this time around, if you ignore the nasty little hill near the beach that I failed to climb successfully. The moto person (we have a team of roadies on motorcycles who are stationed at various places along the route, either for safety or to direct us at complicated intersections) at the bottom had apologized for it; I didn't really think it was necessary...and then I saw what he was talking about! A steep hill AND speed bumps. I really did try but after the sixth bump I gave up. Fortunately the beach at the bottom of the climb gave me a nice background for pictures of those more energetic than me and even some others who couldn't quite make it all the way to the top).
We also did not pass the Ugly Mug Cafe in Aptos this year, which is really too bad. I am not a coffee drinker and in fact have only stopped there once (when Day One concluded in Aptos) but they have been huge supporters of the ride almost since the beginning. Anyway, we rejoined the usual route not long before the first rest stop, at Manresa State Beach in Capitola. Even when the weather isn't sunny it's a pretty site and a great place to take pictures, and when it's sunny out, it's truly glorious.
Here's a picture from a couple of years back...
This year the entire morning was chilly and grey. There was just a touch of a headwind. After last year I had considered passing the (unofficial) artichoke stop but the thought of fried artichokes and a Coke was too tempting to resist.
Instead I skipped Rest Stop 2, located in the city of Marina, and continued on to lunch at Central Park in Salinas (yes there are other Central Parks besides the one in Manhattan).
After leaving Salinas we stay on the same road most of the way to Rest Stop 3 in the small town of Gonzales; in fact, once we're on Alisal Road there are only three turns between over more than twenty miles. There's a good bit of tailwind along this stretch which makes the miles go faster. Out of Gonzales we have our first stretch of the inevitable crosswinds that are normal for the Salinas Valley; then, after turning briefly into the wind we once more have it at our backs. I felt myself flagging a bit along this stretch. This was no doubt due partly to the heat (it was not a hot day but it's always warm here) and partly to the infection on my leg, but the motivation of Otter Pops and dancing bears kept me moving. Upon reaching my goal I was overjoyed to find my friend Troy handing out the treats; Troy was supposed to have been on the ride but had to bow out at the very last moment; at least he was able to greet us there.
And of course there were dancing bears...
...and dancing boys...
...and the famous Cookie Lady who spends weeks and weeks baking enough cookies to feed every single rider who comes by.
The Otter Pops at this stop are a relatively recent addition, dating back about six or seven years. Before that there was an ice cream vendor. The stop, like several others along our route, is situated at one of California's historic missions. The mission provides postcards with free postage so that riders can send mementos back to their friends; the mission chapel is also available for those interested in a moment of quiet reflection.
Again back on the road we headed for the infamous skinnydipping bridge (sorry, no pictures. I don't want to get banned). As I arrived we were informed that the caboose had already left the Otter Pop stop and that anyone who stopped for a dip could forget about doing any more riding that day, so I kept going. This section is a bit challenging for me. There is a climb; it isn't steep but at mile 85 it doesn't take much and, in addition, the road curves gradually towards the wind before shifting back beyond the side of a hill. Going forward in the town of Greenfield would have ended my day so I turned right towards camp. There was a truly lovely tailwind along this stretch, leading us to Highway 101 and taking us almost all the way into camp. The road we exited on was nearly as bumpy as our old route out of King City on Day Three; fortunatetly it was only really bad for about a half mile. I DID skip a very small (two mile) section leading to Rest Stop Four and back to the main route. It was getting late and word was that the caboose was not that far back. I just wanted to be sure I rode into camp, which I did. And then we were in camp--for me, a quick shower, a trip to medical, dinner and then once again to bed.
Day Three is the day I'd been dreading. In terms of mileage it isn't long but because Day Two is it's easy to wake up still tired. And then there's Quadbuster. Others may not agree but I find it to be the most challenging climb of the ride (we will of course ignore that little surprise on Day Two). Day Three is also the warmest day of the week; the past few years it's been uncharacteristically cool on this day but things returned to normal this time with temperatures well into the 90's. The big challenge though was my left leg--the one with the staph infection. Even without the infection it has been giving me a certain amount of grief for the past few years. It's my dominant leg, the one that stays clipped in when I stop and the one I push down with to get going again.
Once again my need to stop off and check in with the medical people held me back a bit and, to make matters worse I overslept (tough to think that waking up at 5:15 is "oversleeping" but that's the reality). Once we exit our campsite, we immediately turn right, apparently into a set of bushes and onto a poorly paved foot- and bikepath that takes us across the Salinas River; at the end we have to cross heavy traffic and turn left, which results in a bit of a backup.
The approach to Quadbuster consists of a gradual but noticeable climb and I was already feeling tired before I made it to Rest Stop One which is a mile or so before the foot of Quadbuster itself. The hill is 1.3 miles long and is fairly steep throughout; even on my best days I'm usually struggling along at 3 or 4 mph by the time I reach the top and this wasn't one of my best days. After something less than the first half of the climb I just...gave up and walked. It actually isn't that easy walking a bike up a steep hill; the people who always have to do this have my respect. There is a place to stop part of the way to the top and I made use of it, and of course I took pictures. I may not be making it up the hill but others are. You can tell just from looking that this is NOT an easy climb...
Strange to comprehend but even in this remote area there is a small subdivision of homes. I've never met any of the people who live there but some of my friends who have tell me they are quite friendly and welcoming. There is a woman rider, a long-time veteran, who is often to be found near the top of the most challenging climb of the day, playing music and sporting a bullhorn, cheering people on.
On the other side of Quadbuster there is a downhill; once again there was a bit of a headwind here which slowed the descent (not something I had in mind). At Rest Stop Two I headed directly for Medical. They gave me some ice for my quad and someone had a small roller which I used; it was strongly suggested that I visit the folks at Sports Medicine once I arrived at camp (which I did). I pressed on, feeling a bit better. There is a bathroom stop a few miles on; it's at the Lockwood General Store. Lockwood is one of those towns that exists mainly on paper; it's actually surrounded by Fort Hunter-Liggett, a military installation. The store was grilling hot dogs that day; I had one and went into the store itself for a Dr Pepper (yummy Dr Pepper!). No doubt the caffeine helped a bit; I continued feeling better. The route here consists mainly of rolling hills and flats with a gradual upward trend. There's a climb and then a drop; part of the way down is Rest Stop 3 which is another country store, one I always enjoy visiting.
The Rest Stop 3 theme here this year was the Love Shack.
I had ice cream, which again made me feel better (imagine that!). There is a bit more of a climb and then a long descent followed by more rollers, taking us eventually onto Highway 101. We're on free only briefly; we exit at the town of Bradley. Bradley for years has welcomed us and has had a barbeque fundraiser (they sell souvenir buttons and other things, also for a donation).
Over the years we have helped fund their elementary school's extracurricular activities programs. At this point I decided it would be wise to stop riding and board the bus; as much as I wanted to see what the folks at Rest Stop Four were up to, it seemed wisest to get to camp quickly so I could access the services there before heading to my hotel (yes, I was a princess in Paso Robles). The folks at Sports Medicine looked me over and told me to return in the morning so they could decide if my quad and/or my IT band ought to be taped (it was). And so I headed to the hotel, got cleaned up and went back for dinner and the training ride leader picture.
Above you can see only a small portion of the training ride leaders. There's probably close to 200 of us nationwide mostly in and around the Bay Area and Los Angeles but there are ride leaders in Portland, in Austin and elsewhere too. We're the ones that coordinate training rides throughout the year, helping people get ready for the big event.
And immediately after the training ride picture there isPositive Pedalers Night. The Positive Pedalers are are group of ride participants (including me) most of whom are living with HIV. Our goal is to help eliminate the stigma surrounding HIV through our positive public example. At the outset our group, which was founded in 1995, consisted exclusively of those who were HIV-positive but over the last few years we have opened our membership to those who support us in any way whatsoever. There is great power in being open about living with HIV. I found this out first-hand back in 2000 when I was asked to speak on camera about living with HIV. Not having to carry the secret around with me (tough to do so when you've been seen on television saying you're positive) is incredibly freeing.
During the evening, all those living with HIV are invited--though of course not required--to stand up to be acknowledged. There were close to 350 of us on the ride this time around--over 10% of the total number of participants. Each year the program concludes with us giving an award to an individual (HIV-positive or not) who represents the spirit of the organization. This year our award went to an individual known to most of us as The Chicken Lady. Chicken Lady (his real name is Ken and he is NOT in fact a drag queen) is a long-time ride participant. He acquired his nickname because, many years ago after the very first California AIDS Ride in 1994, one of his friends challenged him to do the ride the following year, implying that failure to do so would mean he was "chicken." So sign up he did, and instead of running from the label he embraced it proudly. Over the years he amassed an enormous amount of chicken-themed gear and garb. He is in fact one of the slowest riders and has assigned himself the task of cheering on those who, like him, are not particularly athletic, for whom the ride is truly a challenge. He leaves "eggs" by the side of the road throughout the week for riders to find and, on the final morning of the ride, each rider finds an egg with a mint and an inspirational quote attached to his or her bike. I couldn't find a picture from this year that shows of his regalia to the fullest extent so instead, here is a picture of me from my first ride and my very first encounter with one of the most wonderful people I know...
Characteristically, once having received the award he went back to what he does best--finding ways to cheer everyone up.
This is the end of Part I of my journey. The second diary will take you the rest of the way. I think I will publish the two portions about five minutes apart. To give you time to finish this one.