AIDS/LIFECYCLE 2005
Day 1: San Francisco->Aptos (88 miles)
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Up at 4, out the door at 4:45-thanks Chris and Beth for giving me a ride to the Cow Palace. I was, I thought, reasonably packed, reasonably awake. No email for a week. Nothing to worry about except getting on the bike and pedaling.
It's worth detouring here, at this early hour, in the Cow Palace, in the 45 degree, bitterly cold Cow Palace, waiting for Opening Ceremonies to begin in this hall with 1600 other tired, half-awake riders, to lay out my expectations of what the ride would be. I expected long periods on the bike without talking to anyone (which would suit my hermeticness well). I expected that I would leave early and arrive early and have time to write in the late afternoons. I expected riding hills to be significantly more difficult than riding in Holland. I expected to do yoga at 6 in the morning and I expected something quiet, retrospective, somber.
And there was lots I didn't expect. I didn't know how much food there'd be-I had extra trail mix and power bars. I didn't know what or how many flats I'd get. I pretty much didn't know anything.
Opening Ceremonies was, as you might expect, an uplifting series of speeches. People spoke about how many people, how much money, how much dedication, how many stories. And it was amazing-we had raised 6.8 million dollars. There were 1600 riders, and 400! full-time volunteers. They spoke of the physical and psychic changes we would face over the next week. Being sore and cranky-not sleeping well or eating your own food. They spoke of the Positive Pedalers-the 100 HIV+ people who were, like me, riding 550 miles-no small feat, if you think about the most you've ever ridden in 1 day and then do that 7 days in a row. There were many calls to remain compassionate amidst all the emotions one would go through, including "cranky bitch".
Looking back, the thing that stood out was the sort of utopian environment that carried through the week-the air of empathy, kindness, and compassion that people showed to me and I tried to reciprocate. (not good for my long standing New Year's Resolution to be more evil). When people got flats, others offered to help, if only to stand by them and give a thumbs up to all the other riders to signify that they didn't need help, so that the flat fixer didn't have to tell 200 people that they, in fact, okay. No one cut in line at the portapotty. Even what I considered the overexcessive riding calls were really appropriate and useful-a good way of people looking out for each other, making sure that no one got hurt.
At Opening Ceremonies, one of the speakers introduced a tension-relief tool (no, not a vibrator) that would become the theme of the ride. When someone is cranky, you pet their head or shoulder, then pet your own head while saying "I'm a kitty, you're a kitty, I'm a kitty, you're a kitty". This was funny, but it also made clear that the week would not be all summer loving, Through the week I heard and saw this petting, and almost every time it was accompanied by laughter and a relaxing of tensions.
Opening Ceremonies ended with great shouts and whoops and more dance music. I found and lost and found and lost my friends as we slowly moved towards our bicycles. I went to the table with food and drink (oranges, bananas, Cliff bars, bagels, NutterButters, Luna Bars, cookies) and learned that you don't serve yourself-someone gives you food. Hygiene, I suppose.
Finally, at 6:30AM, we were on the road. This was a relief, and my initial urge was to get going. I didn't know how long 88 miles would take me, and I wanted to use Day 1 to gauge my schedule for the week. But despite the adrenaline and the optimism, the first miles out of SF were a bit hectic. There were groups of 200 bikers at the stop lights getting out of SF, and the roads were bad. People were trying out their newfound vocabulary, and others had not ridden in a large group before, and were not able to keep a good line. Still others were new to their clipless pedals, and it wasn't uncommon in those first miles to see someone fall while going 0 miles an hour. They simply couldn't get their foot out of their pedals.
At the same time, I felt one of my worries disappear. I had no clue where I would fit in the level of experience or fitness-if I would be the first or the last rider of the day, or if that made a difference (repeat mantra now, while watching the Tour de France---it's not a race, it's a ride…) And I wasn't at all sure how I would handle the hills. But after the first incline, it was clear that I was (at least on Day 1) faster and more experienced than most of the riders, and I quickly learned how to stay on the left at a light, take extra space, and create distance from the slow, plodding pack, at least until the next light. This wouldn't be an issue on subsequent days, as people started anytime in a two hour window, but it took ten miles on that first day to create some space.
It was only 10 or 15 miles before the first rest stop. I had imagined that I would skip it, but I was shocked and amazed by what I saw. This was no ordinary rest stop. There was lots of food and drink, a long row of portapotties(which I tried to capture in each picture) that would, as I hydrated through the week, become my oases. Even now, three days after the ride, I'm peeing thrice a night.
I couldn't believe how stocked the rest stops were. There was a medical tent with massage and chiropractor, and bike repairs fully staffed by Cannondale techs, with extra bikes if yours really bit it. Most of the food servers were dressed as elves or fairies, with music blaring out. It was more Carnival than anything else.
I became more relaxed as the day went on. Although they had given out route maps with distances and elevations, the route was clearly marked with orange turn signs, orange caution signs for cars. We became familiar with the motorcycles who marked the route as well as particularly dangerous turns or intersections or poor roads. These volunteers would wait all day and help us through and we became familiar with all the honking vans that were delivering people and gear from one camp to another or rest stop to another, all with writing on their windows---like "we can we will we must" or "don't forget to hydrate". I remembered the cadence of passing people (which I was doing far more than being passed), asking people with bike problems if they needed help, saying "good morning" after saying "on the left". I was incredible, all the people who simply honked as they drove by, or stood by the side of the road with placards for a particular rider, or for all the riders. They would say "Go!" Or "Good Job!" but mostly they just said, "Thank You".
A digression on bicycles. I am not, I think, a particularly materialistic person, but I had a keen eye to other people's bicycles. By way of disclosure, I own a 2004 Lemond Tourmalet Triple, $1050 or so from the awesome Roaring Mouse Bicycles in San Francisco, and it is, as I perceive it, exactly what I need. To the uninitiated, it is a supermodern bike, and it is, but in reality, it is a low to middle level road bike,, with excellent workmanship and components, but not a real racing bike---a team rider or racer would scoff, would have something far more expensive. Anything more than my bike, well, you're talking about grams, not needed except for extremely serious riders or really rich people who want to support a small business. I was curious who had what----truth be told, most bikes were around my level---750-2000 dollars. There weren't any fabulous riders on crap bikes, although there were some not so experienced riders on very expensive, jealous making bikes. There weren't so many mountain bikes, and they were at an extreme disadvantage over time. There were a good number of recumbent bikes, though they were harder to pass. Most people had fancy, logo filled jerseys which broke my no-logo policy, although many were cute local bike club jerseys, which I can support. The first moment of bad-thought I had was when witnessing the Microsoft Team. But then I came back to a sort of core place-who cares if they work for a slothful company-they still have managed to raise 2500 dollars, talk to people, educate their company (which initially fought domestic partners laws), they may be HIV+ or can't afford to choose their boss, whatever. There were a thousand reasons why them doing the ride was far more important than their jersey, or their 3500 Litespeed tat they were riding at a paltry 13 mph.
Aside from the serious riders, who treated it as a race and left at 6:30 and got to camp before 2, others were less picky about aerodynamics, sporting all kinds of decorations on their helmets. Many sad little stuffed animals; snails and frogs. D- had Viking horns which, at various times in the ride, were covered by pink latex (thanks to team pig) and blue glow in the dark lights. He'd put his helmet atop his tent and use the lights as a beacon. People had signs on their bikes, often for a loved one, but sometimes just something funny. As for me, I had lost my beloved Chevy car decal and my even more beloved "Protected by ADT" sticker, and had to be content with the tiny happy face and star stickers given to me through the week by the baggage team or ride coordinators. Last bike geek note-there were a few tandems and, although there were none this year, rumored to be at least one fixed gear bike in past rides.
Soon I was heading up 192 towards Half Moon Bay, and even sooner, lunch on San Gregorio State Beach. I had thought lunch to be a short affair, but it turned out to be a lazy event, with good, almost gourmet sandwiches, fruit, chips, and cookies. It was there that I ran into my other acquaintances; Jim, whom I had just met that week, and with whom I had a curious discussion the evolution of the four food groups, Nori-friend and colleague of Laura, and Jenn, writer and colleague I had met two years prior at a writing conference. It was a giant picnic, with groups of four or six spread out over the beach camping site, a breezy morning. We noticed there were film crews-Logo-what seems to be a division of MTV, who is filming a documentary of the event, and though I was far too inconspicuous to be filmed, we always caught the cameras and the fluffer-like microphones in peripheral vision. One of the Logo cameramen, on break, took his longboard and rode it down the sand dune.
It was just after lunch that I made my first rookie mistake-being too timid to go off-route. I was too fearful of time-though it was barely 11:30, and I passed Pescadero without stopping at the lovely deli with its local artichoke and roasted red peppers and wines. Note to self---buy added packs to hold stuff. So past Pescadero, and past Pigeon Point (which I highly recommend for its hostel with hot tub on the ocean, below the lighthouse) , and on towards Santa Cruz, where I skipped the café giving out free coffee---I wanted to get to camp, whatever camp was, and deal with the final unknown-the setting up of tents. Besides, for the 4th time of 400, I had to pee, and we had been warned off of arbitrary bushes. I rode through Santa Cruz, called lCarm from a pay phone by the supermarket, and rode into Aptos. People were cheering us as we came into camp. I felt pretty good. I expected to, though I didn't know how I'd feel the following morning. I parked my bike, put my pink shower cap over the seat, grabbed my tent and my suitcase. Already there was a recognizable grid to accommodate 1000 tents, one third of which were already pitched. C- wasn't in yet, and I decided to try to pitch the tent myself. This had two problems-I had never pitched a tent before, and it was exceedingly windy. Although I was slowing figuring it out, a man saw my distress and taught me how to pitch the tent. Eventually I became quite an expert, as I would usually get in a bit earlier than my tentmate C-. But on this day, with my helpful helper, we got the tent up and I moved my bag in to hold it down (stakes were verboten). Although, an hour later, when I came back, the tent had collapsed-I had a broken tent pole. For the moment, however, I was pretty darn satisfied with myself. We had a good tailwind, and I had cruised in much faster than I had expected-at a little over 17 mph(sadly, the fastest time of the week-it all goes downhill, no pun, from there).
Now for a shower. Hot showers, in converted semis. The conveniences of home, and more than one soap dropping joke over the week. The semi split into Men's and Women's, 7 showers on each side.
After my thoroughly impressive shower, my magically rebuilt tent (C- had arrived and swapped out the tent pole), I went to the main area and again, I was amazed. A huge dinner area, with separate meat and veggie sections (the veggie line is always shorter, but you can't change back and forth from meat to veggie in the middle of the ride!). All you can eat food. Very cute announcements, done in the self-reflexive queeny kitsch that dominated the aesthetics of the week. Further exhortations to ride safely, a list of accidents (a broken collarbone, broken arm, both of whom could no longer ride but chose, incredibly enough, to stay on the entire week as roadies). Press coverage, weather reports, a few inspirational stories, and, later, the SF Gay Men's Chorus. There was, again, a medical tent, massage, chiropractics, a camp store, a place to receive messages and information booth with tomorrow's map, and some snacks. I could not believe how well organized everything was, how good spirits people had. I felt good, and proud. Of myself, of everyone around me. I chatted for a while. At about 8:15 I settled in my tent. My earplugs covered both the gusts of wind and people chatting. It was still light out. Originally I had imagined I would wake up at 4:30AM in order to be out by 6:30, but the combination of my good time today and the advice of veterans told me that that wasn't necessary. Only two kinds of people left when the route opened at 6:30-the extremely slow and the extremely fast. I was neither. I opened up Jose Saramago's Nobel Prize winning Blindness, I was worried that I wouldn't sleep well with my borrowed sleeping bag and flimsy pad, with 6 or 8 hundred snorers around me, but I was asleep before 8:30.
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