AIDS/LifeCycle 7

AIDS/LifeCycle 7 begins this Sunday. Around 3000 cyclists and nearly 1000 volunteers will hit the road on the 545-mile journey from San Francisco to Los Angeles.

I did the ride this year, but my bicycle will be stationary this year. I'm in summer session and can't get away for a week. I will, however, be at the finish line in LA to greet friends as they arrive.

I still have some donations to make. For more information, check out the LifeCycle website. (And if you don't know anyone riding but would like to make a contribution, email me and I can point you at a specific rider.)

And you can always buy one of these for a cyclist. :-)

A RECAP OF MY RIDE LAST YEAR:

The 2007 AIDS LifeCycle is over! This year's 2300 riders set a new record by raising $11 million for HIV/AIDS services and prevention in California.

What an experience... it's hard to explain succinctly. From the first morning I could tell it was going to be one of the craziest trips I've ever had. It was also the most physically challenging thing I've ever taken on.

I rode every one of the 545 miles from San Francisco to Los Angeles, and the biggest mechanical problem I had was needing some minor adjustments to my rear derailleur. No flats! As far as my body, my biggest ache was my butt. A lot of the time I rode as fast as I could, partially to push my limits but largely to maximize my time off the bike seat at the rest stops. Altogether, I spent 31 hours and 20 minutes in the saddle.

The days varied in length from 42 miles (day 5, the day when most participants wear red dresses) to 105 miles (day 2). Some how I thought after that long day 2 that all of the remaining days would be significantly shorter, but there were two more 90+ mile days.

A typical day began at 5am. My alarm would go off before dawn, and my tent mate Justin and I would rise, throw on some clothes, and crawl out of our dew-soaked tent to head to the dining tent. A lot of the mornings were cold with temperatures in the low 40s.

Huddling in our hoodies, we'd snarf down huge breakfasts before heading back to get dressed for the day, pack up our tent and gear, and head to our bikes. We were typically on the road by 7:30am.

On most days there were four to five rest stops plus a lunch. I'm guessing I ate about 6000 calories a day, and I lost four pounds during the week. The rest stops were my favorite part of the ride. Each one had a different theme: the seven deadly sins, Dreamgirls, the DMV, spa treatment, etc. The roadies who hosted the rest stops did an amazing job of feeding, hydrating, and entertaining us, and they did all of the decorations and costumes out of their own pocket. I loved catching up with friends and meeting new people while giving my body a rest.

The people on the ride came from a broad cross-section of society. There were many gay men in great shape, but there were also plenty of people who were overweight, dressed in street clothes, or otherwise appearing to be ill-suited for the challenge of the California hills and Central Valley winds.

This aspect of the ride amazed me more than anything else. The ride was hard for me. Yes, I was definitely pushing myself and enjoying going beyond what I thought I could do. But here was a woman in her 60s making her way up the same hill. Many people were "sagged" each day, catching a ride to the next rest stop or back to camp on a bus. Yet there they were back again the next day, pushing their own limits.

One day at lunch, Justin and I talked about the disconnect between how people appear and what they are physically capable of. To get to the ride, it's a safe bet that every rider had done some level of training. And there we were: people looking like athletes, people looking like couch potatoes. It was humbling to share the road with so many people who were going so far beyond what anyone might guess they were capable of. My guess is that many of the people who looked like the natural athletes were in their own way having as difficult a time as those who were carrying an extra 60 pounds.

What spurred us all on? For me, it was mostly a competitive spirit and a desire to see how far I could push myself. But others on the ride had experienced the loss of loved ones: lovers, sons, daughters, friends who they memorialized with pictures on their bikes. Over ten percent of the riders were HIV positive.

There were many highlights. One unforgettable one was a candlelight vigil on a southern California beach... a moment to remember loved ones lost to AIDS and to renew our faith to press on until there is a cure, a vaccine, or both.