And without (much) further delay, the story of AIDS LifeCycle 9.
Some quick terminology to help you get through the next few pages of text:
Bear =Large, hairy, yummy, homosexual man.
Butter = Chamois Butter or Butt Butter – used to lube up everything between your belly button and your knees, yes everything, to prevent (or rather lessen) the impact of chaffing.
Chiro = Practors
Cyclist = Those riders who actually like to and know how to ride bikes, the "Pro-Team", if you will.
Fuck = A highly versatile and most appropriate curse word that my parent’s didn’t realize I was so fond of until they started following my twitter account.
Love = The profound feelings of understanding and respect that come when two people share just one moment of time together, a small blip on the radar of existence, that just happens to be a moment of shared meaning and importance, often unspoken and always unrehearsed.
Moto = Motorcycle patrol responsible for safety on the route.
Princess = A bit of a diva who is too good for camping and thus would reserve hotel rooms near the campsites to sleep in each night.
Rest Stop = A pre-determined, pre-set stop along the route with port-a-potties, food tents, bike mechanics, water, and medical services.
Rider Crack = Peanut Butter and Jelly deliciousness sandwiched between the most amazing gram crackers ever.
Riders = The novice bicycle riders of the ride, a.k.a. me.
Roadies = Some of the most amazing humans I have ever met. Volunteer who have taken a week of vacation to come to ALC and work back breaking 12 hours days taking care of logistics like trash, food service, route marking, gear lifting, etc. You name it, a Roadie was responsible for making it happen.
Rooster = The boy I like back home.
Toesac = Sacramento
Unicorns = Straight men. (We know in our hearts they exist, but few have ever seen one.)
Pre Ride Preparations
I believe I mentioned in my previous post how nervous I was for this ride. There were a few contributing factors . . .
1. I cannot remember a time in my life when I have spent 7 consecutive days without being around someone in my monkey sphere, whom I know and love.The reality of spending this much time not just alone, but surrounded by 2500 total strangers was nauseating, literally.
2. If you’re in the Criqet (that’s me) know, you know that I am a vehicular conservative. I don’t like to drive, I don’t like to be on freeways, and I certainly don’t like to go fast on them. This is do, in large part, to my over active imagination constantly coming up with new and graphic ways for me to die in car accidents. As you can imagine, the prospect of riding a bike on 500 miles of back country highways and major freeways felt more or less like a death sentence.
3. Believe it or not, I’m totally shy. I suck at meeting new people and making friends in short term situations. I’m totally awkward and a social recluse until I have some time to get to know you and figure out of you are prepared to handle the particular brand of humor, love and bat-shit crazy that I bring to the table.
1+2+3 = a terrible lack of sleeping prior to the ride, waking up at night to vomit from sheer
nerves, and more or less turning into a short tempered, bitchy terror.
Special thanks to Rooster, Sunbeam, Diva Thin Muffin (DTM) and everyone at work for putting up with me during the days leading up to my ride.
T-MINUS 3 Days
Packing. Extensive packing lists and tips and tricks float around the ALC community in the days prior to the ride.
I spent a few days gathering the last minute things – spare tire, tubes, CO2 cartridges, zip lock backs, dryer sheets, binder clips, alarm clock, etc. Riders get 1 gear bag, up to 70 lbs, that has to hold everything you need for 7 days, including your sleeping bag and sleeping pad. Organizational nerds like me, absolutely love this challenge.
Step One: Make sure you have everything on the list. See it, put your hands on it. The layout.
STEP 2: Organize by day, function and frequency of access.
STEP 4: Fly to Toesac with Sunbeam and hug DTM.
T-MINUS 2 DAYS
Friday DTM and Sunbeam both had to work. Because they are champions of my universe, they let me sleep in and Sunny took Diva to work so I could use his car to run two critical errands.
I needed a red dress. Red Dress Day (Day 5) of the route is no small matter. 2500 people all don red outfits of some kind, mostly dresses or costumes, to symbolically represent the AIDS Ribbon as we ride along the roads. Rooster had taken me dress shopping in LA but quickly learned, as many have before him, that I am no fun to shop with where this is something I actually need.
I also needed power. 7 days fending for myself was bad enough but on top of that, the IPhone that I am more or less addicted to, runs on electrical power which none of the camp sites have. Most people carry solar charges with them. Unfortunately for me, the IPhone 3G is not compatible with any of the solar chargers on the market unless you have a special adapter that no one sells. I’m already going without internet for 7 days, but I need some juice to be able to post to twitter and call my loved ones on the days that I decide to have mental breakdowns.
Enter Marshalls and REI.
I didn’t find a red dress, but I found a red one piece shorts coverall thing (yes, that’s the fashion industry term) which I knew was perfect the moment I saw it.
REI just so happened to have an $80 Iphone case that holds a full charge AND more importantly, the best return policy of any company out there. I.E. they let me buy it, use it for the week, break it, and still return it for a full refund. I HEART REI.
Friday night was our night on the town so the three amigos (two pictured) went here:
Srsly, what kind of creeper stand is this. Diva and Sunny were too scared to in . . . with good reason . . . now let’s not talk about it.This might be my new favorite picture of all time. Sunny is likely doing work. Diva is well, doing that. Enter the Toesac sushi dinner.
T-MINUS 1 Day
Saturday, the three amigos arose around, I don’t know what time o’clock and went to SBUX and a bagel place for breakfast before making the 2 hour ish drive into San Fransisco. I’m pretty sure I napped in the backseat waking up only to bitch about how much I wanted to throw up. I’m sure Diva and Sunny talked about “fooooooootbaaaaalllll” player’s chests, butts, thighs, abs, and otherwise terribly attractive endowments for the majority of the car ride.
Until we got here:
So began a 7 day journey of smelling stale cow and livestock.
Orientation and check in was painless. There was a 30 minute long safety video that did nothing more than make me feel like my life was in danger. There was meeting Elaine, my tent mate, a wonderfully sweet woman from Key West. There was a slew of “FUCK BP RIDE A BIKE” tshirts. AND there was my bike, fresh of the truck from Los Angeles, hiding in the haystack that was bike parking.
I’m rider # 5751, BTW.
My bike is sexy. I can admit it now much like Kobe can admit that he was totally caught up in the hype about beating Boston. I tried to discriminate against her because she’s light blue (FUCLA), but it’s pretty obvious that she’s the most attractive one in the bunch.
This is the sign is on the bike parked next to mine.
Perhaps now it is appropriate to mention that I have never lost someone close to me because of AIDS/HIV. I have mixed feelings about my presence on this ride when confronted with images like this one. Part of me feels like I don’t belong here and that I am somehow insulting these people who have loved and lost and suffered for 30 years. I simply cannot understand what this ride means to someone like this who has lost dozens of loved ones. I feel like an impostor. Of course, that’s ludicrous because the bottom line is that I’m helping raise money to stop this suffering and save lives. I guess what I’m trying to say is that every where I looked there was a reminder of why this ride is bigger than me wanting a challenge, more important than me wanting to prove to myself what I am capable of, more meaningful than I will ever understand. I was constantly tearing up, humbled, and thankful for how lucky I am to not have a card like this on my bike.
Post Check In, back with DTM and Sunbeam, I realize that I have left my sweatshirt under Diva’s bathroom sink. I can live with this mistake. The three amigos head to Haight Street to meet up with Notre Dame Sucks (NDS) who is graciously (especially considering how badly his football team has been beaten the last few years) offers to put us up for the night and we go on an adventure to find a replacement sweatshirt. Eventually we land at Old Navy, but only after we go to SBUX thinking that maybe caffeine will help me want to throw up less. I try to order a grande soy latte but end up saying what I say 99% of the time, grande soy chai latte. Of course, I have to pee so bad from the several days of proper hydration that I completely overlook this fact and dump 2 sugar packets into my chai latte, thinking it’s just coffee, and rendering it both useless and disgusting.
Focus Criqet, Focus.
There is nothing more depressing than throwing your 5$ SBUX away. Okay, just about everything is more depressing than that. But I was upset nonetheless.
Back on Haight, new warm threads in tow, we send NDS out for Thai food and then watch Indian Jones. This is fitting because my bicycles drag name is Indiana. I’m not sure if anyone knows that yet or not, but I decided it was appropriate per her handing of pot holes on one of my training rides months and months ago.
One more sleepless night.
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