Planet Unicorn is a Happy Place

DAY 3
One of the little oddities of this ride is that we don’t actually get a printed route sheet for each day until the morning as we’re riding out. However, there are a few well known, widely discussed sections of the route and Day 3 contains the first . . . QUADBUSTER. It’s a hill, named as such to sound scary and painful. Newbies always fear it (except me obviously) and returners are always trying to say that it’s easy and they rocked it last year. Regardless, it’s a big day and upon waking up at 5am I immediately started delighting in the human experiment that is the Quadbuster.

The cyclists don’t even mention it – like it doesn’t matter to them at all.

The returning riders either say it’s a breeze or spread rumors of misery.

The newbies take on one of two approaches. The most common is fear - lamentations of doubt and visions of failure. Quadbuster has already beaten them. The less common approach (and obviously the one I adopted) was to pretend that Quadbuster is NBD - that a hill is a hill is a hill and if I don’t stop pedaling, I’ll eventually get to the top.

It was fascinating to eavesdrop on people’s varying degrees of terror, excitement, and perceived personal abilities.
But before I could get there . . . UNICORNS.

No. Not those unicorns.

These unicorns.

Oh wait. I didn't get a picture of them. Why? Because it would have been awkward. And we can't have that.

Somewhere between butt butter and sunscreen at rest stop 1 I was hanging out at bike parking trying unsuccessfully to tweet when I overhear something along the lines of “I’m constantly getting hit on by men and checking out lesbians, I can’t win.” My straight-dar (yes, that’s a thing) is freaking out.

It goes like this:

Sarah’s Brain (SB): Look up slowly, you don’t want to startle it.

Unicorn 1 (U1)to Unicorn 2 (U2): Hey, if you’re going to wear the jersey, you can’t wear the jacket.

U2: I know, but I’m cold and my chest hair sticks out of the jersey.

U1: Yeah, I know you’re chest hair is like a mane.

SB: Okay, maybe my straight-dar is broken.

U1: It’s like a unicorn or something.

SB: YOU IDIOT, you just made eye contact. Crap, he’s still looking at you. Crap say something witty.

Sarah’s Mouth (SM): It’s nice chest hair.

SB: Fucking christ.

SM: I mean, those are sweet jerseys. Did you custom make them? I like unicorns.
SB: Do you think they know that’s code for, I’m straight?

U1: I’m [Unicorn 1], so you’re from LA? (editor’s note: every rider has to wear a wristband identifying which foundation, San Fran or LA was the beneficiary of their raised funds so you can identify one’s origin on sight).

SM: Yes! U1: We can’t talk to you then.

U2: He doesn’t mean that. Are you doing this ride alone?

SB: Not anymore. Please be my friends 20 something straight guys, for the love of god, please be my friends.

SM: Yes.

U2: Cool. Good luck on Quadbuster.

SM: Thanks, I’ve heard it’s no big deal so I’m sure I’ll be fine.

SB: Sarah, you are so cool.

U1: Yea. See ya.

Now. I was going to get up Quadbuster either way. But there is a small (99%) chance I got up faster because I was trying to catch up to the unicorns. Immediately out of rest stop 1 you start Quadbuster – 1500 feet of climbing over 1 mile. I’m not going to say it was easy, but it was nothing to fear.

Enter meaningful life metaphor.

People who told themselves they were never going to make it to the top of quadbuster because they were not in shape, had busted up gears, misc. random excuse #342, failed.

Fail.

People who decided not to fear the hill but instead focused on how sexy their ass would look to the unicorns on the other side, found this to be one of the easiest hills of the ride so far.

Win.

Also, I would formally like to rename quadbuster assbuster, because my ass hurt a heck of a lot more than my quads did by the end. And, if you’re wondering, I got up using a phrase that’s popular with the kids today: “Apple bottom jeans, jeans, boots with the fur, fur. She hit the floor. Next think you know, know the whole club was lookin’ at hur.” Or some iteration thereof.

(Are you starting to understand how great you think your butt is going to look after you do this ride?)

There were no unicorns at rest stop 2. But there was this guy dressed up as the Red Queen carrying around a walkie talkie.

And me, sporting my Lakers jersey . . . oft getting snide comments from east coasters . . . and just once someone asking to take my picture because he was so proud that I would think to support my team at a time like this:

But lunch . . .

Lunch today was something extra special. Bradley Elementary School actually partners with ALC and sells BBQ lunch to riders. Apparently they have been doing this for years and they make great money for their school. As a veggie, I wasn’t into the BBQ but I did buy some home made buttons. A “GO AIDS RIDER” button for me and a beautiful drawn Picasso-esque french girl for Rooster.

It was, of course, at the port-a-potties where I ran into Unicorn 2.

It went like this.

SB: Minding my own business. . . . do to do . . . washing butter off my hands . . . no big deal . . . can’t wait to give rooster his button . . .omg, I unicorn just walked out of that stall and he’s coming over here. Are you singing out loud to yourself? No. good.

SM: How’d it go?

U2: In the bathroom?

SB: Fuck. SM: Ha. Ha. Ha. No, quadbuster. I mean you can tell me how it went in the bathroom if you really want but . . .

SB: Shut up.

U2: Quadbuster was easy.

SB: Thank you god.

SM: Yeah, it really wasn’t that big of a deal. I trained on way worse.

SB: Yea, keep telling him stuff that makes you sound like you know what you’re talking about . . . great idea.

U2’s Girl Friend: You ready baby (to U2, not to me).

SB: FAIL.

So, more riding . . . the actual riding of the bike is the most boring part of this story.

Rest Stop 4, however, extra special, because today features a performance. The theme was Price is Right. Some boys make attractive women. I’ll admit, it was a bit of a turn on.

Some don’t.

I rolled into camp at 1:45pm and it was like a total dream to have that much time. And by total dream, I mean I had time to wash my bike shorts, my one pair of very dirty, very buttery bike shorts – they take a long time to dry so if you get in early you can hang them in the sun and be golden. As luck would have it, U1 was also washing the butter out of his underthings when I walked up.

He didn’t recognize me.

I’m awkward so I don’t say anything.

Then, after doing laundry another straight boy talked to me for the 10 minute walk back to tent city. He was strange, so I left it at that.

Then outside the port-a-potties, a really hot guy tried to talk to me about the need for a slip-n-slide. He was too hot though, so I got uncomfortable and awkward-ed my way somewhere else.

Since I had so much time, I figured I’d get my free chiro session in. Might as well feel good for the rest of the days right, why save it? As I walked up, I heard angels singing.

Seriously – “Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhh”

Chiro and Sports Med = the mecca of straight young men. I forget what school it is, but some California Sports Med college takes students enrolled in summer class and brings them out to the ride to support all the riders. They get tons of hands on experience and a teacher is always near by supervising. It’s totally awesome. It’s a tent full of 20-24 year old college guys who are into sports. Hoooooott. I srsly contemplated faking a more serious injury just so I could lay there longer. I had my neck adjusted and I feel this was the best decision I made on the entire trip. I felt like a million dollars once all the tension in my shoulders was released. Even my ass felt better. Thank you Chiro. Srsly.

Post best moment of my life, I went to medical to ask them if they had any tips and/or tricks for keeping my ass as happy as it felt right then. Basically, all they said was “come to the butt clinic at 6am and we’ll check you out.” I can’t get my face to look good at 6am, like hell I’m going to let you look at the blisters on my ass. Like. Hell.

Moving right along . . . I then decided it was time to call Rooster . . . and 6 hours later, I actually got a signal and was able to use my phone. In the meantime, while wandering, I ate my first dinner and then meandered off of the campsite and into the happening town of Paso Robles to find a post office, the Lakers game and Starbucks. I found no Lakers game, but did sit and observe locals faces who were trying to have dinner in restaurants taken over by hundreds of homosexual individuals.

Small towns don't exactly see this every day.

Back at camp, I found this spot which had a cell signal strong enough to call the Rooster.
I also found this flower.

I was missing Rooster and it was awesome to talk to someone I knew, even if it was only for four minutes.

I ate dinner one more time and proceeded to sit and write in my journal and watch the roadies get ready for their fashion show . . .

I didn't go the fashion show though, because I found power and was charging my cell phone and talking to Melissa (hi Melissa!) who is the one person I knew going into the ride . . . '

All in all, a really good, happy day.