Thank you for riding for me.

DAY 5

Red.

Dress.

Day.

Day five is something a little special. Easy mileage, plus 2500 people all dressed to kill. Urban legend tells us that red dress day started out as dress red day – in theory, the thousands of cyclists, all dressed in red would look like a red ribbon as they rode along. However, this community quickly translated dress red day into red dress day and now we have this magical event in which there are lots and lots of cross dressing cyclists, looking fancy and distracting traffic as they ride along.

FACT – there are more car + cyclist = pain accidents on Red Dress Day than any other day.

Red dress day is supposed to be easy. A few decent climbs in the morning, all the rest stops are at wineries, low mileage, there is a talent show at camp in the evening . . . lots to look forward to.

I'm also supposed to be retired and living on an island somewhere by now . . .

The day started off at about 3am when I woke up from two very different and distinct dreams in which someone or something was kicking my ass.

There goes my subconscious again, trying to find ways for my brain to understand the pain that my body is feeling in its sleep.

Anyway, I got up and got my red on . . . here is a lovely picture of my face, which quite frankly, looks like it got its ass kicked.

I should note that it was balls cold in the mornings. So despite it being red dress day, I had to have a jacked and under armour (Registered Trademark or something) on.

You know, I'd always want to wake up and be just a bit cranky and such . . . but one of the amazing things about this event is that cranky was pretty short lived. As soon as I stepped out of my tent, this was what I saw:



If you can't tell, that's two beautiful unicorns in red dresses having their makeup done by a loving and supportive female of the species. I would give so much to wake up to something like this everyday.

Now, I'm happy. I actually delight in the subzero temperatures of the butter.

At the G String - we start to see some more shining examples of people creativity and desire to get all dressed up.


and my personal favorite photo:


It kind of goes without saying but regardless, I love all of these men so much. It takes real men to be able to work these outfits and I have a lot of respect for those who put sexuality aside in the name of having a little fun and supporting such a moving concept.

I don't have a picture of this so you'll have to trust me, one amazing man actually altered some boots that look exactly like these to include clips for his pedals and rode the entire day in them . . . for serious, I don't even think Superman himself is that impressive.

Image from:
http://www.mistressxwholesale.co.uk/images/red131.jpg




Needless to say, Red Dress Day was full of balls out AWESOME.





Example #1:



Example #2:

Let's get real here people. THE BIKE SHORTS HAVE PADDING. AMAZING WONDERFUL NECESSARY PADDING. Everywhere you see a brave soldier in something like a SPEEDO you have to understand that that man went ALL DAY with nothing to support his posterior, nothing to lessen the blow if you will, nothing to protect from blisters, heat rash, and pressure sores.

You must due the ride for yourself to understand what this really means . . . suffice it to say that I have more respect for the men pictured above than I do for Bruce Lee getting a kitten out of a tree for a blind grandma. Look it up.

Example #3:

One man was so dedicated to cockatoo up do that he altered his helmet to include a tremendous amount of plumage. He refused to take it off, even after a vulture followed him for over two miles, dive bombed him several times, eventually made contact, knocked him off his bike, and sent him to the hospital. Don't worry, he's fine.

Example #4:

There were for bears dressed up as cowgirls who ran up to a fence at a little pony farm and caused pandemonium when 30 little ponies thought that these cowgirls were trying to attack their little pony babies. Please, read that again and really try and imagine in your mind four large gentlemen in cowboy hats, boots and tutus running up to a Shetland pony mom trying to protect its foal. Not my pictures but you need something for reference:

http://s-tiger.photovillage.org/photosDir/2363/thumb/800-Shetland_Pony_With_Foal.jpg

VS

http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3136/2706628130_94846f9389.jpg

And Example #5 is one of my top three favorite moments on the entire journey . . . all bears and ponies and blisters and delicious looking cross dressing fellas aside . . . .

Coming to the bottom of a small hill somewhere in wine country there was a woman, in her mid forties maybe, looking quite frail, sitting under a blanket, next to a truck, in an old school lawn chair. On approach she looked to be just one of many hundreds of thousands of amazing people who dotted the roads to cheer us on. But as I passed her instead of saying "You're looking great" like everyone else, this woman said "Thank you for riding for me.” This woman, sat there for 12 hours and said "Thank you for riding for me" to every single rider who passed her.

WOAH.

Now, when you're riding and you pass people you get like a 2 second window to hear what they've said and process that information before they are behind you. So I was probably 50 yards down the road before I realized what she had said and the implications of such a simple sentence. It was the first time I cried while riding from the sheer emotion of it all. It was the catalyst to opening the emotional weight of this adventure, which if you'll recall from the very first post, started as a way for me to pick up guys.

WOAH.

At camp were were informed that this woman has been thanking riders for three years now. She is HIV positive and she has been given three months to live because her body has rejected all treatments that currently exists for HIV - except for whatever relief can come from the power of love and community and friendship - which is why she sits out there all day. The small town she lives in does not have a treatment center like the SFAF or the LAGLC. All she has is this day, when the community comes to her to offer her some TLC and to bring to her hugs from people that don't judge, people that know what she's going through, people that simply love her.

WOAH.

I'm crying right now just thinking about her.

And if ever there existed a need for some motivation to continue to ride my bike, it was Red Dress Day because the rest of RDD was basically a shit storm of hate and misery . . . and by that I mean, mile after mile after mile of horrible headwinds.

I want to elaborate on how terrible it was, but honestly, it's not even worth remembering. SLASH it's hard to remember. I cried a lot along the route out of frustration and out of pain. My muscles were cramping with was causing my knee caps to pull slightly out of alignment which meant that ever single down stroke on the pedals was excruciating. The wind kept everything cold so that there was no relief and of course, since it's a headwind, I had to pedal ten times as hard as I did any other time on the ride to go 10% as fast. Nature FAIL.

The important things to remember are this.

1) I pedaled it to camp when I really really really really really wanted to quit.
2) A man who has competed in 15 iron mans and placed in several told us that this day's ride above all others was the most difficult thing he has ever done in his life.
3) The route next year has already been changed, so you don't have any excuse not to sign up.
I called my family from camp that night because I was angry and sad and homesick. I also texted an extraordinarily high number of curse words to people who normally don't get to experience me broken down and slightly defeated.

I remember very little else from camp because I was a zombie with no energy, just going through the motions. I tried to attend the talent show, but it didn't start until 9pm and I couldn't sacrifice the much needed sleep.

I went to bed feeling equal amounts of pride and shame.