Experience the Event - 2004

Tom's Journal

Day 7

Well, the final day is here, bittersweet the ride will end. Arose this morning not thinking I could bear the feeling of another day in spandex. I tugged on my shorts, socks, shirt, arm and leg warmers, only to crawl back into my sleeping bag for just a few more minutes of rest. Breakfast, brush the teeth and take the tent down for one last time. I found my camera at bike parking after losing it yet again. Two times this week and twice it was turned in. It was dark when I woke up but now we had a beautiful bright sunrise; 6:15 am.

The day’s ride was spectacular along the southern California coastline; Ventura to Los Angeles. Leaving the campsite along the bike path through the residential area we quickly were placed onto the highway back home. Since I’ve ridden this path before and had done this ride just 5 weeks earlier, it truly now felt like we were close.

It was a 3 coffee-shop-stop day. My first stop was in Port Hueneme close to Point Mugu, where the body of the former President Reagan was flown into just the day before. Starbucks; what a godsend for spending a week with really lousy coffee. Back on the road then inland toward the strawberry fields of Oxnard. Gliding along those back roads until we joined with the Pacific Coast Highway with a glorious entrance to the ocean --steep mountains on the left side of the highway and the end of the earth to my right.

From there we cruised the coast until Trancas Canyon; Starbucks stop number 2. Newly caffeinated, we left through Malibu, the ocean on the right, with surfers congratulating us as we passed. Lunch in Malibu then riding again with the traffic whizzing by 2 feet to our side, we entered into Santa Monica, then the city streets to old Hollywood and Hancock Park for our final rest stop.

In Los Feliz our final coffee stop, Coffee Bean & Tea Leaf. There my partner and puppy met me to relieve me of my Camelbak and bring me a spare cell phone battery. Our friend Peter from Boston stopped at the nearby grocery, and we sat there dining on fresh apples with caramel to accompany our various concoctions of coffees, lattes and iced drinks. With only 5 miles left, the remainders of our group re-joined and pedaled the final turns of our wheels together.

We rode up two final challenging and glorious hills ascending from Riverside Drive along the 5 freeway up Elysian Park, where families picnicked, and into Dodger Stadium, circling the parking lot up the holding area with the backdrop of downtown Los Angeles. People were cheering along the hillside; I coached a fellow rider up as each of us were perplexed with yet another big climb to get home.

At this place the community gathered, with friends and relatives waiting for the final ceremony to begin. We the riders and roadies -- assembled to make our final journey -- joined in celebration of community, life, spirit, hope and victory. It took over 30 minutes to get all the riders assembled, back onto our bikes, and lined up for the riding procession. First the motorcycle, then the Positive Pedalers, riders from the beneficiaries and the rest, hundreds adding to thousands, all wearing our new orange, green, blue, red, yellow, purple ride shirts, a sea of a thousand colors. The final welcome for the 375+ roadies as they entered the stage area in the middle of the crowd of riders. The stage and big screen monitor in front of us with the skyline of Los Angeles in the back. Music triumphed, water bottles sprayed water, bikes raised above heads by the crowd of crying warriors. We completed our journey.

Closing ceremonies of course were moving. A bit long on the speeches and on the ceremony of the riderless bike, but still moving nonetheless. Lorri and Pat gave their summary of the week, all welcoming the heroes and speaking of the accomplishments and successes of how we as a community will not stop, will be united and relentless, never to be satisfied until we have a vaccine and a cure. They spoke of the memories from the week, the joys, the jokes and sorrows. They were united that it will be our goal to ride until the end when our last LifeCycle will be a true celebration of victory against this horrific devastation we know as HIV/AIDS.

We dispersed, gathered our gear together with our loved ones we left. My butt is numb, my legs, arms, back, neck are sore, worn out. The ride is done. I am home. Now the hardest part of all, the biggest challenge begins. Re-entry to a world free of porta potties, which is not the perfect place of community and love we had all week. Our challenge is to take what we learned and change the world we collectively will face on Day 8 and beyond. Until next year, when we gather together again to ride, butts sore, winds strong, hills high.

When I started the journal I had no idea about what to write. A person I met on the ride is a journalist. Her advice was to write what you feel and tell the truth. Great advice it was. I started writing with a few things to say, which ended up becoming an ongoing tale. As I look at the things contained within I realized that what I wrote, all that about this ride is an analogy of life. This ride celebrating life symbolizes life.

Your butt will hurt. But the pain is work, which only makes you stronger with each mile and day will become more easy.
Winds will blow from the front back and side. But stay the course and ride the tailwinds as a push provided from heaven above.
You will encounter hills. They may seem daunting at first, don’t be deceived because every one is doable and always have the other side down.
Roads are not always the smoothest. All kinds of surfaces smooth and rough, but focus, control and just don’t quit.
You will find little things that prove you are blessed and loved. Random acts, random people, special people all around, you just have to look.
So keep the wheels on the pavement and let them whirl and dance and with all these things, your bike will be fast. No matter how sore, how fast, how steep, stop at times to look around and just don’t quit.

7 days
600 miles
$4.9 million
The world, now a slightly better place.

Day 6

Two words summarize most of the route today: hills and tedious.

We started out of Lompoc around 7:00 am. The weather was overcast and on the cooler side, like each morning thus far. We had long uphill grades as we climbed the big hills out of the central California valley on our way to the coast. Though the cloud cover was plentiful the views were great. Gentle foothills on either side of meadows and trees as we ascended and descended.

Our most beautiful downgrade was entering the 101 from the mountains. We crested a big hill and as the mountains opened the sun began to shine. The open road descended as we reached 40 mph to the entrance of the 101. The side signaled two routes to take; right San Francisco, left Los Angeles. Above the roadway was a mountain range that reached up toward heaven. Truly magnificent and awe-inspiring.

From there we entered the final canyon that shot us out onto the coast. The ocean in the distance, then to our side, it now became our riding partner. On that descent, I made 40 mph but my friends Will and Mike topped my speed at 44 and 48 mph respectively. Bastards both.

Of course all that had to be tempered with the short and steep rolling hills through Santa Barbara. Up, down, stop, up, down, stop, up down, stop. Tedious, boring, challenging and a part of my ride that will not be missed. These hills weren’t the fun kind of rolling hills where momentum from speed would help on the climb. They just sucked. Lunch plus more until we finally again hit the coast again thank god.

A water stop then a junk food stop sponsored by Team Santa Barbara. It was glorious. A Gatorade- and Clif Bar-free zone of ice cream, strawberries, real soft drinks and candy bars. Heaven again was attained for a moment. Out again and off to the coast. Along side of the route were the railroad tracks. The Amtrak Superliner blew the horn when he passed each pack of riders.

Most of the morning was contemplative as I reviewed my list of all the special things from this week. I asked my fellow riders what made their experience this week, what one moment, what one thing that would stay with them after the ride. The list is here.

1. Rest stop 1 team saving a cow delivering a stillborn calf when the farmer and vet were not available.
2. Tracy Chapman riding, singing and sitting down with riders saying, “Hi, my name is Tracy, what’s your name?"
3. The chick with the megaphone hiding in the bushes on the various hills playing songs and dancing to get riders up the hills. I stopped today to meet her. Her name is Elaine.
4. "Mom and Dad" who stand on the hills and roadsides beating a drum to help people climb. Their son is Rich. This is his 6th ride. Mom may ride again next year.
5. Kids from the various elementary schools in the towns we passed standing on the road sides waving. The letters they sent to us. The posters they made for us. The signs they made for us. The smiles they gave to us.
6. Ginger Brulee. Say no more.
7. Cheerleading guy standing on the line that was the dividing line between Northern and Southern California singing and repeating, “Northern California, Southern California, Northern California, Southern California.”
8. Pat Christen, 15 years of dedicated service to HIV/AIDS in San Francisco, statewide, nationally and globally. When she leaves she will be missed.
9. Lorri Jean for her fire.
10. The cookie lady who baked one cookie for each rider starting 3 months ago dressed in a traffic cone orange fairy outfit. She picked a random house to use as her station and the owner wasn’t home. When she returned she asked what was going on and said okay. After a while she returned from her home and explained that anything cookie lady needed was hers and the home owner had lost a son to AIDS just a few months before.
11. Ordel and Neil.
12. The random strangers saying congratulations.
13. My fellow Positive Pedalers who passed me daily.
14. Emails from home for me and all the riders.
15. 1,200+ riders.
16. 375 roadies who worked round the clock.
17. The entertainment from each of the rest stop crews, especially rest stop 4.
18. Perfect weather.
19. The challenging yet perfect route.
20. Riding with my best friend.
21. Will for thanking me for all the work I’ve done.
22. All of mine and all of the donors who believe in each of the people they sponsored.

The list of things that could be missed.

1. Porta potties.
2. Bad coffee.
3. HIV / AIDS.

Close your eyes and imagine, a perfect southern California afternoon, gliding along the coast at 18 mph, the 101 above, the coastal mountain range beyond, the ocean off to the right with a flock of pelicans flying next to you and a group of friends and surfers and dolphins off in the ocean coastline. Again I cried as I entered camp, my day now almost done. Tonight my partner is bringing the dog and we’ll have dinner with a few other friends. Tomorrow out by 6;00 am.

I’m tired, worn out, I don’t care about my butt, the hills, roads or winds cuz I’m blessed, I have the fondest of memories and my bike is fast; I’m coming home.

Day 5

Red dress day. Yes, red dress. I’m not much of a dress kind of guy but there are plenty of people on the ride in red drag. I once heard the tradition was started many rides ago when someone mentioned that everyone should dress red, like the red AIDS ribbon in remembrance of all those who passed before. Of course, knowing queens with phones (pre-email days) the translation ended up as red dress. Noting the community’s propensity for flair, the idea took off. So, red dress day.

First off, last night after I finished writing we were blessed with a special treat by songwriter, singer and San Francisco ALC rider Tracy Chapman. After camp announcements she got up on stage. Spoke to the group about the ride and why she was riding then sang a few special songs for an impromptu concert. A couple old favorites and one by another writer. The riders and roadies all packed into the dining tents, holding hands, hugging and swaying with the music. Someone passed out one hundred tiaras with flashing red lights that distracted the artist.

Today’s ride was short, but of course without the daily redundant dirge of hills and hills. Three tremendous climbs through Vanderburg Air Force Base. These had no name, they do now; Steep, Steeper and Annoying - The Triplets of Vanderburg. The blessing of these hills was the speed captured on the downhill side. I reached 44 twice and hit 48 once. I warned you my bike was fast, really fast. The winds were strong at times, but as always shifting and shifty. Today they only slightly restricted my need for speed.

The scenery included fields and valleys of produce. Strawberries, broccoli, lettuce and some other green things I couldn’t recognize as I cruised by at 25 mph. Note, strawberry fields don’t smell that great until they get picked. When they are growing, fertilizer; when they are picked, a little slice of heaven. At picking, the air surrounding the area for miles is full of sweet smell and especially when the trucks with the freshly picked berries drive by. I wondered as I watched the hundreds of workers in the fields picking where each of these precious pieces of fruit would end up. What city, what state, whose table or which favorite recipe of grandmother’s would delight with the freshness of the taste. Then again, they might just not make it to the table which is commonly the case in my household.

We stopped for rest stop 2 at a small town called Casmalia. The local people served barbeque at the small general store. The school children -- all 15 of them -- came out later in the morning to greet the strangers in red drag. The previous days they produced wonderful pictures with signatures congratulating the efforts of the riders and crew.

I was somewhat contemplative of comments from Lorri Jean the previous evening about the death of Former President Reagan. As I thought about us and the rest of the country I found it ironic about the events of this week. On two coasts, two different events are concurrently occurring. On the east coast a president lays in state. On the west coast a community is facing the challenges of life. The country mourns the death of that president while the community is celebrating and experiencing life. This community suffered tremendous losses of life at the beginning of this epidemic while the administration of that president couldn’t accept the consequences of not recognizing the global health pandemic at its start. This president couldn’t say AIDS and the administration’s supporters proclaimed it as a moral judgment upon this community. They were wrong, we are strong. When they place that president into the earth close to our arrival in his home area, we, me, a survivor of that holocaust, will be rising from the ashes of the devastation. Like a phoenix, we that community will celebrate life with accomplishment and hope.

My most special moment of the day came as I chugged slowly into camp. About 200 yards from camp entrance were parked on the side two brothers, Ordel and Neil. Both challenged, Ordel severely mental handicapped, they had their mini-van parked off to the side of the road. Neil told me the story how they fought as kids, but how he comes from Nevada every year to help Ordel with the mission he feels he must complete. Their uncle had AIDS and passed away 12 years ago. He also founded one of the first AIDS hospices in San Francisco. Ordel also teaches mentally handicapped kids.

That morning, the two brothers crawled through a strawberry field to hand-pick flats of perfect berries for all of the riders arriving into camp. Posted on the side of the van were pictures drawn by the children from Ordel’s class. Both took the day off, handed out that fruit and waited for the arrival of the children from school to help and assist with the annual mission.

I ate my share, thanked the brothers and rode into camp with a face swollen from tears. I realized then that all these riders, these roadies, the special people I will tell you about tomorrow waiting on roadsides are doing some heroic and special. They are doing this for people like me. I am honored and blessed to be a part of this community.

So in closing, today I tasted the sweetest strawberries of my life. I’m celebrating life, my butt no longer matters, the hills are insignificant, the winds do change, my bike is really fast and I’m truly a most blessed person.

Day 4

Three things about today, hills, winds and stats. The weather today was, as usual, a bit chilly at 5:00 am for breakfast but warmer than our previous days. Thank god for the covered shelter for dining.

First topic hills. Today was hill day. Daunting, deceiving and doable. First out a delightful gradual climb through, of course, my favorite food group: wineries. Next, the evil twins. I call them Serena and Genie 2. (Samantha’s evil cousin from Bewitched and the bad Genie. We called home and Googled "I Dream of Jeanie evil twin" and found out that the evil Genie was billed as Genie 2.) Serena was entertaining but Genie 2 was boring. Just like on real TV. The descriptions, the rumors, the stories were daunting. The upward views, twists and turns and elevations were deceiving. But all, each and every one was so very doable.

I rode strong and hard, climbed each mile, each foot with strength and courage. What an awesome climb up the various grades that culminated with the halfway point. The twins masked a view of mountain tops and a distant ocean with a clear blue sky and spotted full clouds. That view was our first treat for successfully making the climb. There we were cheerfully greeted again by the ride’s host drag queen Ginger Brulee in a lovely black and white number smartly accessorized with a matching parasol.

Our next treat, the long 8-mile downhill grade to our turn where we popped out to the bright blue ocean capped with white waves. Awesome, just awesome. The only bad things, it was cold and a head wind that restricted my top speed to 40.5 mph. The last hills coming out from Pismo Beach and Oceano don’t have names. They do now; The Pismo Bitches.

Two wonderful things happened today. Last night my friend Will stopped by my tent to tell me how much he appreciated the work I’ve done being training ride leader and everything else I’ve contributed. I was so honored to hear that from him. Then this morning at the half way point Lil Matt, who rode one of my trainings, thanked me for showing him how to shift during a ride. That is what the ride means, helping someone else and hearing something unexpected. I am blessed.

Today we had winds. Head, side and tail. They hindered, hurt and helped. Now I know what a grape feels like, roasting in the sun and blown by constant wind. Nuf said.

Today’s Stats:

• 103 miles
• 11 wineries
• 4 rest stops
• Lunch
• 1 Coffee stop
• 1 Water stop
• Left 6:50 am, arrived 4:50 pm
• Total time 10 hours
• 3 hours at 6 rest stops including lunch
• 20 minutes at 1 coffee stop, Cambria
• 22 times speed reached over 30 mph
• 4 times over 40 mph
• 7.5 minutes, sustained 37 to 40 miles
• Head winds 70%
• Side winds 15%
• Tail winds 15%
• Heard on your left (-) Said on your left (+)
  • Camp to RS1; -28, +28
  • RS1 to RS2; -38, +62
  • RS2 to Lunch; -0, +63
  • Lunch to RS3; -16, +30
  • RS3 to Water; -2. +16
  • Water to RS4; -12, +6
  • RS4 to Camp; -3, +10
  • Net gain 116

This morning I woke up dizzy, eyes not being able to see straight and my lungs congested. I probably shouldn’t have ridden. I was shaking at lunch and had the chills. I should have sagged. I’m not sure if it was related to my meds, or being tired and worn out. But I could not sag, not this year, not this ride, not this day. I had to ride.

We are half way home, my bike is fast (see stats), my butt is broken in, the roads are smooth, the hills are almost done and I’m truly blessed. Warm up is done, time to head home.

Day 3

I woke up early, like 4:30. But got a good night sleep. I actually made it to ride-out at 6:30 am and had to wait. In previous years I always thought the people who got up that early to ride were freaks. Today I was a freak. I waited; impatiently I might add, for 10 minutes before I had a chance to get out on my sore butt. Yes again, my butt hurt.

The weather was chilly and my hands were freezing as we rode out into the rising sun over the valley outside King City. My fingers nearly froze off until I finally made it to Rest Stop 1. The day slowly warmed as we crossed over a mountain range to the infamous and dreaded “Quadbuster.” More about that bitch later.

The scenery was different and much less dramatic than the two previous days. Upwardly rolling hills through ranches and vineyards. (The two food groups today are vineyards and lettuce.) A huge hill, and I mean huge hill. The views over the riversides were actually pretty amazing. The hills surrounding a valley, river meandering in the middle, railroad tracks and old railroad trestles and bridges crossing from time to time. Old buildings barely standing, unpainted for decades, reminded me of something you would see in an old Western. Boring while riding but still beautiful in its own special way.

Approaching the hill became more ominous as the sight of the route became clearer. So many thoughts kept running through my head: “do it”, “don’t quit”, “sing some song”, “just peddle”, “stop you idiot”, “don’t be such a ____”. But my fears were overcome as I glided, slowly, up the hill to the cheers of other riders and supporters near its crest. Breathing ever so hard, I almost broke into tears knowing that once again, I beat that Quadbuster. Much of the remaining route was along some Army base cradled between two mountain ranges.

A commentary on the types of road surfaces is now appropriate. Not all road surfaces are created equally. Asphalt, fresh laid pre-surfaced asphalt, newly surfaced, old asphalt and concrete. Concrete is best. Old asphalt with potholes suck. Big time. New asphalt in some places sucks equally bad as it’s environmentally better cuz it’s made from old tires. They both suck especially when your bike is fast and your butt hurts. Nothing is worse then old potholed asphalt after eating bacon, eggs, oatmeal and coffee for breakfast. My butt still hurting from the day before, bouncing down the road at 18 mph on a 17 lb bike. Get the picture? Thank god for the “Pirates of the Butt” at Rest Stop 1. The captain of that ship made me walk the plank to the open sea of blue in the porta potty.

Two highlights of the day: the town of Bradley for lunch, where the local school has an annual fundraising barbeque and bake sale, followed by a dozen Richard Simmons drag queens (is that really drag?) dancing us to the oldies into Rest Stop 4. In Bradley the locals were out in force and all the kids from the local school were eagerly yelling out cheeseburger orders to the school’s teachers and PTA. I heard one year they raised enough money to send the entire school on a field trip to the Aquarium in San Diego from the proceeds of that one lunch. I guess the lunch food from the ride was okay too, I did see a few people eating it.

Now, as to meeting people. I ran into my old riding partner, his bike is substantially faster then mine. A few other riders from years gone by and a few roadies I worked with last year. But I have another crush; Jerry from Medical at Rest Stop 4. Don’t tell him but Mike in Chiro is still my number one crush.

Being the first one out of camp gave me plenty of time for the really fast riders to pass. So I kept count of how many times people passed me while riding.

• Camp to Rest Stop 1: 19
• Rest Stop 1 to Rest Stop 2: 17
• Rest Stop 2 to Rest Stop 3: 9
• Rest Stop 3 to Rest Stop Lunch: 1
• Lunch to Rest Stop 4: 0
• Rest Stop 4 to Camp: 3

Disclaimer: This does not count the number of people who passed while I was gabbing at a rest stop nor is it a net count less those I passed. LOL

So tomorrow, “On your left”! My bike is fast, my butt is getting broken in. Off to dinner.

Day 2

My butt hurts. We got up and damn my butt hurt. The first day was good, the night was short, and my butt hurts like hell. Cold and nippy but not too cold to need my riding jacket. Riding out was like any other day, but the route was filled with fields upon fields of all my favorite food groups. Broccoli, strawberries, artichokes and of course the vineyards. We made one curve and I should have stopped to snap a picture: Looking east in the heavens the morning sun (and I mean really early morning) was glimmering through a thin covering of clouds and miles of sprinklers raining down upon the surrounding fields. It was so spectacular and beyond the simple words within my vocabulary. I rode strong but my butt still hurt.

Just before lunch I was waved in by drag queen “Ginger Brulee” to a shop where we stopped for a tradition of fresh artichokes. Freshly picked, freshly steamed, garlic butter and truly delicious. The perfect appetizer before lunch. As I left I said good bye, but was that mark on my cheek garlic mustard or mustard lipstick? My butt still hurts.

The whole day was filled with different venues and mostly flat but can only be described with one word, windy. Tail winds, side winds, a few head winds, but just lots of winds. The route itself is just over 100 miles mostly flat but bunches of bunches of bunches of hills; rolling hills. Up down, up down like a roller coaster. Each curve, each crest was either complicated or made a bit easier with the accompanying winds. The tailwinds were eerie gliding down the road surrounded by vineyards and embankments like a wind tunnel in the fields. Only the sound of the tires and the drone of the wind over the surrounding poles and power lines. The tail winds pushed, then the side winds tilted us over to the side.

One highlight of the day came at the water stop between rest stop 3 and 4: The virgin porta potty. I arrived to stop and stretch and pee. I eagerly approached the green sign and viola! To my surprise, the virgin porta potty. What an amazing thing to behold -- clean, fresh paper never been used. But my butt still hurt.

The hills of King City finished the day. I think some big hills of the ride, like Quadbuster (tomorrow) and the ones to follow, are over-rated; nothing compares to the hills heading into King City. As I rode in, something kicked in; I had to push, the last 14 miles were so amazing. The rolling hills and the long straight away. I couldn’t stop and had to push harder, had to push faster. Up at 20 mph, down at 38+, then the final 9 mile flat stretch into camp. I kept going at it, averaging 27 to 32, pumping, pushing, all the pain left, my butt stopped hurting, hamstrings loosened, quads relaxed and kicked into overdrive and all I could think was how I was not going to slow, not going to stop. Like a horse seeing the barn I flew past rider after rider. “On your left, on your left,” turned into “Get out of my way, I’m on the left.” I cruised into camp, got off my bike, hyperventilating and adrenaline pumping. I broke into tears, ran to the first person I knew, and hugged until I could regain my composure. This was the best f*$#king riding day of my life!

Some people ride because of friends lost, friends affected by HIV, the fellowship of 2,000 other individuals united for a common cause. When you fear, you are alive; when you face your fears, you’re living. Today, while cruising 100+ miles at 25+ mph into camp, I was living.

Day 1

I hardly slept last night despite the two glasses of wine with dinner. My eyes closed but my brain never stopped. I wasn’t sure if it was anxiety, anticipation or excitement. (I was a Roadie last year, so I was looking forward to getting back on the route.) Opening ceremonies was quick; a good thing. Mostly stretching while listening to the few speakers, and then off to the bikes.

Ride-out was so great. I try to never make a big deal about my HIV but it does come with glamour parking, so I got to be first in line when the route opened. Nothing could have been more cool then turning around to see the sea of riders lined up curb to curb eagerly waiting for the day to start. Then we were off, with a police escort.

For some reason, my bike is really fast. On any downward grade, downhill or slight slope my bike decides on its own to take off from a dead stop up to 30mph without effort. The new tires I just put on my bike make such a difference. … Damn my bike is fast.

The weather could have not have been better. San Francisco: sunny, clear, crisp not freezing, perfect weather for riding the entire day. We had tail winds along a good portion of the day and a few slight crosswinds, but they just made my bike move faster. I wonder how that can be since my bike is already fast.

The hills were, well, hills. I hit each with a steady pace and took my time to reach the top. And then the downhills. I passed a guy coming into Half Moon bay who was going 45+. I must have topped 50+ mph on that downhill.

The route was less then 80 miles but what a route. Most of the time we spent riding along the coast, from the University of San Francisco through Golden Gate Park to the beach and south on Highway 1. What a thrill. The never-ending stretch of coastline reached north and south as we rode. There were beaches, cliffs, hillsides of wildflowers and coves carved into rock cliffs, over only God knows how many centuries of time. The surf broke way out into the ocean, creating incredible waves that crashed into the rocks sending up a spray of water hundreds of feet into the air.

I rode alone today. I needed the time to spend by myself listening to the spinning of my wheels and the never-ending sound of tires on pavement … A smooth rhythmic sound that brought me the time to contemplate the challenges of my daily life. When I stopped to take pictures there were streams of other riders, alone or in groups, that stretched to the ends of the road in both directions. Some passed me, others I passed. But the pictures I took can not explain or show the beauty that is the coastline of California. Such a wonderful thing and it was all there just for me. I caught up to those who had passed me, because as I may have told you, my bike is fast.

Each rest stop had amazing themes and costumes climaxing with the Solid Gold Dancers of Rest Stop 4 -- the infamous and notorious group of Roadies known for the most outrageous and creative of themed events.

I thought all day as I rode alone, listening to my Michelins dancing on the asphalt, what I would write tonight, but then the only thing I really could think about was why I really do this event. It’s saved my life and gives me reason to live. But really I do this ride, slowly I might add, because I have to. It provides the most incredible backdrop to the power of what people can accomplish when they unite for a common goal. How incredible is it where people gather in a powerful group making a difference cruising the coastline of surf-filled air with tailwinds to push you along. More people continue to live with HIV and the funds don’t expand to meet the need, so money has to be found to meet the need. So I must ride, I have no choice.

This week is going to go quickly. This is sure, because if I haven’t mentioned, my bike is fast.

I grabbed a bit of dinner – barbeque, with the servers in Texas Drag. (Not sure why Texas is associated with Barbeque. Even after spending most of my adult life there, I still never understood the reason that we would take visitors for barbeque. It’s okay.) But dinner was plentiful, then I went to sports med for a chiropractic adjustment. There I ran into the head of that group who remembered me from years past. I now have a crush on Mike in chiro. He’s straight but that’s okay. He’s adorable, knowledgeable and a really great guy. Off to bed. Ear plugs and down for the count, despite the symphony of sinus congestion.

Orientation

I hate orientation days as a general rule. Too many lines, too many strange faces, and so many unhelpful people. But Saturday was not one of those orientations. Yes there were lines, but helpful people, familiar faces, people with whom I’ve ridden before and all the people with whom I will ride with for the next seven days. Check-in was a breeze as I had everything done ahead of time thanks to my handy “E-Ticket.” It was as easy as my flight on the Southwest Shamu from LA. The people I trained with all came together, so we sat outside counting up last-minute pledge totals and swapping pledges to make sure everyone was covered. Everywhere there were people, my new family for the next week.

We dropped off pledges, ran to watch the safety video, camp store regroup, tent assignment, then bike parking. Whoa! Coordinating all my homies was like herding cats but we made it through and met bunch of new people along the way.

Why I Ride

This is my 7th event and my 5th as a rider. I'm 46, a personal trainer, live in Hollywood California, am a long-term survivor of HIV, and one of the most fortunate people on earth. After 20+ years of doing large corporate work, I realized that my priorities were misaligned. During that period I learned I was only happy when working with other people at the gym. So my personal trainer encouraged me to get certified and take on clients. None of this would have become a reality without the experiences I live each year while doing this ride.

I look forward to this event every year and it is one of the things that keeps me alive. In 1995 I faced death: I was diagnosed with PCP and KS, and had only five T-cells. It was then that I decided to take advantage of each day for the rest of my life. Every year I found a new thing to add to my list: Volunteer work for kids, church, sky diving, running, weight training, rollerblading and finally scuba diving. In 1998 I volunteered for Texas AIDS Ride 1. I saw friends and acquaintances transformed. I knew I had to have some of whatever they were doing.

Last year I visited the Jeffrey Goodman Special Care Clinic at the L.A. Gay & Lesbian Center, and was amazed at the incredible facility -- and at the number of people who were there. This place exists because of the funds that I and many others helped raise from previous rides. This place has to take care of far too many clients and continues to need funds. So I ride.

I'm extremely honored and privileged to have been asked to participate in the webcast and I'm looking forward to sharing the incredible daily moments that, combined, make this event the experience I live for each year. In my personal training, my contribution is helping clients understand the feeling of how their body should work. With this journal I hope to help explain to readers the overwhelming feelings of joy, sorrow, pain, happiness, love and triumph that ARE AIDS/LifeCycle.

While training for my first ride my father died. On the back of the prayer card my mother prepared, she put this poem:

When things go wrong, as they sometimes will, when the road you're trudging seems all up hill,
When the funds are low and the debts are high, and you want to smile but you can only sigh.
When care is pressing you down a bit, Rest, if you want, but don't you quit.
Life is queer with its twists and turns, as every one of us sometimes learns.
And many a failure turns about, when he might have won had he stuck it out.
Don't give up though the pace seems slow -- You may succeed with another blow.
Success is failure turned inside out -- The silver tint of the clouds of doubt,
And you never can tell how close you are, It may be near when it seems so far;
So stick to the fight when you're hardest -- It's when things seem worst that you must not quit.

When the road gets tough, or I'm all alone on the road, I speak to my dad and those who have gone before and try to remember this poem. No matter how high the hill, or fast the headwinds, I won't quit until it's over. We must live in the time when AIDS becomes a thing of the past. Simply put, I ride because it's not over.

"On your left!!"
Tom Kunze