I DID IT!

I made it!  I went to hell and back (although, I thought hell was supposed to be hot?) and made it safely home to my bed last night, where I slept blissfully for 10 hours last night.

The ride started beautifully.  Opening ceremonies were powerful.  It was at opening ceremonies that they revealed the shocking fundraising total this year -- $12.6 million.  That is an astonishing amount of money, all of which will go towards getting treatment to those who need it most.  Then, a woman got up and told her story of why she rides -- how she learned that her mother was HIV+ when she was a kid, so she found this ride and started riding.  How she got her sister to join her a few years ago.  How she finally convinced her mother to come be a roadie... until her mom had to cancel out of that last year due to breast cancer.  How her mother has now overcome breast cancer as well, and was with us on the road this year.

Then they brought a bike down the center aisle, with no rider.  This was to symbolize the severe loss our world has sustained to all of the deaths caused by this disease.  This bike was brought along side all of our luggage, gear, etc to each camp site, and to the closing ceremonies, as a reminder of those we remember and honor with our rides.

Then I hit the road.  Riding out of cow palace with over 2,200 other riders, with crowds along side the road cheering for us all as we left... what an amazing experience.  It was 6:30 AM, it was cold and foggy in San Francisco, and it was a beautiful way to start the ride!  I stopped for a photo op with a man dressed as a condom alongside the road, before riding the last several miles into Santa Cruz, and camp 1.

Day 2 was by far my least favorite day of the ride.  Scheduled for 109.2 miles, I rushed to get moving in the morning to ensure I'd have enough time to ride all of the miles.  Unfortunately, when I got to my bike I discovered I had a flat tire.

Still, I wasn't going to let me get that down.  Once the fine gentlemen at Cannondale got me back in working order, I was on my way.  I made it to rest stop one comfortably and happily, where I posed for a photo op, sporting my fancy new $5k fundraiser jersey:

However, rest stop 1 was the last good part of the day.  Shortly after rolling out from there, the weather forecast of "mid-60s and 30% chance of rain" abruptly turned into "not even 50, windy as hell, 110% chance of pouring rain."  As the weather worsened, so did my condition.  I stopped to eat and drink, while muttering curses under my breath.  I reminded myself that I made a pledge to my donors, to everyone... that I was out here to ride these miles for those who couldn't.  So, as long as I was physically able to ride (no matter how uncomfortable I felt)... I would ride.  Unfortunately, a few miles before rest stop 2, I was no longer physically able to ride.  It was at that point that the hypothermia had started to set in.  I waited for a sweep vehicle to pick me up and escort me to the rest stop, where I was placed in a heated car.

At this point, there were many, many other riders suffering from hypothermia as well, and there had been several accidents due to rainy, windy conditions, wet and muddy roads, and lack of visibility.  The ALC staff made the difficult choice to close the route down to prevent further injuries.  A local church opened its doors to 250 riders trapped at rest stop 2, and a community college opened its doors to those trapped at lunch.  I spent most of the afternoon under care of the medical team, who somehow nursed me back to some semblance of normalcy.

One of the most beautiful moments of the day was when someone announced "Hey guys... we just tracked 250 people's worth of mud and garbage into this church.  Can we collect some money to give them so they can clean up when we leave?"  We were able to collect $400, which the church in turn gave to their homeless program.  This is truly the beauty of community.  When everyone offers help to everyone else, we grow together and make the world a better place.

It may have been a brutal day, but once I got to camp, wrapped up in a stylish mylar blanket and several other layers, and got a full night's sleep, I woke up on day 3 ready to face the infamous Quad Buster hill (which makes Torrey Pines look like child's play).  And I didn't just face it -- I CONQUERED it!  I'm pictured above at Rest Stop 2, after the hill, posing with the Words with Friends themed banner.  As a result of my day 2 experience, I dressed in several layers on Day 3 (under shirt, mylar blanket, jersey, and thermal arm warmers).  I may look puffy, but I assure you I was WARM all day long!

And one of the treats of Day 3 is Lunch in Bradley, CA.  This is a small town of about 120 people, who were terrified at the concept of a bunch of gay people and HIV + people rolling through their town when the ride first started.  Thanks to our treatment of them throughout the years, and the help we have been to their community, they now welcome us with open arms, and barbecue hamburgers for the whole ride as we roll through town.  The money they make on the hamburgers each year ($16,000 this year) funds their entire extra-curricular program for the next school year.  They were also selling t-shirts for a college scholarship fund, which has now successfully sent 18 students from their town to college.  This is huge.  This is life-changing.  We have not only turned a small town away from ignorance and bigotry and into a warm, loving, accepting place... we have literally given them something they never had before -- access to better education!

But alas... it wouldn't be a day on ALC if everything went smoothly.  As I was folding clothes and preparing for bed, I got stung by a bee on my right palm, and had to rush to the medical tent (not knowing if I'm allergic or not).  Once again, my medical heroes got me all patched up and ready to go... but it was just one more moment for the books.

Day 4, I woke up dehydrated from sweating all night, with a migraine.  Yippy!  After downing as much water and tylenol as I could, and a big-ass cup of coffee, I pushed myself to get out on the road and get as far as I could.  I didn't leave until they kicked us out of camp at 8 AM, and I was slow going.  But, in spite of that, I raced up the Evil Twins (the second worst hill we conquered) to an astonishing elevation of 1762 feet.  Shortly afterwards, was the half way point to LA.

I moved slowly after that, still wobbly from the migraine and not feeling 100%... but I trekked on.  I sat at rest stop 2 for a while, trying to get some food in me and see if I'd feel better.  I pushed on, and found a starbucks.  OH STARBUCKS WHAT WOULD I DO WITHOUT YOU?!  After downing some caffeine, and making it to lunch, I felt human again and was able to race through the second half of the day, completing all 97 miles in spite of a bumpy start to the day.

Then came day 5, red dress day!  Everyone dressed up in their finest red dress (or other red ensemble) for the short 41 mile journey from Santa Maria to Lompoc.  The route featured switchbacks climbing into Lompoc, which made for a spectacular site.  As you glanced up the hill, you saw a stream of bright red working its way up the hill.  Amazing site, indeed!  The best part about this day was taking my time, rolling out at 8:30 AM, resting for a long time at each rest stop, and still making it into camp by 2.  Loads of time to relax in camp for a change!

Dinner at day 5 featured comedian Shawn Pelofsky for our entertainment.  She was really, really great!  Classic lines included "You're all tired.  You've biked almost 400 miles already to be here!  I drove almost 3 hours to be here, so I know how you feel."  and her entire bit about Christian Amanpour, and how she is always turning up in the most dangerous places on earth.  "Hello, I am Christian Amanpour, and I am currently riding a SCUD missile to Afghanistan."  Or, my personal favorite, "Hello, this is Christian Amapour, and I am currently at Day 5 of ALC, where they have run out of butt butter."

Day 6 -- we're in the home stretch!  By this point in the ride, my stomach was entirely disgusted with the volume of food I was forcing down, and I was suffering from pretty severe acid reflux.  This put me in an unfortunate situation, where I couldn't physically eat enough food to sustain my energy level through the ride.  I was downing tums and pepcid left and right, and getting in whatever I could to push on.  By this point, I was definitely starting to look a bit worn down!  But I was determined to make it all 86 miles that day if I could summon the strength... so summon I did.  Thanks to another unscheduled coffee break after lunch in Goleta, I was able to trudge on and pull into camp around 6:30 PM.  This day featured beautiful coastal views along the 101 from Goleta through Santa Barbara and all the way to Ventura.

After dinner, the candlelight vigil took place on the beach.  We all took candles and walked silently out to the beach, where we sat and reflected on the ride, on those we know and love, those we have lost.  One by one, people walked out to the water to extinguish their candles.  It was an emotional moment, and it was beautiful.  It was a reminder of what we do, and why we do it.

And then came day 7... the final day!  Only 60 miles left to make it to the finish line in LA.  A beautiful journey through Oxnard, Port Hueneme, Malibu, and Santa Monica.

And then, I crossed the finish line!  With thousands of spectators there to cheer me on, I biked across the finish line into the loving arms of my family and friends, all there to support us and praise us for the hard work we do!

In the closing ceremonies, once again, the riderless bike made its way down the center aisle.  But this time, as it crossed towards the front, an 8 year old girl mounted the bike and rode it away -- proving that in spite of the great loss we have faced to this disease over the years... there is hope.  There is always hope -- because as long as we keep riding, and raising money, and researching better treatments and hopefully one day a cure -- there is hope that some day, every bike will have a rider.

All in all, this was simply the most powerful journey I have ever taken in my life.  And in spite of the painful days I had, and the medical crises... I can't imagine anything else I'd have rather done over the last week.

Oh, and in case anyone is wondering... I have already signed up for next year's ride.  I'll be rider #1057 next year (yep -- I was the 57th person to sign up) and I'm planning to become a training ride leader (TRL) to help others train and prepare for the ride.  Why?  Because as their slogan reminds me... I belong here.