Tues., May 14, 2002 (Day Two)

Well today is the second day of AIDS/LifeCycle. Yesterday was rough - a couple of extraordinarily difficult climbs, along with an extraordinarily long distance, combined with the tragic death from cardiac arrest of one of our cyclists. While we were all excited about AIDS/LifeCycle actually being underway, I think more than a few of us were also weary. Then we had an earthquake. Yep that's right, I have no idea how strong it was but it woke me up along with many others - I think it felt so strong because we were sleeping on the ground.

I biked most of yesterdays' distance, but did get swept between two pit stops because my rear tire kept going flat. It turned out I just needed a new tire. Other than that I have biked it all, including a very beautiful ride this afternoon after lunch, meandering through vast stretches of farmland filled with ripening strawberries and artichokes. Our route took us close to the beautiful coastal range of California - the day was sunny, I heard nightingales and magpies singing everywhere, farmers waved to us, everyone was so welcoming.

I gotta tell you about our roadies, the folks who do the setup of camp, serve us food, entertain us by featuring themes at the pit stops, replete with costumes and music and even a live band. They are just terrific, every single one of them I've had contact with has had a smile and a ready willingness to help and cheer each of us on.

The cyclists are also terrific. In fact something happened today that I am still a bit astonished about - there was this hill, I was having a terrible time trying to get up it, the sun was hot…the hill seemed forever, and I was already in my easiest gear, but dang I was having a rough time getting up that hill - then came along this angel named Mark - I heard the voice just over my shoulder to the left of me saying "would you like me to push you to the top of the hill?" I couldn't believe my ears at first, but he was quite serious - he moved his bike up closer to mine and put his hand on my back…and voila! He was actually pushing me up the hill while pedaling his bike beside me!

I never learned his last name or where he lives, and after riding along with me for a bit longer he took off ahead of me. But the experience so typifies what being on AIDS/LifeCycle has been like for me, not only this week but all the weeks prior spent training and fundraising. So many wonderful helping kind people have come together to do this, countless acts of generosity and expressions of love and mutual support. I am very fortunate to be alive, and to doing what I'm doing.

My day didn't start well - I was one of the last people to leave camp, partly because my tentmate had fallen sick the night before with asthma-related problems, but also because I didn't feel well myself. I was coughing, sniffling, sore, fatigued, and it was only 6am … not a propitious way to begin an all-day bike ride.

I went to the medical tent and told them of the sharp burn in the middle of my chest when I cough … the doctor suggested that I be careful, that my breathing was a bit shallow and quick, and if I felt tired I should stop. That was a wide opportunity for me not to have to ride today, and boy was I tempted - it's 3 days now that I've been on my bicycle for at least 8 hrs each day. I have already ridden a much further distance each day than I ever had before, and I've never ridden such distances for 3 consecutive days. My body hurts. It really hurts, especially my feet.

I almost caved in to that impulse to take the day off and hang out in camp. Everything in me screamed YES…well not quite everything - this small voice started, saying c'mon Ben, buckle up to this, you've made this commitment, look at all these other people going out on the road, c'mon now once you're out there it will be better…so I ended up pep-talking myself into getting my gear on, packing up, and heading out.

So out on the road I went, already behind most of the cyclists. At about mile 3 I started having this burning feeling along the muscle on the left side of my spine, from the shoulder down. It was hurting so badly by the time I got to pit stop #1 that I went to the medical tent again…this time the doctor gave me Advil, and also suggested that I not ride the rest of the day.

But he did leave the choice up to me (if a medical emergency is severe enough, ALC does not allow you to ride even if you still want to), which I was grateful for because today I was about to face one of the goals I had set for myself on the Ride - today we met up with what experienced cyclists call "The Quadbuster." Ya, the name should give you a clue - it has a reputation as being a very difficult climb.

I had heard of this hill while training up in the San Francisco area - that it was the worst part of the ride etc. Well given my obstinate nature I of course took that as a challenge <grin>, and determined early in my training that I would succeed at conquering this hill called "Quad Buster" come hell or high water, that I would not walk a single inch, I would ride my bicycle all the way to the top.

I made it to pit stop 2, pain in my back getting worse. Quad Buster was next. It was getting hot, so I took off my legwarmers, one of my jerseys, put on sunscreen…ok, here we go…

The incline slowly increased, as did the hot sun overhead. I stopped to drink some water, then continued on…stopped again about 1/3 of the way up…the top of the hill looked like it was 10 miles high. But I continued, one pedal at a time, gritting my teeth, sweating, absolutely determined not to give up.

And I didn't give up, I just kept at it even though every cell in my body was screaming for me to stop, that I could walk it like I saw other cyclists doing, that there was no shame in walking such a hill, all things considered. But as I mentioned earlier I can be one obstinate SOB (I think it's why I'm still alive after all these years hosting HIV as a guest in my body), and I was not going to give up, no matter what.

And that's how I made it to the top. Folks - it was the hardest thing I've ever made my body do. I was in tears along the way because my feet hurt so bad, but I did not walk a single inch, I pedaled my bicycle to the top, and stood there crying like a baby with all these people cheering, congratulating me on my success. That's sort of a tradition on Quad Buster, that other cyclists wait at the top to cheer on those who are still climbing. Boy did I feel good. Well my body didn't feel good, but I definitely did!

Then a wonderful downhill all the way to lunch from Quad Busters, I had the bike up to 47mph, wheeee! A very nice downhill it was, and I rolled into lunch about 10 mins before they were closing. My arms at this point were turning lobster red from the sun, despite covering them over and over with #45 sunscreen. One of the drugs I'm on increases photosensitivity, and combined with my Scottish fair freckled skin, the sun was not my friend today, I was already sunburned and only halfway through the route for the day, my head was hurting as was my back

So after talking to the medics, I decided to SAG it back to camp after lunch. I conquered Quad Buster, I rode 50 miles, and I did the best I could do today and that is good enough for me. It doesn't make any sense to end up injured or ill, particularly given the nature and goal of AIDS/LifeCycle, which as far as I'm concerned is about affirming life itself. I am on this Ride to raise awareness about HIV, and money too of course, but I'm also on the Ride to make a personal statement about living with AIDS - that I'm still very much alive and capable of fighting back against HIV. Today I proved that in spades.

I have had a very successful day.

Hi folks - I'm still here, alive and well in case anyone wondered. I just haven't had time to write - I've been busy riding each day and then I had to set up my tent, get showered, fed, hear the evening AIDS/LifeCycle community announcements for the following day, and then get to bed early enough to get up and out on the road again. I plan on filling in the days I missed writing about when I return to San Francisco this coming week.

Today was remarkable - I cycled 90.9 miles today, from Lompoc to Ventura, where we have camped for our last night on the beach along the Pacific Coast Highway, and tomorrow we have about 60 miles to ride into West Hollywood for the closing ceremonies. There were some climbs before lunch that only a short 9 weeks ago would have been impossible for me but which did not faze me at all today. Going through the Gaviota pass was stunning - majestic rock formations and a terrific downhill ride. I've been on that road in a car, but on a bicycle I could truly feel the impact of the grandeur that surrounded me. It was both humbling and uplifting experience.

And then the afternoon was so beautiful coasting along on my bicycle, singing, listening to the birds sing back at me, the coastal range to my left and the Pacific Ocean to my right. I slowed down my pace to smell the flowers as they say, to savor this incredible experience. I actually feel stronger now at the end of this week than I did when it began - in fact, I feel as if I could bike another 600 miles!

Life has become very focused for me this week: I've only had to get up early, eat, put on gear, and then ride. That's it - my single purpose all week has been to ride. I've not read a single newspaper or watched any tv or heard any radio. I have no idea what has taken place in the world, and frankly, I've not missed knowing. There is a rather pristine and beautiful simplicity about using a bicycle to travel, my own energy providing the fuel. There is a soothing meditative quality to just pedalling up and down, up and down, all day long - yes it hurts at times, yes my body has screamed to stop at times, but I've also had moments of profound serenity, awed by the magnificence of this world, the miracle of being alive, and the love shown by the people I've had the good fortune to ride with this week. I've also had plenty of time to reflect on my own life and my friends, both living and dead.

Today I rode for John Harper, Neil Smith, Bob Cotano, David Lawson, David Hunter, David Reiman, Mario Luna, Aaron Osborne, Alain, Jean-Pierre, Jimmy and Laura K, Larry Canaga, Oliver Stanley, Patrick Cowley, Robert H…that isn't all of them, that isn't even a complete list of the pictures I carried with me on this ride, but those are the people I was remembering today. It has been a week of remembering and feeling, of laughing and crying, of feeling frustrated and overwhelmed, and then feeling incredibly uplifted and inspired.

There is so much more that I could say, but you know what? I'm tired; it was a long day and I still have to be up and on the road by 6am tomorrow, so I'm going to sign off with this for now and get to bed. More to come…