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A funny thing happened on the
way to L.A.
A disparate collection of individuals became
a community.
 It
began at orientation - now a distant memory --
7 long days ago. You arrived from near and far,
from California to Connecticut, from the U.S.
and abroad, sparkling clean and ready to ride.
You had sacrificed hours, money, and comfort,
not to mention dignity by wearing spandex weekend
after weekend, preparing yourself for AIDS/LifeCycle.
Wristbands affixed, tents assigned, cyclist numbers
attached, pledges tallied, you settled in for
the highlight of orientation day - the safety
video. The video gave you immediate insight into
two things - we take safety seriously and we obviously
did not spend a dime of your pledges on video
production.
Day one was our longest day - over 118 miles.
For most of us, it was the longest distance we
had ever ridden. In the early morning at the University
of San Francisco, we were sent on our way with
grace and poignancy by USF President John Privette,
Positive Pedaler Mark Dunlop, Center board member
Rhona Berenstein, and Foundation board chair Russ
Testa.
We struggled up Trousdale Avenue in Burlingame
together, and kept climbing. And climbing, and
climbing and climbing - literally into the clouds.
With six miles of hills behind us, we sailed
gloriously down Highway 84 - until we hit head
winds and faced the unfortunate reality that sometimes
you even have to pedal going downhill.
We cycled the coast into Watsonville and settled
in for our first night in camp. We located our
gear, our tents, shower trucks and food. That
night in camp, we learned of the tragic death
of Tom Gilder. Hearts heavy, we headed into day
two, reflecting on the bittersweet nature of an
epidemic and an event so filled with loss and
hope simultaneously.
We were reminded again of this paradox as we
rode into Soledad where overnight a beautiful
altar had been erected in Tom's memory. Nicole
Bianchi, the niece of a Mission Soledad employee,
had taken it upon herself to create a place of
reflection and honor not only for Tom but for
all of those involved in the fight against AIDS.
With new resolve, we departed the mission and
cycled our way to windy Greenfield. Miraculously,
the previous day's 118 miles made this day's 80
seem easy.
And then came day three. Heat, hills and hateful.
This was a monstrous day.
The temperature climbed with the hills and the
hills climbed with our frustration.
Whether we rode, walked, or sagged, we made it
to Paso Robles eager for evening camp. That evening
we learned the future motto of AIDS/LifeCycle
route selection: "They who design it, ride
it."
By that point, we'd experienced an earthquake
together and found that when camp food is good,
the vegetarians will eat the chicken when you're
not looking.
We also learned an important lesson about ourselves.
Whether we rode every mile, walked the hills or
sagged, we made it to camp and rose on day four
prepared to face another day together.
In these twenty-four hours, we had become a community.
Day four was a century - 100 miles to Santa Maria.
But now we were wiser.
Scott Moore had warned us that "scenic"
meant "hilly," that "rolling hills"
was code for "big hills" and that "steep
hills" meant really heinous hills.
By day four we found ourselves eagerly cycling
towards rest stops to partake in the delights
of butt balm, peanut butter bagels and soy nuts.
We learned the danger of putting cycling shorts
on backwards. We enjoyed lattes at the halfway
to L.A. point, hot tubs at Avila Hot Springs and
the breathtaking beauty of Pismo Beach in the
late afternoon sun. With tailwinds to aid us,
we cycled past pungent acres of strawberries and
broccoli on our way to Preisker Park.
Increasingly, family and friends reported the
poignancy and delight of following our journey
via the AIDS/LifeCycle webcast superbly constructed
by Jeff Brock and Erik Ireland.
From Haiti, Jordan, the Philippines, Germany,
France, Iceland, the United Kingdom, and across
the United States, wishes of support and gratitude
poured in.
Day five was blessedly short. It also gave new
meaning to the word circuitous. Up to Vandenburg,
down from Vandenburg, around to Vandenburg. Arriving
at lunch, after three lactic acid generating climbs,
only to find ourselves at Vandenburg village!
That night in camp we were reminded of the importance
of heeding wind speed when brushing our teeth
and of not putting our gloved hand in the communal
cut oranges and bananas at the rest stops. Cheerleader
Scott Calloway sang a special AIDS/LifeCycle cheer,
regaling us with the benefits of a "small
r" ride. We also learned of a rider who lost
her father to AIDS six years ago and chose to
spread his ashes along the route at points of
beauty she knew he would have enjoyed.
The talent show that night featured the truth
about planning the route; the dangers of moonwalking
on the AIDS/LifeCycle stage; and a beautiful rendition
of "Someone to Watch Over Me."
Day six was overcast and blustery. We left camp
in Lompoc and began our last long climb. We swooped
down the coast into Santa Barbara then continued
the long day's journey to beautiful Ventura. Our
bodies were battered by this point. IT bands strained,
we stopped frequently to contort ourselves into
impossible configurations, attempting to stretch
brutalized muscles to make it to day seven. We
rode in pain and fatigue. But we rode on, together,
winding our way to camp. It was to be our last
night in tents with thin walls, toilets that didn't
flush and showers for twenty.
Last evening we celebrated our shared victory
and the ALC staff who made it all possible. Sally
McCaffrey, Craig Hermes, Stephen Cadby, Susan
Parish, Paul Phojonakong, Mark Morris, Beth Koeneke,
Michael Collins and Cal Callahan from San Francisco.
Tommy Manning, Steve Dannemiller, Lottie Beavers,
Robert Bilheimer, Ericka Henderson, Rick Mason,
Joe Kelly, Jim Mercado, and Bill Grafeman from
Los Angeles. They were responsible for the logistical
genius behind AIDS/LifeCycle.
We cheered with abandon the efforts of the roadies
- motorcycle, medical, chiropractic, gear, food,
logistics, communications. They had accomplished
the impossible and we understood well that our
shared victory was a tribute to them. They fed
us, sheltered us, bandaged us, routed us, directed
us, entertained us and disposed of our waste and
ill humor with equal aplomb. They were too often
taken for granted and we loved every minute of
their attentions.
We said a tearful farewell to Gwenn and a joyous
hello to AIDS/LifeCycle 2 and we went to bed with
full hearts and mixed emotions.
Today, we rose with the sun. Utterly confused
by the tent and gear instructions provided last
evening, we separated tents from poles or poles
from flaps or tents from flaps or none of the
above and just took the whole mess to our gear
trucks, knowing our gear roadies could straighten
it all out.
And here we are 600 miles later. We have cycled
with Uffdas, Piggies, Goths and Gutterbunnies.
We have been supported by Brittany Spears, Chicken
Lady and Cirque de So Gay. We have ridden with
Positive Pedalers and in memory of Jonathan Pon.
Skin burned, butts chafed, shoulders aching, lips
cracked, quads aching.
Frankly, you are a sorry looking lot. You smell
bad and you look even worse. And I think you are
all very beautiful.
Today, you accomplished what was not even contemplated
nine months ago. Today you completed the inaugural
AIDS/LifeCycle. Today, you made history.
With your courage.
With your perseverance.
With your humanity.
As you know, the creation of this new event was
not without controversy.
But, together we fought to create it. Together
we fought to protect it. And together we will
nurture it with a profound commitment to people
with AIDS.
In the coming years, AIDS/LifeCycle will grow
into the most successful fundraising event ever
staged for people with HIV. I have no doubt of
this now. In just five and a half months, we raised
$4.4 million. Imagine what we can accomplish in
the next twelve! You have only yourselves to thank
for this.
You stepped up when others were afraid. You stepped
up on behalf of people with HIV. It was the honorable
thing to do.
Across our communities, indeed across the world,
people have been holding their breath to see if
you would succeed. Today, they breathe easier.
Against all odds you have made AIDS/LifeCycle
a marvelous success - a testament to the human
spirit - and the power of acting with integrity.
You are extraordinary. And an end to the human
suffering caused by HIV is closer because of each
of you.
It has been my honor and privilege to ride with
you this week - to be a part of the powerful community
we have become. You have inspired me, exasperated
me and rejuvenated me. Most of all you have shown
me what it is like to live in the company of heroes.
On behalf of the board, staff, volunteers and
clients of the San Francisco AIDS Foundation,
thank you for participating in AIDS/LifeCycle.
I will see you next year on June 8 for AIDS/LifeCycle
2. We promise the safety video will be equally
entertaining and that day 3 will not take "the
scenic route."
Thank you.
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