Experience AIDS/LifeCycle 4 (2005)

Day 1 - San Francisco to Aptos

I started out this morning at 4:00 a.m. Opening Ceremonies was a great experience. I participated with a few of the Poz-Pedalers in a very moving procession as we slowly pushed a riderless bike, to observe and remember all those who have died of AIDS and cannot be here with us. After that all the riders took off on their long, hilly ride, and the rest of us Roadies started working.

Being a Roadie is very difficult work. The Roadie crew works incredibly hard to make this event as seamless, safe, and fun for the cyclists as possible. I’m working on the lunch crew this year. There are 23 of us, and we set up and serve lunch to 1,641 riders, then break it all down and drive to camp. The lunch crew is made up mainly of women over 40, who are about the coolest people you could ever meet.

One guy on my crew, Adam, is a 34-year-old guy who has been living with HIV for 13 years. This year he brought his mother, Becky, along for the ride. She is working tirelessly with her son and actually camping in a tent with him. How cool is that? It takes some pretty amazing people to sacrifice their vacations so they can bust their ass for a week and raise money for AIDS organizations.

On the way back to camp we rode alongside the route, which goes along Highway 101 right by the Pacific Ocean. These are the most beautiful views in California — our lunch stop is actually on a State beach. It’s great to be out of the city, in this fresh air, and camping.

I was feeling a little grumpy about being in the sun all day, and getting up so early. At this time I met a young woman, and I saw on her shirt a picture of a young man named John. He was her younger brother, and he died of AIDS a few years ago.

This woman was pissed that she lost her brother at such a young age. She was pissed, and she was doing something about it. She was riding in memory of her brother, and she wasn’t even a cyclist. She borrowed a bike, raised a lot of money, and was channeling the anger she felt for a cause to help others. She really inspired me, and I will never forget John’s face ironed on her t-shirt.

I’m not so concerned about getting up at 4:00 in the morning anymore. Actually, I’m looking forward to it. I know my sisters would ride for me, and tomorrow I’ll be busting my ass for John.

Day 2 - Aptos to King City

It’s amazing how cold it can get in the California country at night. And wet. The temperature drops to 40 degrees, and when I wake up at 4:00 a.m. everything is covered in a very wet, cold dew. Not that I’m complaining. As Confucius said, “That which does not destroy you only makes you cold and wet, I mean stronger.” I find that camping builds character and allows you to appreciate all the little things that we take for granted and overlook. (Like clean, 400-thread count sheets.)

Camping with 2,000 of the most selfless, socially aware people in the U.S. will really give you a fresh outlook on life. Everyone on the ride helps out each other, and there is a constant stream of goodwill and positive encouragement. When people aren’t working or riding, they cheer on other riders, help each other set up tents, or just be as silly and zany as possible.

Random act of kindness of the day: While I was serving lunch to the riders in Salinas, an older couple (whose daughter is riding) brought 24 large pizzas for everyone. They just dropped off the pizzas and left, without waiting to be thanked or given anything. Very cool. The strangers who sit outside their home and cheer on the exhausted riders, and even hand out refreshments, are a very cool breed as well.

Everyone is really exhausted today, and I am amazed at my lunch crew. Many of them are grandmothers, and they work as hard — and act as crazy — as the rest of us. I was having trouble staying awake on the road, but the lunch ladies kept my spirits up by singing all of “The Sound of Music.” One of them made some nice aprons for the others, so now they are known as the Apronettes. Normally I would find that kind of cheesy, but when it’s a bunch of older women who are making this event happen for people with HIV, like me, I just feel thankful. Thank you, Apronettes. I’m really looking forward to another cold, wet night.

Day 3 - King City to Paso Robles

Today was fun, hot, long, and grueling. Well, it wasn’t so much fun, as it was hot, long, and grueling. Just kidding; I had a blast, but after a 14-hour workday, I was pretty exhausted. Now I know how my brother felt in Army basic training, but at least he got all those great outfits.

The lunch stop was in a small town called Bradley (population 122). Every year they close the school, and all the kids and parents sell Bar-B-Q, baked goods and t-shirts to all the LifeCycle participants to raise funds for the school district. It is their largest fundraiser of the year, and the proceeds pay for the entire annual sports budget. The townspeople of Bradley are really great, and my gay instincts kicked in — I started eyeing the quaint homes and mentally fixing them up and driving up property value. Maybe in a few years.

I had more time to get to know my lunch crew staff, and I befriended a young woman who came to the ride all the way from Israel. She lives in Tel Aviv, and this is her second year to work as a roadie. An older woman on the lunch crew, Golda, is here with her son, Redge, who is a cyclist on the ride. Redge is a 34-year-old gay man who has been personally affected by HIV, and wanted to share the magic of AIDS/LifeCycle with his mother. The thing is, Golda is a grandmother from Utah who happens to be Mormon. The fact that she came on the ride to support her gay son, and work as hard as she has, really blows me away. Redge is a lucky guy, and he lives in my town of San Francisco, so hopefully I’ll see more of him.

Day 4 - Paso Robles to Santa Maria

Today I had a special treat at the lunch stop in San Luis Obispo. A woman and her 9-year-old son, Ryan, had been reading my blog, and stopped by to say hello and help out. Today was a beautiful day, and Ryan spent most of the day helping us and cheering on the riders. He asked me about the difference between HIV and AIDS, and how HIV has affected me personally. He was very candid and bright, and it was very refreshing talking to someone about HIV without any trace of judgment or pity. He really made my day, and I can honestly say that Ryan is the coolest kid I’ve ever met. Thank you, Ryan, you are an inspiration.

Day 5 - Santa Maria to Lompoc

Today was the best day ever. I didn’t get quite enough sleep last night because my best friend and tentmate, Jefferson, and I stayed up too late laughing and gossiping, but I’m just now getting used to a 4:00 a.m. wake-up time.

Tonight was the talent show in camp, and there was a surprise guest, the talented singer and hilarious comedienne, Lea Delaria. She’s a foul-mouthed, bull-dyke lesbian, and she’s amazing. She had everyone rolling as she ripped on George Bush and what she had in her sick mind for his twin daughters. It was disrespectful, funny, and incredibly appropriate.

The talent show was great, and Jefferson did a great duet on his harmonica with a fellow rider he met two days ago. I was incredibly proud that he had the guts to perform in front of 2,000 people. My favorite moment, and this goes down as my unforgettable moment of the day, was when a rider named Megan did a song on her flute. Megan’s high school graduation was tonight, and instead of her ceremony she chose to stay in camp and finish the ride. We all sang “Happy Graduation” to her, and then she played the “Star Spangled Banner” in her cap and gown. The entire crowd rose, removed our hats, and we all slowly started singing along as played her flute. The moment was so beautiful and moving, and completely spontaneous, tears were streaming down my face as we all reached the finale together. Tears are in my eyes right now as I write this, and I will never forget it, or Megan and her flute. Happy graduation, Megan. I’m off to bed now. Good night.

Day 6 - Lompoc to Ventura

This is my last journal entry. Thank you for reading all my nonsense and emotional drivel. This has been the absolute best AIDS ride, and one of the best weeks of my life. The participants involved with this amazing event have really restored my faith in people, and the significance a group of committed, determined people can achieve. We are a little bit closer to ending this pandemic, and a lot closer to providing the services needed for those dealing with HIV. Hopefully next year I’ll convince my super-athletic brother to do the ride. (That means you, Eric.) We are camping alongside the Pacific Ocean, and tonight there is a candlelight vigil at the beach. Yet another unforgettable, tear-jerking moment. I can only handle so much of those in one week, people!

I want to thank the AIDS/LifeCycle staff, volunteers, and roadies for making this beautiful event possible.

Thank you to all the riders who raised all that money, busted your asses training all year, and kept such a great attitude through all the pain and hardships this week.

Thank you lunch crew for working so hard, pulling 14-hour days while laughing, and teaching me that no matter what age you are, you can be as sassy and full of life as anything.

And thank you, Jefferson McCarley, my best friend of 17 years, my tent mate, and San Francisco ALC Cycle Buddy. Jefferson’s unwavering support and sense of humor got me through the darkest moments when I was diagnosed with HIV 5 years ago. We did the Heartland AIDS Ride 4 years ago, and the experience was so profound, Jefferson wanted to become involved on a deeper level. When he moved to San Francisco, he became Cycle Buddy for AIDS/LifeCycle, even though the salary was significantly less than half of his previous job. Everyone talks about following their dream, but very few are willing to make the sacrifices to make it happen. Jefferson remains, as always, my best friend, soulmate, and greatest inspiration.