Day 7: Time To Reflect

I’m writing a couple days after the weeklong ride because Day 7 was just too hectic. We had dreamt so often about the comforts awaiting us at home, that when Day 7 finally arrived, the roadies and cyclists were all raring to reach the finish line in L.A.

But before we could peel out of Ventura, we were confronted by a looming mountain of tents forming in front of Truck Q. After everyone had finished loading their individual trucks, the Gear and Tent team headed over to Q to tackle the pile.

It was our teammate Alicia’s 23rd birthday, and while we chucked the muddy tents and poles into the truck, we shared a cute little group moment by singing “Happy Birthday” about a dozen times until the mountain disappeared before we knew it.

When we arrived in L.A., we wasted no time in hauling out the luggage for the very last time. While some of my teammates had to return the trucks to the rental company, I sat for an hour stunned by my newfound freedom. I didn’t know quite what to do with myself, but I knew one thing I DIDN’T want to do – lift another bag.

At closing ceremonies, the cyclists rode out and then the various teams of roadies followed them toward the front of the stage. The cyclists cheered us on and sprayed us with water from their water bottles – which apparently is their way of showing thanks.

Looking back on this event, I can say this is an experience like no other. For a week, I was part of a colorful family that was full of spirit and full of life. I didn’t learn all of my teammates’ names, but I always felt surrounded by friends. I enjoyed those that I met, helped others when they needed a hand and shared many laughs along the way.

Since I work from home all day in front of a computer, the Gear and Tent job was a total diversion from my usual routine, and it was refreshing to get physical with a job. Being a roadie was by no means a “vacation,” but it was a much-needed breath of fresh air from my normal day-to-day life.

I’m glad I had a chance to be part of this ride, not just because it shook up my daily routine, but hopefully because it stirs something inside of me. It’s so easy to become complacent with how things are that it takes a ride like this to realize how much work still needs to be done for people who have HIV and AIDS and for people who will continue to be affected by AIDS if we don’t get moving.

AIDS LifeCycle is more than just a really long bike ride; it is a call for us to grow stronger together and a call for us to never let go of hope.

Day 6: A Day At The Beach

It’s starting to hit riders and roadies that this is our last overnight together. We seem to live in this alternate universe, apart from the real world like gypsies who are constantly traveling, speaking their own language and making a home for themselves along the way. We set up and uproot, set up and uproot, and it’s a routine we surprisingly have gotten used to.

When we pulled our trucks into Ventura’s camp site right next to the beach, I was trying to come to terms with the fact that we were nearing the last leg of the ride.

Part of me is looking forward to the end, like when I woke up this morning from a deep sleep and for a moment, I didn’t know where I was. Then, I heard a port-o-potty’s door slam and realized I was in a truck and about to hear the alarm go off at 4 a.m. so I could begin another long day of physical labor. I’d forgotten for a moment that THIS is my life now.

But that life is soon coming to an end, and I can bid farewell to feeling around for my flashlight in the dark, searching for my contact I dropped somewhere in the outside communal sink, putting on the same grimy clothes, holding my breath in the port-o-potties, standing in line for meals, and judging everyone by the weight of their luggage.

After we unloaded all of the bags, the Gear and Tent team took a trip to In-N-Out. It was a close walk from the state park where we were staying to the burger joint, but I felt uneasy about crossing the border of the park. As I walked with my teammate, Alicia, she said she was feeling separation anxiety from her bags at Truck B. We realized that this was the farthest away we’ve strayed from the luggage. “Should we call them?” she asked. “Should we write them a letter?” I fretted.

We have adopted others’ bags as our own – and without them, now where do we stand? I was having a total identity crisis, and then we entered a crowded In-N-Out. It seemed a little too early to face the real world again. I thought, I’m not ready for this just yet.

I know after the ride, I’m going to have moments where I’ll have this inside joke that I won’t be able to share with anyone around me. Like how if someone gave me a bag to hold, I’d automatically want to chuck it into a large vehicle. I know I’m going to be this robot trying to re-program itself, having these skills of loading and unloading things, but no place to use them.

Plus, how will I feel the next time I see a Budget moving truck? It’s become more than just a mode of transportation for me; it’s turned into my office, my bed, my shelter from the sun and wind. I wonder if the next time I see a truck, I’ll have an urge to a) unload it  b) sleep in it  c) shower in it (shower mobiles!)  d) run for the love of God away from it!

At Ventura, I sat on the beach and watched the cyclists who came in early take a refreshing dip in the ocean. It’s nice here, and we’ve all helped to set up a nice little world here. It’s grown into a tight-knit community.

One highlight of this ride is that people here are so open and honest about who they are and why they’re here. With people wearing T-shirts proclaiming that they are HIV positive, it’s hard not to
sense their vulnerability and appreciate their level of honesty. If they can express who they are out in the open, how can we be anything else but true to ourselves and others as well?

This week has been grueling, hilarious, dirty, emotional and revealing. It’s a combination of so many things. I think I see why so many people keep coming back year after year.

Day 5: A Rush Of Red

It wasn’t easy to slip on a red dress this cold morning. I woke up in the truck (perk: Gear and Tent roadies get the option of sleeping in the truck), and I felt the cool air seeping down into my bones. Brrrrr, and now just let me shimmy into that little summer dress for Red Dress Day. I’m not a big theme person, but I thought today would be the day that I’d really make an effort.

But after all that work of painting my fingernails, putting on bright red lipstick and decorating our truck (Special K) with red roses, streamers and balloons, who gets all the attention? The boys.

Everyone loves a guy in a dress; girls don’t get no love. I’m just bitter cuz I picked up the same $13 Wal-Mart dress as three other guys on my roadie team, and how can I compare with Jesus, or Gay-sus – as he likes to be called – who went all out in full drag. He pulls off a more attractive woman than I could ever be with a team of professionals.

The camp site at Santa Maria was dotted with red, with cyclists dressed up in red tutus, cowboy outfits or Minnie Mouse numbers – the point being that they ride to Lompoc like a red ribbon. Even roadies showed off their red spirit, showing a little skin and some even strutting around in some intimidating knee-high, high-heeled boots. Again, these guys take feminine to a whole new level, and they make actual females, like myself, look pretty shabby in comparison.

The Gear and Tent team loaded all the gear in the morning and headed over to Lompoc, and after we were done unloading on the dusty road, I laid on the grass face-first and napped in my dress – like any first-rate diva would, riiight?

By this point, a lot of the roadies seem like they’ve hit their stride. I talked to Collin, who is a second-year roadie for the Pack Up team, which is responsible for folding up chairs and tables and the really, really fun task of picking up all the garbage so the park is left in better condition than when we arrived.

“It’s physical, but it’s fun,” he said.

Collin praised how the ride runs like clockwork.

“It’s unique to see such a well-organized event that is so big. I’ve never seen anything on this scale,” he said.

I caught Scott and his father, Wayne, on the Service and Gear Team, known as the Sag Team, just as they finished up for the day. They pick up all the bikes from the riders who can’t quite make it to the day’s destination point by 7 p.m. While the riders who can’t make the cut take a Greyhound bus to get to the camp site, the Sag Team picks up all of their bikes.

They said Day 4, a 95-mile ride, was their longest day because they had to pick up about 350 bikes. But today, a 70-mile ride, they only had to pick up 135 bikes.

Scott said he got involved because he has a number of friends who are roadies.

“It has been really amazing to see my friends, who are all deputies, captains and roadies who have done this event for years. To actually see them in action – they’re the backbone of the event,” Scott said.

Wayne said the logistics of the ride and the community in camp is awe-inspiring by how smooth it all runs.

“We are setting up this city seven times. The government doesn’t work this well,” Wayne said.

I saw Barry near the bike racks, and he is a first-year roadie on the Bike Parking team. They set up and take apart the bike racks, and keep track of bikers that still haven’t arrived to camp for the day.

His wife, Coral, decided to ride the event this year, and Barry wanted to do a job where he’d see her off in the morning and welcome her back in the evening.

He said he was so proud of his wife for finishing the 95-mile ride yesterday.

“I was so proud of her. I was choked up that she did it. We had more than 100 people cheering riders into Santa Maria. It was the highlight of the week to see her coming through the finish line,” Barry said.

Day 4: Don’t Forget To Breathe

It’s fair to say that Chokae is probably the most limber man on the LifeCycle ride. As the yoga instructor, he helps the Gear and Tent roadies stretch out our backs, shoulders, necks, arms and legs – the general areas that take a nice beating from the job – every morning around 5:30. He’s got long dreads and a hearty laugh and makes fun of us all while we’re warming up for the day’s work, and we love him for it. He brings a welcome air of levity to the usually chilly morning and knows how to raise our spirits.

He likes to put us in the grueling Frog position, where we are squatting down with our butts sticking out and our hands out in front of us on the ground (uhh, not the most attractive pose). “Visualize what you will,” he’ll say with a laugh, while informing us we’re stretching our lower back.

Chokae’s jovial warm-up sessions for riders and roadies are much needed for jump-starting the day. Day 4 is a hard day for riders – they have to bike 95 miles, climb the “Evil Twins” (two big hills) and brave the strong coastal winds as they make their way from Paso Robles to Santa Maria. But it’s also a tough day for roadies, even for our team, which decided to not just unload the trucks today, but lug all of the gear and tents to their assigned plot on the campground.

The roadies call Day 4 Roadie Meltdown Day. My truckmate, Darla, said the focus of the ride is so much on the riders, Riders and RIDERS! that it can easily humble and wear down even the most altruistic roadie. And that usually happens on Day 4, when all that pep in our step and bending over backwards for riders starts to take its toll.

Even on our team, Alexis, who took initiative and swept up all the dirt and grime in all of the trucks just the day before, fell under the weather and decided to participate on the Traffic roadie team to get her strength back. Richard, with a green Mohawk and usually energetic nature, was suddenly burnt out on Day 4 and took the day off to rest up.

And James, who whipped up a host of fabulous outfits for our team for the Roadie Fashion Show at the last minute, said he had to take a meditation break today after we unloaded all of the trucks. He said he was in a mood and wanted to nip it in the bud. So he took a nap on the grass for a bit, and made a daisy chain that he generously bestowed upon my wrist.

I consider it to be a good symbol to take things in stride and take a break when I think I need a little “me time.” Because like James said, if you don’t take care of it early, you’re gonna end up blowing up over some little thing, and then you’re done for the day.

Chokae, who also serves as one of the 23 masseuses on the Massage team, said this event tends to fill people with a lot of emotions, and they are going to be released one way or another.

“This ride wakes things up in people. They begin to realize and release emotions that they didn’t know they had. But overall, I think this event gives people a sense of hope,” Chokae said.

He said the massage team worked after hours last night to help one sore cyclist, and he came by today to thank them for helping him get back on the ride.

“We are dealing with people who get vulnerable once they lay down. We work to help fix injuries and provide comfort,” Chokae said.

He has participated in the Lifecycle events for years, first as a cyclist then as a roadie.

“This is a week where you can get a sense that it’s actually possible to get along. Unfortunately it has to happen for something as heinous as AIDS. Everyone here is one degree of separation from someone who died of AIDS.

“I don’t want any more dead friends from this disease. Amid all this fun, that’s why we’re doing this,” he said.

Day 3: Chocolate and Letters

I’ve noticed that my body is starting to morph into a roadie body. Muscles in my arms and legs have suddenly become more apparent. No, I’m not sporting a six-pack yet, but I think it’s this mental realization that I’m actually stronger than I thought I was. It’s a great feeling to surprise yourself, and I’m just glad I don’t need to ask a burly man to help me every time I need to lift a heavy bag, tee-hee.

I’m also covered in a montage of bruises on my legs. Some onlookers might find them unsightly, but I wear them with pride. See this green one here, I got that from lugging that lumpy brown bag over there. See this yellowish mark on my knee, that was from Day 1, sigh. Mind you, I don’t like getting bruises, but I like how they make me look tough – so I can point to a new shiner on my arm to the cyclists, and say seeee, I’ve been working hard, too.

So with my more toned physique and mental attitude, the job on Day 3 was pretty easy. Yeah, we had one cyclist who had a contact fly out of her eye while on route, and another roadie asked us to fish out her glasses from her bag in the completely loaded truck so that he could deliver them to her on the road. It seemed like a lost cause, but she actually had a memorable green bag with bright, neon pink duct tape around it, so we remembered where we stowed it on the truck. We got her glasses, and she came over to the truck after the day’s ride and sang us a little ditty of thanks.

Speaking of saying thanks, the cyclists know how to speak my language of gratitude. My truck has scored a record-breaking amount of chocolate today, including but not limited to heart-shaped truffles, large pecan turtle chocolate delights, and three bars of gourmet chocolat, all from grateful cyclists. (That’s why I don’t have my six-pack just yet).

Yes, the roadies are all unpaid volunteers, but these nice, little, sweet perks are a great pick-me-up, not to mention a welcome sugar rush.

And as if anything could be better than chocolate, the roadies received thank-you letters from elementary school kids who live in Bradley, Calif. 

Here was the note I received from Jennifer (which was even cuter because it was on that paper you use with the wide lines and dotted portions to help you learn how to handwrite):

Dear Roadie:

Thank you for volunteering your time to help 2,000 bikers. I know you can help 2,000 bikers. I like how you might cut 30,000 bagels without getting paid. I also like how you might wake up at 3AM to mark the path without payment.

Sincerely, Jennifer

Thanks, Jennifer! And even though I don’t cut bagels or mark roads, I still feel the love.

Riders also received letters, too. Here’s one from Mason (who also drew a frame of stick figures and stick bicycles around the letter):

Dear Rider,

thank you for takeing your time to help others. You’re strog. You can do this. woch uot for glas owes.

from, Mason

I loved your note, little buddy! You’re just too adorable for words!

Well, I’m off to the Roadie Fashion Show, and I hear it’s gonna be fabulous! Don’t fear, plenty of pics are on their way!

Day 2: Roadies Just Rock

Today was ten times easier than Day 1. I think it mainly has to do with knowing what to expect. The bags were still insanely heavy, mind you, but I was bracing for them, and I started using a handy back brace.

The day for the Gear and Tent team went off without any major hitch. As we were unloading bags at the camp site in King City, it was that sun-beating-down-on-you hot. Other roadies kept circling around reminding us to drink water and put on sunscreen. I love how we get so wrapped up with our job we need people to remind us to pee.

So I think ya’ll have a good idea so far about what the Gear and Tent team is doing, but there are hundreds of other roadies responsible for setting this event in motion. What the heck are they doing here, and why are they here?

Well, I took a little stroll around the campground to find out.

I saw John sitting on the lawn with a roadie T-shirt and a sling carrying his left arm. What HAPPENED to him? John’s a positive pedelar and was ready to bike for his second year, but two weeks before the ride, he found out he needed shoulder surgery. His boyfriend was still going to bike, so he decided to roadie for Food Service.

John decided to do the AIDS/LifeCycle ride last year after he found out his drug regimen was not working and his numbers were low.

“It was a time I needed a challenge in my life. I needed to prove to myself that I was more than just numbers. So I did all the training in SF, and rode the whole way last year,” John said.

He admitted he was bummed not to ride this year, but was happy to support his boyfriend who cheered him on last year as a roadie.

“It’s good to see it from the other side. Now my boyfriend’s riding, and I’m the roadie. Next time we’ll get it together,” he said.

Food Service has about 30 people who get up at 3:45 a.m. to feed hungry breakfast to cyclists and roadies and usually finish up for dinner around 9 at night.

I met up with Sean, a first-year roadie, outside the Medical Tent. As the cyclists make their way along the route, there are about five rest stops on the way, and Sean’s set up on Rest Stop 2.

He helps cyclists that need medication or those who have gotten dehydrated or have taken a nasty spill down a hill going 20 mph. While the medical tent closes at the camp site at 9 at night, there’s always someone available 24-7 because you never know who’s going to need help.

“Cyclists can only prepare so much; stuff happens,” he said.

He said he’s amazed by the organization of the logistics for the ride from SF to LA.

“It’s an all-inclusive package. Some of these riders are getting the best medical care they’ve ever had with the medical team, the sports medicine and chiropractor group, and the massage team,” he said.

Sean, who works as an EMT for his day job, admitted he’s gotten a few peculiar requests.

“I’ve gotten hit on a number of times. Sometimes they ask me to give them mouth-to-mouth,” he laughed.

Guys, girls or both?

“They’ve mainly been guys, which is fine with me,” he said.

Lyn just finished setting up her tent, trying to keep it from blowing away and ending up in the trees on this windy evening. She’s a roadie vet, and has been volunteering her time for the last decade, doing Traffic, Security and this year, Information Services, which helps cyclists and roadies with a range of requests, like finding hotels if they need them or issuing guest passes for friends and family who want to visit the participants on the camp site.

“I’ve always been a roadie, and this year I have a good group,” she said.

Lyn said she had to get involved after watching a number of her friends die from AIDS. Some got sick during the 1980s when no one knew what people were falling sick from. Lyn said she watched her young friend, John, die at the age of 32, and said his death was harder to get over than when her mother passed.

“This is something I can give to the community without feeling so sad and depressed,” she said.

I caught Alex, who is on Moto Safety for the second year in a row, right before he headed off to the Shower Mobile. He said the 23 Moto roadies try to make sure cyclists are safe along the route, while trying to ensure they don’t aggravate traffic or upset the cops.

“That’s a juggling act right there, but it’s very rewarding,” he said. “It’s so nice to be appreciated. They appreciate me more than my wife of 27 years.”

Now that’s love, my friends.

Lyn recalled one year when a cyclist hailed her for working as a roadie, and she told him he was the one who deserved the praise.

“But he told me the cyclists were doing something they love to do. Roadies are just working hard – and that’s not necessarily a passion,” she said.

Day 1

I won’t lie to you, the first day feels like a blur. Let’s start off with the fact that I had to be at the Cow Palace at 4:15 in the morning. And honestly, who can turn their brain off at 10 the night before and wake up in complete darkness ready to leap out of bed? But I started to get pumped for the event as I put on my LifeCycle shirt on and zipped up my backpack. Let’s do this thing!

I had my hesitations about how physical the Gear and Tent tasks were gonna be, and I was right. It’s tough, that’s no joke. People pack TOO MUCH. I think people were SUPPOSED to be limited to bringing 60 pounds of gear, but it’s been on average more like 100 pounds! I felt like I was lifting a dead body with some of these duffel bags that were suspiciously heavy and very long.

But I lucked out. I was put on a truck with two awesome teammates, Darla and Sandy, who were ready to haul some serious-ass gear. Both of them have done the AIDS ride before as cyclists and Gear and Tent roadies. So I knew I was going to be their little protégé. I watched these chicks launch these massive duffel bags and overflowing backpacks with one hand. I’m in awe, girls. Also, Darla, a very loud and lovely woman, donning braids, overalls and good cheer, insisted that I learn how to stack things FLAT and SYMMETRICAL. I’m still fine-tuning my method, but by the end of day 1, I felt like I was getting the hang of it. I learned to Beware of Straps, as people like to strap five things to their bags with bungie cords that are ready to fling off and shoot you in the eye.

I also learned to ask people if they forgot anything before they hand over their packs. This is a key question because one cyclist today had one truck team unload half the truck because he forgot his cycling shoes.

Strangest request of the day: One roadie came up to our truck with a wild look in his eyes, carrying a bin with something brown smeared on the lid.

“Do you have any WIPES?” he asked, eyes pleading.

“Uhh, why?”

“I dropped this bin on the street and the lid landed in HUMAN FECES!” he exclaimed. He said a homeless guy had relieved himself on the sidewalk.

“Sir, step away from the truck. We have no wipes here.”

He ended up finding some wipes to clean the bin, and we ended up accepting the bin. But I tried to avoid touching it at all costs.

I admit I love compliments, and I loved the cyclists who came up to us and said we had such a tough job. What, us? You guys are the ones who are biking hundreds of miles! We’re just loading and unloading your stuff. A cyclist named Phil, with a stuffed platypus strapped to his helmet, said what we were doing was harder. He said he had ridden for the last five years on the ride to commemorate a friend who had died of AIDS.

So far, the event has had a wonderful, casual community feel to it – even with 2,300 riders and 500 roadies. You can pretty much approach anyone and people are ready to share their stories about why they are here.

After we packed up the stuff, we drove together – all 15 trucks – to Santa Cruz. Everything was going fine, we had stayed together on the freeway and were only 10 or 15 miles from camp, when one truck, Truck B, broke down. A line of 15 trucks turned onto the side of the road, and we all wondered whether we would be unloading the truck’s stuff onto another on the side of the freeway. However, Truck B was able to exit and call in for a new truck, while the rest of us were able to ride into camp. Poor Truck B. We helped them unload their luggage after they arrived later in camp.

So, the camp site is beautiful, pleasant, and lush. The cyclists are back and everybody’s enjoyed their hot showers in the shower mobile. And I’m looking forward to tomorrow and talking to more roadies as we continue on this adventure!

About Erin

Kicking off my first year at ALC, I’m working as a roadie for the Gear & Tent Team, which takes charge of loading and unloading equipment and tents. The job description entails lifting more than 60 pounds, so the cyclists won’t be the only ones getting a good workout. If I think my arms are toned now, wait until after hauling around gear all week – I’ll be ready for a career in professional weightlifting!

And just in case that doesn’t pan out, I can always stick to my day job as a legal news writer (heavy lifting not required). I recently returned to the sunny skies and laid-back atmosphere of San Diego after a two-year stint in the hustle and bustle of New York City. What better way to reconnect with California than taking part in a one-of-a-kind event like this, where I get to rally behind thousands of dedicated cyclists as they pedal 545 miles from San Francisco to Los Angeles!

While this is my first trip with ALC, I already have a feeling it won’t be my last.