Today, we once again rode to Mill Valley, but this time we started from Sports Basement. We rode the Seismic Challenge Kick-Off Training Ride, even though we are not going to be riding Seismic Challenge. The thought of asking friends to donate money again, just on the heels of AIDS Lifecycle is unthinkable.
Seismic Challenge is a two-day, 100 mile a day ride tracing fault lines. It looks like a fun ride, but I don't see it in our future. But, their training rides will be every weekend, so it's a chance for Jerry and me to ride with an organized group.
Today's ride was not very long, but it did have some climbing, so it was a good way to see how Jerry's shoulder would do going up hills. And I'm happy to report his shoulder, and the rest of us, did great. We rode faster than we generally ride. I think this is due to the incredible workout our quads got on the trike. We are strong, and I really hope we stay that way. I think if we continue to ride at least once a week, we'll be in the best shape ever.
At the end of the ride there was a burrito, guacamole and salsa lunch back at Sports Basement. Jerry had started to get hungry just as we were climbing the Sausalito hills, so it was definitely a welcome site. We had a nice lunch, visited with friends then headed home.
The ride today did so much to raise our spirits. Both Jerry and I had hard weeks, and cycling cleared our minds, got our endorphins flowing and made all those troubles float away.
Saturday, June 27, 2009
Monday, June 22, 2009
A Ride, A Wedding and Beets
I know a lot of people don't like beets, and I really think that's a shame. They are beautiful, they are good for you and I think they are delicious.
They played a part in a wedding buffet I worked on this weekend. I got called last minute by a caterer I met recently who asked if I could help out with a wedding on Saturday. The wedding was at Dunsmuir Estate in Oakland, in the carriage house. It had been pushed up a year because the bride's mother was recently diagnosed with Stage 4 pancreatic cancer and had gone down quickly. They weren't even sure she'd make the wedding, but she was there, albeit in a wheelchair.
The buffet was all cold foods, most of it prepped ahead of time. Three of us were there to basically, assemble. Not the most creative job in the world, but still fun. I diced tomatoes and onions and arranged trays.
The beets were part of a green bean vinaigrette. I think I detected sesame oil in the dressing. Besides the beets, the beans were dressed with goat cheese. A pretty successful dish, I'd say.
The main dishes were beef, chicken and salmon. The salmon had a corn relish, which was not really to my liking, but the chicken had a nice dressing with capers. The beef had an onion and mushroom sauce, but I can't really comment on that because I don't eat beef.
Earlier Saturday, Jerry took our first ride since his crash on our Co-Motion tandem. It was a little-bitty ride-- just around 10 miles from Sausalito to Mill Valley. But it felt great. Jerry's arm and shoulder ached a bit, so I was glad we did a short ride. He has yet to make a physical therapy appointment, and I have been nagging him a bit about that. But I think in weeks to come he will get stronger and our rides will get longer. I can't wait.
They played a part in a wedding buffet I worked on this weekend. I got called last minute by a caterer I met recently who asked if I could help out with a wedding on Saturday. The wedding was at Dunsmuir Estate in Oakland, in the carriage house. It had been pushed up a year because the bride's mother was recently diagnosed with Stage 4 pancreatic cancer and had gone down quickly. They weren't even sure she'd make the wedding, but she was there, albeit in a wheelchair.
The buffet was all cold foods, most of it prepped ahead of time. Three of us were there to basically, assemble. Not the most creative job in the world, but still fun. I diced tomatoes and onions and arranged trays.
The beets were part of a green bean vinaigrette. I think I detected sesame oil in the dressing. Besides the beets, the beans were dressed with goat cheese. A pretty successful dish, I'd say.
The main dishes were beef, chicken and salmon. The salmon had a corn relish, which was not really to my liking, but the chicken had a nice dressing with capers. The beef had an onion and mushroom sauce, but I can't really comment on that because I don't eat beef.
Earlier Saturday, Jerry took our first ride since his crash on our Co-Motion tandem. It was a little-bitty ride-- just around 10 miles from Sausalito to Mill Valley. But it felt great. Jerry's arm and shoulder ached a bit, so I was glad we did a short ride. He has yet to make a physical therapy appointment, and I have been nagging him a bit about that. But I think in weeks to come he will get stronger and our rides will get longer. I can't wait.
Tuesday, June 16, 2009
Post-Partum De(com)pression
The ride has been over now for more than a week, but its spirit is still dancing around inside of me.
I haven't had any work to speak of since I've been back, so it's given me lots of time to reflect and think about what to do next.
With the economy the way it is, and with California's budget in crisis, it's clear funding for organizations that do HIV/AIDS prevention and education services, as well as those that provide direct services to people with HIV/AIDS, are going to take big hits. So, I'm starting to think about creative ways to raise more money for next year.
It's ironic, because, of course, everyone has less money, so it makes it all the harder to raise. But I'm not about to roll over and give up. While I have the time, I'm going to research and try to come up with new ideas. We don't have our rider numbers yet-- we won't have them until sometime this fall-- but as soon as we do, I'll get a page up and start the ball rolling.
I've also started on my thank-you notes to send to my donors. It's really hard to express in a couple of sentences, without sounding overly dramatic, how important those donations are. There are so many good causes out there, but somehow I've attached myself to this one, and I think my friends realize how important it is to me, and for that I'm grateful.
Also, while I have the time, I'm going to do a little experimenting in the kitchen. Friends have asked me to cook for the dinner they are having for out of town guests the day before they get married, so I'm going to play around with some recipes. They are not expecting a huge crowd for that dinner-- maybe 20 or 30-- so it should be relatively easy, but I want to make it very special. Thom and Jeff are very special people, and they deserve nothing less.
Tonight, I'm going to make beans and rice with chicken sausage for dinner. Not exactly a low-cal meal, but it's healthy and certainly better than grazing on snack food. We do that way too much and we're trying to turn over a new leaf. If we can each lose 15 pounds in the next year, it will make cycling up steep hills so much easier.
I haven't had any work to speak of since I've been back, so it's given me lots of time to reflect and think about what to do next.
With the economy the way it is, and with California's budget in crisis, it's clear funding for organizations that do HIV/AIDS prevention and education services, as well as those that provide direct services to people with HIV/AIDS, are going to take big hits. So, I'm starting to think about creative ways to raise more money for next year.
It's ironic, because, of course, everyone has less money, so it makes it all the harder to raise. But I'm not about to roll over and give up. While I have the time, I'm going to research and try to come up with new ideas. We don't have our rider numbers yet-- we won't have them until sometime this fall-- but as soon as we do, I'll get a page up and start the ball rolling.
I've also started on my thank-you notes to send to my donors. It's really hard to express in a couple of sentences, without sounding overly dramatic, how important those donations are. There are so many good causes out there, but somehow I've attached myself to this one, and I think my friends realize how important it is to me, and for that I'm grateful.
Also, while I have the time, I'm going to do a little experimenting in the kitchen. Friends have asked me to cook for the dinner they are having for out of town guests the day before they get married, so I'm going to play around with some recipes. They are not expecting a huge crowd for that dinner-- maybe 20 or 30-- so it should be relatively easy, but I want to make it very special. Thom and Jeff are very special people, and they deserve nothing less.
Tonight, I'm going to make beans and rice with chicken sausage for dinner. Not exactly a low-cal meal, but it's healthy and certainly better than grazing on snack food. We do that way too much and we're trying to turn over a new leaf. If we can each lose 15 pounds in the next year, it will make cycling up steep hills so much easier.
Saturday, June 13, 2009
The End of the Road
Day Seven
While the Ride for me is almost a spiritual event, this year I was actually looking forward to it being over. Though I knew I would miss the community, the not-the-real-worldness, I knew I really wanted to get off that trike.
It's ironic, because in some ways, the trike is easier to ride. No sore butt, never having to stop on hills, and oddly enough, easier to park; that's because, when we'd pull into a rest stop, the roadie at the entrance would look at it, look at us and invariably say, "put that thing anywhere you want."
But I hated its weight, its slowness, its ungainliness. Perhaps when Jerry and I are octogenarians we might want a trike to tool around, but for now, as soon as Jerry is ready, we are climbing back on the Co-Motion.
We discussed that today, and we decided the best way to make the ride even better, would be for us to lose weight. We're seriously investigating Weight Watchers. While we can get stronger, the easiest way for us to climb hills better is to get lighter.
But back to Day Seven.
As usual, we were up early and hit the road somewhere around 7 am. Our plan was to get moving and get close to the ride finish and stop for lunch.
Much of the last day is spent riding on the Coast Highway. The ocean is beautiful, but most of the time Jerry and I are on the lookout for car doors, surfboards and cars making u-turns to zip into a parking space. It's a pretty stressful ride.
We stopped at the lunch spot to use the Port-a-Potties, but ultimately got trapped there. There were not one, but two bike accidents on PCH, so we were held until helicopters could land and take the cyclists to medical facilities. That ruled out lunch elsewhere, so we collected our sack lunches and parked ourselves on a bench. The lunch stop was on a ball field, so we were behind a fence. Our friend Duncan joined us. We ate, we chatted and waited to be freed.
Finally, we were allowed to continue. We got to the Va Center, with the road lined with well-wishers, cheering our arrival. Rather than taking our bike to the corral to wait for closing ceremonies, we took it straight to shipping. We had decided to skip closing ceremonies this year. We had to catch a shuttle by 5, but we thought that we might even be able to get on an earlier flight.
After we dropped off the bike, we went and picked up our "victory" shirts. We were deciding what colors we wanted this year, but discovered, due to budget constraints, all the shirts were white. Then, we discovered the typo on the back. The website reads: aids lifeycycle. If it was the printer's fault, I hope they get the shirts for free, or at least for a substantial discount, and I hope they lay claim to that website!
Shirts in hand, we headed to the gear trucks, and then to the shuttles. We caught a shuttle pretty quickly, and arrived at LAX much earlier than our flight. Southwest wanted to charge us an exorbitant amount to change flights, so, we headed to the Food Court instead.
The Food Court quickly turned into an ALC reunion. There was quite a crowd of us there. We drank cappucinos, beers, and I even had a lemon drop, graciously bestowed on me by a rider I didn't even know.
When we finally got on our flight, there was a host of white victory shirts. Our friend John Hershey sat with us, which made the flight home wonderful.
We got home that night to yowling kitties and a real bed.
Despite what I have said about this not being the ALC of my dreams, Jerry and I are signed up for next year. To rejigger a cliche-- the worst week on ALC is closer to Utopia than the best week anywhere else.
And there still is no cure for AIDS, there are horrendous budget cuts coming to AIDS programs, so we'll keep riding and doing whatever we can until there's a cure.
I want my HIV positive friends to die of old age.
While the Ride for me is almost a spiritual event, this year I was actually looking forward to it being over. Though I knew I would miss the community, the not-the-real-worldness, I knew I really wanted to get off that trike.
It's ironic, because in some ways, the trike is easier to ride. No sore butt, never having to stop on hills, and oddly enough, easier to park; that's because, when we'd pull into a rest stop, the roadie at the entrance would look at it, look at us and invariably say, "put that thing anywhere you want."
But I hated its weight, its slowness, its ungainliness. Perhaps when Jerry and I are octogenarians we might want a trike to tool around, but for now, as soon as Jerry is ready, we are climbing back on the Co-Motion.
We discussed that today, and we decided the best way to make the ride even better, would be for us to lose weight. We're seriously investigating Weight Watchers. While we can get stronger, the easiest way for us to climb hills better is to get lighter.
But back to Day Seven.
As usual, we were up early and hit the road somewhere around 7 am. Our plan was to get moving and get close to the ride finish and stop for lunch.
Much of the last day is spent riding on the Coast Highway. The ocean is beautiful, but most of the time Jerry and I are on the lookout for car doors, surfboards and cars making u-turns to zip into a parking space. It's a pretty stressful ride.
We stopped at the lunch spot to use the Port-a-Potties, but ultimately got trapped there. There were not one, but two bike accidents on PCH, so we were held until helicopters could land and take the cyclists to medical facilities. That ruled out lunch elsewhere, so we collected our sack lunches and parked ourselves on a bench. The lunch stop was on a ball field, so we were behind a fence. Our friend Duncan joined us. We ate, we chatted and waited to be freed.
Finally, we were allowed to continue. We got to the Va Center, with the road lined with well-wishers, cheering our arrival. Rather than taking our bike to the corral to wait for closing ceremonies, we took it straight to shipping. We had decided to skip closing ceremonies this year. We had to catch a shuttle by 5, but we thought that we might even be able to get on an earlier flight.
After we dropped off the bike, we went and picked up our "victory" shirts. We were deciding what colors we wanted this year, but discovered, due to budget constraints, all the shirts were white. Then, we discovered the typo on the back. The website reads: aids lifeycycle. If it was the printer's fault, I hope they get the shirts for free, or at least for a substantial discount, and I hope they lay claim to that website!
Shirts in hand, we headed to the gear trucks, and then to the shuttles. We caught a shuttle pretty quickly, and arrived at LAX much earlier than our flight. Southwest wanted to charge us an exorbitant amount to change flights, so, we headed to the Food Court instead.
The Food Court quickly turned into an ALC reunion. There was quite a crowd of us there. We drank cappucinos, beers, and I even had a lemon drop, graciously bestowed on me by a rider I didn't even know.
When we finally got on our flight, there was a host of white victory shirts. Our friend John Hershey sat with us, which made the flight home wonderful.
We got home that night to yowling kitties and a real bed.
Despite what I have said about this not being the ALC of my dreams, Jerry and I are signed up for next year. To rejigger a cliche-- the worst week on ALC is closer to Utopia than the best week anywhere else.
And there still is no cure for AIDS, there are horrendous budget cuts coming to AIDS programs, so we'll keep riding and doing whatever we can until there's a cure.
I want my HIV positive friends to die of old age.
Friday, June 12, 2009
I See Red People
Day Five
The famous "Red Dress Day." A sea of red. A sea of glitter, platform shoes with cleats, tutus, men with dresses, men with skirts, men with boobs and hairy chests. A gloriously spectacularly photogenic day.
Jerry and I were kind of toned down this year. No tutus on the recumbent, and Jerry didn't want to wear his spangly top because the spangles would dig into his back. He did wear a skirt, and we both wore fishnets and elbow length red opera gloves with the fingers cut out. The fishnets stood out nicely over our black legwarmers. But otherwise, we were pretty invisible.
The route changed this year, so it was 20 miles longer and a lot hillier. Wouldn't have been a big deal on another year, but on the trike, as always those hills were time killers.
Also, we did not go through Casmalia, a town that generally has a barbecue fundraiser and we dance in the street. The combo of the additional hilly miles and no dancing in the street made this, for me, not the Red Dress Day of my dreams. My understanding is, it was Casmalia's decision not to have us. I heard a couple of version as to why, and perhaps none is true. I heard they had a new principal at the school and he didn't want all those homos in his town; I also heard that school was still in session so the principal didn't want an event to disrupt the school day. Whatever the reason, I really missed Casmalia.
So, instead of dancing in the streets in Casmalia, we dined under a tent on a dusty field in Solvang. Nope. Not the same.
The afternoon was long, although we did get back to camp at a decent time. This year, perhaps there were more shower trucks, but I never had to wait in line more than five or 10 minutes for a shower. That was a real plus. But as the week went on I became more and more tired of my long hair, counting the days to get home and cut off about a foot. I can still put it in a ponytail, but it's so so much easier to deal with... But I digress.
So while Red Dress Day was fun and some people preferred the route, I heard more grumbling than not about the longer length and more hills, and no chance for a lot of stuff strutting as there always was in Casmalia.
So, as usual, we got back to camp, showered, had dinner and retired early. Except this was the first night in many years it rained, and many people woke to find most of their possessions floating on
Day Six
We were on a fairly thick air mattress, so we stayed dry and our suitcases are water tight, so we did pretty well, But our bedding was wet, or mattress was wet, and the tent was definitely soggy.
What to do, what to do, when we began to stir at a little before 5 am. The rain was coming down fairly steadily, easing up a bit, then coming down a little heavier. Jerry and I realized all 2100 riders couldn't possibly be sagged, plus we were riding the Behemoth, a very difficult cycle to move. So we got up, put on our bike clothes and headed to breakfast. One of our wheels was out of true, so it was at Bike Tech and it had not been covered with the thin ponchos we had been using. They were still in the trike's trunk, which was actually fortunate. We put them on, and at about 7:30, we rode out.
As we left, we noticed a lot of tents were still up, and we weren't exactly sure what the day would bring. But we soldiered on.
After riding around 10 miles, Robert, one of ALC's biggest cheerleaders, drove by in his truck, pulled over and waved at us. We stopped, and he told us that there had been a big accident (cars, not bikes), the route was closing and we should head back to camp.
By now the rain had almost stopped. We had, as usual, climbed some big hills, but we took it easy riding down them as the roads were still pretty slick. And the rain must have washed up a lot of debris, because we, along with probably 30 or 40 other cyclists that day, got a flat. We had a spare tire and tube with us, and Jerry, my hero, changed the flat.
The roadies and staff who figured out the logistics of transporting 2100 riders, their bikes and 500 roadies did an amazing job. As we waited for buses, our lunch was delivered, our bikes were loaded on gear trucks and hauled to the next campsite. Considering nothing like this had ever happened before, it was nothing short of a miracle.
And while the rain stopped and the sun came out, no one faulted staff for deciding not to let us ride. We only had to think back to Day One, when it was misting and roads were wet. There were several accidents, and one very serious one. David is still as SF General and we are all praying for his recovery. We just heard that while he still cannot speak nor is he fully conscious, he can respond to some commands. That is very very good news.
What we were sorry to miss was Paradise Pit in Santa Barbara. Volunteers serve us ice cream, have massage tables set up and last year, beside porta-potties, they even had sinks! While we didn't get ice cream, they did send home made cookies to the camp.
We got to the campsite in Ventura around 4, so we had plenty of time to dry out our mattress, sleeping bag and assorted other soggy items.
Ventura is where we have the candlelight vigil on the beach, but I decided that I was going to skip it this year. I was trying to make the ride this year much more about life, and while I realize the vigil, in memory of all of those whom we've lost to AIDS is important, I just felt like it was not where I wanted to put my focus.
The famous "Red Dress Day." A sea of red. A sea of glitter, platform shoes with cleats, tutus, men with dresses, men with skirts, men with boobs and hairy chests. A gloriously spectacularly photogenic day.
Jerry and I were kind of toned down this year. No tutus on the recumbent, and Jerry didn't want to wear his spangly top because the spangles would dig into his back. He did wear a skirt, and we both wore fishnets and elbow length red opera gloves with the fingers cut out. The fishnets stood out nicely over our black legwarmers. But otherwise, we were pretty invisible.
The route changed this year, so it was 20 miles longer and a lot hillier. Wouldn't have been a big deal on another year, but on the trike, as always those hills were time killers.
Also, we did not go through Casmalia, a town that generally has a barbecue fundraiser and we dance in the street. The combo of the additional hilly miles and no dancing in the street made this, for me, not the Red Dress Day of my dreams. My understanding is, it was Casmalia's decision not to have us. I heard a couple of version as to why, and perhaps none is true. I heard they had a new principal at the school and he didn't want all those homos in his town; I also heard that school was still in session so the principal didn't want an event to disrupt the school day. Whatever the reason, I really missed Casmalia.
So, instead of dancing in the streets in Casmalia, we dined under a tent on a dusty field in Solvang. Nope. Not the same.
The afternoon was long, although we did get back to camp at a decent time. This year, perhaps there were more shower trucks, but I never had to wait in line more than five or 10 minutes for a shower. That was a real plus. But as the week went on I became more and more tired of my long hair, counting the days to get home and cut off about a foot. I can still put it in a ponytail, but it's so so much easier to deal with... But I digress.
So while Red Dress Day was fun and some people preferred the route, I heard more grumbling than not about the longer length and more hills, and no chance for a lot of stuff strutting as there always was in Casmalia.
So, as usual, we got back to camp, showered, had dinner and retired early. Except this was the first night in many years it rained, and many people woke to find most of their possessions floating on
Day Six
We were on a fairly thick air mattress, so we stayed dry and our suitcases are water tight, so we did pretty well, But our bedding was wet, or mattress was wet, and the tent was definitely soggy.
What to do, what to do, when we began to stir at a little before 5 am. The rain was coming down fairly steadily, easing up a bit, then coming down a little heavier. Jerry and I realized all 2100 riders couldn't possibly be sagged, plus we were riding the Behemoth, a very difficult cycle to move. So we got up, put on our bike clothes and headed to breakfast. One of our wheels was out of true, so it was at Bike Tech and it had not been covered with the thin ponchos we had been using. They were still in the trike's trunk, which was actually fortunate. We put them on, and at about 7:30, we rode out.
As we left, we noticed a lot of tents were still up, and we weren't exactly sure what the day would bring. But we soldiered on.
After riding around 10 miles, Robert, one of ALC's biggest cheerleaders, drove by in his truck, pulled over and waved at us. We stopped, and he told us that there had been a big accident (cars, not bikes), the route was closing and we should head back to camp.
By now the rain had almost stopped. We had, as usual, climbed some big hills, but we took it easy riding down them as the roads were still pretty slick. And the rain must have washed up a lot of debris, because we, along with probably 30 or 40 other cyclists that day, got a flat. We had a spare tire and tube with us, and Jerry, my hero, changed the flat.
The roadies and staff who figured out the logistics of transporting 2100 riders, their bikes and 500 roadies did an amazing job. As we waited for buses, our lunch was delivered, our bikes were loaded on gear trucks and hauled to the next campsite. Considering nothing like this had ever happened before, it was nothing short of a miracle.
And while the rain stopped and the sun came out, no one faulted staff for deciding not to let us ride. We only had to think back to Day One, when it was misting and roads were wet. There were several accidents, and one very serious one. David is still as SF General and we are all praying for his recovery. We just heard that while he still cannot speak nor is he fully conscious, he can respond to some commands. That is very very good news.
What we were sorry to miss was Paradise Pit in Santa Barbara. Volunteers serve us ice cream, have massage tables set up and last year, beside porta-potties, they even had sinks! While we didn't get ice cream, they did send home made cookies to the camp.
We got to the campsite in Ventura around 4, so we had plenty of time to dry out our mattress, sleeping bag and assorted other soggy items.
Ventura is where we have the candlelight vigil on the beach, but I decided that I was going to skip it this year. I was trying to make the ride this year much more about life, and while I realize the vigil, in memory of all of those whom we've lost to AIDS is important, I just felt like it was not where I wanted to put my focus.
Thursday, June 11, 2009
Evil Twins, More Pizza and Janine
Day Four has a couple of highlights, both positive and negative. It is the day of the Evil Twins, two back-to=back hills, the halfway point, and a very long sweeping descent.
Again, the hills were not hard, just long and tedious. We cranked and cranked and cranked until we got up them.
Then to the halfway point. This is a pull-off on the left side of the road, where people climb a pile of rocks, hold their bikes above their head above a sign. At one point we thought it might be fun to get a half dozen folks to hoist our trike, but decided that we'd forgo the halfway point and sail down the hill.
And sail we did. We swooped past everyone as we rolled down the decline. The road was not nearly as twisty and turny as what we have experienced in the bay area, so no worries about leaning into turns, and very little braking. I didn't check the cyclometer, but I'm sure we approached 50 mph at times.
We continued the ride until we were a couple of miles from the lunch stop, and we decided though we had had pizza the night before, can anyone really get too much pizza? So we stopped at the same pizza place as we had last year. There were riders already there, and a few more trickled in as we ate.
But I suppose I discovered you CAN have too much pizza and spent the rest of the afternoon with a bit of an upset stomach. I have what Jerry calls "the dotted line." I'll try not to get too graphic. But basically, if too much goes in, or goes above the "dotted line" some of it has got to come out. And it did in fits and starts as we rolled down the road. Not the most pleasant thing, but I made every effort to make sure no one was too close behind us.
Because of the way I was feeling, we also skipped the Cinnamon Bun stop in Pismo Beach. So we got to our next climb a little sooner. Agony hill, Pismo Bitch... it goes by many names. It is not that long, but it is ridiculously steep. Cyclists were falling over because they were riding so slow. It was almost too steep to walk; besides, there was no shoulder. But once again, the trike made it up. We cranked and cranked and cranked some more. My quads and calves were screaming at me, but we made it.
Oh, and this was also the day I was not Carol. I was Janine. Seems that the daily newsletter, the Daily Spin, had an article about a pair of tandem riders, Clark and Janine. We hadn't seen it, since we had princessed, but we heard all about it. While the article was all about them, the photo that accompanied it was a picture of Jerry and me from last year. Not wanting to miss such an opportunity, I went to the medical tent at Rest Stop 1, got a piece of tape and a pen, and changed our license plate for the day so that it read "Jerry and Janine." The next day I went back to Carol. Had I seen it and known, I would have changed Jerry's name to Clark. The folks who told us about it couldn't remember his name.
Again, the hills were not hard, just long and tedious. We cranked and cranked and cranked until we got up them.
Then to the halfway point. This is a pull-off on the left side of the road, where people climb a pile of rocks, hold their bikes above their head above a sign. At one point we thought it might be fun to get a half dozen folks to hoist our trike, but decided that we'd forgo the halfway point and sail down the hill.
And sail we did. We swooped past everyone as we rolled down the decline. The road was not nearly as twisty and turny as what we have experienced in the bay area, so no worries about leaning into turns, and very little braking. I didn't check the cyclometer, but I'm sure we approached 50 mph at times.
We continued the ride until we were a couple of miles from the lunch stop, and we decided though we had had pizza the night before, can anyone really get too much pizza? So we stopped at the same pizza place as we had last year. There were riders already there, and a few more trickled in as we ate.
But I suppose I discovered you CAN have too much pizza and spent the rest of the afternoon with a bit of an upset stomach. I have what Jerry calls "the dotted line." I'll try not to get too graphic. But basically, if too much goes in, or goes above the "dotted line" some of it has got to come out. And it did in fits and starts as we rolled down the road. Not the most pleasant thing, but I made every effort to make sure no one was too close behind us.
Because of the way I was feeling, we also skipped the Cinnamon Bun stop in Pismo Beach. So we got to our next climb a little sooner. Agony hill, Pismo Bitch... it goes by many names. It is not that long, but it is ridiculously steep. Cyclists were falling over because they were riding so slow. It was almost too steep to walk; besides, there was no shoulder. But once again, the trike made it up. We cranked and cranked and cranked some more. My quads and calves were screaming at me, but we made it.
Oh, and this was also the day I was not Carol. I was Janine. Seems that the daily newsletter, the Daily Spin, had an article about a pair of tandem riders, Clark and Janine. We hadn't seen it, since we had princessed, but we heard all about it. While the article was all about them, the photo that accompanied it was a picture of Jerry and me from last year. Not wanting to miss such an opportunity, I went to the medical tent at Rest Stop 1, got a piece of tape and a pen, and changed our license plate for the day so that it read "Jerry and Janine." The next day I went back to Carol. Had I seen it and known, I would have changed Jerry's name to Clark. The folks who told us about it couldn't remember his name.
Tuesday, June 9, 2009
Potato Chips, Oatmeal and Flat Tires, Continued
I would be remiss if for my Day Two post I did not mention the Ugly Mug in Soquel. Every year, they give free coffee and tea to the riders. Jerry and I had never stopped, but this year we were on the road early enough for there not to be a crowd. I had three cups of their wonderful French Roast, which is part of why the day, until the dreaded flat, was going so well. Thank you, Ugly Mug!!!
Day Three
Oh, the more time from the ride, the harder it is to remember. But what I do remember is, that Day 3 is relatively short. It is the day of Quadbuster, the infamous hill that in reality, is a chance to get your photo taken by Brian Hodes. Brian is a cyclist, but on this ride he uses his skills as a professional photographer. He shot God knows how many thousands of photos on the ride. He then sells them with the profits going to ALC. I worked with Brian on World AIDS Day, helping him with publicity, particularly for his 24-hour bike ride. Yup, that's the kind of guy he is.
For us, Quadbuster was long and tedious, but on the trike, immensely doable, just as all the hills are. We are heavy, slow and we work our quads to their limits, but we truly can do any hill. And we "did" Quadbuster. Robert-- anyone who does the ride knows Robert-- pushed us a little near the top, and it was fun to get above two miles an hour for a couple of seconds.
The other side of Quadbuster is not that steep, so we sailed down without braking much. Much of the day is not very difficult, so we were back to camp fairly early. A real treat in many ways, because this was the night on the ride we were staying in a hotel, otherwise known as princessing. We were staying at the Hotel Adelaide, which was walking distance from the ALC Camp. We grabbed what we needed for the next day so we didn't have to lug our suitcases and hoofed it over to the Adelaide.
The Adelaide was the sister hotel to the Best Western next door. It was small and very pleasant. Jerry and I brought swimwear and headed to the hot tub. The trike was really doing a number on our legs, and the swirling hot water felt wonderful. We relaxed a while, then headed back to the room, got naked and ordered in pizza.
Pizza never tasted so good. There was a small refrigerator in the room, so we stashed the leftovers for breakfast.
The best part of the hotel experience, beside not having to schlep our gear and set up a tent, was not having to use a headlamp to get to the bathroom. I think I got up three times that night. Peeing was never so luxurious.
We got up at our usual 5 am, threw on our bike clothes and headed out. There was a Starbucks next door to the hotel, and I joined the line with all the other princesses and got myself a giganto cappuccino. Or whatever Starbucks calls it. Why do they have those ridiculous names. Starbucks; get over yourself. Starbucks is never my favorite coffee, but it tasted great that morning.
Time for
Day Four
Day Three
Oh, the more time from the ride, the harder it is to remember. But what I do remember is, that Day 3 is relatively short. It is the day of Quadbuster, the infamous hill that in reality, is a chance to get your photo taken by Brian Hodes. Brian is a cyclist, but on this ride he uses his skills as a professional photographer. He shot God knows how many thousands of photos on the ride. He then sells them with the profits going to ALC. I worked with Brian on World AIDS Day, helping him with publicity, particularly for his 24-hour bike ride. Yup, that's the kind of guy he is.
For us, Quadbuster was long and tedious, but on the trike, immensely doable, just as all the hills are. We are heavy, slow and we work our quads to their limits, but we truly can do any hill. And we "did" Quadbuster. Robert-- anyone who does the ride knows Robert-- pushed us a little near the top, and it was fun to get above two miles an hour for a couple of seconds.
The other side of Quadbuster is not that steep, so we sailed down without braking much. Much of the day is not very difficult, so we were back to camp fairly early. A real treat in many ways, because this was the night on the ride we were staying in a hotel, otherwise known as princessing. We were staying at the Hotel Adelaide, which was walking distance from the ALC Camp. We grabbed what we needed for the next day so we didn't have to lug our suitcases and hoofed it over to the Adelaide.
The Adelaide was the sister hotel to the Best Western next door. It was small and very pleasant. Jerry and I brought swimwear and headed to the hot tub. The trike was really doing a number on our legs, and the swirling hot water felt wonderful. We relaxed a while, then headed back to the room, got naked and ordered in pizza.
Pizza never tasted so good. There was a small refrigerator in the room, so we stashed the leftovers for breakfast.
The best part of the hotel experience, beside not having to schlep our gear and set up a tent, was not having to use a headlamp to get to the bathroom. I think I got up three times that night. Peeing was never so luxurious.
We got up at our usual 5 am, threw on our bike clothes and headed out. There was a Starbucks next door to the hotel, and I joined the line with all the other princesses and got myself a giganto cappuccino. Or whatever Starbucks calls it. Why do they have those ridiculous names. Starbucks; get over yourself. Starbucks is never my favorite coffee, but it tasted great that morning.
Time for
Day Four
Monday, June 8, 2009
The Week of Potato Chips Part II
Before I have to start organizing for a trip to Boston, leaving later today, I thought I'd try to jot down some more notes and memories, before they become even more of a blur. In any case, I'll probably get days and events confused as it is.
But back to Day I
Being slow, Jerry and I got into camp a good bit later than others. The good part about that is being able to see the Tent Grid take shape. It's always fun coming into camp on that first day and seeing the Tent City, along with the myriad other service tents-- medicine, massage, chiro, Camp Store, Media, Pos Peds. It really is a moving city. The Roadies who get that built are nothing short of Iron Men and Women. Cheryl, who I met when I spoke at a fundraiser for her and her husband Lee, was on my Gear Truck, Truck F. They hung a blow-up monkey on the truck and gave us monkey bracelets. The monkey was cute and it really did make finding the gear truck easier. Several roadies on our truck were female. More power to them, and I mean that in both the literal and figurative sense!
Our bags weighed just under 50 pounds, but I heard from other roadies that there were people who went over the 70 pound limit. I had a hard enough time with our bags; I can't imagine hoisting those 70-plus pound bags onto the truck. I think weight limits and perhaps even sanctions for overweight bags needs to be considered.
Anyway, we got back to camp, showered and had dinner. I sign up for vegetarian, and I'm generally glad I do. There isn't that much red meat during the week, but for those few occasions it's a safer bet. Plus, the vegetarian food on the ride is really good. Even dreaded lunch, which is day after day of sandwiches, is a little better. This year at lunch vegetarian options included hummus, rice and bean wrap and tabouli and feta wrap. They only served the mozzarella and basil sandwich once, and yes, the dreaded peanut butter on walnut bread was back. I love peanut butter, but I really do NOT like that sandwich.
Bedtime on the first night, and generally every night was about 8:30. It was a bit odd going to sleep before it was totally dark, but not all that difficult, especially since we were getting up at around 4:45. Since we were riding slowly, we wanted to hit the route by 6:30, and on most days we made our schedule.
After we set up our tent the next step was setting up the Maryland flag. The flag served a couple of purposes. First-- it draws the Marylanders to us, and on occasion, I even get to talk Bawlmer. But the most important reason is the ease in which it allowed us to find our tent. After dinner-- there was our flag flying above our tent, and even better, there it was after those 3 am port-a-potty trips. Our neighbors loved it as well.
Day Two
Day Two is the longest day on the ride, so we were up bright and early and ready to tackle the more than 100 miles. In reality, Day Two isn't anywhere near the most difficult day. A lot of it is flat, rolling through fields of strawberries that smell heavenly.
We rode well and felt really great until... we had a flat. And not just any flat. The gravel on the side of the road-- we tended to ride way to the right so others could pass--- really ate up our tire, so it wasn't just the tube that needed replacing. We tried to put a "boot" in the tire, but to no avail. We did have a spare, but it was back at camp. So, for our very first time, and at about 60 miles, we had to get sagged back to camp.
We tried to look at it philosophically. We didn't give out; our bike did. The most interesting and difficult part of it all was how the roadies were going to get the trike back to camp. Ultimately, they loaded it on the large truck on TOP of the other bikes that were padded with blankets. It took a crew of them to hoist the behemoth up there. Again, we were so grateful to those roadies for taking care of us.
Back at camp, Jerry put a new tire on the bike and figured out a way to hook a spare tire onto the trike-- I know I alternate between calling the machine a bike and a trike. It really is a trike, but my fingers almost automatically type bike. Old habits die hard. Forgive me. We looked a little like Grapes of Wrath with the tired on the back of our trike, but fortunately, we didn't need it until Day 6, but that's another story, which I promise I'll tell later.
But back to Day I
Being slow, Jerry and I got into camp a good bit later than others. The good part about that is being able to see the Tent Grid take shape. It's always fun coming into camp on that first day and seeing the Tent City, along with the myriad other service tents-- medicine, massage, chiro, Camp Store, Media, Pos Peds. It really is a moving city. The Roadies who get that built are nothing short of Iron Men and Women. Cheryl, who I met when I spoke at a fundraiser for her and her husband Lee, was on my Gear Truck, Truck F. They hung a blow-up monkey on the truck and gave us monkey bracelets. The monkey was cute and it really did make finding the gear truck easier. Several roadies on our truck were female. More power to them, and I mean that in both the literal and figurative sense!
Our bags weighed just under 50 pounds, but I heard from other roadies that there were people who went over the 70 pound limit. I had a hard enough time with our bags; I can't imagine hoisting those 70-plus pound bags onto the truck. I think weight limits and perhaps even sanctions for overweight bags needs to be considered.
Anyway, we got back to camp, showered and had dinner. I sign up for vegetarian, and I'm generally glad I do. There isn't that much red meat during the week, but for those few occasions it's a safer bet. Plus, the vegetarian food on the ride is really good. Even dreaded lunch, which is day after day of sandwiches, is a little better. This year at lunch vegetarian options included hummus, rice and bean wrap and tabouli and feta wrap. They only served the mozzarella and basil sandwich once, and yes, the dreaded peanut butter on walnut bread was back. I love peanut butter, but I really do NOT like that sandwich.
Bedtime on the first night, and generally every night was about 8:30. It was a bit odd going to sleep before it was totally dark, but not all that difficult, especially since we were getting up at around 4:45. Since we were riding slowly, we wanted to hit the route by 6:30, and on most days we made our schedule.
After we set up our tent the next step was setting up the Maryland flag. The flag served a couple of purposes. First-- it draws the Marylanders to us, and on occasion, I even get to talk Bawlmer. But the most important reason is the ease in which it allowed us to find our tent. After dinner-- there was our flag flying above our tent, and even better, there it was after those 3 am port-a-potty trips. Our neighbors loved it as well.
Day Two
Day Two is the longest day on the ride, so we were up bright and early and ready to tackle the more than 100 miles. In reality, Day Two isn't anywhere near the most difficult day. A lot of it is flat, rolling through fields of strawberries that smell heavenly.
We rode well and felt really great until... we had a flat. And not just any flat. The gravel on the side of the road-- we tended to ride way to the right so others could pass--- really ate up our tire, so it wasn't just the tube that needed replacing. We tried to put a "boot" in the tire, but to no avail. We did have a spare, but it was back at camp. So, for our very first time, and at about 60 miles, we had to get sagged back to camp.
We tried to look at it philosophically. We didn't give out; our bike did. The most interesting and difficult part of it all was how the roadies were going to get the trike back to camp. Ultimately, they loaded it on the large truck on TOP of the other bikes that were padded with blankets. It took a crew of them to hoist the behemoth up there. Again, we were so grateful to those roadies for taking care of us.
Back at camp, Jerry put a new tire on the bike and figured out a way to hook a spare tire onto the trike-- I know I alternate between calling the machine a bike and a trike. It really is a trike, but my fingers almost automatically type bike. Old habits die hard. Forgive me. We looked a little like Grapes of Wrath with the tired on the back of our trike, but fortunately, we didn't need it until Day 6, but that's another story, which I promise I'll tell later.
Sunday, June 7, 2009
The week of potato chips is over
I joke that I do the AIDS ride for the potato chips. Of course, that's just a joke, but it is the only week of the year that I eat potato chips almost every single day.
I'm still a little brain dead from the ordeal, but over the next few days I will try to gather my thoughts and write about this most amazing week.
Day Zero
Last Saturday seems like a lifetime ago. It's the day Jerry and I hauled our Tandem Trike-- our friend Hunter named it Jack Triker, after a porn star (guess it has something to do with the trike's huge size)-- to the Cow Palace to park it and then get in endless lines to watch a safety video, get a tent assignment, turn in the rest of our donations, pick up Pos Ped Supporter jerseys and to kiss and hug numerous friends.
After a couple of hours of getting wrist bands and our tent number on a disk on a chain to hang around our neck, we headed home to finish packing. We totally geek out on the ride. We dress alike every day; that's not unusual for tandem riders, but it is pretty unusual on the AIDS ride, especially considering there were only five tandems this year. We packed two-gallon plastic bags and then sat on them to squeeze out as much air as possible, then stacked them vertically in the suitcase in order of days. It's amazing how much easier that makes camp life. Grab a bag and go.
After we packed and had dinner, we headed over to our friends Tom and Jeff's, who live in Daly City, just minutes from the Cow Palace. This is the second year they have hosted us, and it makes a world of difference getting to sleep until 4:45, as opposed to 2:30 a.m., especially considering we will be riding lots of miles and climbing lots of hills the next day.
We chatted a bit, but went to bed quite early, filled with anticipation.
Day 1
I think no matter how many times I do this ride, I will never get over the thrill of rideout. We do some stretching, eat some banana bread, and then the Positive Pedalers carry banners, followed by the Riderless Bike, symbolizing all of those we have lost to AIDS. This year, one of the people who accompanied the bicycle was Joe, a rider who would not be riding this year because he broke his kneecap. I did that years ago, and it's painful, but I know it was even more painful for Joe because he raised a lot of money, is very active in the community and was so looking forward to the ride.
After the ceremony, we headed to our bikes. The Positive Pedalers rode out first and then the rest of us followed. The adrenaline that takes over is incredible, egged on by the friends who line the beginning of the route, cheering, ringing cow bells and holding signs. Despite the cold and dense fog, I couldn't stop smiling. At least for the first mile or so.
Then we began to climb. and climb. and climb. On a 60-pound trike that will only go so fast up hills. The frustration with the trike began on that day when all we had were our quads and calves to get us up those hills. No upper body at all. No standing to use body weight. Just those quads pumping and pumping and pumping. Ironically, it wasn't difficult; just slow and tedious and tiring.
More later. Jerry and I are going to the movies.
I'm still a little brain dead from the ordeal, but over the next few days I will try to gather my thoughts and write about this most amazing week.
Day Zero
Last Saturday seems like a lifetime ago. It's the day Jerry and I hauled our Tandem Trike-- our friend Hunter named it Jack Triker, after a porn star (guess it has something to do with the trike's huge size)-- to the Cow Palace to park it and then get in endless lines to watch a safety video, get a tent assignment, turn in the rest of our donations, pick up Pos Ped Supporter jerseys and to kiss and hug numerous friends.
After a couple of hours of getting wrist bands and our tent number on a disk on a chain to hang around our neck, we headed home to finish packing. We totally geek out on the ride. We dress alike every day; that's not unusual for tandem riders, but it is pretty unusual on the AIDS ride, especially considering there were only five tandems this year. We packed two-gallon plastic bags and then sat on them to squeeze out as much air as possible, then stacked them vertically in the suitcase in order of days. It's amazing how much easier that makes camp life. Grab a bag and go.
After we packed and had dinner, we headed over to our friends Tom and Jeff's, who live in Daly City, just minutes from the Cow Palace. This is the second year they have hosted us, and it makes a world of difference getting to sleep until 4:45, as opposed to 2:30 a.m., especially considering we will be riding lots of miles and climbing lots of hills the next day.
We chatted a bit, but went to bed quite early, filled with anticipation.
Day 1
I think no matter how many times I do this ride, I will never get over the thrill of rideout. We do some stretching, eat some banana bread, and then the Positive Pedalers carry banners, followed by the Riderless Bike, symbolizing all of those we have lost to AIDS. This year, one of the people who accompanied the bicycle was Joe, a rider who would not be riding this year because he broke his kneecap. I did that years ago, and it's painful, but I know it was even more painful for Joe because he raised a lot of money, is very active in the community and was so looking forward to the ride.
After the ceremony, we headed to our bikes. The Positive Pedalers rode out first and then the rest of us followed. The adrenaline that takes over is incredible, egged on by the friends who line the beginning of the route, cheering, ringing cow bells and holding signs. Despite the cold and dense fog, I couldn't stop smiling. At least for the first mile or so.
Then we began to climb. and climb. and climb. On a 60-pound trike that will only go so fast up hills. The frustration with the trike began on that day when all we had were our quads and calves to get us up those hills. No upper body at all. No standing to use body weight. Just those quads pumping and pumping and pumping. Ironically, it wasn't difficult; just slow and tedious and tiring.
More later. Jerry and I are going to the movies.
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