What a day. The opening ceremonies were moving as always. The
morning was cold and cloudy and I was dressed for hot and sunny but the
sun finally came through to show us an awesome California. We rode
about 82 miles today. The first part was tough and the last half was
pretty flat. As I rode into Santa Cruz, a lady was holding a sign with a
picture of a handsome man. I pulled off the rode, we exchanged a hug
and I asked if it was her son. She told me it was her brother. I felt
like a dagger hit me when she said that. I adore my brother and it was
obvious she adored hers. His name was Gary. Last year, I rode by the people holding signs like that
and swore I'd never do that again. How special she made today. He may
have died in 1995 but not in her heart and now, not in mine.
Tomorrow is 108 miles. One day at a time!!
The
journey begins. Carol dropped me and Jamie off at the ATL this
morning. While standing in the baggage drop off line, a lady was
staring at my bike box. She said "Don't you
need some air holes in there?" At first I was touched -finally someone
else recognizes Jamie's almost human relationship with me! Then she
said "what kind of dog is in there anyway?" Only then did I realize
she thought my mighty Tiger paws were puppy paws for notifying handlers. Oh well.
The AIDS LifeCycle love bubble kicked off with orientation day. I was
relieved to see Jamie getting on the plane yesterday so I knew I would
have the essentials - a bike, shoes and helmet. Everything else could
be dealt with later.
A met up with a few of my new family
members hanging in the hotel lobby and shared a cab around 10 am to the
Cow Palace to get our bikes assembled, see safety videos and get our
numbers and stuff. Amazingly, one of the first people I saw was CJ, my
tent mate from last year. It was great to see her. I made a couple of
new friends in my 2 hour line to get my bike assembled - from Houston,
Tx and Seattle, Washington and India. Then I connected with Todd and
that just made everything okay.
The safety video is more than that - it is also a reminder of why we do
this, that the funds we raise change lives and save lives. It is a
reminder that while 51 weeks of the year I am an accountant - this week I
am a rider - just like my other 2200 riding family members. I am
reminded to take care of myself and also to take care of those I am
around. I am reminded that I belong . . . here - for this week. I am
reminded that creating a love bubble really isn't that hard. It just
requires seeing everyone on common ground - neither above or below the
status you've given yourself and caring about their well-being as well
as your own. So simple - yet we screw it up almost every day in "the
real world".
This week I am a Rider. I really do belong here.
(Except maybe in the porta-potties - which I cannot avoid until next
Saturday!!). I still do not think I belong there!
You belong, too. Be there this week. Wherever it is - really, really be there.
Today was for Gray. It's hard for me to describe what I feel when I
dedicate a day to someone, so I'll just simplify it to the nth degree
and say it is overwhelmingly special.
We had an interesting
start to our day as we were late getting started and fell behind all of
the SAG vehicles that leave last. We got caught by every single red
light getting off of Emory's campus and then we got stopped by a train
that went on and on and on. The idea of being the ride's caboose was
sealed within the first 15 minutes!
It was supposed to rain
on us today but the conditions were actually perfect and not a drop feel
on us. Someone told me years ago that friends in heaven get to paint
the daily sunsets and you'll always know if one of your loved ones was
involved. You'll see their colors or their style. With a 60% chance of
rain and not a drop, I can't help but wonder if Gray was up there
saying "Hey, not on my day!" So, thank you, Gray!
The route
was great this year and we saw lots of Georgia countryside beauty. I
was thankful for cycling buddies Stephen Frangis, Cindy Tanner and
Felicia Bianchi as we kept each other company for various parts of the
route. Stephen and I rode the full 100 miles together and I appreciate
him more than I can describe. In the end, the official caboose was
escorted in by our team mate Chip and that was perfect. He played some
good 'ole rock and roll to keep us pedaling for the last 10 miles or so.
We started out around 7:45 and arrived at Rock Eagle at about 5:15 - so
it was a full day. Lots of time to reflect, to pray and to think. On
the route we saw a lone Canadian goose with a broken wing which made me
sad. I've never prayed for a Canadian goose before today! There was a
group of cows who stared at us pedal by with a look that told us we were
weird looking cows. I thought mostly about Gray and the stories his
friends shared with me. At the end of the evening, a close friend of
Gray's came up to me to introduce himself and thank me for dedicating
today to Gray. I told him that Gray got me to the finish line as I was
ready to throw in the towel on 3 different times. He told me more about
Gray and I was so reminded about how little things matter so much and
we really should "sweat the small stuff." He was loved for his sweet
spirit, his love of sharing good meals with friends, his ability to
organize a tupperware cabinet (a huge talent in my book!), and all those
little things. His friend then made a profound statement - "There's no
telling what Gray could have done." Once again, we were robbed of by
AIDS. But today - I was not robbed. I was inspired to pay more
attention to those little things that matter - except for perhaps the
tupperware talent because I'm hopeless in that category!
Thank
you, Gray. I honestly don't know what else to say as it is obvious that
no other words would adequately describe the positive ripple effect of
your life on us.
Yes, today was for Gray. To his friends, I
hope you will raise a glass and celebrate him in whatever way he
deserves in your life.
I
have heard that the points of highest stress for NASCAR drivers is not
while they are moving at ridiculously fast speeds but, instead, while
they are sitting in the pit. I believe it!
Today is Pit Day
for me and all of my AV200 friends. While in the pit, we start
wondering what possessed us to commit to riding 200 miles on a bicycle.
We start wondering if we did enough on the fundraising front. We think
about the people we are riding to help and feel like there's no way to
do enough. We kick ourselves for eating those coconut cakes, cinnamon
roles and Girl Scout cookies (but only for a second!) We wonder if
we'll make it.
Today is also my birthday. My friends and
colleagues know that I LOVE birthdays, celebrate them for at least a
month and don't mind telling you it is my birthday. Unlike my
Grandmama, who used to make up an age and even confused her doctors, I
see each birthday as another milestone in life. My other Granny was a
wedding cake caterer and made magical birthday cakes representing my
theme for the year. She never questioned my choices from Cinderella to
Cowboys and Indians and various things in between. Each birthday is a
gift and perhaps sometimes even a symbol of surviving another year.
Personally, I will take each one I get and be happy.
On my birthday, I also remember friends and family who hit the end of
the birthday runs way before I wanted them too. Like most of you, I
have felt the pain of losing people way too soon - from cancer, from car
accidents, from suicide, from heart failures, from AIDS and various
other ending battles. As I sit in this Birthday/Pit Day Friday, my
engine gets revved up for one of those groups. Dang it - we're going to
find a vaccine for AIDS or at least go out swinging.
Tomorrow, I will ride for Gray. I never met him but feel like I did.
His birthdays ended a few years ago. It might not have if access to
medications had been an easier route. That makes me sad. That makes me
mad. That makes me ride. I will not be riding at a NASCAR pace by any
means - but I'll be happy and comfortable bringing up the rear in the
caboose section and sponsoring a Gray party for any other riders who
wish to join me!
Happy Birthday, everyone, on whatever day is yours!!
What
a week. Was there any emotion not touched since Monday? As I watched
the horror of the Boston Marathon, my mind flashed back to my glorious
ride into LA on the last day of the AIDS LifeCycle last year. I wanted
my best friend at the finish line, so I paid for a first class seat on
Delta to bring Carol to LA to celebrate with me. It never entered my
mind that someone would even think about turning such a wonderful
triumph into a tragedy. Riding into the final mile, people lined the
streets along the route. They cheered for us, called us heroes, gave us
Tootsie Rolls and made it so special. Carol had stationed herself
behind the "cheerleaders" at the finish line. Among the masses, I could
not see her but I knew she was there. What an awesome day.
My heart went out to the
athletes in Boston, many who found their friends and loved ones dead or
severely injured at the finish line by the choice of two young people.
I was stunned and found myself just staring at the awful images - not
able to say a word. What was there to say? I turned to Facebook -
something we didn't have back in 2001 when the World Trade Center
tragedy occurred. I have friends - fellow AIDS fighters, staff at
Boston University and Tufts and others - in Boston. I felt relief as
they checked in via FB or email to let us know they were okay.
I
kept hearing my mother's words in my teenage ears - "99% of the people
in the world are good - but sometimes we focus too much on the 1% who
are not." I received a few phone calls from friends and colleagues
asking if I still planned to ride in the AIDS LifeCycle this year. It
had never entered my mind not to ride - and I was surprised at how firm I
was in my response - "Hell, yes, I'm riding - why wouldn't I?"
In the past week, we have seen the worst of humanity and the best of
humanity. As awful as the bombings were, the response of the people
made it clear - 99% is stronger than 1%. Thanks, Mom, for teaching me
that.
I always find solace in music and in the words of
children and today is no exception. As 8-year old victim Martin Richard
wrote on a school sign last year: "No more hurting people" and drew on
his blue poster, "Peace" - may our 99% honor him by following his lead.
May Peace be with each of you. It may have been an ugly week, but it's still a beautiful world. Ride on.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XqklKLxrvAo&feature=youtu.be
Today was leg 2 in my double-decker training weekend. When I arrived
at the Coweta County Fairgrounds, the base for the ride, there was no
sight of anyone. I was my usual 30 minutes before ride time and usually
I'm trying to dodge cyclists and trying to find one more blade of grass
to squeeze my car into. I pulled into the parking area and after a few
minutes, a guy knocked on my window and said "Did we miss something?
Where is everybody?"
We finally saw a few people and they
pointed us to the registration desk. I asked "Are we having the ride
today?" This sweet, jovial lady replied "Oh yes, we're SO glad you're
here!" I asked "How many riders are you expecting?" She said "No idea!
Only 10 pre-registered but we're SO glad you're here!" Ten ri ders?
My mind automatically thinks - great - no support, no one to talk to.
Then I did my last check on the weather and learned that the weather
experts decided sometime between 11pm last night and 8 am this morning
that no, it would not be sunny and 60 in the morning with rain starting
at 4pm. The rain would start in 2 hours and there would be no sun.
Well, I believed them LAST night - so here I am totally unprepared for
rain. No jacket. I'm so thrilled at this point. So I go to plan B.
Instead of riding 60 miles, I will ride as fast as I can for 30 miles
and try to beat the rain. Memories of freezing in California's rain-out
day last summer are bouncing around in my head.
I take off.
I'm pedaling as fast as my short, squatty legs will spin - paying
special attention to my shifting and getting the big head. Wow - I can
go fast when I want to. Good-bye Tortoise, Hello Hare. I clip along
pretty well and then, while climbing a hill a cute little bunny rabbit
hops by me like I'm nothing. I could almost hear her saying "Me Hare,
You Tortoise, Heee, Heee, Heee" as she bounced back into the bushes.
I then started thinking about how desolate I was. I mean, there was no
one now. The one guy ahead of me turned onto the 60 mile split, so it
was just me. I started wondering if this was safe. I starting feeling
REALLY alone. So to counter this, I started thinking of yesterday's
song, "Never Alone" even if I was sarcastically thinking "yeah,
whatever."
I got back to home base, covering the 30 miles and
arriving at 10:15. The drizzle was just starting and I was safe. I
walked towards the registration to thank them for having the ride and
saw 5 men at a table - with a route map on a bulletin board, a computer
and hand radios going. They had been tracking us - me - the whole time.
I really was "never alone" even if I thought I was. So if you think I
skipped church to ride my bike today -- no, I didn't.
For anyone else having a "yeah, whatever" day, I hope this weekend's theme song will give you a boost . . .
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AhZh-Riia0Y
This is my first double-decker weekend on the training trail as I
planned to ride the Tony Serrano today in Monroe and the BMBA Ride for
the River in Newnan tomorrow. The mileage is about 60 in each ride, so
great training for what's ahead.
As I rode today - two things drummed away on my heart: Heroes and the song "Never Alone." I'll share a bit about both.
First, the ride today was in honor of Tony Serrano, an avid athlete who
was struck by a car and killed while on his bike in August 2004. I learned by
reading his bio that he was more than "just a cyclist" as he was an
incredible person who accomplished much to make the world better in his
short 35 years of life. You may say, "Well, I never heard of him." And
that's my point. The bio showed how he was the world to his friends
and family and he obviously made the world better.
Second, I
was passing a guy in a hand cycle with a Shepherd's Center jersey on.
He had no legs but he was ripping the road with his upper body strength.
As I struck a conversation with him, I learned that he is training for
a race on May 4th in Alpharetta. Last weekend, he trained on the GA
mountains. Such a friendly, outgoing and wonderful soul he had and I
had the honor of meeting him today. His picture is now a permanent
image in my brain bucket for "heroes met on the road."
Third, I know lots of heroes now
that I didn't know a year ago. I was briefly able to chat with 3
awesome guys who fall in that category today - Ken, Leon and Frank (who I
call "Cutie" because he is!). I also had the honor of riding with my
friend and colleague, Stephen, for the first 30 miles. All four of them
have fought longer and harder than me for an AIDS vaccine. I'm always
humbled when I'm with them. Again, they are the world to me. They are
also in my brain bucket for "heroes met." And then - while being passed
today, 2 guys paused and commented on my AIDS LifeCycle jersey because
they ride in it also. They work for Deloitte, a large accounting firm,
but I refrained from talking about new accounting rules while we rode -
which required a lot of restraint on my part.
Today was also a
lot of firsts for me. I was given a big hug at the registration area by
new new cycling coach, Robert Wilhite (myCyclingCoach.com), rode with a
new hard as a rock saddle which was wonderful (trust me, you don't want
a goose down soft saddle after mile 20!), used my new Infinite
Nutrition drink for the entire ride (my magic potion now), rode without a
CamelBak (LOVED it!), and found that my car was not one of the last in
the parking lot after the ride (double LOVED it!!)
Although my
work week was challenging, I ended up on the road with Jamie and being
reminded of how important family, friends and colleagues are in the
journey. Every one reading this is a hero to at least one person - so I
hope you know who sees you that way and that you will also make sure
someone knows they are a hero to you.
And perhaps most importantly today and every day - remember you are never alone.
If you are reading this, I hope you will feel a big hug from me - right about now.
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