Readers of the Team Lope Tyre Clubbe site surely know that Lung and I participated in Aids Lifecycle 9 last week. We wrote about our gear preparations, our bike builds (Tumbler and Crook, respectively) and rallied the troops for financial support, netting over $7K for the cause. You may have even gotten updates on our incremental progress via Facebook or email. Now that we’re back, we’ve written up individual ride reports in the Team Lope manner, and I hope reading them is less grueling than the ride was.

The Aids Lifecycle ride this year was nominally 545 miles over 7 days, thought it logged in at approximately 565 miles overall all told. Each day started before dawn, breaking down the tents in which we slept, gorging on breakfast fuels and usually making stops to medical (in my case) or stretching, and on the road around dawn, riding for 6 – 10 hours with a number of rest stops along the way decked out in some nutty theme (and several more stops, thanks to the persistent saddle sores we called ‘grundle sufferage’) before arriving wearily to the next night’s camp, to pitch tent and get organized, shower, feed and pretty much pass out. Some days were kind of thrilling, from scenery to challenge, and some were tortuously monotonous and exhausting. We traveled from the dense morning fog of the bay area, through lush forest, huge agricultural fields of strawberries and various other produce, to arid valleys of tilled farmland awaiting future plantings and flattened by ridiculous headwinds, to the welcome breezes of the beaches to the south. We met scores of other riders along the way, suffered no permanent or debilitating injuries, and I think rode our personal bests. And once in LA, we were consumed by emotion, but also that surreal sense of loss, as this week-long micro-culture of community, tolerance, endurance, struggle, variety and frankly suffering, bled away and the real world returned. I think I’m still trying to process it.

It sure started well enough! This pic above was taken on Day 1, on the way down the coast towards Santa Cruz. I had narrowly dodged calamity when I packed everything but MY EFFING SHOES, requiring my awesome wifebot(tm) to drive down to SF at midnight and deliver them to me at Lung’s place where we were crashing for what was supposed to be 3 hours or so of sleep before having to get up again at 3am to get ready and head out to Cow Palace (in my case, about 90 minutes of sleep). She saved my ass fiercely. Once ont he road, I think i was so overwhelmed by the emotions of the morning (the opening ceremony, among other things, involved all 1900 riders and 600 or so support staff gathering to watch the entrance procession of the Positive Pedalers flag guard (HIV positive riders, carrying banners commemorating the passing of loved ones and former riders) along with the infamous riderless helmets and ghost bike. It was haunting and everyone was bauling. Ultimately, while I did apply sunscreen liberally, I apparently didn’t put enough on my face, because some hours after passing out in Santa Cruz at camp at like 3pm, I woke with the most ludicrous sunburned lips. My face, ears, nose etc were all burned, but the lips, my word. It was like fat grapes with split skin. Other than that grundle sufferage that had us off the saddle throughout the day from the discomfort, this was my most persistent medical agitation through the rest of the ride. My lips proceeded to grow more and more swollen, cracked, bleeding, nasty, and were covered in Preparation H and Zinc Oxide thereafter (‘dubbing what the Team Hype boys called my ‘powdered donut’ problem.. and man, I COULD have used some donuts.) and while this was certainly an aesthetic annoyance, and often a painful one, these are the problems to have, I say, because other than the saddle soreness and some dodgy Achilles Heel issues, I was otherwise fine, and got the job done.

And to be fair, everyone was having issues, from splints to IT band fails to knee, hip, back, neck injuries, dislocations, crash injuries, alarming numbers of heatstroke victims, and on and on. I was so concerned about the risk of an IT band flare-up on my right side that I was very cautious throwing myself around on the road. I took descents with care, sprints only gradually, and is my usual manner, conserved energy each day for potential issues to come. Nothing could have prevented the saddle soreness, but Chamois Butter liberally applied sure eased the discomfort some. And while I tweaked my ankle on Day Three, and my Achilles pulled later that same day, despite that potentially crippling injury for a fixed-gear rider, I was able to keep it taped and in the right position, and kept the effort up with no further issues. All things considered, it was an almost unseemingly uncomplicated journey. We each had packed tyres, tubes, full kits of bike tools, extra chain, extra cogs, etc and didn’t have so much as a flat. I can’t get away with a ride around Marin without a dodgy mechanical problem. I was stoked.

This is a familiar image to anyone who read Lung’s first report on ALC from year 7 (2008) as this is the same marker on the same stretch of highway. Some of the route was the same, but some had changed since his trip. Many of the days were longer than expected, and some detours since ALC7 were strange sometimes, sending us into awkward riding situations, like seeing disorienting and morale-busting miles of climbs in view long before you got to them, or pushing us into bad wind or road conditions that perhaps weren’t there in 08. However, lots of these changes were actually corrections from ALC8 last year, which got some course route complaints AND suffered a rain-out. We were pretty fortunate in that regard. Some days were blisteringly hot, and some had breezes (and of course, there’s that 20 miles of headwind day) but for the most part, nothing too drastic that stopped riders, and though road conditions were often pretty terrible, what choice do they have? Californians don’t value infrastructure improvements in the state budget until they taco a rim or worse.

One challenge that i found interesting throughout the week was dealing with the mix of experienced and inexperienced riders. In fact, we were primed going in to be cautious of inexperienced riders who might swerve too wide to avoid a pothole or panic in gravel or freak out if you passed too close. In my personal experience, it wasn’t these riders that caused the majority of our caution, but rather the opposite: experienced riders who were overconfident, aggressive and inattentive to the others. A few teams routinely broke the passing rules and passed as entire pacelines at speed with little warning in unsafe conditions in the middle of traffic. These clowns made it difficult for US, so you can imagine how they made the newbie riders feel. It’s unfortunate that so many riders had the classic inability to visualize consequences of their actions, and I’m glad more riders weren’t injured. There were about three crashes of note (and scores that were minor) all on descents, but overall, a pretty good safety record this year.

I enjoyed passing quite a bit myself, when safe (though not the one time I didn’t see the car and freaked my fellow riders out) especially because of how different fixed-gear distance riding is to regular road bikes: we have to manage our cadences differently. We make ground most on the slight and moderate grades. Flats the roadies who have motivation get away from us in their bigger gears, and on very steep inclines, our slow pedaling MAY put us behind roadies who can turn em around faster. But as a rule, we passed most road bikes in front of us where gradients were involved. They gear down and spin, we HAVE to mash and keep going. It was kind of a nice morale boost for us, how much attention we got over the fixed-gear bikes, and while we lost a lot of time on descents (me especially, going slower and pacing the brake to save my ankle and such) overall, each day we were with the same general group of riders throughout the day, or ended up ahead of those we started with. I did NOT expect this.

A word about fixed-gear. We got a lot of love for this. Sure, many were bewildered as to why we would do it more than anything else, but for those that grasped the limitations of the bike, and the extra effort involved, we got a lot of respect. We would get cheers behind us as we passed and people noted our drivetrains. We got gasps and outcries on climbs as we passed riders struggling to stay on their road bikes, ranging from incredulity to awe to occasionally jealousy. Overall we got a positive reaction, which pleased me. I was concerned that we were a negative morale problem for struggling riders or what have you, or would look overconfident or conceited (though nothing was farther from the truth: neither of us knew how it would go or if we would even finish) but as a rule, we were a well-documented phenomenon. There were a total of 6 fixed-gears and one single-speed (with freewheel) this year out of a total of more than 1900 riders. That’s a bit more than .03%! We also got a lot of love for our recognizable Team Lope jerseys, so we would hear behind us either ‘ayyy fixies!’ or ‘go team lope!’ which was really awesome.

Some of the days were excruciatingly long, such as the century days and those under high wind that made everything that much more grueling and slow. I saw a lot of the state I normally miss when on the freeway: I never knew Los Olivos was such a cute Victorian-style town. I didn’t know Bradley even existed. There’s a lot going on not far from view on those all-day highway trips across the state, and it’s something I never really thought about before. Another thing: the agriculture. Most Californians understand that the state’s primary economic force is farmning. We supply the country, and much of the world, with a huge amount of produce. What was compelling to me was being out there WITH the migrant workers. I always tole anti-immigrant rabblerousers that they should be careful what they wished for (these workers are doing work others here refuse to do, or couldn’t handle, and they do it for very little) but it’s one thing to see pics or see them as you drive by, and another to RIDE by. Being in the sun for hours, being perpetually starved, dehydrated, exhausted and missing your family? You gain even more appreciation for the lifestyle these workers endure to put food on the table for their own, and send money home. It’s pretty profound, at least to me.

Last thing, the little things that were big delights:

Roadies: The roadies make everything happen. These volunteers are up earlier than us, in bed later, build the rest stops, serve the food, prepare camp, organize events, clean up, run support and SAG vehicles, and what’s more, do it with relentless enthusiasm and encouragement for the riders. Ever try to be YEEEEEE happy for more than 10 minutes? They do that for us for 10-12 hours. They honestly work harder than the riders, in my opinion, and my next participation in ALC will likely be as a roadie. I have so much respect for what they did for us. Even though most riders sort of spin by stone-faced and in pain or some zombie-like trance, you have to know, the roadies cheering you and rah-rahing at each rest stop, and the volunteers and guests who came out along the roadside up and down the entire route with homemade signs and treats? They lifted our spirits.

Positive Pedalers: Not a little thing, per se, but I have to note that every time I rode by a PP-jerseyed rider I had a ton of respect and emotion for them. To spend your days, effort, energy and such for this cause is one thing, but to do it afflicted? What a sense of pride in community and commitment to each other as symbols and participants. Amazing.

Chockamilk: I’m not lying, I hadn’t had any in years but consumed probably more than my body weight in delicious chockamilk on this ride. So much so I had to get more when I returned.

Chamois Butter: Before this ride, I’d never really done more than a squirt of Gold Bond lotion before a century. ON this ride, I used a glop of it at every rest stop and often more. It literally got me through the ride.

Fruit Gummies: of all the delicious ride snacks along the route, I stockpiled little fruit gummies the most. Not so much for energy, as they were just gummies (sugar and horse) but after feeding on an energy bar or peanut butter and bananas and oranges and so on, I would nibble on these as power pellets of motivation, just to keep me going.

New Tents/ Camp: we benefited from the lessons learned of last year’s rain, where they discovered the tents weren’t waterproof. We got brand new ones. Excellent. And frankly, easy to pitch, easy to carry, and a good design. I appreciate the ‘cinderella riders’ and their hotel stops benefited from better rest and hygiene (and sanity) but really I couldn’t complain about camp at all. The Port-a-Potties were overall in good condition, the food was plentiful, the showers had strong pressure and hot water, laundry detergent abounded, and the tents kept the outside out and the body heat in. The worst we had to deal with was wet clothes, and that was a factor of choice anyway. And, as someone nursing an injury for more than half the ride, medical services were excellent and appreciated.

Variety and Diversity: I really thrived on how much variety we enjoyed. Not in the roads, not in the food, but in the people. Different riders, different bikes, different levels of school spirit, fun rest stop themes, lots of flamboyance and cross-dressing and enthusiasm… I really loved being part of a small community where being a clown was encouraged.

And as we finished the ride on Day 7 in my old familiar haunt of Westwood and Brentwood, after two days along the coast, it was honestly surreal in it’s ending. You get so accustomed to the microcosm of recent experience, it’s almost jarring to have it end and realLife return, just like with any immersive camping or traveling experience I suppose. It was wonderful to see my wifebot(tm) and wee Z, my young daughter, at the finish line, along with my dear parents, and Raul, Silvia and Damon came out to see us and cheer us on. We got to catch up with several riders we met along the way, take photos, etc and then closing ceremonies and it was done.

I can’t imagine not being involved again. I don’t know in what capacity. We’ve talked about tandem trike recumbents, roadie work, who knows…

It was a very emotional and uplifting experience, and one of the most amazing ones of my life, I have to say.

Links:

You can see my Flickr Set of the ALC9 photos here.
Check out Ironlung’s photos here.
And read Lung’s ALC9 ride report, and his ALC7 ride report before that!

Team Lope shout-outs:

Remi and Magnus of ]Team Hype, our fixed-gear friends to the south.
Remi’s ALC9 Flickr Set

Maynard (pronounced May-Nard if you know what’s up) and Mannie Rabara, my e-friends before the ride and friends thereafter.
Maynard’s ALC9 Flickr Set

Ryan, whom I met through Maynard beforehand, along with MaryAnn and Ron, his brethren:
Watch out for helicopters!
Ryan’s ALC9 Flickr Set

Graham out of Vegas, chock full of optimism and radness.

Seth and the Stix family out of Nashville, presumably finally successful in his personal quest by the time he got to LA.

Friend Jefferson from local Mission Bikes, purveyor of frames to Team Lope East Coast member Joe at 718 Cyclery!

Ariel and co. who we met on Day on the Ride, who always motivated me with her rainbow riding socks.

Holly, Anna, Barbara, and the others we met throughout the ride! And of course, all the unmet, but recognized, smiling faces we saw as we went…

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3. Team Lope Ride Report – ALC Day on the Ride, WR’s Account