Day Four

Miles 55.93
Camp: Home Sweet Home
Temp: 96 degrees (and the heat wave breaks.)
Winds: mild, but still present.

The mood in camp on the last morning was abuzz with nervousness and excitement and maybe a tinge of melancholy (that might be dramatic). We all knew what we had accomplished and what we were about to accomplish. It also cooled off that night around 3 or 3:30 in the morning and I think we could all finally draw a non-suffocated breath -- amazing things happen when oxygen gets to your brain). But we also knew that it was about to be over and these four days, this camaraderie, this day-by-day, mile-by-mile challenge, this connection that was created when our friends and family called us crazy, and this community that was born in desert heat, the "thumbs up," bag after bag of ice, and unquestioned dedication, would be behind us. A relief? Maybe. Maybe the relief that comes with a graduation, or when we move and leave a city behind. No matter how much there is to look forward to, there's just as much to say goodbye to, to miss. And so it is when any all-encompassing, overwhelming event comes to an end.

A few notes about morning camp. We got to sleep in until 4:45. It wasn't as decadent as it sounds. Interesting things happened.

Janelle's lip swelled up overnight:















Joaquin put on a shirt:















And then he put on another:
















Yeah -- he just kept putting on shirts. It was like his own personal cycling fashion show, without need of a dressing room:



















Speaking of fashion -- I wish someone had told us it was mis-matched socks day. Both Joaquin and Kelly got the memo:















A bit of excitement going on outside camp, too (this might have been a better way to get to Sac):















Joaquin had to leave camp early, so I got to go over the route with the riders. Not much of an honor -- while I did get to tell them that it would be a fairly easy, flat "50" miles, I also had to tell them that we had to go through the same detour on the way out of town that we met on the way in: 6 extra miles.

We had kind of a long first section of the ride -- Woodland to Winters in about 23(?) miles. A long 23 miles. Emily and I took up singing again -- kind of a free-association. She'd sing something that would trigger a song for me, and then I'd take a turn. Long, flat farm roads until we finally saw the tell-tale sign of a town ahead: a signal light (what are those things called?). A quick rest stop in Winters, and we were off again. This year and last year, this stretch has been among my favorites. Both times I hopped in line behind Roger and stayed there until we got to Davis. If he went 15mph, I went 15 mph, If he went 22, I went 22. It didn't seem to matter how fast the line was going: as long as I stayed right there, I could ride with the line. I turned around and there were people behind me -- Emily took off with us at the rest stop, so I thought she was right behind me. I just pushed on ahead, Turns out, she hadn't actually left the rest stop, and her ride from Winters to Davis wasn't anywhere near exhilarating. I felt like a jerk for a while -- we'd ridden together most of the 315 miles leading up to this point, and then I just left her there. But the riding was so good, and even after all those miles, I felt like I was just floating through the orchards and back roads. [I had a little apologizing to do in Davis. Note: when apologizing to a friend who just had a long lonely boring ride, try to stop grinning about how good your own ride was.]

The rest stop in Davis was our last one of the whole four days. I was reluctant to leave because I didn't want it to be over. But I wanted to ride with Jana who I had pulled along with me on this ride, and she has been incredibly dedicated to training and fund-raising, and then she got sick on Saturday night. I thought the least I could do was ride with her across the causeway and scrape her up if she fell (she's in the middle on the steps). So off we went -- a group of 5 of us to finish the last 17 or so miles.

No spills -- and we got to West Sac just fine. By then we were 6 or 7 strong, riding down West Capitol in my little town and we pass a gas station. Here it is, a few days later. It doesn't look all that dangerous, does it?


When we passed it -- armed with our little plastic helmets and shields of lycra -- there was a big blue pick-up truck parked as though it had just pumped gas. As I watched it, it started to pull out -- kind of quickly, considering there were 7 bikes riding by (that were all slowing down to stop at the red light). I was in the front of the line, and the words came out of my mouth as they formed in my head: "LOOKOUTYOUGUYSTHERE'SNOONE
DRIVINGTHATCAR!!"

Man comes sauntering out of the gas station as his car is rolling into the street, rocking up, and rolling back into the station, then repeating the motion. We all either cleared it or stopped before it -- no injuries -- Kelly gave him a piece of her mind, and he did not seem to care at all.
No further excitement on the last bit, except that Krazy Horse, one of our motorcycles, rode a little closer to us until we got to the park.

Rolling into the park. . . everyone who already got there was standing on the last stretch of street with their hands outstretched -- high fives as we came in. It looked like we were riding into a big hug. Congratulations, hugs, kisses, slaps on the back all around. We had done it. We won. We beat the heat, the wind, the illness. And we were all smiles.

I'll do this quickly, as I'm sure I could go all day. A few photos from the park:

Me and Kelly:





Me and Emily:




















Me and Roger:




















Some people take several days to get back to their regular lives and habits. Emily had only to step onto to hard ground:

















Jeff and me and Allison:
Me and Janelle:






















So then we left the park once everyone got there
(what a fine looking group of cyclists, huh?) so we could ride to the Capitol together. It's like a victory lap. This is where I stopped photographing, and my dad started. He got a video of our riding in. You've got to give him credit for trying to find a rider that looked like me -- but he was a little dismayed when we came around the corner and all had the same jersey on.



Emily and Peter at the end:


We learned a few things that afternoon from Joaquin:

• We had 55 riders -- a record-breaking number

• The temps on the first three days were record-breaking highs

• Cyclists and Crew together went through 150 pounds of ice and 150 gallons of water every day on the first three days.
  
• As of that day, we had raised, in individual fund-raising, over $135,000.
• One of our riders, Jerry Mitchell, broke the 5-figure mark and raised over $12,000.
• In sponsorships (corporate and otherwise), we received over $70,000.
  

Since the last day of the ride, temps in the Valley have been around 75 degrees. Rarely above 80, and never even close to 90, let alone 100.

Later this summer, we will present checks to our beneficiaries -- and all the miles, and the sweat, all the tears, will transform into real dollars that are going to help real people in our community. It just doesn't get any better.

I know I've said this many times, but without all the support and encouragement and love from all of you, this ride wouldn't happen. Thank you -- many times over.