Day 1, NorCal AIDS Challenge, 2009

May 14, 2009
Mileage: 93.91

This morning started off one of the best year's of the Nor Cal AIDS Challenge yet. I've pasted some photos below, intending to capture bits of the day as well as try not to overload you with boring little snippets that were really only interesting 1) at the time and 2) after hours of riding.

This year was particularly fun for me as I have started (continued?) collecting my friends around me for this Ride. It's been one of the most amazing experiences for me and I'm so glad that I've been able to share it with people I care about (and have the most fun with). This year, among several others who I won't list here, a couple of friends I've known since law school responded to my desperate plea that we needed more "crew." They both signed up, raised their money like champs, and got ready for an adventure.


KC brought her very fancy camera that creates camera-envy in us all and took hundreds and hundreds of photos. Some of which you'll see below. Most of the photos are mine, but it's pretty easy to tell which are not: her camera is better.


We all milled around at Folsom Lake getting ready to go -- the nerves were like those little bouncy balls you get out of a machine for a quarter. Almost half the riders this year were new to the ride. That's nearly 30 people who didn't really know what they were getting themselves into. The rest of us were just hoping it wouldn't be as hot and windy as last year.


A few photos before we headed out on the road.


Here's Ron, Me, and Jen -- a small percentage of the West Sac contingent. I was hoping that they would not be silently throwing daggers at me after it was all over, as I'd convinced both of them to sign up this year (their first).


Ron and his wife Christine, who lovingly got up to drive him to Folsom. Next year, Christine will be with us one way or the other.

KC, one of the aforementioned friends. I only post this photo because I missed the whole conversation that led up to KC doing whatever she is doing here. I'm hoping someone will finally explain. I think it has something to do with the first day being "Super hero" day for the crew. Maybe she's "BankRobber Man."
Team Heathers. We signed up as a Team for no reason other than joking around about our Team, and Bronwyn spending hours finding a photo for our Team site. From left to right, the Heathers (named after the movie of the same name) are: Bronwyn, Heather (the Mascot -- ha ha), KC, Emily, and Steve.
Nearly 60 riders ready to go. I think if you click on this photo, it's a better view.
Joaquin, Cyclist Conductor Extraordinaire.
Waiting to take off. Just after this, we looped around the Folsom Lake parking lot, and headed out for our first 90+ mile day. It was nice and cool in the morning (notice lots of us are wearing jackets, unlike last year).
First flat! Nancy (I think) got a flat as she was coming out of the Beal's Point (Folsom Lake) parking lot. Rest assured, she had LOTS of help.
Kelly riding and smiling on Day 1. This is our 3rd Challenge together. Go Kelly!
Coral feeling the love. This is Coral's second challenge.
Thug and Zephyr (left to right) -- two of the Sisters of Scota -- the motorcycle group that keeps us safe and on track. They were both fabulous this year. At one point, I was riding on my own about 85 miles into Day 1, knowing I had less than 10 miles to go, but really ready to quit. Zephyr came up beside me and paced me on her motorcycle -- I imagine that's no small feat as I was probably going not more than 18mph. She started talking to me and I could barely hear her through her helmet and she could barely hear me, but we chatted for a bit, I think about the crop-dusters, and then she went on. About 5-6 miles later, I saw her parked on the side of the road, which means there's a turn up ahead. They park at the turns and point for us. I nearly cried when I saw her parked up there -- I knew that once I made that turn, it was only a couple of miles and a few turns to camp. And I was so ready to be done. Thank the lord for the Sisters.
Jeff Harry being Jeff Harry. You can take the boy out of Nebraska, but you can't take the Nebraska out of the boy.
The evening programs this year were a little different, and the first night set the tone for the rest of our four days together. We usually do a little talk, give out prizes (for ridiculous things that happened that day), discuss the follow day's highlights, and then call it a night. Short and sweet.
This year, we had a couple of people speak who are recipients of the services our beneficiary agencies provide as well as a doctor whose practices consists largely of HIV+ and AIDS clients. Jonathon, below, spoke first. He talked about his diagnosis, his loss of community, the challenge of coping with the knowledge of HIV+ status and what CARES does for him. Part of what CARES focuses on is the source of the infection, in addition to treating the infection. So, for example, they have drug and alcohol treatment programs for their clients. Jon talked about how he has regained a sense of community, found a fabulous partner (fellow Rider, Travis), regained his health, and how he now tells his story through a variety of speaking engagements in order to educate people about AIDS with an eye toward prevention. Tears abounded.
Then Clyde got up. I don't even know how to explain Clyde's talk. I think someone was taking notes, though I don't know how because surely he couldn't see through all the tears.
Clyde was diagnosed about 8 years ago. He ended up with full-blown AIDS. Doctors told him they couldn't do anything and he began waiting around to die. He was homeless, alone, and dying. He found Breaking Barriers through their homeless-outreach program (or rather, they found him). BB brought him him, found him housing, got him hooked up with services, medical care, and support. Clyde let the rope BB offered slip through his fingers. He was back on the street, engaging in all the same activities that got him there in the first place. Again, BB pulled him back in, found him treatment and a community of support.
He let go the rope.
Several months later, he walked back into BB and said, "I f-ed up again." They took him back. They found him treatment and community. He said that Craig, who is on our Board, Organizing Committee, and the Executive Director of Breaking Barriers, opened his doors and his arms to him every time Clyde came back with his tail between his legs.
This year, Clyde rode 330 miles (or close to it, anyway) with the NorCal AIDS Challenge. He raised over $1700. When he met his minimum, if checks came in, he requested they be applied to someone who was having trouble with the fund-raising part of the Challenge.
What struck me about Clyde's story, in addition to the story itself, is the unlimited compassion that Craig (and his staff) must have. To welcome these folks back time and time again as though it were the first time. To open their hearts each and every time, knowing that all the work they put into each person only goes as far as the recipient will take it. It's just astounding.

Night one: I won a prize! Here is not such a great photo, but a funny story. At each rest stop, we have to take off our gloves and wash our hands before we're allowed to have any food. Each rest stop, it's the same thing: park bike, gloves in back right pocket, wash hands, eat oranges. Same thing -- 4 rest stops per day. One rest stop on Day 1, I was doing my thing, getting ready to get back on the bike, and saw my gloves sitting on the table near the hand-washing. "Hm," I thought. Picked up gloves, started walking toward my bike. Jana yells over, 'Hey Heather, have you seen my gloves?' "Nope!" I respond. And chat with Thug, then back to it. As I'm riding away, I feel a lump in my right pocket. Weird. I know exactly what's in each pocket -- why is there a lump.
Gloves.
My gloves.
What's on my hands? My gloves. Or gloves that look EXACTLY like mine. I sort of remember commenting to Jana at some point that we have the same gloves. I turned around and headed back to the rest stop, back to where Jana was frantically looking for her gloves so she could get going. Aye.

Emily entertaining the troops before some shut-eye.

Me and Clyde before bed. Also Mindy, Doug, and Ken S. listening the concert (right to left, of course).

All-in-all, a good day.

And then . . . a little sleep and up at 5 a.m. to do it again!

Regain your youth in 40 minutes (or less)

Last Friday I got to enjoy another stress-inducing "Furlough Friday" -- a system whereby I "get" a day off as a reminder that my paycheck is cut 10%. It's fun. Last week, I used the extra day to take an extra nap, look around my house and think about cleaning it, but not actually clean it, watch a movie (what are the symptoms of depression, again?), and go to the Friday morning Water Aerobics class at the gym.


The back story is that I've been wanting to swim, because the Rec Center where I work has a great outdoor lap pool (it also has a kick-a$$ water slide and "activity pool") and because it's such a great workout, especially for someone who can't really swim. I dug out my swimsuit, which I'm pretty sure was purchased during the first Clinton administration, put it on, and found it doesn't really fit and its elastic wasn't really functioning in some key places. Of course, who could possibly go into a pool with a baggy swimsuit that may, or may not cover the right places? So I spent my time searching for the 'right' suit rather than swimming. A couple weeks later, I have a suit and new excuse: I haven't swum a lap for at least 6 years, maybe more. What if I get in the pool and look like a doofus? What if I can't make it all the way across? What if there's some pool-etiquette whereby I should know what type of stroke to do at what time? Yeah -- I know what you're thinking: these are all valid concerns, and I should stick to the bike!


While I'm wrestling with these very important decisions (you know, in comparison to the state of the world), I checked out the group exercise schedule to see if there's a time I could go to kick-boxing or yoga or pilates. Before my eyes appears "Low Impact Aqua Aerobics" Fridays from 9-9:40a. My first thought: how the heck could water aerobics be anything but "low impact?" Whatever.


Here's my chance -- get in the pool for water aerobics (whatever that is), and then blend in and swim a couple of laps. Brilliant.


I walked out to the pool, the water's warm, the sun is out, the class is starting to converge. On average, I was the youngest person in the water by about 25 years. Maybe 30.


Notice anything about these folks floating on noodles while dancing around in the water?


Yes. They are all retired. This wasn't my class -- I just found this photo online. I don't think it would look very good to go to a class for the first time and starting taking pictures of the participants.

You can make fun of me for going to water aerobics -- I don't mind. But someday, when you're feeling old and out of shape, I highly recommend you try it out. How often to you get to play with toys in the water as an adult?
I rest my case.

Next up: Bingo at the Senior Center!
(Just kidding).

Since the class, I've ventured out into the pool again to swim a few laps. A good start.

Edge of the continent

On Saturday, my new roomie Bronwyn and I joined the Mountain Tribe group for a hike in Pt. Reyes in Marin -- up to Mt. Wittenberg, the highest point in the Pt. Reyes National Seashore.
There were about 14 people in the group and we set out in the chilly, foggy, coastal morning.
A Great Blue Heron came through to hang out and listen to Bob's opening remarks. A "great" way to start the day.

I thought this sign was kind of funny. There are a couple of reasons why, but none of them sound very funny when I try to say them outloud.
The group starting out. Bronwyn and I stuck with them for a while but when we realized that we could hike 2-3 times as fast and that we (read: she) wasn't worried about alienating the group by ditching them, we got in front and headed up the mountain, stopping at every junction to wait and get our next direction.
You know what poison oak looks like, right? Here it is. Bronwyn claims to have a natural immunity, the opposite of me, but that's why I wear long pants to hike in.
I guess I could have edited this photo a bit. It's a buck that was hanging out in a field as we waited at a sign. Didn't seem to mind us at all -- just went right along his grass-eating business.
The haunted forest. I realized this photo is fuzzy. This is how it turned out without the flash on, but is a more accurate representation of how the forest looks, with its dead trees and spooky ambience.
This photo is not fuzzy, but the flash completely changed the look of the forest. Lovely even when lit up, methinks.
B & I took about 25 pictures trying to get one where we didn't look weird or scary or just plain ugh. B thinks she has freaky eyes in this one, but I thought it was cute.
All by myself in the forest. Bravely smiling.
At the top of Mt. Wittenberg (a never-ending climb up -- great for someone who is obsessed with her heart rate monitor), there's this medalion that the u.s. geological survey people put up there. Climb climb climb and we came to no view, save this medalion. Hmm. We didn't even know when we'd gotten to the top because the trees are so thick and the trail just sort of opens up and eventually loops around.
Heading out to Arch rock, we kept getting glimpses of the coastline -- cloudy, still, but lovely just the same.
Made it. The edge of the world.
Apparently there are lots of sea canyons that one could explore -- especially at low tide.
Lunch time. Pull up a chair.



The road back, looking out toward the coast.

All in all, it was about 10-12 miles (I saw Bob, our hike leader, today who guessing it was 12 miles). I commented to Bronwyn that it was like going out and walking nearly a 1/2 marathon, with no real training (hence my toe blister), with gigantic hills, both up and down, uneven terrain, and a backpack with food/layers of clothes/water. If we had put it that way initially, we probably wouldn't have been all gung-ho about doing the hike. As it was, it was just 'going for a hike' some Saturday.

It just might be the Most Beautiful Bike Ride

This past weekend, I road my bike around Lake Tahoe in "America's Most Beautiful Bike Ride." For the last 2 weeks, I've been anxiously watching the weather reports. Actually, a lot of what I've been doing, I've done anxiously. That's another story.
Last Wednesday night in Sacramento, we had an unbelievable rain storm. Thousands of lightening strikes, rain, hail, thunder all night. No one got any sleep. Amazing. I laid in bed from about 4-5a.m. watching the near-constant lightening.

Naturally, the storm made me a little nervous for the weekend in Tahoe. If it's raining down here, I can only imagine what's up there (West Sac is more or less at sea level -- I think the elevation here is 15 feet and 25 feet in Sacramento). I didn't really have to imagine, given modern technology, I could obsess! Check the weather pages daily, hourly, for updates. On Saturday, my Tahoe-ride buddy called and said it was snowing. Luckily, my weather-buddy showed up and I tapped her for all weather-related information. I guess when you're getting a master's in Weather (I know, I really should know what she's actually studying, but I never remember), you have access to lots of fancy weather pages that normal people don't (or don't know about). She said that rather than 38 degrees at the 7a.m. start time, it would be closer to 50 degrees in South Lake Tahoe. 50 degrees is colder than I'd like, but totally doable. I packed all my 'winter in Sacramento' riding gear and headed up the hill.

[I'd like to officially apologize to anyone who had to hear my rants about the Weather. While I don't like riding in the cold/rain, it's a good reminder to take some deep breaths and see what comes.]

A few shots from my [actually Trish's that she was kind enough to share with me] hotel room on Saturday evening.
Wet with looming clouds -- but from the room, we could see the lake, which was pretty cool.

Bike inside and ready to go.
Pile o' readiness.
Here we are starting off. Cold and cloudy, but not raining and not 35 degrees. And smiling. So that's good. This is about the time where I told Trish that it's time to stop saying she's 'not a cyclist' -- seems to me, she's doing it. I found out later that this ride is something Trish has wanted to do since she was 12 or 13. Pretty cool.
Self-portrait while waiting to get going (where is Jana??).
Jana showed up -- with a flat. New record for getting a flat: before even starting out. She got a new (used) bike, and had an amazing ride -- especially after the nice, young Aussie bike-tech fixed the flat for her.
First view of the lake as we made our way back into California (starting point was in Stateline, NV).
Top of the climb at Emerald Bay. A daunting climb, but everyone kicked butt going up this hill.
Here's the elevation map -- the Emerald Bay climb is that first one. The top, in case I shrank it too much to see, is at 6828ft.
Self-portrait at the top of the hill. Just after this, I saw Jana coming up, climbing strong, and the Trish behind her. What a great group of strong riders! Trish got to the top and took off some layers. I have a personal rule about not taking layers off at the top of a hill -- if I'm going to take them off, I do it at the bottom. Very hot climbing up, not so hot going down.
The bathrooms. Of course.
My bike hanging out antsy to get on the road.
And then Trish said we should go check out the "Vista Point" -- and what a vista it is.
Me at the vista.
Okay. So here we all are struggling through a 72 (or 100, for some) mile ride, thinking the going is tough. this guy reminded me of that saying, "I cried because I had no shoes until I met a man who had no feet" (or, as the print hanging in my dad's room throughout my childhood said, "I cried because I had no shoes until I met a man who had no class."). This guy is riding Unicycle. One wheel. Enough said.
When I was a kid, we lived in Chicago. I have fond memories of my best buddy Claire and jumping the "waves" in lake Michigan no matter the time of year. As we sat shivering at the lunch stop watching the clouds roll in, we saw these kids walking into the water. I remember the set of 4 parents commenting that Claire and I must have been cold-blooded. I didn't know what that meant, and sort of thought it set me apart as being special -- now I understand they were making fun of us and marveling at the very crazy girls going into the water.
These kids must have been numb.
"There's a storm across the Valley; clouds are rolling in. The Afternoon is heavy on your shoulders."*
Clouds coming in at the lunch stop:
Hmmm. What should I wear today? Spandex or a clown wig? Hmmmm.
Back in Nevada toward the North side of the lake.
Two states!
Trish coming in at the top of gigantic hill #2 -- Spooner Junction. Riding like a pro.
Again: the elevation chart.
Spooner junction is after an 8-mile climb. Not particularly steep, but quite long. And when you get to the top, you're at over 7,000 feet. I was feeling a little woozy at the top and because I had totally ditched Trish (sorry, Trish!) on the hill, I had some time to un-wooze before the screaming fast downhill (my max was 40mph, and I'm guessing it happened on this hill).
Everyone said that from mile 60 to mile 72 (the end), it would be downhill. They totally lied. Those hills on the last few miles that you can see on the profile are only small as compared to the Spooner hill. They didn't last long, but they were pretty unbearable because everyone was pretty dang sick of the up and down all day long.
You can tell I didn't take this photo because 1) I'm in it and 2) it has great color quality. KC came out for the end of this ride, which was pretty dang cool of her. She also caught me with a big smile at the very end. That's Trish right ahead of me.
We were standing around at the end and a helicopter came in. I'm really hoping it was for show. In the first 5 miles, we saw an ambulance and fire truck, and then saw a rider down. It looks like he fell and might have broken a shoulder or collarbone (just guessing from the way he was lying there). And then the helicopter at the end.
There but for the grace of god go I. Maybe I should pray more.
KC got a better shot:
I never did hear what happened.
Me and Trish at the end. I think the clown (above) modeled his wig on my hair. I love the big smiles here -- what a fabulous ride.
Thanks to all the nice riding folks out there, Trish, and Jana, KC for coming out, and everyone's encouragement. Also many thanks to about 75% of the riders who were from Team in Training and who had raised a lot of money for the Leukemia Lymphoma society -- very inspiring to see their jerseys (I guess I didn't get any photos). TNT riders came from all over the country and they all had their location printed on their jerseys -- pretty fun to see the geographical diversity.

*John Denver, Back Home Again

Wanna Ride Bikes?

Cycling Language Translations

Cyclists are the biggest sandbaggers and secret trainers around. They'll say anything to soften you up for the kill. Don 't let this happen to you. Study this handy rider's phrasebook to find out what they really mean when they say:

"I'm out of shape"
Translation: I ride 400 miles a week and haven't missed a day since the Ford administration. I replace my 11-tooth cog more often than you wash your shorts. My body fat percentage is lower than your mortgage rate.

"I'm not into competition. I'm just riding to stay in shape"
Translation: I will attack until you collapse in the gutter, babbling and whimpering. I will win the line sprint if I have to force you into oncoming traffic. I will crest this hill first if I have to grab your seat post, and spray energy drink in your eyes.

"I'm on my beater bike"
Translation: I had this baby custom-made in Tuscany using Carbon Fiber blessed by the Pope. I took it to a wind tunnel and it disappeared. It weighs less than a fart and costs more than a divorce.

"It's not that hilly"
Translation: This climb lasts longer than a presidential campaign. Be careful on the steep sections or you'll fall over -- backward. You only have a 39x23 low gear? Here's the name of my knee surgeon.

"You're doing great, honey"
Translation: Yo, lard ass, I'd like to get home before midnight. This is what you get for spending the winter decorating and eating chocolate. I shoulda married that cute Cat 1 racer when I had the chance.

"This is a no-drop ride"
Translation: I'll need an article of your clothing for the search-and-rescue dogs.

"It's not that far"
Translation: Bring your passport.

Live Free or Die

New England is pretty neat-o. If it didn't get so friggin' cold, I might migrate.

http://www.nytimes.com/2009/06/04/us/04marriage.html

New Hampshire Legalizes Same-Sex Marriage
By ABBY GOODNOUGH
Published: June 4, 2009
New Hampshire’s governor signed legislation that makes the state the sixth to allow same-sex marriage.