Doing a trip like this is an emotional roller coaster. You have moments of pride, when you're glad you're doing something to help make a difference. (The cheering crowds in Boston and New York didn't hurt.) You have moments of joy in the riding; the sheer bliss of being out on the road on a lovely late-summer day, muscles happily moving you along. You have moments of wonder in the beauties of nature. You have moments of belonging, when you feel like a part of a grand and glorious enterprise.
You also have times of sheer agony, pushing the bike up steep hills that push you beyond your aerobic capacity. You have times when everything hurts from too many hours of pedaling, too many hours of sitting in the saddle, too little sleep. And you have times when you feel left on the outside, when you seem to be surrounded by people who all know each other and who seem to be having fun that is somehow eluding you.
There were also memorable people and places along the way. Some of the riders, especially the famous Chicken Lady (a man in drag who wears a helmet with a chicken on top), wear elaborate costumes to cheer up the ride. (The Chicken Lady, by the way, rides all the AIDS Rides.) On a sadder but inspiring note, the Positive Pedalers, a group of HIV-positive cyclists who do the rides, were out there to show up what is possible. The crew and volunteers running the pit stops also dress up and decorate the stops, and more people in costume stood along the course to cheer us on. Some of the stops featured unexpected moments of bliss, like the water-mister and massages at Mr. Jenkins' Pleasure Pit. There was a club of women motorcyclists who directed traffic at busy intersections along the way, doing a much better job of it than the police who directed traffic in some towns.
At many times during the ride (especially during Fran), I wondered why I was bothering with this. As I mentioned in my "why am I doing this" statement, it's not personal for me; I'm not honoring the memory of any loved ones. (I can't say that I don't know anyone with HIV any more, though, since I met some during the ride.) Sometimes I still wonder. I guess it's partially for the challenge to myself, and partly to try to do something to make a difference in the world.
Would I do it again? Well, I am doing it again this year. 'Nuff
said?