A Sweet Finish of Sweat and Tears

People crossed new thresholds today as they crossed the finish line of the ride. The picture at left includes two first-year riders, Abby (far left) and Elaine (very middle), the kind who make our efforts grow with each year. Our gallop down to that finish felt so fine. Since last year's ride was rained into a single-day event, it had been two years since I had the thrill of riding downhill for the last two miles into Austin, every stroke of the pedal carrying me closer to the cheers of the crowd at the finish line. My finish was even more exciting because Abby was riding 200 yards in front of me, finishing up a complete last leg of the ride that she thought she might have to sag through. While I yapped encouragement at her up the last of the hard hills, she cleaned her plate of courage to grind up the inclines. Angels of volunteers stood at every turn, telling us the finish line was not far, and the top of the hill was close.

The ride can do that for you: Give you the strength you were not sure you had. The hidden power comes from the spirit of supporters all along the road, at the tops of hard hills and long climbs like the one on that final leg, a finish more than six hours away from that hard Sunday morning start. While I was stuggling up the 303 hill again, Abby was recovering from a fall right at the starting line, a tough way to begin a long day of biking in wind and up hills. While she had no road rash, she came home tonight sporting some impressive bruises.


At the first pit stop my friends Ron and Steve joined me in some clowning for the cameras. There's not a one of us who's younger than 48, but we keep after each other on so many miles in training and fun rides that their spirit turns my cranks as much as any power. After yesterday's grueling start, we all felt thrilled to push off into sunny skies with virtually no wind for the first hour or so. I got to power through a 16-mile segment to dash to lunch in the early afternoon, cutting through the leg in a little more than an hour and 10 minutes. Those muscles were sore, sure, but they were also accustomed to responding to the challenge after my 50 miles yesterday. I wanted to catch up to those fellows, and Abby, who'd gotten into the "Dollywood" lunchtime pit before me:


The parking lot on Southwest Parkway couldn't have been more transformed from Saturday morning's rainy scene. The air was warm and the sun shone bright, but the brightest light on that pavement was the beaming smiles of riders and volunteers and family and friends, all waiting to welcome the riders just returning. The Ride is extraordinary among bike events I've ridden: The later you pull in, the bigger the cheers. It's a tribute based on the level of your effort, not the speed of your day. Our mantra has always been "It's a ride, not a race." Sunday's sweet reward showed how deep we hold that belief.

Then the ice water and ice cream flowed, along with the tears of unbridled joy from the first time finishers, and those whose hearts were moved along with them, like mine. Abby and I, the Duo-Tones, finished with our Elvis "Road King" socks on our feet and big grins for the cameras. Every rider got a cool bandana draped around their neck at the finish, along with a big hug from the ride organizers.

After we'd taken off our riding shoes, stretched and removed our helmets at last, we tottered back to the finish line to cheer in the later riders. The last bike that came in, along with the SAG trucks just behind it, touched off an ovation that rocketed off the office faces and pounded back onto our sunburned necks. We didn't feel any pain, the endorphins already shooting through us after the exercise.

Our physical effort astounds us when we take ourselves beyond our ideas of capability, but that work pales to the challenge of living HIV positive or surviving AIDS. Our ride was dotted with "Positive Pedalers" and those SAG angels whose hearts were big enough to help us climb Lance-class hills. It's a marvelous thing to do something so dramatic, scary and fun and have the effort inflated by raising funds and awareness.


Over these two days we flaunt a community of kindness. We'll miss the contact, a sadness that crept over me even as we loaded our camp gear and bikes into our van. I'm glad to have volunteer work to do for the ride in the months to come. I want to rub this feeling deep into my self, so I remember the scent of sweet tears mixed with sweat and burnished by loving smiles.