I (used to) Ride 545

This is a week that always brings back memories, good, bad, but always important.

This is AIDS Lifecycle week. It’s the week in which a couple thousand people get on their bikes and ride 545 miles from San Francisco to Los Angeles after raising a minimum of $3000 to support services for HIV and AIDS.

Years ago I had my left knee replaced and I knew I needed to rehab, so I said to Jerry, “Let’s do the AIDS Ride on the tandem.” He said something to the effect of, yeah, right, figuring it would never happen. While Jerry was a cyclist, I had not been on a bike in years and had never ridden the tandem that had been hanging for years in our garage.

But we started riding. First a 15 mile ride that I thought would kill me. Then 20, 25, 50 and 100+ mile rides. We would be near the back of the pack on those long Northern California hills, but speed past everyone on the downhill. I had the cyclometer in the back, so uphillI I knew when I had to give it an extra kick to keep us from falling over, and downhill to keep it secret how ridiculously fast we were going. It would have scared the crap out of Jerry.

Contrary to conventional wisdom, riding a tandem is harder then riding a single bike. Twice the pedal strokes does not equal twice the power. There is a lot of coordination and strength involved. And cooperation. There are people who call tandems Divorcecycles. We preferred to think of it as a relationship enhancer. If you are doing well, it shows on the tandem. And we did very well. I knew that if we were riding single bikes I would not have seen Jerry all day. He would be out front, riding with the Big Boys. So it was a way for us to do something together. It really did enhance our relationship. So much so that we did the ride six or seven times.

After moving to Baltimore four years ago I never really lost my ALC ties. I am Facebook friends with scores of riders, and after getting over some bad blood (that’s another story) I started donating to friends’ rides. And I always figured some day Jerry and I would do the ride again.

And then I got ovarian cancer. And I got old. And I went on PARP inhibitors. Maybe if it had been one of these things an ALC Ride would be in my future. But all three: nope. And it kinda breaks my heart. One year I was a “roadie,” what ALC calls support volunteers, and I know that is not for me. I’m a cyclist. Or at least I was. This week I managed eight minutes on my bike that is set up on a trainer. Eight minutes. Maybe next time it will be ten. And then 20.

But I think I am being realistic when I say that my days of riding 50 miles in an afternoon are gone. And On ALC that is shorter than any given day.

That is not to say I am giving up on getting stronger. I will keep walking and cycling. And stretching and climbing stairs.

Jerry is thinking that he might like to do the ride again on his single bike. I hope he does. I will go out to Califormia with him, cheer him on and he can stay with me in a hotel at night, rather than in a tent, referred to in ALC parlance as “princessing.”

And for now, I will log onto Facebook every day, look at the photos of my friends holding their bikes above their heads at the halfway point and feel happy for them. And a tad envious.

And I will try to remember that while this is my new normal, I’m alive and will add to my good memories every day. And be happy my friends, particularly my HIV+ friends, are enjoying a nice long ride.