I arrived at the cow palace pavilion today along with 2,154 other riders and hundreds of other support staff. I watched as a passerby the excitement of the riders all geared up, the anxious anticipation of the ride-out of San Francisco, and the celebration of the opening ceremonies. And as I continued walking by to pile into the roadie van and not be able to experience any of that first hand, I felt pretty sorry for myself.

I sulked the entire ride to our lunch stop and tried to act like I was thankful that I wasn’t riding in the cold, drizzly weather over insurmountable hills; but I really wasn’t.

During the day, we set up and served lunch to thousands, along with parking, medical, bicycle repair, massage, and chiropractic; all to a 50’s rock ‘n roll theme complete with poodle skirts, juke boxes, and ‘57 Chevys.  As riders thanked me for my support, my mood began to change. Although working hard, I had fun and saw lots of friends.

At the end of the exhausting day, we closed up the stop and headed to camp. On the drive there we passed the tail end of the cycling pack.  What I saw put everything into perspective. I saw people who you wouldn’t normally think of as young, or fit, or athletic, or even cyclists; trying there hardest to make it, and they were struggling. To be at that point in the route at that time, they’ve been struggling all day long, but they kept going. The were determined to make it. I could see the reason why they were doing the ride in each slow pedal stroke, every few yards closer to the day’s destination. It made my feelings of disappointment seem insignificant and selfish. These are the real AIDS Lifecyclists. Those who aren’t doing it for themselves, because no one would choose that kind of struggle, but are doing it for others.