Not very noble intentions, I admit.  Between the fundraising and preparation and procrastination, I doubted I could really do this.  But it was a way for me to use my strength and my health to show the world that those who have suffered from this disease were not alone in their pain, and to illustrate to each person in each town we went through that there were people fighting this disease for them. 

The Day 0 started out gray.  I was tired, confused and scared.  I didn't think I had done enough training for the event (biking 6 miles to work almost everyday didn't seem to count).  And there I was about to bike 100 miles that first day!  My friend, Ryan, who had looked me up via the AIDS Ride people in Boston, had done more riding (slightly) and had a road bike. We had only done a couple of short "training" rides, one about 20 mi, another 40.

As the morning started and the ceremonies for the start of the Ride got under way, we started talking to this really cute guy behind us in line. Tim was from Pittsburgh and had learned to ride a bike just to do this. So Ryan and I quickly adopted him for the long ride to Storrs. 

The whole way there, we sang songs, ate Powerbars, drank plenty of fluids and Tim made a new friend, Craig.  I was a blubbering mess by the time we left the parking lot and began to see all the people out cheering us on.  Maybe it's because I'm a recovering Catholic, but I felt almost guilty for all the attention.  It didn't seem like I was doing anything special for anyone, I mean, jeese, people are dying, and there I was enjoying a rigorous, guided ride... 

But what I slowly realized along the Ride, was that taken as a whole, what all 3000 or so of us were doing did have a huge impact on a lot of people (and I don't just mean the traffic).  There were home-made sign on hick back-roads with a name and dates.  There was a grammar school out with their teachers yelling and waving at us all as we passed.  It took characters like Jackie-O and "Chicken Lady" to really get me to understand what we were all doing...

... I guess that says something about me, needing to listen to a man dressed as a dead First Lady and another with a fowl fetish to get the point of such a major event...

And that was all before we got out of Massachusetts.  The northwest corner of Connecticut is mostly hills, and the University of Connecticut in Storrs is perched on an awfully high one.  I had never been so exhausted in my life, not even on the worst days biking on the Italian Riviera. 

The second day was so much easier than the suicidal climb up to UCONN.  It was all downhill more or less to Long Island Sound.  The rolling hillsides of central Connecticut were gorgeous.  And a lot easier on the legs. I couldn't believe we made a pit stop at Gay City State Park. Just too appropriate!  We ran through all the theme songs to the entire ABC Tuesday night line up from circa 1977.  (Come on, you know them all too, Happy Days, Lavern & Shirley, Three's Company).  Anything campy was fair game.

Getting back to the coast was a delight. It really felt like the better half of the ride was over when I saw the waves.  Going through New Haven was a bit scary, but Bridgeport was the true surprise.  Evidently, on the first Boston/New York Ride, riders were hit with bottle and rocks as they made there way to camp that night.  But the city has been trying hard to turn itself around.  The citizens really out did themselves.  There were red ribbons on every telephone pole along the route, and there were banners welcoming us from the mayor and everyone in town.

It was a gorgeous night.  We camped by the ocean.  I spent some time after dinner by the water looking at the stars and thinking about the man I had met a year ago that night...

The next day was a quick sixty miles into Manhattan.  I swear, the last 20 were the longest, especially after we crossed the Harlem River and began making our way downtown.  But New York had never been so beautiful to me.

When all was said an done, and the four of us had found our bikes and each other, we looked at each other in awe and couldn't believe we had really done it.

And the guy I did it all for was right there waiting for me.  All the riders were herded down two sides of this one street.  I knew I had a 50/50 shot and had been panicking about seeing him.  And then, there he was, running out of the crowd with a bouquet of flowers and our friends in tow.  All I could do was cry.

For having his arms around me.

For all the friends he lost.

For all the people I'd never meet.

For all the friends I'm going to lose.

For sharing such a powerful experience with so many people.