The AIDS Lifecycle: N’everything I thought it’d be

The total inconsistencies between these first few days set the precedent for the entire AIDS/Lifecycle. With all of the hype of years’ past, I went in expecting total bliss and came out completed frustrated.

I knew the biking would be tough. I hadn’t thought it would be masochistic. Pain radiated from my knees to my hands. Even with the padded shorts, the skin under my butt bones began to wear raw. I ended up at a “butt clinic” at one of the rest stops. Bending over in a small car while a nurse gently placed patches on my cheeks would normally add insult to injury. Instead, it just made me laugh and jump for joy when my rear actually felt better.

After defeating relentless hills, a person would stand there with pictures of loved ones they had lost to AIDS. When arriving to rest stops, I saw riders arguing with each other about rules, safety, and the need for speed. Sometimes through small California towns, little kids would hang out on sidewalks to give us high-fives. Then I would come to a stop sign only to fall over because my feet were still clipped into the pedals.

No wonder I had to seek solitude in a porta-potty while popping ibuprofen like they were skittles. My body, brain and patience for other people were being pulled in a million different directions. With each challenge came a sort of glorious resolution and with each moment of splendor came some sort of opposition.

Day six brought more redemption as we rode through the beautiful city of Santa Barbara. The second rest stop had a slutty smurf theme that got me excited to take pictures again. The city itself had set up a pretend ice cream stand for all of the riders where I continued to violate my personal dietary restrictions.

By the end, whenever I got too bitter about other riders, local gal pal and longtime rider, Randi, opened my eyes to the actual random acts of kindness still happening all around us. When we pulled into camp feeling annihilated, newly found friend Jeremy, made me feel triumphant instead. My partner Luke, and friend Isaiah, kept me laughing rather than feeling home sick. I could only imagine that if I had done this venture alone, I would have had the same experience in a completely different way.

Crossing the AIDS/Lifecycle finish line seemed almost anticlimactic. No ending could do this monstrously brilliant event justice. Did I love it or did I hate it? I couldn’t figure it out. During this one week, I lived amongst HIV activism at its most potent; yet I still found myself at odds with friends and strangers alike. I endured some of my highest highs and some of my lowest lows on this ride.

For weeks I reflected and debated all of it. But one thing remained certain: Regardless of a person’s experience with HIV or HIV status, this journey was nothing short of a personal experience of a lifetime. Every single person would undergo it differently. And therefore I could only recommend it to every person I possibly know.