Things I Think of Before a 300-Mile Ride in the Fight to End HIV/AIDS

Posted on September 25, 2013 by Mikola De Roo

We’re down to hours here before Braking AIDS Ride begins. I had such hopes of writing about all sorts of important things before leaving for Boston on Thursday for orientation day—what living with HIV and HIV meds can look like and some thoughts about the stigma of HIV and AIDS (which, yes, still is alive and well), to name just two. I cannot possibly do those subjects justice before the ride—I’ll be lucky if I can do them justice at all—but I did want to share some of the thoughts, serious and silly, that run through my head in the 48 hours before the ride:

I can’t believe I’m doing this. Again.
Do I have enough butt butter?
Does anyone, truly, look good in spandex cycling clothing? (Except my friend Colby. He doesn’t count. He looks good in everything. Even after riding 103 miles in a downpour, his hair looks perfect, exactly as it did at the beginning of the day. So clearly he either has a hairdresser running alongside his bike as he races along at 20mph, or he has some sort of deal with the cosmic powers that be.)
I’ve posted this photo before. This pic of me and Colby was taken right before closing ceremonies last year. In other words, after Colby had ridden 85 miles in the rain wearing a cycling helmet. It may be even better that I’m in the photo as a source of hair comparison. I mean, really, look at the coif on that man! Photo courtesy of Colby Smith.
How can I not do this? Why can’t I just do this all the time?
DO NOT FORGET TO DROP THE BLUE STREAK OFF AT BIKE SHIPPING ON WEDNESDAY MORNING.
Did I train enough? Probably not. Sigh…
Oh, man. I meant to email so-and-so to ask him/her to donate.
?!?!?!??!?!? That is a vague approximation of my amazement and astonishment at the ongoing compassion, generosity, and bravery I witness and the encouragement I receive as a result of my involvement with this ride, all season long—from people I know well, from people I know but not that well, and even from people I don’t know who have somehow connected with me about this ride and this cause. No one who knows me would ever say I’m a la vie en rose Pollyanna type when it comes to my overall assessment of humanity. I am a skeptic and a believer in most things. I see humanity as a mixed bag, with strengths and weaknesses in equal doses, and often with strengths and weaknesses being the very same qualities, depending on the situation and how those characteristics are being utilized. And yet year after year this event brings out incredible, moving aspects of people that I hadn’t known were there, myself included.
I’m so lucky. To all my unbelievable fantabulous donors out there—the long, full list of you is forthcoming after all this riding madness is over—THANK YOU AGAIN AND AGAIN! You inspire me so much, I am willing to temporarily forgo my hatred of styling a phrase in all caps. for emphasis and my dislike of the overused exclamation point. You fill me with so much wide-eyed glee, I make up dumb non-words like “fantabulous.”
What we are all participating in here, riders, crew members, and every person I’ve been in contact with because of this ride whether the person donates or not, is important. It matters and saves lives. Not that most of you need any convincing about how essential the funds raised by Braking AIDS Ride are to Housing Works and its services, but the following two bits of information crossed my path recently. I share them here because they are a stark reminder of why what my donors and supporters have done on behalf of Housing Works and its clients is heroic and absolutely needed and why we must continue to raise money and to raise awareness about AIDS/HIV as a serious health problem:

HIV status and testing are serious ongoing challenges. Most people are aware that the annual rate of new HIV infections, even here in the United States, in New York City, in 2013, remains pretty static. In addition, as I’ve written before, at any given time, about 20% of people living with HIV are unaware of their infection. Even more startling is how much that same percentage goes up when you look at teens and young adults. According to the CDC, in the United States, of people between the ages of 13 and 24 who are HIV+, 60% do not know it. I’ll be blunt: If you don’t know you have HIV, it’s likely that you are unknowingly giving it to others, and they may be doing the same, and so on. Housing Works is doing its part to try to face these challenges and numerous others head-on. HIV testing is one of Housing Works’ many medical services, and the organization is also a strong advocate for over-the-counter HIV testing.
Think HIV isn’t a problem? Think again. This terrifying statistic makes me want to run out and try to raise another $10-15K in the next 48 hours.
Funding for HIV and homeless-related services were both included in the mandatory budget sequestration.The need for continued financial support at organizations like Housing Works from the general public—whether it comes from individuals or via corporate donations—is urgent and all too real. An estimated 8,000 households that include people living with HIV/AIDS will lose housing assistance from a government program called Housing Opportunities for Persons with HIV/AIDS (HOPWA), putting them at risk for a return to homelessness. If we wait for our government to get its act together, people in dire need will be homeless and out on the street again.

I wonder what weather.com…. On a less serious note, in these last days before the ride, I sometimes let myself imagine what the ride weather might be like, what it could be like, and before I let the wish in my heart fully form in my head, I shush myself, because it would not do to Tempt the Weather Gods by counting those chickens before they… well, that’s a mess of images and aphorisms, but you know what I mean.
Speaking of chickens: Many people who do this ride, myself included, take their inspiration from the wisdom of erudite people like these:

“You must be the change you wish to see in the world.”—Mahatma Gandhi

“Never doubt that a small group of thoughtful, committed citizens can change the world; indeed, it’s the only thing that ever has.”—Margaret Mead

“If you ask me what I came into this world to do, I will tell you: I came to live out loud.”—Emile Zola

“Let us give publicity to HIV/AIDS and not hide it because [that is] the only way to make it appear like a normal illness… One of the things destroying people with AIDS is the stigma we attach to it.” [emphasis mine] —Nelson Mandela

The list could go on and on. Samuel Beckett. Eleanor Roosevelt. Martin Luther King, Jr. Etc., etc., etc. I draw energy, strength, and, I hope, greater compassion from historical figures and luminaries like those above, too, of course. But if I’m being honest, when I’m in the van on the way to Boston, or topping off the air in my tires at 5:30am on Ride Day 1, or if I’m on Mile 69 of Ride Day 2 and my ass hurts and I’m cold and wet from the rain and man, I can’t contemplate brilliant leaders and visionaries or AIDS or HIV or homelessness and who’s living and who’s dying and who’s dead already, I can’t think about any of that Deep, Important Stuff for a little while at least—in those moments, I also take tremendous comfort in these words from the 2000 stop-motion animation film Chicken Run, spoken by Fowler, the stodgy former RAF rooster:

Keep pedaling! We’re not there yet! You can’t see paradise if you don’t pedal!—Fowler, from Chicken Run

"You can't see paradise if you don't pedal!"-from Chicken Run

Rocky, the American rooster from Chicken Run who learns that helping others is as rewarding as helping oneself, learning to “fly” via bicycle. Indeed. You can’t see paradise if you don’t pedal.

Thank you again to everyone who has been so supportive throughout this journey!

And to you slackers who haven’t caught up on your email: YES YES YOU CAN STILL CLICK HERE AND DONATE!

Braking AIDS Ride Gear-Up: 2012 Snapshots from the Road, Boston to New York

Posted on September 20, 2013 by Mikola De Roo

At this time next week, I will be getting up at an ungodly hour to ride out of Boston for Day 1 and the first 100 miles of Braking AIDS Ride 2013. I am now at a point where I am making lists of the miscellaneous items I need to buy before I pack. I am less than $1,000 away from my $10,000 fundraising goal (yes yes, donations can continue to roll in! Donate once! Donate twice! Donate three times a lady! Donate here and now!). Last week, The Blue Streak got a major cleaning, a tune-up, and a new chain. I look at that bike every day and I still marvel that I’ve ridden over 12,000 miles on her, that I somehow became a person capable of logging 12,000 miles on anything without a motor. I will likely put in one more long ride this weekend and maybe a few shorter ones, but the time for hard-core training is done. I now have to enter that exciting, terrifying well of uncertainty in which my questions and doubts tend to echo loudly, and I just have to sit with them, and with my hopes, my goals, my disappointments, my strengths and weaknesses, and while letting myself feel that vast sea of all I put into and get from this ride, I also need to trust myself, trust the training, and trust that I can handle whatever the ride and the road brings me.

After last year’s Braking AIDS Ride, I did a thank-you and 2012 post-ride write-up here in late October here, mostly focusing on the closing ceremony where I had the honor to speak. But I also meant to do a second postscript, replete with select photos from the journey, which was full of torrential rain, cold, hills, tears, grief, and more laughter and love and good will than I thought possible, from myself or anyone else. But Hurricane Sandy hit New York and our neighborhood hard, and then the holiday frenzy began, so this draft of a post stayed in my blog archive, unpublished all year.

I am sharing it now because the experiences and moments captured in these images represent only a fraction of what I wish I could say every time someone asks me why I do this ride for this cause, and why the next year and the next and the next, I do it again.

Me, riding in the pouring rain early Friday morning, Sept. 28, 2012, in Massachusetts, Day 1 of the ride. I don’t always look this serious when I cycle. But I do always look this serious when I’m freezing. Photo by Alan Barnett.

Crew member Laurel Devaney, rider Jordana Swan, and me, posing at Oasis 1, on Day 1, Friday, Sept. 28, 2012. When I first wrote this caption last October, it was about the rain and the cold. But Jordana passed away unexpectedly on Nov. 3 at age 31. I wanted to keep the lovely photo up, but I thought it would be more fitting to say something about Jordana. I didn’t know Jordana well, but I rode with her on Day 3 in the morning, and she was spirited, generous, energetic. Smiling every time I saw her all weekend. I didn’t know it at the time, but it turns out she crewed on the day that she was unable to ride, and on Friday night, after all our bicycles had taken from the all-day storm, she also volunteered to help clean everyone’s bike chains. Her death is a terrible loss, and she is much missed. Photo by Alan Barnett.

Me, still wet and cold, but decidedly happier, later on Day 1, Friday, Sept. 29, 2012. Photo by Alan Barnett.

The cards and messages left for us by members of the First Congregational Church of Griswold in Connecticut, near the end of Day 1, Friday, Sept. 28, 2012.

Members of First Congregational Church of Griswold were on hand at the church to serve us fresh pie, ice cream, hot coffee and tea, and all sorts of other baked treats. Their kindness warmed the entire space. It was an amazing place to have as the last oasis before the hotel in Norwich, Connecticut, especially after riding in the freezing rain all day long. Photo by Alan Barnett.

The members of the First Congregation Church of Griswold left a wooden cross for all the riders and crews of Braking AIDS Ride to sign. The cross remained there so that the entire congregation could see it on Sunday, but it was eventually sent to Housing Works, where it remains on display. Photo by Alan Barnett.

A number of the messages on the cross were dedications to the memory of friend and fellow Braking AIDS Ride rider Kyle Spidle, who passed away unexpectedly from meningitis the week before last year’s ride. He was 32 years old. Many of us knew Kyle from his first ride in 2008; he found out he himself was HIV+, just a handful of weeks before that ride. He came out with his HIV status at dinner on Day 2, in front of over 150 people, most of whom had only known him for two days, myself included. Watching him do that was one of the bravest, most moving, sad things I’ve ever witnessed. He rode as a PosPed (an openly HIV+ rider) the rest of that weekend, and for every day of every ride in the subsequent three years. Kyle was kind, inspiring, funny, and courageous, and I think of him often. Photo by Alan Barnett.

Kyle, mugging for the camera, during the ride in September 2009. Don’t let the smile and the hot bod fool you. He wasn’t just a pretty face.

Kyle, fellow rider and a PosPed (an HIV-positive rider), giving crew member Amy Hemphill a kiss for helping him fix a flat. Kyle was the first victim of the meningitis outbreak that began last year. He died a week before last year's Braking AIDS Ride. He was 32 years old.

Kyle, giving crew member Amy Hemphill a kiss for helping him fix a flat, Sept. 2009.

Friend and rider Chris Vaughn signing the cross at the First Congregational Church of Griswold. Photo by Alan Barnett.

Jen, picking out a card for us from the basket left for us by the children members of First Congregational Church of Griswold. The card is shown in two photos below. Photo by Alan Barnett.

The card Jen picked out for us, from the slew of cards made for Braking the Cycle riders and crew by children from the First Congregational Church of Griswold, Griswold, Connecticut. Day 1, Friday, Sept. 28, 2012.

Interior message of the above card, made by one of the children from the First Congregational Church of Griswold, Griswold, Connecticut. Day 1, Friday, Sept. 28, 2012.

The front of another of the cards made by one of the children from the First Congregational Church of Griswold in Connecticut. This was the one I picked out from the full basket of messages they left for us.

The interior message of above card made by one of the children from the First Congregational Church of Griswold in Connecticut.

Friends and fellow riders Colby Smith and Chris Vaughn, Day 2, Sept. 29, 2012, also known as Red Dress Day, where the idea is, if every rider wore something red in memory of those who die from AIDS-related causes and those who live with HIV, and one took an overhead photograph of the ride-in-progress, from the bird's eye view, the ride would look like a red ribbon.

Friends an d fellow riders Colby Smith and Chris Vaughn, Day 2, Sept. 29, 2012, also known as Red Dress Day. The idea behind Red Dress Day is, if every rider wore something red in memory of those who died from AIDS-related causes and those who live with HIV, and one took an overhead photographs of the ride-in-progress, from the bird’s eye view, the ride would look like a red ribbon.

Fellow riders on the ferry, just after having climbed the infamous Mount Archer in East Lyme, Connecticut, Day 2, Sept. 29, 2012.

Fellow riders Courtney Burbela and Mason Scherzer, on the ferry, just after having climbed the infamous Mount Archer in East Lyme, Connecticut, Day 2, Sept. 29, 2012.

Me, hugging new friend and Braking AIDS Ride 2012 husband Matt Martin, near the end of Day 2, Milford, Connecticut. Photo by Alan Barnett.

Close-up of me and Matt Martin, at an oasis in Nathan Hale Park, New Haven, Connecticut, Day 2, Saturday, Sept. 29, 2012. Photo by Alan Barnett.

“Thank god! An oasis!” Me, arriving at Silver Sands State Park, Milford, Connecticut, Day 2, Saturday, Sept. 29, 2012. Photo by Alan Barnett.

Rider Claude Grazia had his girlfriend meet us at Silver Sands State Park, the last oasis before the hotel in Bridgeport, Connecticut, on Day 2, Saturday, Sept. 29, 2012. Claude’s girlfriend brought this adorable creature, who was the first to greet me and attack me with love and dog kisses and licks when I got there. Photo by Alan Barnett.

With fellow riders, about to turn the corner onto 9th Street where a crowd of applauding friends, family, and other supporters awaited us. It is entirely unclear to me what I might have swallowed to produce the beautiful expression on my face.

Sunday, Sept. 30, 2012, Day 3, New York City. With fellow riders, about to turn the corner onto 9th Street where a crowd of applauding friends, family, and other supporters awaited us. It is entirely unclear to me what I might have swallowed to produce the beautiful expression on my face.

The check for nearly $221,000 that we presented to Housing Works at closing ceremonies on Sept. 30, 2012. The actual final total was higher, as riders and crew continued to fundraise until the end of October.

Outer Cape Century Bike Ride: A Photo Essay

Posted on September 16, 2013 by Mikola De Roo

As part of my training for Braking AIDS Ride every year, it’s critical, psychologically as well as physically, for me to put in at least one century ride (a ride equaling 100 miles) prior to the ride event. In past years, I’ve tried to do at least two century rides, the first in late Jule or early August, but some years, between weather, time, travel, and the usual life-juggling factors, I’m only able to do one, and some years, the best way to get it done is to do my century when I’m on vacation. We go to Cape Cod for a week every year in early September, and I’ve taken to using one of those days to complete my century ride. I could rent a bicycle easily enough, but the more one rides, the more one is attached, emotionally and physically, to one’s own bike. So each year, we pack our two bikes into our car and drive them up to Cape Cod so we can ride them while we’re there.

The New Yorker approach to transporting two bikes up to Cape Cod: Two bike frames in the trunk, along with miscellaneous beach mats, helmets, and bike pump, and all luggage and kitchen supplies packed into the backseat. As you can see, The Blue Streak has been disassembled and stacked on top of Jen’s hybrid bicycle in the trunk of our rental car. Given the odd angles of the handlebars and the bicycle forks, it’s more of a challenge than you would imagine. Two wheels fit atop the two bikes in the trunk; the others went tightly wedged behind our seats in the car. Re-assembly is my first task upon arrival at our Drummer Cove, Wellfleet, destination.

Sadie, helping me navigate on our first morning on Cape Cod, driving from Drummer Cove, Wellfleet, to the Flying Fish Cafe in the center of town, where the world’s best scones and muffins are made. (It is a well-known fact that the Cape Cod muffin, which contains a mix of blueberries and cranberries, is the only muffin in the world I will praise openly and seek out actively.)

This year, I completed my 104-miler training ride on Tuesday, September 4. The maps below offer a visual view of my route, which began in South Wellfleet at Drummer Cove.

My starting point for my 104-mile bike ride: Drummer Cove, Wellfleet. The cottage we’ve rented for the past decade is one of about 6 to 8 small houses right next to the marsh and Drummer Cove. Tucked between Route 6 and the cove, the cottages are shaded by a copse of tall pines, so it’s surprisingly quiet and beautiful, despite the close proximity to the highway.

Map of Cape Cod. The detail of this map offers a clearer view of my 104-mile ride route, but this map gives a better sense of the overall scale and distances covered.

Map of Cape Cod. The detail of this map below offers a clearer view of my 104-mile ride route, but this map gives a better sense of the overall scale and distances covered.

Detail view of my 104-mile ride route, Outer Cape, September 4, 2013. My route began in South Wellfleet at Drummer Cove, proceeded to Provincetown and back to Drummer Cove for lunch, then down to South Dennis and back. The purple line shows my the first half of my ride, from Wellfleet through Truro to the West End beaches and dune bike trails of Provincetown and back to Wellfleet. The yellow line represents the post-lunch second half, from Wellfleet through Eastham, Orleans, Brewster, and Harwich to South Dennis and back again.

In the morning, when I left Drummer Cove, I began riding east on Route 6, the sole highway on the Outer Cape (with just one lane of traffic going in each direction for most of it), and made a quick left onto Lecounts Hollow Road to make my way to Ocean View Drive, which runs along the eastern coast and offers a cliff-/dune-side view of the ocean shoreline and the beaches of Wellfleet. It’s also a road that’s less trafficked by cars than the highway and is not only more scenic, but hillier and windier, and therefore more challenging riding terrain. At the end of Ocean View Drive, the road splits one last time, and you can either take a left onto Gross Hill Road and Gull Pond Road, heading westward back toward Route 6 and Wellfleet Center, or you can take Ocean View down a sloping hill to its end at Newcomb Hollow Beach. I did both, coasting down Ocean View, stopping briefly at Newcomb Hollow Beach to take the photos below, then turning around to climb back up the hill to the intersection with Gross Hill Road. I then headed along the gentle rolling hills of Gross Hill and Gull Pond Roads, cool and shaded by scrubs pines and red cedar trees, passed Gull Pond and back toward the highway. Where Gull Pond Road meets Route 6, I took a right onto the highway, passing the best source of fried clams and other deep-fried seafood delights in the area: Moby Dick’s Restaurant.

A foggy, chilly, overcast morning at Newcomb Hollow Beach, Wellfleet. It was just cold and windy enough that I wore my arm warmers for the first 10 miles of my ride.

Newcomb Hollow Beach, Wellfleet, morning of September 4, 2013, about 8 miles into my century ride.

The sky was overcast and gray as I rode along Ocean View Drive. It was chilly and no one was on the beach. I wasn’t sure it would clear up at all and was prepared to ride the bulk of my century ride in the rain. But the weather on the Cape can change in a heartbeat, and that Tuesday morning was no exception. The clouds burned off and by the time I made my way past Gull Pond and back to Route 6 heading east to Truro, less than 15 miles into my ride, the sun was out and the arm warmers came off. I rode on Route 6 for another 6 miles, until it meets Route 6A, also called Shore Road, which runs right next to the bay side of the western Outer Cape Cod coastline, and then I took Shore Road the rest of the way to Provincetown. It was still early morning, so town was quiet as I rode down Commercial Street from the East End to the West End of Provincetown. Once I got to the West End of town, I turned right on Province Lands Road, and headed first to Herring Cove, where I took off my biking shoes, waded into the water, and leaned over to wet my head and cool off. From there I traversed the Province Lands biking trails that wind up and down through the stretch of dunes and marsh grasses between Herring Cove and Race Point, where I stopped again to eat a power bar and rest.

Gull Pond, Wellfleet.

Moby Dick’s Restaurant, Wellfleet, from the intersection of Gull Pond Road and Route 6. Yes, the sign really says, “For a Whale of a Meal.” Don’t let that deter you if you’re ever in the vicinity. The seafood is excellent, and one entrée is great for two people to split.

The decor inside Moby Dick’s Restaurant, Wellfleet. Lots of nautical-themed curios and knick-knacks: fish, fishing nets and traps, buoys, anchors, all lit by holiday lights strung along the rafters. During my century ride, it was too early to stop for a snack, sadly—Moby’s doesn’t open until 11:30am for the early-bird lunch crowd—but we did eat there one evening during our stay. Mmmmm…. clam strips. Fried good good is good good!

Hilly terrain in Truro, from Shore Road/Route 6A.

Scrub pines and woods in Truro, about Mile 20 of my ride for the day.

Beach cottages overlooking the bay along Shore Road/Route 6A, Truro.

Truro, facing east and Route 6, from Stotts Crossing, a tiny little strip of connector road linking Route 6A, the shore road, with Route 6, the only highway on the Outer Cape.

View from Shore Road/Route 6A in Truro, facing west, back toward Wellfleet, with Route 6 in the distance.

View of rowboats on the water, along Shore Road, Truro.

Pilgrim Lake and dunes, Truro, facing east from Shore Road.

Hazy view of Provincetown in the distance, from Shore Road/Route 6A, Truro.

Another view of Provincetown, farther along Shore Road/Route 6A, Truro. The haze had burned off, and the day was starting to heat up.

The West End Breakwater, Provincetown. In the distance, to the right of the breakwater’s vanishing point, the tiny bump in the horizon line is Woods End Lighthouse.

The marshes in the West End of Provincetown.

Another view of the marshes in the West End of Provincetown.

March grasses, reeds, and dunes in the West End of Provincetown.

Herring Cove Beach, Provincetown.

Herring Cove Beach, Provincetown, moments before I waded into the water to cool off.

One of the Provincelands bike trails between Herring Cove and Race Point, Provincetown.

Overlooking Race Point Beach, Provincetown.

Sun bathers on Race Point Beach, Provincetown.

Before leaving Provincetown, I stopped at the gas station on Shankpainter Road to replenish my water and Gatorade bottles, and then I headed back to Wellfleet, riding Route 6 out of town, then picking up the Shore Road again going home, though I did take a couple of detours to do some additional hill riding along the way. One of the nice things about doing this century ride route is that after my first 50 miles, I get to stop back at home for lunch before doing the second half of it. That meant that in addition to having a delicious sandwich waiting for me, I got to snuggle with my partner and our dog for a few minutes and I had the luxury of being able to trade my sweaty, soaked-through jersey for a clean, dry one.

The remaining 50 miles were easy riding in terms of the terrain. The Cape Cod Rail Trail from Wellfleet to Dennis is relatively flat and it’s also 44 miles total, 22 each way. Because that would leave me 6 miles short of a full century and because I knew I need to put in some more hills before the day was over, I backtracked and re-did my route along Ocean View Drive again before heading to the Wellfleet entrance of the rail trail on Lecounts Hollow Road.

Unlike the rest of my route, much of the trail is overgrown with trees and offers more shading from the elements than most of the roads on Cape Cod. This turned out to be fortuitous because the weather took another 180 turn. Ocean View took me less than half an hour, but by the time I began on the rail trail, the sky was turning gray again, with heavier cloud clusters than those of early that morning. The first downpour hit when I was in Eastham, the next town over from Wellfleet. That lasted about 15 minutes and then stopped before I reached the town line between Orleans and Brewster, at about Mile 10 of the first 22 to Dennis, but the light stayed green-ish and dark, and it was clear from the strange glow cast on the pavement and on the wet trees that more rain was coming. I got to the Dennis end of the trail with no further rain beyond a few spittles here and there, but I literally didn’t have time to do more than eat a power bar and send a text message to Jen telling her I was heading back and doing my last 22 miles before the sky darkened and rumbled and a flash of lightning struck along the horizon. The sky opened up almost as soon as I got back on the Blue Streak, so I didn’t dawdle, and I pedaled like hell the 22 miles back home, tearing through the near-knee-deep puddles flooding the trail, with the rain coming down in sheets the whole time.

Cape Cod storm clouds gathering, before a deluge. The thunderstorm that drenched me all 22 miles back from Dennis to Wellfleet swooped in so fast, I didn’t stop to take out my camera, which would have gotten soaked and ruined. But the storm clouds depicted here, of another Cape Cod rainstorm, give a pretty accurate idea of what the sky looked like just before it started to pour during the last 22 miles of my century ride on September 4, 2013.

The Cape Cod Rail Trail, Brewster, on a different, sunnier day.

The Cape Cod Rail Trail, again on a different, sunnier day. Several small metal tunnels appear along the 22-mile rail trail between Wellfleet and Dennis. I include the image of this one because the storm I rode through became so severe, that when I was about to pedal through one of them, not only was it flooded, it was also occupied by more than a dozen wet people and several bicycles. One by one, cyclists, walkers, and runners had ducked into one of these metal tubes during the storm because, except for a campground area somewhere in Brewster with a hut that houses a public bathroom, these tunnels offer the only shelter on the rail trail itself. The tunnel was packed with people and I was already soaked and intent on getting home, so I didn’t stop with them, but they clearly intended to either wait the storm out or wait until the rain lightened. I rode at least another 12 miles after I encountered these folks and it poured the whole time, so they must have given up and braved the elements or stayed there, cold and wet, for a good, long time.

I was never happier than when I opened the door to our little Drummer Cove cabin. The Blue Streak and I were drenched, so I stripped out of my cycling clothes in the doorway in order not to trek water and mud and sand into the house, and then I wiped the bike down and emptied the saddle bag and hung it from a rack in the bathroom, so rainwater wouldn’t drip and pool on the floor as everything dried.

I got back home to Drummer Cove in the nick of time, it seems. The storm worsened, and pounded down on our cottage for the next five and a half hours, all through the evening. My rewards for making it through 25 miles of cycling under torrential showers were numerous and simple and full of tactile pleasures, a hot shower, dry clothes, an evening relaxing on the couch with my wife and my dog, a massage, cold beverages of all kinds (hydrating water and seltzer and juice, followed by a glass of crisp white wine), a delicious dinner of fresh seafood and grilled vegetables, and the sight of this distance on my bike odometer:

What joy: A 104-mile bike ride, completed.

The Blue Streak

my bike and I hit the road

Monthly Archives: September 2013

Things I Think of Before a 300-Mile Ride in the Fight to End HIV/AIDS

DO NOT FORGET TO DROP THE BLUE STREAK OFF AT BIKE SHIPPING ON WEDNESDAY MORNING.

Braking AIDS Ride Gear-Up: 2012 Snapshots from the Road, Boston to New York

Outer Cape Century Bike Ride: A Photo Essay

DO NOT FORGET TO DROP THE BLUE STREAK OFF AT BIKE SHIPPING ON WEDNESDAY MORNING.

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