The "sea of bikes" at one of the nightly campsites in McHenry IL.
The 2000 AIDS ride was an amazing experience in my life that I will always remember. At 6:30am on July 10th, 1471 riders cycled away from Concordia University, St. Paul Minnesota, headed for Chicago. Each rider had raised a minimum of $2,300 in order to participate. In addition to the riders, there were another 425 volunteer crew members. This was no small undertaking. Many thousands of people were involved.
The "sea of bikes" at one of the nightly campsites in McHenry IL.
I had very few expectations about the ride going in to it (read as I didn't know what I was doing), but I did have several hopes about it. I hoped somehow I could help others and make a positive impact, however tiny, by doing the ride. I also hoped that, somehow, I could actually complete the ride! Never having ridden more that 60 miles at a time during my handful of training rides, I had absolutely no idea if I could actually ride 500 miles. I hoped that I could "be like Mike" and "Just do it"; what the hell was I thinking?
I also hoped that somehow I would be able to raise the mandatory minimum of $2,300 in pledges a couple of months before the ride without a fund raising plan; what the #$%! was I thinking? Despite being ill prepared, I was able to ride the entire distance with the exception of 8 miles lost due to a blown tire; my thanks go to God and the makers of Advil. IN 2001 I WILL RIDE ALL 500 MILES!
The ride turned out to be an "adventure" in more ways than one. Continuing my recurring theme of "ill-preparedness", I waited until that last two weeks before the ride to figure out how I was actually going to get to St. Paul with my bike for the start of the ride. As fate would have it, no planning was "perfect planning" on my part. Through the Internet, I found a guy named Bill who had chartered an air-conditioned motor coach for the trip to St. Paul. Bill had a few seats left to fill, and as long as I could get him a check in the next few days, he would save me a spot on the bus.
Disassembling and loading the bikes on the bus for the trip.
Billy (bike crew), Bill (rider) and Bob (oldest rider).
Bill is a great guy who has been involved with the AIDS ride for a number of years. Bill inspired his family to get involved in the ride as well. Both his son Billy, and his father Bob participated in 1999 and 2000. Bill's father, Bob, was the oldest rider participating in 2000. At age 72, Bob is a real character, and an amazing and inspiring guy. Bob had a t-shirt made which he wore on the ride. It had the number 72 in the front, and the words "Oldest Rider, be gentle" on the back. I believe Bob used the t-shirt to his advantage to start conversations with the women on the ride (it worked well). Bob's goal was to ride every single mile all the way back to Chicago, no matter how long it took him each day.
Our driver Monroe, Adventure Charters.
On the bus with Bill and his family were a number of riders who had trained with Bill over the spring and summer. The night before the bus ride, most of group stayed up late preparing their bodies for the long bike ride ahead by "carbo-loading" at Bill's place. Carbo-loading is the process of consuming additional carbohydrates before strenuous activities. That night, the carbohydrates of choice were beer, pizza, and beer. When I met them in the morning, the group appeared to be in good spirits (although, possibly mildly hung over).
Saturday, July 8th 2000. After about 9 hours on the bus, with several pit stops, we arrived at our hotel in St. Paul. Bob had reserved a large suite at the hotel for the weekend before the ride. Another check to Bob, and my lodging was set.
Left to right: Billy, Christine, John, Kym, Amy, Marty, Bob, and Bill.
Sunday, July 9th. The night before the ride, the entire group ate together in the hotel suite. We all infused our bodies with the essential carbs that would be burned on Day 1. Spending time with this group of people before and during the ride was a great experience. I had only just met them, but I felt a real sense of camaraderie with the group. The evening before the ride, we all shared our reasons for why we were participating in the ride. Had I not waited to the last minute to make my travel plans, I would have never met these great people. One of the most personal reasons for doing the ride was John's. He was riding in memory of his father who had died from AIDS the year before the ride.
St. Paul, Day 1, our luggage is on the trucks, let's ride to Chicago.
Day one started out smoothly. At 6:30 am, 1470 other riders and I cycled through the streets of St. Paul. At the start, cycling through St. Paul was slow going. As you might imagine, 1470 riders all starting from the same point makes for a pretty tight pack of riders. This was probably one of the most dangerous sections of the ride because of the tight rider spacing. One of the riders crashed during this early section and was out for the rest of the ride. I would be much more fortunate.
At around mile 8, just as the pack started to separate a bit, I noticed a sharply pointed rock lying in the road just ahead of me. Little did I know that the rock had my name on it. With little room to maneuver in the pack, and only a split second to make a decision, I decided hold my course rather than risk running in to someone else making a sudden maneuver. A moment later I nailed the rock head on with my front tire at around 22 mph. In a matter of moments, my front tire was completely flat and I was pulling off to the side of the road to change it.
Thanks to my handy dandy tool bag, I was prepared for just such an occurrence. I calmly started to remove the front wheel and tire to replace the punctured inner tube with a spare from my bag. As I sat on the side of the road and changed the tube, several of the other riders stopped to see if they could help; after all, the AIDS ride is about people helping people. Confident that I would have the flat fixed in short order; I assured them that they could get back on their way.
After reassembling the wheel with a new tube and the old tire, I began to inflate it with my air pump. But as the new tube inflated, it started blistering through the side wall of the tire where the rock had pierced it. Unfortunately, my tire carcass was road kill, and I was going to have to wait to be picked up by a SAG (support and gear) vehicle. Within about 30 minutes I was picked up and taken to the next pit stop about 8 miles ahead. Once there, I was able to purchase a new tire and get on my way. Fortunately I made through the rest of day one without any further problems.
Bill, Amy, Christine, Kym, and Bob taking lunch break.
Wisconsin's dairy laborers escaping from the heat on Day 2.
Day 2 would turn out to be one of the most difficult days for many riders. I believe the official temperature was 95 degrees Fahrenheit with a 105 degree heat index. To compound the situation, day two's route would be over freshly paved asphalt on a slight upgrade into a head wind all day long (ugh!). The cows had the right idea, but we were on a mission.
On day two, the sound of ambulance sirens rang several times throughout the day. Many of the riders were not drinking enough fluids and started to dehydrate. At around the 80 mile mark, Bob almost lost it. Luckily, Christine was riding with Bob and she started to notice that Bob was "beginning to act a little loopy". As Bob put it, "she sensed my plight and started pouring an alarming volume of fluids into me". Christine and Bob rode the rest of the way together reaching camp at 8:00 pm after a 97 mile day riding in oppressive heat. Even though they had reached camp hours late, a welcoming crowd cheered them in to camp as they arrived.
Bob inspired a lot of people that day. Many riders half Bob's age didn't make it through day 2 without the help of a bus ride back to camp, but Bob was focused on riding every mile.
Bob on day 3 at the entrance of one of the rail road tunnels.
Day three was a nice break from the riding on day two. The sky was overcast, and the temperature was much more humane for riding long distances. On day three, we would ride mostly on trails with nice gently rolling grades. The trails ran on an old railroad line, now with a bed of limestone where the tracks once ran. Along the railroad line were three tunnels where we had to dismount our bikes and walk through them using flashlights to light the way.
The flash on my camera did a decent job lighting up the tunnel, which was pitch dark except for a tiny bit of light emanating from the exit.
The cooler weather was working out great until about lunchtime; that's when the sky unloaded a thoroughly soaking rain for about an hour or so. The limestone trails were totally saturated with water. By the time we reached our camp at Reedsburg, all riders and their bikes were totally covered from head to toe in limestone muck. Thankfully some compassionate Reedsburg residents had their water hoses going and invited the mile long line of riders to hose down their bikes.
The "Baraboo Ridge" on Day 4
Killer hills (ugh!)
Riding in Illinois does very little to prepare you for any serious hills; we just don't have them. Day four would really put many of us to the test. My vintage 1985 12-speed bicycle wasn't cut out for hills. It wasn't going to make it much fun to go up them; it needed some lower gears badly. In my lowest gear I did my best to pedal up these monsters at 9-10 mph, but I had to walk up a couple sections with the steepest grades. Some of the stronger "legs of steel" riders actually rode up these hills twice as they encouraged the other riders on (show offs!). By the end of day four, my lack of adequate training was really starting to take its toll on my Achilles tendons, which were now inflamed. I normally take an Advil about half way into the day to help prevent inflammation in my knees, but this was easily a three or four Advil day.
John after the rush of his high speed descent.
Going up these hills was a real pain, but the reward was the high speed descent down their back sides. John, who was probably the strongest rider in our group, recorded a maximum downhill speed of 46.5 mph dragging the brakes. He commented that he could have easily hit 55 mph without the brakes, but was afraid of the consequences of a potentially fatal accident at that speed (not that he would have survived an accident at 46.5 mph in a whole lot better shape). I hit a maximum speed of 42 mph dragging my brakes, which was more than fast enough for me. The very next day I replaced my rear tire because a blister had formed on it. The tire looked ready to blow; thankfully the tire stayed together on those downhills on day four.
These picture scans hardly do justice to the beautiful Wisconsin scenery on Day 4.
Stopping to "smell the roses" on Day 4.
Riders washing their riding clothes at the "mobile Laundromat", next to the mobile showers.
By day five, my daily regimen on the ride was becoming old hat for me:
Christine, Kym, Bob, Bill and Billy enjoying a well deserved dinner on Day 5, complete with Starbucks frozen-frapa-yuppie-treato.
Our nightly luxury accommodations: a maze of around 900 spacious two-man tents.
The "sea of bikes" at night.
Helmet, $20. Cheap sunglasses, $5. 10-year-old sweatband, fully depreciated. Memories of meeting "the Birdman" on day 5, priceless.
You run in to a lot of interesting people on the AIDS ride.
In many communities, the residents came out to cheer us on and help us out, each in their own unique way.
Some residents brought us freshly picked apples from their community; others put out sprinklers in the street to cool us off. Some kids in one neighborhood gave out free lemonade, provided a refreshing squirt from their garden hose upon request. People do still care in this world; I was surprised at the great people we ran into in some of the smallest towns in Wisconsin.
Group hugs all around from my three sons:
Mikey, Joey and Anthony.
On day five we arrived back Illinois. My family came out to our nightly camp in McHenry that evening to surprise and wish me well.
Day 6, the home stretch, from McHenry to the north shore and sweet home Chicago along the lake.
Along the ride, people kept adding adornments to my bike helmet (partially visible in the picture above). Secure in my "manliness", by day six I was sporting a smart looking helmet full of smiley stickers, two antennae made out of those fuzzy pipe cleaners, and a several stick-on creatures.
Day 6, through the streets of Chicago to Grant Park, 500 miles, we did it!
Day six brought an end to a very memorable life experience. Along the way I met a lot of genuinely wonderful people that I felt privileged to ride with, and a lot of very nice people in small towns you've never heard of. The ride culminated with a moving reception in Grant Park. During the reception, a group of HIV positive riders walked a "riderless" bicycle through the streets for a rider who participated in the previous year's ride. He had finally lost his life to the AIDS disease.
My own welcoming committee: Anthony, Mike and Joey.
At this point my body was ready for it all to end. I also must admit, the thought of sleeping in my own bed and not waiting in line for the port-a-potties was extremely appealing by day six.
Bill celebrating at the finish in Grant Park on Day 6.
Although I was glad to finally be finished, I knew I'd miss the experience of riding with such a great group of people. Bob, the oldest rider, had met his goal of riding every single mile. He rode all 500 hundred, including all of the killer hills on day 4.
Thanks to those who supported me in 2000 and again in 2001.
Patrick Montelo
Rider #2079