65.6 miles, 4:22 riding, ~7 hours total

Today started out rather chilly and overcast in King City – cool enough that I was happy to gear up with my arm and leg warmers, and it didn’t look like I was alone in making that decision.

About ten miles in to the ride, we tackled the biggest climb of the event: a hill nicknamed “Quadbuster” and earned that leg-draining reputation. This hill, a 12% grade at its worst, stretches on for 1.3 miles. I barely made it to the top, but I would have been in good company – a good third of the other riders walked at least some part of it, and three of my teammates had to stop and rest before the summit (though one of them did so on a foolhardy second trip up).

After that, it should have been smooth sailing, but that wasn’t in the cards. Though today’s route was relatively short, it was mostly a gradual push uphill along poorly maintained roads and against a light tail-wind. Any good forward momentum was obliterated almost immediately, making today just one long fifty mile slog after a leg-crushing climb.

Despite the horrible riding conditions, life on LifeCycle was still amazing. Lunch came in a small town, Bradley, that all but dried up when Highway 101 was routed around it. However, since AIDS/LifeCycle generally sticks to backroads, it ends up going through Bradley, and the residents have taken notice. For years now, Bradley has thrown a huge barbecue on the day we pull through, raising money for its school system and public works. It’s very cyclic; riders like me took donations to ride and then turn over some cash to Bradley; enough that all of their annual fundraising comes from AIDS/LifeCycle Day Three.

If Bradley wasn’t enough, though, Rest Stop Four (theme: Price is Right, complete with a live action Plinko setup and dance routine by “Barker’s Beauties") was stationed right in Mission San Miguel, and we passed a bucket for donations to help fund that mission’s renovation.

My spirits were raised, but today for me was a day we were warned about: the day we hate what we’re doing. For me, it came in around mile 50. I wasn’t making any headway, I hated my bike (I’d had a flat repaired at Rest Stop Three (France)). I hated that I had gotten so separated from my teammates. I hated the other riders that were going too fast or too slow for my tastes. I hated the crappy conditions of the roads. I hated the very act of riding my bike.

Once I got to camp, things changed a bit. We joked around with Derek, one of the gear crew. I took a shower. My mother, aunt, and uncle popped in to wish me well and take me out for a wonderful dinner. And now I’m stretching my legs and not feeling like they hurt so bad anymore.

Tomorrow: Santa Maria, and the Evil Twins