Day Six, almost done
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layout: post
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title: "Helping hands get the job done: AIDS/LifeCycle Day Six"
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tags:
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- alc
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- alc2022
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- cycling
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---
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After Red Dress Day it's easy to think "we're almost to LA!" This part will be
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easy!" and then **BAM** you wake up at 4:15 and realize that there's almost 90
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miles until the next camp. Lompoc to Ventura is one of the most beautiful days
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along the route, taking us through Goviata pass, Goleta, Santa Barbara, and
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down the coast line towards Ventura. _Beautiful_ but not _easy_.
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---
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I also posted a [thread to
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Twitter](https://twitter.com/agentdero/status/1535224124829597696)
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for today with more pictures
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---
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When I woke up and bundled up to begin the morning routine, porta-potties,
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breakfast, change, tear down tent, gear truck, and bike parking, the air was so
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cold I could see my break in the light of my headlamp. The grass was wet, my
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flipflops got wet, my little toesies got wet, and top to bottom I was _fucking
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cold_. Shaking while I wolf down my breakfast, I would occasionally look over
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at some bear wearing shorts and a long sleeve t-shirt comfortable as can be;
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suffice it to say with my build I don't "winter well."
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By the time I had wrapped up with the morning business, I scuttled over to the
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gear trucks, discarded my jacket and proceeded along to bike parking.
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Today was the day when apparently everybody else finally figured out that being
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early to bike parking means an easier roll out and less traffic to deal with.
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As such, there were huge lines before bike parking even _opened_, queues once
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we were in bike parking, and then lots of standing around in some gopher-holed
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Lompoc field.
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A roadie told me to tighten my helmet before I left. It was tight enough, but
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there's no sense arguing with roadies who are trying to keep everybody safe. I
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pulled aside, made a show of tightening it, and then clipped in and sped off.
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Leaving Lompoc was tedious residential street cycling with lots of traffic from
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other cyclists. My training in criteriums has made it such that I have gotten
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pretty good at quick bursts of power, which came in very handy as a tool to get
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away from the packs of cyclists that would bunch up at stop signs and red
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lights. Nothing against them, there's just a much higher likelihood of
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something going wrong when you put enough moving people close enough together.
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As we left the city, the hills started to roll towards Rest Stop One. I caught
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a fast wheel and we took turns puling. He would shout "left!" as we would come
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upon slower cyclists. His tone sounded harsh, which is probably how I sound too,
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so I made a point to say "good morning!" in a cheery voice as we passed.
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"Left!" "_Good morning!_" "LEFT!" "_Good morning_!" "**LEFT!**" "_Good
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morning riders!_"
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The system was working well until I was pulling up a hill and could feel the
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front wheel sinking every time I would pump my arms. Flatted! My harshly toned
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compatriot moved along as I pulled to the side to change my tube. I cleared the
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tire and pulled the tube out of it's little box, started to unscrew the valve
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and the damn think came apart! Fortunately a Training Ride Leader (TRL) stopped
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to give me a hand, and an extra tube. While I was putting his tube into my
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tire, he kept his thumb out to try to get a pump from a sweep vehicle; I had
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already burned through one of my two CO2 cartridges.
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I didn't pay enough attention and pinched his tube, tearing it. _Fuck_. Once
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Sweep arrived with a pump, we gave my original tube a try and it was able to be
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pumped, so I asked the TRL to change the tire since we didn't have another tube
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between the two of us. He managed it successfully into the tire, and the tire
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onto the rim, and I was back in business! I thanked him and we both joined the
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column of cyclists off to Rest Stop One.
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Riding without a spare tube makes me anxious.
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At Rest Stop One the bike techs were swarmed so I didn't buy another tube, and
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instead did my routine, lined up to leave, and figured I would take my chances.
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Departures from the stop were staged because we were going to climb up the
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Goviata pass which is a strong climb following by a _swift_ descent. Sister
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Tutti was in line with me and clamored to be on the right "where the slow
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people are going to be!" I stayed left and pushed hard up the pass.
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Passing on the climbs during ALC is probably 50% competitiveness and 50%
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safety. I want to be away from people during the descent because speed
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increases the risks of somebody doing something unexpected, or stupid. My top
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speed on the descent was about 47mph, which is fast but no longer scary for me.
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Fountaingrove Parkway in Santa Rosa, which is my backyard lunchtime training
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route has me hitting between 45-50 on the downhill segments with regularity.
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The only difference is that I never have to compete with other cyclists for
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space.
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Suffice it to say, everybody made it down in one piece, and I continued to
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push hard along the coastline towards Santa Barbara. The rest stops on day six
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typically have limited bike parking, so the more people I pass, the less
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bullshit I have to contend with in the rest stops.
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50% competitiveness, 50% safety.
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Rest Stop Two was extremely foggy. Some day I'll see the coastline north of
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Santa Barbara, but to date I have not been so lucky. In Rest Stop Two I stopped
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by the bike tech and ask for **two** tubes. He hands them to me, and when I go
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to give him cash he says "uh, can you do Venmo?" "No." "Well, we can't accept
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cash...uh, can you just pay for them at lunch?" Honor system works well for me,
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so I thanked the tech and left.
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After my departure I continued my "on your left!" routine. I spotted a cyclist
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who was off to the right and asked "do you have everything you need?" "Do you
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know how to change a tire?"
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I pull over, the karma of cycling dictates that:
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* If somebody pulls you, you either trade pulls, or pull somebody later.
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* If somebody changes your tire, you better change somebody else's tire later.
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I was due. Fortunately he did have everything he needed, and was running the
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same Continental race 28s that I run, except his were _brand new_. Mine have
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had some miles put on them and they're still a pain in the ass to get off the
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rim, when they're brand new they are _incredibly_ annoying. My pretty red nails
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took a little bit of damage getting that bastard off the rim. We chatted as I
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changed his tube, he asked some questions and was obviously paying good
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attention to how it worked, so I did my best TRL impression and trying to make
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it a Learning Opportunity ™.
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Once he was sorted, I sped off into the fog. Twice now a tire change has undone
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all the hard work I had done passing cyclists!
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I made good time heading into lunch, but may have pushed myself too hard up the
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climbs since my right knee started nagging me once again. Not content with
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slowing down, I instead started to focus my stronger strokes on the left. The
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woman who gave me a massage on Day Three noted the stronger muscle development
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in the right leg, so I figured left-leg training was in order anyways.
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Lunch was...calories. But unfortunately not much to gush about, I put the
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calories down, headed to Medical for sunscreen, and rolled out.
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The Funky Monkey I met in bike parking that morning and a buddy of his left
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around the same time, and so we worked together a little bit trying to escape
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the menagerie of stop lights Santa Barbara presented. "Stopping!" Foot down,
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green light, "Rolling!", clip in, damnit, get in the clip you bastard, sprint a
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bit, settle in, well shit another red light, "Slowing!", "Stopping!"
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Lather, Rinse, Repeat.
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The route comes along the bike path right by the beach in Santa Barbara, which
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is where I can see the pier so often used in B-roll shots of "Psych", one of my
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favorite shows. Instead of Shawn and Gus, we end up having to dodge joggers,
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other cyclists, surfers, and tourists pedaling these four-wheeled pedal-car
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contraptions. I was happy to find make it to Rest Stop Three because it meant
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at least a break from the avoidance drills.
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A number of people skip Rest Stop Three, because there is an unofficial Ice
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Cream Stop hosted by Santa Barbara a few miles down the road. This is a
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mistake. Rest Stop Three is at a cute little beach side park and if it's not
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foggy, which it was, it can offer some really beautiful views to sit and enjoy
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while you eat trail mix and poptarts sliced in half.
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Of course I stopped at the Ice Cream Stop. I ate plenty and then thought to
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myself "now that I've got a couple scoops of ice cream, and a cup of berries in
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my stomach, how about a bike ride again!" There's a little kicker right as you
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resume the route which I took nice and easy for fear of losing my ice cream and
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berries. But after a mile or so I was clear to resume riding like a lunatic.
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Weaving along the coast line through bike paths, frontage roads, and
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underpasses, I finally made it to some of the scenic oceanside riding that I
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had been looking forward to.
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The views are simply spectacular. The waves crashing into the beach, pelicans
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flying together across the water, and people wading into the water. What the
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pictures won't show you is that the waves are crashing into the beach because
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there's a very strong cross wind pushing them into the coastline, that same
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wind is also pushing against _me_.
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My pace slows. My knee is hurting, my left leg is feeling tired, I'm thinking
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of Santa Rosa and just feeling a little deflated.
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Then **Eli** powers past me.
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_Fuck yes!_
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I will _never_ let a strong wheel pass me. Eli is a giant of a man. I don't
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actually know him, he just has a license plate that says "Eli." I stand at
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about 6'4" and he's definitely a few inches taller than me.
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I pop out of the saddle and sprint to catch up to him. It is not very often
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that I will catch a wind breaker like Eli, and I feel invigorated to fall into
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his draft. "Thanks for the ride!" I shout up to him. He turns his head to the
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left, revealing the gold piercings in his ear and his mustache "I just love the
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ocean."
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You know what Eli, you love it, I love it, let's hammer.
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I'm just thrilled as the dickens to have a draft to pull me along.
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Eli drags my sorry ass all the way to Rest Stop Four where I go through my
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routine. He must know lots of the roadies here because I lose him at some point
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while he's giving out giant-man hugs.
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Spirits lifted, it's something like 10ish miles to home, and I'm eager to get
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there.
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A couple miles out of the rest stop I pass a couple cycles and hear "I love
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your pace!"
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I've gotten some compliments this year, especially in my slutty red dress, but
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ones like this are my favorite. I turn back and there's another cyclist doing
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to me what I did to Eli.
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The karma of cycling dictates that:
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* If somebody changes your tire, you better change somebody else's tire later.
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* If somebody pulls you, you either trade pulls, or pull somebody later.
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It was my turn to pull, and I was happy to oblige. I turned on my phone's
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screen so that I could maintain a steady pass for us both and we sped along at
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about 21mph. My new bike friend was as happy to see me as I had been to see
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Eli, so I was delighted to pull him home to camp. Dodging tourists along the
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board walk we finally rolled into the Ventura camp, 61st and 62nd.
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Working together with a fellow cyclist makes me forget about my nagging knee.
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It makes me forget about my legs and butt sore from a long week of cycling. It
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makes me forget just about everything that isn't what is happening right now in
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the moment. Working together with a fellow cyclist reminds me how much I really
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do enjoy riding bikes!
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We chat a bit as we grab our gear. He does endurance racing, I talk about crit
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racing, we geek out on cycling a bit before I head off to the showers.
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Tonight is the last night of camp. We're 70 miles from the finish line, which
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really doesn't feel so far. 84, 109, 76, 88, 43, 88. There are 545 miles from
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San Francisco to Los Angeles and only 70 of them remain.
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The guy I finished the ride with today asked what other races/rides I'm doing
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this year. I have some ideas on that, but honestly nothing can hold a candle to
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this one.
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Tomorrow will be bittersweet.
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We will have accomplished what we set out to do. We raised the money that
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needed to be raised, pedalled the miles that we marked out for us, and made the
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memories that only an event like ALC can provide. But it will be all over.
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All over until AIDS/LifeCycle 2023.
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I can't wait.
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