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December 2000 Volume 3 Number 3

Commitment to Ride
In September of 1999, registration to the Inaugural Alaska AIDS Vaccine Ride benefitting the Aaron Diamond AIDS Research Center in New York, the UCLA AIDS Institute, and the Emory Vaccine Center in Atlanta, opened. By October 31st, the Ride office hoped to have 200 riders registered. Instead, they were up to 2000. Les, living in Virginia and I in NY had talked ourselves into riding as we dug up our old cycling gear and tuned up our bikes. It was the beginning of a magnificent adventure that would entail nearly a year of training, fundraising, and logistical planning.

I was excited about the Ride this year, knowing that I'd explore new territory in New York. I trained just under 1,000 miles while touring in Tarrytown, Nyack, Croton Reservoir, Cold Spring Harbor, the five boroughs, Prospect Park, and Central Park.

My first training ride was led by Barry and Robyn who kindly included me into their circle of friends. I also met a wonderful ride buddy, Lisa Frank, a breast cancer survivor who faced the Alpine climb with me. I met many others throughout the hot, humid summer days, often arising before 6:00 on Saturday and Sunday mornings to take the 4-train into the Bronx or to go elsewhere (sometimes New Jersey) to begin 50, 60, 70, or 80-mile training rides.

On lazier days, when I wanted to sleep in to 7:30 or 8:00, I'd meet Robert down the street, who rode with me for the joy of riding rather than training. We'd go to the park to log a few miles locally, and he taught me, besides Italian, how to efficiently draft - quite a useful and fun (and illegal on the official ride) skill.

When I wasn't training, I spent my time fundraising, and thanks to Lisa bribing her colleagues with candy bars, her own support and your generosity, you overwhelmed me with an astounding $4,600 in donations.

When I was neither training nor fundraising, I spent every spare moment left agreeing with Les's organization of the logistics of flying into one city and out of another, shipping my bike, buying new gear, rain gear, mosquito gear and all kinds of other gear, bringing spare equipment and parts, and post ride logistics. Luckily, Les was in charge of everything, securing places for us to stay, finding fabulous airfare, and keeping me updated about information passed along the listserv.

Journey in Alaska
Eleven months later, Les and I arrived in Anchorage on August 17, and spent the day with our old AIDS Ride buddy Jules. We met many new riders on our way to Fairbanks where Teresa and Chris, Les's cousins, took great care of us, drove us to the nearby city of North Pole for a visit, and prepared a dinner of reindeer sausage, moose burgers and Alaskan halibut.

I then geared up for what would be the most brutally difficult journey I have yet trekked. August 20, Day 1, stretched 98 miles through breathtaking countryside and ended at Delta Junction where we camped our first night. It rained all night, and through the morning. By a fluke precaution on Day 2, I tore up the plastic that bundled my sleeping bag and wrapped two pieces around my feet, over my socks, under my shoes. I covered my shoes with a pair of neoprene booties (given to me by my roommate Jennifer) to protect my feet. I wore three pairs of pants, three shirts, three jackets, two hats. Layering helped me survive the freezing wet and windy conditions that I encountered over the next 69 miles. At Pit Stop 1, hundreds offrozen riders were huddled under open tents, wrapped in mylar. Insentience, I decided to go on. My numb hands were unprotected in thin glove liners and fingerless bike gloves. I couldn't feel my hands. I couldn't feel the brakes. I couldn't feel my shift levers. Enrique offered me a pair of blue plastic grocery bags that saved my hands from severe frostbite. As I rode through snow and sleet along the lonesome road, I thought to myself, "Hani, what the hell are you doing out here?" I remembered that those who live with AIDS face adversity daily - I only had to suffer for a few hours.

Camp was based below a glacier, the last mile on loose gravel. I made it. I searched among the vast sea of tents for mine, painfully pitched by Les, I climbed inside, and then I cried. It was a combination of exhaustion, pain, minor frostbite on my fingers, face, and toes, hunger, being soaked through my six layers of clothes in freezing temperatures, and the shock of overcoming the grueling day. After about sixty seconds of crying, I got my wits about me, dried my tears and forced Les, who had his own tough day, to leave the small comforts of our tent to join me for dinner. At dinner, we listened to Peter Sebbanja, Director of Advocacy & Mobilization, Taso, an AIDS Support Organization. He told us about the impact of AIDS in Uganda. That AIDS victims lie dying on the dirty floors of overcrowded hospitals with no beds. No doctors. His brother and his brother's wife both died of AIDS, and now he is caring for their four children in addition to his own six. Virtually every family in Uganda has been touched by AIDS. Nearly one out of every ten people in Uganda suffers from AIDS. In parts of Africa, the numbers are one in three. His was a moving testimony to why I had to ride.

What was life like in camp? Well, we slept with our spandex tucked inside our sleeping bags so that in the morning we wouldn't have to put cold clothes on. We cleaned up in 18-wheeler trucks equipped with hot water shower stalls and sinks. We ate dinner under a gigantic heated tent. Some sat about the campfires or sweat lodges built by the native American Indians who escorted us along our journey. Some went for meds at the medical tents, others got massages, watched the nightly stage entertainment, or wrote in journals. The remaining four days of the ride were occasionally treacherous (head-winds, crosswinds, 20 mile stretches of gravel, grueling climbs, and rain) and often awesome (mountain views, salmon streams, rainbows, and pine forests).

On August 26, we rode into Anchorage with elation, sweat, and tears on our faces as we celebrated a victorious finish, and the net $4.1 million you raised for the discovery of a vaccine that will save millions of lives.

Thank you for believing in me, for helping me get to Alaska, for sharing with me your support, encouragement, and your excitement. For my fellow riders, thank you for being with me, for your joy, comfort, warmth, your courage and your inspiration.

Our Human Best
The ride is in large part about its people. People from all walks of life. I have met many people of courage, integrity, and beauty on the rides. Mostof all, I've met daring and passionate people who embrace and celebrate life and its limitless potential.

I'm honored and humbled to be with the 2,000 riders and crew who came together to create a special world for the six days of the Ride. It is a Utopia where strangers smile and greet each other, where kindness and compassion are palpable, and where cynicism does not exist. I have met lawyers, hair dressers, massage therapists, nurses counselors, authors, photographers, researchers, military personnel, teachers, students, executives, grandfathers, designers, aerobics instructors, accountants, computer gurus, retirees, teenagers, artists and free spirits -- people from all walks of life -- from ages 18 to 64. We eat together, camp together, ride together, and help each other. We live together for six days on common ground. It is a monumental success in the spirit of humanity. It is a magical place where we are our human best.

"Whatever you can do, or dream you can, begin it. Boldness has genius, power, and magic in it."
-Goethe

Ride for Life
Thanks to you, the remarkable researchers at the benefitting organizations can continue significant research for the discovery of the AIDS Vaccine. Nineteen million people have died of AIDS. In the next ten years, the 31 million people living with AIDS today will be dead. While they are dying, 45 million more will become infected. The numbers look wrong. They are not. Unless we discover a vaccine for AIDS, 75 million people on our planet will die in twenty years.

Thank you for your boldness and for believing. When the day comes when our children will only know the pinch of a needle rather than the pain of losing a loved one, remember that you made it happen.

For more information about the three benefitting organizations, please visit their sites Aaron Diamond AIDS Research Center, Emory Vaccine Center, and the UCLA AIDS Institute.

Last Light Note
The only bit of business I wanted to complete in Alaska, aside from the Ride, was to view the Northern Lights. My wish was granted as I flew over the mountains of Alaska, returning to New York, when the pilot announced a clear view of the shimmering red, yellow, and green lights outside my window. It drew from me emotions of miracles, majesty, and closure to my challenging yet empowering journey to Alaska. The Rides have always impacted and changed my life in ineffable ways. They free my spirit, my mind, and my soul. Thanks for letting me ride.