From June 30 to July 6, 2002 I rode with over 600 other cyclists from Amsterdam to Paris in order to raise awareness about the AIDS epidemic and to raise funds for vaccine research. The ride was organized by Pallotta Teamworks who pioneered the concept of venture philanthropy. Their motto is "I'mpossible" and they design events to challenge participants in more ways than just physically.
People participate in an AIDS ride for a number of reasons. Some ride because they are HIV positive or they know someone who is. Some because they have lost a friend or loved ones to the virus. I rode for three reasons: this was a good cause, I was up for the challenge, and Amsterdam to Paris was just too good to pass up.
For most participants in an event such as this, things get underway months in advance. For me it started in February when I went through an orientation and plunked down my non-refundable registration fee. I was now on the hook to raise $5000 and to get myself into shape to ride an average of 80 miles a day for 7 consecutive days. I tried hard to convince one of my buddies to come along but when he saw the promotional literature advertising the ride as "a vocation not a vacation," he took a pass.
Pallotta provides tremendous support for its participants. They organize training rides, have message boards, fund raising suggestions, personal web space, etc. As I had WCC rides to get me in shape I did not go on any of the training rides. I anticipated that raising the money would be the biggest challenge. I was wrong. After only three days of canvassing my senior colleagues at work their generous contributions put me well over the limit.
As I was on my own, when I received an e-mail suggesting that local NY participants get together for a drink, I jumped at the opportunity to meet some of the people that I would be riding with for 7 days. The drink was a lot of fun. At the end we decided to create "Team New York" and I met Joseph who would end up as my tentmate.
The only logistics that you have to worry about is getting yourself and your bike to Amsterdam and then home again from Paris. Pallotta took care of the rest. Around 200 volunteers made sure that we were well cared for along the road. Tents were supplied. Port-a-potties were abundant. Trek technicians were there to help with mechanicals. There were plenty of food stops along the route and chow at camp. Yvonne came with me to Amsterdam. We got there a couple of days early to play tourist and party with Team New York. She would go on to London from there and eventually meet me in Paris.
The ride began on Sunday the 30th of June, 2002 at the Amsterdam Convention Center. After a moving ceremony that featured a riderless bike we were on our way to Arnhem. The first day was a flat 92 mile ride. The weather was iffy -- it looked like it was going to rain so I didn�t dawdle. This, in retrospect, was a mistake as the weather that first day was the best that we were going to have on the whole ride. The scenery was magnificent. We passed canals and windmills riding mostly on well maintained bike paths. Holland is about the most bicycle friendly place that I have ever visited.
Day 2 was the longest day of the ride, 112 miles from Arnhem to Brunssum. The rain that was threatening the day before had arrived. It was cold and it was wet. As this was July many riders came equipped only with shorts and short sleeved jerseys. Lunch was 45 miles into the ride at a 12th century castle. By this time so many riders were beginning to get hypothermia the first aid crew broke out mylar blankets. This was a theme that would be continued the rest of the ride. (There were even a mylar fashion show one evening!) I got my first flat, there would be 6 in total, and some minor road rash on my chin. We crossed into Belgium at the 87 mile mark and at about a hundred miles, I decided that the Pallotta rule against drafting was unreasonable and hooked up with a fast paceline. I would ride on and off with different groups for the rest of the trip.
From Brunssum we rode 87 miles to Namur. Each day we received a detailed queue sheet. This was for the most part unnecessary as the road was very well marked. Day 3, however, you did not really need either. All you had to do was ride into the wind each time you got to an intersection and you would have arrived eventually at the Citadelle. This was a magnificent old fort overlooking the city of Namur. Of course, overlooking means that there was a hill involved (short, steep, and wet as it had just rained). The ground was too hard to set tent stakes so this was one of two nights that we would all sleep together in one big room.
Day 4 was the hardest. It was only 71 miles to Charleville-Mezieres, however, conditions were miserable and to make things worse there was a 4 mile long hill affectionately nicknamed "the quad-buster". As it was cold and raining hard from the start, I decided not to mess around. The descent from the Citadelle was harrowing, the roads along the route had no shoulder and big trucks were whizzing past. At the first stop, I picked up a rider from Atlanta and he sat on my wheel for most of the rest of the ride. At the 32 mile mark we crossed into France. We stopped a couple of times at cafes to warm up. At the last stop he went to look for a hotel room. I kept on to camp and was the 5th rider in. Our bags had not even been unloaded from the trucks yet. I was soaked and my feet were numb. A very kind volunteer offered me her polar fleece and a hot chocolate. All evening long as riders arrived, everybody stopped what they were doing and cheered. Two of my teammates, who had decided to take a break and sagged in, did the most selfless thing you can imagine and earned the gratitude of the whole team. They rounded up all of our wet gear, took it into town, washed and dried the whole lot.
In France with rolling hills, day 5 took us to Laon, a 67 mile ride. The rain was intermittent. It was actually possible to dry off in between drenchings. We rode by picturesque villages in rural France. The town of Laon was exquisite. It was perched on a hill commanding the surrounding countryside. Two magnificent abbeys gave the town a distinctive flair. Many of us enjoyed a wonderful meal at one of the restaurants. The Pallotta grub was edible but that is about the best thing you can say about it.
From Laon we rode to Meaux on what was supposed to be an 83 mile ride. We ended up with 7 or so bonus miles as the town of Meaux insisted that we be routed in a more indirect fashion. The day started off glorious. We had brilliant sunshine and were even able to doff our jackets and arm-warmers to ride in our shirt sleeves. Just opposite pit stop 2 we created our own impromptu pit stop 1 & 3/4 at the local cafe. It caught on and eventually there were 30 or so of us kicking back, drinking beer, and soaking up sunshine. Luckily the inevitable rain came mercifully near the end of the ride. At camp I got my one and only 20 minute massage, as there were only a half dozen therapists and a hundred times that many riders. C�est la vie.
Last day, an easy 36 miles from Meaux to Paris. The big challenge was in not arriving too early. We got a late start and stopped in a cafe for a nice lunch. My French came in handy as I played the translator. Unfortunately, I got two flats on a brand new tire and was frustrated as hell until a nice Trek technician used dental tools to pick tiny slivers of glass from the tire. Of course, it rained the last half of the ride into Paris this being par for the course. We arrived at an old velodrome in the suburbs of Paris. We boxed our bikes, reunited with our loved ones, and had a moving ceremony that left not one dry eye in the bunch.
I met some wonderful people and made some excellent friends along the way. One anecdote that illustrates just how dedicated the riders were is a story about my tentmate. On the first day, 6 miles into the ride, he rode into a pylon and busted his front wheel, a bone in his elbow, and one in his hand. Most people would have hung up the bike and taken the train to Paris at that point. Joseph though isn�t most people, he rode the rest of the ride with two broken bones!
I managed to distinguish myself by riding EFM (Every Frigging Mile). It turns out that only about 1 rider out of 10 was able to or stubborn enough to do this. By my count we road 558 miles, climbed almost 22,000 ft, got rained on 6 of 7 days, and had one hell of an adventure!
