Day 7: All good things....

Day 7 started as any day on the ride. Yet two things were different: one was that under advice from new friend Mike and learning from the previous day's lagging schedule throughout the day, we started the day much earlier, got all packed up for the last time and headed to breakfast, at bike parking by 6:30 as planned. The second was the sinking in realization that these were the last 60 miles to Los Angeles. That's when the strange feelings began: elation, satisfaction, sense of achievement on one side for the impressive feat now almost behind us; estrangement, sense of loss, depression almost for the knowledge that there would not be another 100 miles to ride the next day, that the faces and voices (or snoring..) we had gotten used to would now fade away, for a year or more.

It's a powerful force that which united people on this journey. I can now link a few new tens of names to familiar faces and I find myself smiling when I think of those people and the situations that brought us together. I find myself pausing and staring in the void, in a somber and sad silence, when I think of the reason we actually came together.

Day 6 ended with a very emotional evening. The candle light vigil in memory of those who died of Aids and in celebration of the lives of those who fought, and fight today with this disease in their lives, through their own bodies or through those of the people that they love and care about. I will post about this later on, as it well deserves.

So, Matt, Mike, Jon, Shelly and I started out rocking it early on day 7 and flew past rest stop 1. We were stopping at every chance to interact with locals or other riders who were doing something out of the ordinary routine of any ALC day. We spent quite a long time at an intersection where one of the LA riders had bought a bunch of donuts for the riders. We ate, cheered on the riders, took pictures and hopped onto our bikes yet again. It wasn't long before lunch. Riding out early and going at a fast pace makes for a significantly different day, as you don't spend nearly as much time in line for food, water, toilets and you can concentrate on riding and taking in the scenery and as much of the experience as you're capable of.

I had known Shelly for a while, she was one of the training ride leaders (which I now kind of want to become as well...) but never really spent much time with her before. I got to hang out with her through Jon and Mike, two of the PosPeds I met on the ride and with whom I really clicked. They're great guys, I liked them a lot. They're both really good bikers too and we had a blast riding the last day. Mike's a little quieter, I had a really great time talking to him during the candle light vigil. Jon's energy and enthusiasm is contagious. We had a great last day, alle the way until the last 10 mile stretch of the PCH when Matt, leading the pack, hit a bad bump in the asphalt and crashed. Jon was second in line and avoided him, without avoiding though to cross over dangerously in the traffic lane of the highway, fortunately with no consequences. I had enough room to brake and soI did, but thus causing Mike to crash into me. Matt's road rash was pretty bad and bleeding: we washed his wound with all the water we had left and dressed them with his arm and leg warmers. Mike's bike, onto which I had fallen, fortunately without injuries, looked as if it couldn't be ridden. I offered my bike as I was feeling guilty but we actually managed to repair the wheel and bike away the last few miles.

The atmosphere in LA was surreal. People clapping and cheering, the sun had come out again, and for the first time I was yet again in a familiar place, yet one that I knew was hundreds of miles away from home. Taking in the fact that I had actually biked there was a strange emotion. It made me feel proud and successful. Drained too though, emotionally and physically.

We stopped one last time at a Jamba Juice, badmouthed the crazy LA drivers in Brentwood and made it to the VA center where the closing ceremonies were being held. The last stretch is amazing. People screaming, cheering, clapping, reaching out their hands to the riders to give them high fives as they cross that final line.

Then it was it.

The bike parked, and all my time was now dedicated to say goodbye, take pictures, laugh, smile and cry for this amazing journey was over.

Keep checking this, I'll post more about closing ceremonies and more as I process all that I'm feeling at this moment. But the week is over, and I can not only say I did this, but that it was hands down the most amazing experience altogether that I have ever made. Just amazing.