Spirit seems to be the word of the day. Dan Pallotta opened the ride talking about how Tanqueray (spirits!) has donated more money to AIDS services than any other corporation in North America.

Then a riderless bicycle was escorted out of the building to start the ride. "Imagine who should be on that empty seat, no sweaty head to fill the empty helmet, no smiling face to look up over the handlebars." THAT is why we are doing this ride- for those who can't and to provide needed support for people living with AIDS/HIV.

We rolled out of Fort Mason at 7:55 a.m. and through the streets of San Francisco. Past the Golden Gate Bridge. Awesome. Through a cloud of bubbles at the entrance to the Golden Gate Park. The smell of eucalyptus is in the air along with an incredible excitement.

The 2800 riders are bubbling with enthusiasm. Now I am puffing harder as we cycle up out of the Precidio in San Francisco. Oh no, too early in mile three ( ? ) to be breathing so heavy. I was warned of the hills in California, but I think of my friends who should be in that empty seat and I know I must give it my all. They did..... Just keep pedaling.

At Vicente and Summit I stopped for a light and an old woman with a walker, who had obviously had a stroke, thanked me for riding with a laboured slur. Then she blew me a kiss. She was waiting for her granddaughter. Now there's a lady who has an excuse not to be here. What spirit!

Just north of San Mateo, St. Paul's Episcopal Church had an unofficial pit stop, with drinks and fruit and lots of signs screaming support. At first I thought, "shouldn't they be in church on Sunday morning?" Then I realised they were "in church". People In Action (3 words). What spirit!

Later in the day, in Pescadero Beach, I passed an old woman in a chair with an attendant. They were both flailing their arms in support. I had to stop. Jane Payne and Terri DiHefser were thrilled I stopped to say hello. Jane said "last year I was in a wheelchair and this year, just a walker. I am 87, but I will be here next year when you come again."

I rode up a big hill that went forever and then some more (I couldn't help but think about the true meaning in that quote "may the road rise up to meet you") and got a cherry popsicle at the top. Another hill and a guy dressed in leather next to a 4 x 4 truck shoved two chocolate chip cookies in my hand as I whizzed by. Oh, God they were good. The little rewards.

Another big hill, but this time a wonderful warm tailwind to help out and two surprises at the top. A beautiful (make that SPECTACULAR) view of the Pacific Ocean and the Santa Cruz Bicycle Club waiting at the top with 5,000 chocolate-covered strawberries. Life is Good.

Riding down some of those hills, clipped into my pedals. More than once I checked my white knuckles and realized I had no "seat belt" to fasten. 50 km, 60 km, even 70 km an hour - all while braking. Just when I thought I had the hang of it, powerful cross wind gusts would threaten to blow me over and remind me of my vulnerability. Keep my helmeted head down, sneak peaks at the incredible scenery, and check my odometer now and then. At 71 km/hour, I decide I don't want to know. I just can't afford to look.
I don't want my spirit to be the first fatality of the ride.