Hopkins 4K for Cancer

July 30, 2006

San Francisco, CA
China Camp State Park to San Francisco, and beyond…

~25 Miles, and then some

25 miles. Nothing really, compared to some of the days we’ve been through. Indeed, this day was largely ceremonial for the 4K, analogous to the last stage of the Tour de France when the winner, his 1st place position nearly certain, enjoys a glass of champagne on his bike in the peleton. We too enjoyed a glass of champagne, but not until we were circled up on the beach of San Francisco with our friends and family.

The roads around San Francisco are a maze of suburbia. Absolutely beautiful suburbia, but rather compact. Hilly too. I work out routes and mileages for the 4K, mainly thanks to computer program with topographical maps of the entire country. But it has glitches, and today was not the day for ambiguities. I took Ersin along the night before to scout out some of the route, interleaving between back roads and bike trails. Ersin refused to lay eyes upon the Golden Gate bridge as we approached it in the car, and even stepped out onto a windy cliff with his eyes still shut as I gawked at the view of the bridge and the gap into the Pacific, a precursor to the following day.

Despite the planning, we were still lucky to have a local cyclist from the San Francisco chapter of the American Cancer Society riding with us. He and a friend joined us in China Camp, and their company was most welcome. They helped fill in some of the holes in our route as well.

Only on the day into Chicago had we ridden as an entire group. Today we decided to do the same all the way to the bridge, partially for the complexity of directions, but also because of the great energy that all of the riders could draw from each other. We were all excited, bolting up hills, and screaming hello from Baltimore to other cyclists on our route. All this with flowers in our helmets, courtesy of Katie Ross. Finally we reached the coastal town of Sausalito, the harbor town with a front row view of San Francisco. We stopped at a local coffee shop for a few snacks, courtesy of our guide, and enjoyed a warm welcome from the mayor before we started the final climb to the Golden Gate Bridge.

I think I will remember this last climb the most. I had seen it while scouting the night before, and called it out to the group. The energy immediately picked up, and I was accompanied up the hill with my fellow cyclists at a sprinting pace, remembering how some of them were struggling up similar hills in the first few days of the trip. We reached the top and the bridge came into full view. We sped onto a pathway towards vista point, and were greeted by our families and friends, some of us in tears.

Every other picture of the bridge that I had seen was shrouded in fog, not surprising for the local climate. However, today was perfectly sunny and clear, and the colors on the bridge were especially vivid. We spent nearly a half hour taking pictures with the bridge in the background, and then crossed in single file. It took about 10 minutes to cross the busy pedestrian walkway, the unusually high red towers looming in front of us the whole time. On the other side we made our way to the beach, made our final dedications in a large circle on the beach with friends, family, and a multitude of ACS members, and dipped our tires into the bay.

-----------------

Then it was over. Just like that. Long before it sunk in that my tiring daily routine was finally over, I was stricken by the fact that my only life purpose in short foresight had ended. When it’s the only thing you do day in and day out, riding towards that bridge while honoring those you are riding for, you become surprisingly emotionally attached to that goal. And now, that goal had been accomplished. Everyone dispersed, eager to spend time with parents or friends. Not knowing what to do with myself, I instantly felt a bit depressed. James Covey’s family provided us with an amazing dinner on the waterfront, and Jess’s family provided a good portion of the food. It was the last time I saw many of my fellow cyclists.

But the depressive feeling quickly passed. I had passed out in the local YMCA that night, but the next day held an opportunity to explore our destination. Having shipped out our bikes that morning, Ersin, Eric, Lauren, and I met up with Fumi and her boyfriend, John. We later met up with Jess and Ken with their bikes, about to ride the extra 40 miles South to their hometown. We were ravenous, and spent most of the day going from restaurant to restaurant, eating nonstop, and never feeling full. That night, James Covey, now in his home turf, took us to the Top of the Mark, the top floor of a hotel on one of the highest hills of San Francisco, where some of us enjoyed martinis with a view of sunset over the entire city. There we met up with Garrett, who had just returned from his walk to the Pacific Ocean 6 miles away. Afterwards, more eating ensued as a few of us went for sushi. Then more goodbyes, and then Garrett and I walked across town to Covey’s parents’ apartment, a flat on the hill with amazing views of the entire bay to the North. More food, more goodbyes, and then finally, some sleep.

I awoke the next morning at 5 in order to catch my flight. It was a long walk back to the YMCA as the sun rose on the city. I passed by some of the steepest urban roads in the country, and saw some great sights in the sunrise, my last views of this amazing city. I packed up my things at the YMCA, then grabbed a seat on BART, the San Fran subway service, towards the San Fran airport to the South. I was on a flight home by 11am, flying over our last few days of travel within minutes, over Death Valley within 15 minutes. 5 hours later, I landed in Newark airport, NJ, having undone all 4000 miles of our trip in a matter of hours. It would be weeks before it would all sink in; weeks before all of the amazing things we did and saw on this trip would fully come to light.

-Ryan t