"As we cycled, over 100,000 people
were infected with HIV globally."

The format of this site, Roads, Reasons and Replays, was inspired by Pat Christen's remarks at closing ceremonies on Day 7. Between her nightly updates on the global media coverage on AIDS, her review on Wednesday night of the 20 years since AIDS was discovered and this speech at the end, we had a context for our efforts, a constant reminder for why we were going through all of this. What follows is a transcript of her closing ceremonies remarks.

As you all know, it has been 20 years since the first reported cases of AIDS. As a result, riding this week and preparing my remarks for closing ceremonies proved to be an especially poignant task.

The scope of this pandemic has reached biblical proportions. Every day that we rode on our long journey from San Francisco to Los Angeles, another 16,000 human beings became infected with HIV globally. Ending this pandemic is a daunting and formidable task. It can feel hopeless at times.

Yet, in sharp contrast, you are a lesson in hope. Look back over what you have accomplished in the last seven days. Just one week ago, 2,799 of us arrived at Fort Mason to do a most curious thing: voluntarily ride a bicycle from San Francisco to Los Angeles to raise money for the fight against AIDS.

On Day Zero, we were given wristbands, tent assignments, tent mates, baggage tags and lots of safety tips. We had our first exposure to long lines and our last exposure to flushing toilets. On that same day, while we were focused on registering for the ride and turning in our bikes for ride out, The International Herald Tribune ran articles on the resurgence of HIV infections in the United States and AIDS in China.

On Day 1, music blaring, hopes soaring, skin glowing, spectators cheering, we eagerly and anxiously pedaled out of Fort Mason. It was the last time we would be so clean and smell so good. We scaled Highway 92, flew into Half Moon Bay and soared down the coast on glorious tail winds into Santa Cruz. We quickly learned that those who knew how to set up tents were invaluable and that the gear crews and the tech crews would become our new best friends. On that day, The Cape Times of South Africa ran an article on the opening of a center for HIV positive children. Simultaneously, The New York Times featured an article on "new weapons" and "new victims" in the AIDS war. We kept cycling.

Day 2 was Century Day. We learned the folly of untended snooze alarms, the importance of getting into the Peet's Coffee line early and often, and the delight of the peanut butter & jelly wafer bars at the pit stops. We marveled at those who proudly completed their first century and were humbled and inspired by Rider # 4605, David Van Brunt, who completed the entire century cycling only with his arms. We learned of the need for the jaws of life to remove a sports bra after a day of cycling, we learned the Top Ten List needed a little work, we learned our route maps were as reliable as the weather reports, and we learned to fold our tents into thirds in order to get them back into those tiny little tent bags. On that same day, The Boston Globe featured an article on the threat of AIDS to the elderly. And the San Francisco Chronicle published a piece on the complex quest for an AIDS vaccine. In Soweto, South Africa, The Mercury newspaper ran a story on AIDS drugs finally being made available to pregnant women. We kept cycling.

On Day 3, we awoke aching and sore from the previous day's journey. Mounting our bikes seemed laughable. In the searing heat we rode towards Paso Robles. We headed up the Quad Buster. Some of us flew to the top. Some of us grunted our way to the top. We were sung to the top, cheered to the top, cajoled to the top and, when all else failed, pushed by the hands of loving friends to the top. We lunched at Bradley huddling under the semi's for shade. The horrible roads jarred our hands, bruised our butts and bludgeoned our spirits. But we rode on. It was the 20th anniversary of the first case of AIDS and we spent some time in camp that evening looking back over the past two decades. Our grief was palpable, our resolve heartening. We came to understand that we were becoming a community, and our power grew. That same day, The New York Times, San Francisco Chronicle, Los Angeles Times and China Daily all featured articles on the 20th anniversary of the first reported cases of AIDS. We kept cycling.

By Day 4, camp life had become routine. We scaled the Evil Twins and stopped at the "Halfway to LA" rock. From there we headed down a five-mile hill - exhilarating to some, terrifying to others. A grade so steep some of us did the unthinkable, and walked our bikes down the hill. Shoulders aching, quads fatigued, fingers numbed, we pulled into Avila Hot Springs to soak our pains away. Brain dead and rubbery, we fumbled our way to Oceano Airport to battle over tent space with the gophers. On that same day, the Ugandan paper New Vision published an article on four AIDS vaccines to be tested there. The International Herald Tribune ran an article entitled "Unless We Act on AIDS Much Worse is to Come." We kept cycling.

Day 5 was our day of hills. We scaled Climb for Life Hill, Pain Pass Hill and King of the Hill. Fathers ground up hills in honor of their sons living with HIV. Mothers cycled through the grades in memory of their babies. Children scaled hills in memory of fathers lost to HIV. We pulled into Lompoc early to enjoy hours of daylight and sunshine and the luxury of washing clothes, knowing they might actually dry before we had to pull them on the next morning. That same day, The Times of India reported on AIDS grants. Kenya's The Nation newspaper ran an article entitled "AIDS Has Come of Age, But Does Anyone Care?" The New York Times ran a commentary on turning despair to hope in the AIDS pandemic. We kept cycling.

By Day 6, many of us were physically and emotionally exhausted. We waited for the CHP to set up barricades that would allow our route to open. We climbed the Gaviota Pass and then flew down the other side. By this time on our journey, it had become second nature to expect Peter Pan, Sylvester the Cat, Santa's elves or bearded bridesmaids prepared to offer us salty snacks at the next Pit. The day was overcast and foggy, fully in keeping with Jeff's weather forecast of expected temperatures between 50 and 100 degrees. We cycled along the freeway anxious about the passing trucks, the passing cyclists and the passing time. Ventura seemed far away and our bodies were weary. We arrived last night at the beach with the setting sun. We snuck out for In-N-Out Burgers and felt as though we were eating filet mignon. We learned urinating on electric fences could be a shocking experience, and we counted the minutes until we could throw our revolting cycling gloves away. Yesterday Newsweek featured a cover story on AIDS vaccine research and the threat of AIDS to Black America. We kept riding.

This morning, we awoke early, donned our Day 7 clothing and prepared our helmets for closing ceremonies. Our boas came out. Our wigs came out. Our glitter came out. Our make-up came out. And the women got ready too! We were delighted to drop off our tents for the last time. We were thrilled to be done with scrambled eggs and oatmeal. This was a hard day of riding. Many hills, much traffic, high emotions. Throats were raw and our tears were often near the surface. We have been kept safe by the motorcycle crew, patched up by the medical crew, fed by the food services crew, and kept on the road by the bike tech crew. We have never been so well tended and so miserable at the same time!

And now we find ourselves at last, at last at closing ceremonies. We have goofy tan lines, fond memories and a renewed understanding of our power to effect change. We are weary and we are victorious. We have done the impossible. We have made it to LA - most of us riding every mile. When we could not ride, we walked. When we could not walk, we sagged. Always, we kept moving forward. When our bikes broke down, we shared bikes with others, taking turns running and biking to make it to camp.

Most of us cycled with our legs. At least one of us cycled with his arms. We all cycled with our hearts. We all cycled to end AIDS. We cycled so others might be spared the horror of this disease. We cycled to protect those we love living with HIV and to honor and bear witness to those we have lost.

As we cycled, the world around us grappled with the devastation wrought by HIV. As we cycled, nations staggered under the weight of the pandemic. As we cycled, over 100,000 people were infected with HIV globally. As we cycled, parents lost children, children lost parents, partners lost lovers, and siblings lost siblings to this terrible disease. Yet, as we cycled, we made an extraordinary difference. We raised money and awareness and hope where none had existed before.

Because of you, we will garner the human, financial and technological resources to decrease the global impact of HIV disease. You have made history. Your actions will change the course of this pandemic. Your actions will save countless lives. You, quite simply, are heroes. We need heroes to end this pandemic and the human suffering caused by HIV. Without you we are lost. With you, we can do anything. Believe it. Thank you very much.