Joy

I know the song's cliche and cheesy but it's the first thing I went to when I got back to the house today. And the lyrics are what I'm feeling and the music works for writing - or reading - this blog entry.

Revisiting longtime friends, catching up on life, reminiscing about shared experiences from our past. After twelve years away, this trip to Portland has provided me so much. Many of the stories I've told - or will tell - in this blog will center around this city and what happened during those formative years I spent here in the '90s. But today is about... today.

Jako & I attending a Youth & HIV event
in Washington D.C. in 1995

The moment I confirmed my Portland trip, I let Jako know I was coming. And there was no way we would pass up the opportunity to meet up during my stay. We didn't know how or where or when but we knew it would happen. And as remiss as I was at scheduling time with everyone, there were a few must-see's on my list... and Jako was one of them. We've been friends since 1992 and have both been living with HIV for 21 years which gives us this shared common bond. And, as she once said, it's like I'm her brother from another mother.

2010 - Fifteen years later and smiling even bigger!

Shortly before my departure date, her husband Chris and she asked if I'd like to join them on their sailboat for an afternoon. Hell yes! Oh, sorry. I mean, "Yes, that would be wonderful. Thank you for asking!" The offer itself was very thoughtful but they went even further by allowing me to bring a few of my friends to join the adventure. With so many friends in Portland, I found it difficult to decide who to ask. But like most difficult decisions, the answer came when I wasn't even thinking about it. Ena, Julie and their boys Aiden & Emmett. We all knew each other. Ena, Jako and I are long term HIV activists/advocates who all worked together back in the day. Ena & Julie's wedding was the first same-sex ceremony that I ever attended... what was it, 1996? Julie & Ena hadn't met Chris & Jako's daughter. Chris & Jako hadn't met Ena & Julie's sons. And I hadn't met any of the kids.

And the idea of having three sailing mates who were six, eight & twelve years old sold me on it. The kids would bring a sense of excitement & wonder & fun & playfulness that we adults may have been hard-pressed to find on our own.

When I woke up this morning, the sky was overcast and the mercury low. I think I even felt a few drops of rain as I sipped my coffee on the porch. None of that was going to dampen my excitement. Although I'd seen Ena for coffee on Wednesday, I hadn't seen Julie during this trip or met the boys yet. And Jako and I had seen each other two years ago but I've only met Chris once and for years now have been waiting to meet the beautiful girl they call "Biancastella." As I packed my bag, I added an extra thermal shirt and a hat. I donned a hoodie and chose sneakers instead of flip-flops. Wasn't going to let some gray skies and chilly breezes have any chance to affect our adventure.

Then as we drove to the marina - the sun broke through, the clouds burned off, the air warmed. The day had gone from pleasant to gorgeous in only a few short minutes. When I got to the dock, I realized my excitement didn't even come close to matching that of Aiden's & Emmet's; probably because they'd never been sailing. Knowing we would be there to watch them experience it for the first time made the trip even more special.

I'll share the photos. But I don't want to share the experience. That is for the eight of us to keep for ourselves. Plus what we shared today was... well, it was indescribable. Beauty. Adventure. Laughter. Lessons. Food. Playfulness. Friendship. Innocence. Memories. Breezes. Music. Teamwork. Family. Amazement. Hugs. Splendor.

Perfection.

We spend so much of our time working and cleaning and running around. Doing chores and paying bills. Driving here and flying there. Sitting in front of the television or navigating our way through crowded malls. Eating on the go or drinking a few pains away.

But there are always moments that remind us it's all worth it.

That remind us of the reason we're really here.

Today was one of those moments.

And it wasn't about sailing.

It wasn't about relaxation.

It wasn't about pleasure.

It was about family. And friends. And love.

It was about joy.

Portland Revisited - Part One

Lately, I've been organizing thoughts in my mind for a blog entry about the effects I've experienced the past couple months as I've been remembering & revisiting my life in the 90's. It hasn't been easy. And it hasn't been difficult. It's been the most challenging thing I've loved doing. Kind of similar to my experience in training. But instead of a physical challenge, it's been an emotional one. And emotional challenges aren't bad things. They're wonderful. They're the rush of jumping out of an airplane (and the relief of landing safely!). They're sharing memories of good times. And remembering arguments or dark periods in a relationship; the things that helped you grow and love even stronger. In writing the blog, there's also been a release for me. A joy in the groove of the memories, an honor in recognizing the community I was part of, a love of all those who've touched my life.

I spent most of the 90's in Portland. And here I am again. Forty-eight hours into my visit I can only say it's been a wonderful trip. I'll have much to write about with my visits to Cascade AIDS Project, lunch with Judith, coffee with Ena, dinner with Gay, and all the other plans I have for catching up with close friends, former colleagues, and even volunteers who once worked with me.

Today's entry is another visit to that era... those formative years... that moment that now seems like it was eons ago. While touring CAP's new offices, Judith showed me a wall of photos taken of the Teen-to-Teen program through the years. There was Sam C., Lynzee, Cydne (remember the beach retreat?). Ena flexing her muscles. A bunch of photos of teens that came long after I left the program. And there was even a photo with Paul Moore in it. Not sure why. My memory tells me Paul's focus at CAP was in working with the research for the not-yet-approved oral HIV test. And with the Men's Prevention Program. But I do have some vague recollection of his association with Teen-to-Teen. And also with the support group I started. Paul was very active in HIV work... put his mark on a lot of projects. So he attended the group a couple of times because he was young like us and I really needed participants for those first weeks as the program was kicking off.

As most of us experience in life, it's not "all work and no play." Stephen King's The Shining reminds me of that every time I read it or watch it. And Paul and I gathered with friends for dinners, shows, drinks, coffees, cards, whatever. We were truly a community.

Paul, Me, Tom and Jack

One of my favorite memories is the night Paul, Tom, Jack and I ventured out to the gay bars after a council meeting. It was a rare adventure for us. I was the youngest and went out often. Paul was an occasional bar-goer. I don't think Tom or Jack went out much at all at that point in their lives. It was 1995, we must have been celebrating something, and somehow, someone had a camera and I have this amazing image of us taken as we trekked from one pub to the next. I think it was Tom's camera and he gave each of us a copy of this photo. Jack says he has his copy on his bulletin board above his desk or on his desk or something. I need to ask Tom if he still has the original.

As Judith showed me the photo of Paul and the teens today I asked how he was or if he was even in Portland still. She looked up at me (I'm kinda tall... Judith, not so much), and said, "Jim, we lost Paul about eight years ago. Hadn't you heard?"

No. I hadn't. Not 'til today.

I started crying. Right there in the CAP offices. Not behind some closed door, or in the restroom, or in Judith's office. No... just right there in the corridor.

I may be eight years late buddy but I'd still like to say goodbye. Your legacy lives on. Before she shared the news, she had talked and talked about how successful the testing program at CAP is now. How you were really the one who kick-started it. How they have this whole group of volunteer testers/counselors now because the demand has required the program to grow so much. And your photo's on the wall there at CAP. Hamming it up on the beach with the teen volunteers. And I have this one. But, more than any photo, I have the wonderful memory of you - and of our laughs - and how we combined forces and fought the good fight - and of the hangover we had after that pub crawl. Ugh.

Thank you for sharing a part of your miracle with me. That photo's going on my desk now too. And all those memories - even the hangover - will be with me when I ride.

Be well, my friend...

J-

In This Day And Age?

Today's blog was going to be dedicated to my Portland trip. But I put that on hold when, thanks to my friend Todd, I read this article in the Advocate. Some stories don't get enough traction and I don't know why it took a month for us to hear about this. But my PDX story can wait because this one needs to be told.

In short, Bienestar, a non-profit group serving the Latino LGBT & HIV-positive community since 1989, had secured a three-year lease in a new office building. They opened the doors of their new offices on August 13. The organization states on August 14, the landlord demanded they immediately vacate the premises and remove all their belongings. Bienestar claims the landlord changed the locks on the building that same day and they have not had access to their property or their clients personal and confidential files since.

That, in itself, is enough to shock you into disbelief. But, the organization has also stated the landlord said his reasoning for the eviction was that the group was "bringing disease" to the building.

Since that day, the non-profit has been providing very limited services out of its mobile unit which they've parked in front of their old office building.

They're working out of a van!

I'm a huge believer in innocent until proven guilty.  We won't discover the truth until the court case (Bienestar has filed a lawsuit against the landlord), but if this story is true - I'm...I'm... I'm speechless. This shit still happens? Even though it's obviously against the law? As Todd said, it's reprehensible.

Wow. Another reminder of how fortunate I am. I mean, I've got a damn mark on my body, declaring my health status to the world. After the amazing support I've received through the years, I didn't think this kind of discrimination still took place. Or maybe I've been surrounded by so much love, that I had forgotten there are still evils like this in the world.If this story is true, it's such a wake-up call and a reminder that we've still got a long way to go.

Y'know, this organization isn't a beneficiary of the ride but, part of the mission of both SFAF & LAGLC is to end stigma and discrimination around HIV & AIDS.

Guess I just discovered another reason I'm riding.

Taking It To The Next Level

Why is my helmet never on straight?

There I am getting ready to set off on another training ride this morning (and, gear sponsors, look how much I'm geared up thanks in part to your assistance!).

This weekend I focused on my commitment to ride. And I completed over 60 miles in two days. But we all know I've made another commitment. I took a break from it this weekend but, part of riding in AIDS/LifeCycle means...

Fundraising.

When I first heard that word, somewhere between my ears and my brain it twisted & morphed itself into, "Begging."

Money has never been a thing for me. I've usually had enough... even when I first went into non-profit work and made 19K a year I survived. I had to live with three others and get rid of the Mustang when I took that position but the rewards of the job were worth it. As I've gotten older and my career and income have grown, my frugal habits have continued. Even now, I still have a roommate. I have three bedrooms in my house - that's two more than I need. Point is, asking for money has never been my thing. Even working at non-profits I was so glad there were people like Mark who was our Director of Development at Howard Brown Health Center. At Cascade AIDS Project, budgets were tight... all the time. And when we held a training for our community educators, I was tasked with acquiring food & beverage donations from the community. If asking Starbucks to provide a gallon of coffee for a volunteer training was difficult for me, just imagine what it's been like asking my friends, family and colleagues to join forces to donate $5,000.

But I did it because that was part of the commitment I made. The minimum requirement for ALC riders is 3K but I gathered my strength and chose to set a goal of 5K. I'm sure after you've read some of these stories, you understand my reasons for that, as well as my faith in the huge community I've grown to know over the years. And y'all have made it so rewarding and easy and wonderful and inspiring. The fear has dissipated. It's not begging. It's realizing the power in community. The strength in family. The simplest ideals of sharing, caring, supporting & giving.

Well team (that's how I've come to think of you since you are all with me each and every pedal stroke!)... because of you, that goal of $5,000 doesn't seem so lofty. Not sure why. Might have something to do with the fact that we're only six weeks into fundraising and we're already 84% of the way there. $4,175 as I write this. And ranked in the #9 spot for the Top ALC12 Fundraisers. How did y'all do it?

Cleve Jones
Co-founder of the San Francisco AIDS Foundation

I think you did it because you know the importance of this cause. I've already written about causes and when it comes to illnesses, contributing to HIV services has fallen in ranks over the past decade. In recent years, cancer events have become the cause du jour. And I get it. My mom was just diagnosed with skin cancer. A long-time friend just lost his husband to lung cancer three weeks ago. Cancer sucks. And we should support those causes. HIV - well, people are living longer. They have all these new treatments. Everyone knows how to protect themselves from it. And it is completely preventable. Like 100% preventable. The blood supply is safe. Condoms and clean needles protect users from HIV and a multitude of other things. They've even developed something called PEP - post-exposure prophylaxis - which can be taken after being exposed and significantly reduces the chances of acquiring the virus. It's easy to think there's just not as much reason to support AIDS Service Organizations anymore.

But you, my sponsors, know that's not the case. Because the numbers speak to a much different story:

• People are still getting infected. Like 50,000 people each year here in the U.S.
• One-in-five people don't know they're infected. Often because they can't afford a test. Or they don't think it could happen to them. By decreasing this number through testing & education programs, we can also decrease that first number - those 50,000 infections.
• The new medications are the closest thing to a miracle in a pill. Since protease inhibitors were introduced in the mid-to-late 90's, I've lost fewer friends than I lost in one year in 1996. But these medications are expensive (remember, my pill is $65 a day). Not everyone has access to insurance. And, even with medications, people are still losing the battle - it's still the third leading cause of death in the black population ages 35-44 and the fourth leading cause in the Hispanic population in that same age group.
• How do you go from "living like you're dying" to "living like you're living?" These treatments have made this a huge question for many of us. I didn't think I'd make it past 30... and the statistics at the time agreed with that. Support, counseling, and education go a long way to helping people rework their life for such an immense change. And help us to start living again.
• Side-effects. Ugh. Yes, our lives have been saved. But for how long? Did you know I had my first angiogram at 37? Yep. Because the medication I'm on - and many of the other treatments - seem to contribute to an added strain to the heart. The reason I went on my vegetarian diet - my cholesterol - my also be a side effect of the medications. At least it is a direct contributor to increased cholesterol levels for 20-25% of patients taking it. But at least I get fun, vivid dreams out of it!

Yes. HIV is still a thing. Obviously, I live it every day. And you sponsors have definitely shown you understand that through your phenomenal support & contributions. If you didn't know, donations for the ride go to two organizations - and since I'm an out-of-state participant, contributions from my sponsors are evenly distributed between the agencies.

Candlelight Vigil in San Francisco, remembering those we've lost.
Click on the image to enlarge and view President Obama's support of the cause.

San Francisco AIDS Foundation and the LA Gay & Lesbian Center were two of the first responders to the epidemic. Hell, they started before AIDS was even AIDS. Before HIV was even identified in a laboratory. We're talking back in the day when it was "Gay Cancer" or GRID (Gay Related Immune Deficiency). These men - and yeah, they were mostly men - joined forces to create these organizations and help their brothers. They had no funding. No support outside the community. And they did this because their own friends were getting sick and dying. The President of the United States didn't even talk about it... didn't even utter the word AIDS. Talk about joining forces. Showing the power of community. This group that banded together in the early 80's... they are heroes.

Vision Statement from LAGLC Annual Report

And these organizations continue to carry that torch today. They're not just mostly men anymore. They represent the entire community affected by HIV & AIDS. They serve, support, educate, and assist all. They've not only made life better for those affected by this illness, they've lobbied for many things that have expanded support, research, testing, and breakthroughs for a myriad of other illnesses and disabilities. Their strength gives me strength to ride for them. With them.

As I was writing all that I was thinking, "What the hell? So many of my blog readers - all 40 of them - have already contributed. I don't need to explain how important this is." I am forever grateful for everyone's assistance. Have even wept as I saw the outpouring of support.

Then I realized, I wrote it because we're not done. Remember our goal isn't to raise $5,000. It's to end HIV & AIDS - forever. And we still have eight months to work together, reach out further to our communities and take a step closer to that goal.

At the time of this writing, 10% of my friends on Facebook have joined the team and become sponsors. That means I still have 90% of my Facebook friends to reach out to. And each of them have all of their friends. Remember the old, "...and she told two friends, who told two friends" commercial? Yeah. We can do that. And Facebook is just the most visible example of my efforts. Of course, like you, I have many friends who aren't on Facebook. I've written personal letters. Sent out emails daily. Thanked each donor with a personalized message, call, email or a card.

With eight months left, I've developed a road map to make this as big as big can be. And I'll be working with James, my cyclist rep, to ensure we get there. He did it on his first ride in only three months. Talk about inspiration! Can we do it in eight? Yes. We can. So in November there's a fundraising party in the works. Next spring, I'll be seeking donations of gently used items for a garage sale to benefit the ride (I need to clean out some clutter... you probably do too!). Just the other day, I signed up as a Pampered Chef consultant and will be donating all profits from those efforts to AIDS/LifeCycle (you know I love to cook - that's a  win-win). Today I joined a cycling club hoping that others who ride will understand the effort, believe in the cause and support it. There are also plans being laid for "Big Asks" to philanthropic organizations. And throughout the next eight months, I'll be asking this team to share creative ideas for raising funds, reach out further to their friends, family & colleagues, and push us to amazing new heights. I'll also be providing regular rewards and incentives (and some awesome - or maybe strange - surprises along the way!).

The shortest day. The longest is over 109 miles.

You've already joined me on this journey and you know I've committed to being one of the best riders during the event. Today I completed my longest ride to date... 41 miles at an average of 15 mph and I climbed nearly 1,800 feet. This is equal to the shortest day of the event (except my climb today was MUCH greater... Vegas is full of mountains!). My total so far for training rides is 325 miles, climbing nearly 11,000 feet. And now I would also like our team to be one of the overall Top Fundraisers for AIDS/LifeCycle 12. In order to ensure our team secures a spot, I've made the decision to raise my goal to $22,000 - 1K for each year I've lived with HIV.

This will be the one and only time I raise the goal. And it feels huge right now. Man, does it feel crazy huge. Teams that achieve these levels are part of a prestigious club. They contribute to almost 10% of the total raised for the event. And in doing so, they play a big part in keeping fundraising costs low and ensuring the most money possible goes directly to the beneficiaries.

22K is scary. But not impossible. Not even improbable - the top 25 fundraisers last year did it. And so can we. Look what we've accomplished so far. Right now we're ranked ninth in fundraising and only a couple hundred dollars away from the #8 spot. And we've already achieved 20% of the 22K! If we exceed the full goal - wow! Can you imagine how much we'll be helping the clients at these organizations? Can you imagine the feeling we'll have of being part of such an amazing team... the best team? If we fall a little short, we'll know we tried harder than any other community participating and we'll still have accomplished so much to help those living with and affected by HIV & AIDS.

Thanks again for all you've done. For the commitment you've made to ride with me over the coming months. To your belief that this cause is worth all we can give it.

Oh, and before I sign off for the day, can I just say something I haven't had a chance to share yet today?

My ass hurts!

(Images captured from the SFAF & LAGLC Annual Reports. Please visit their websites to read the full reports and financial information in depth)

A Day With HIV In America

6:12 a.m. Woke up. Groggy. Stayed up too late last night watching South Park.

6:14 - 6:56 a.m. Almost tripped over Bodie as I was walking down the stairs in a half-sleep. Fed the dogs. Started the coffee. Checked work email - nothing needing immediate attention. Poured a cup of coffee. Watched the sunrise. Uploaded my daily sunrise pic from my phone. Poured cup #2. Checked personal email...ugh, I hate spam! Received an ALC donation from Saul last night.

6:58 - 8:12 a.m. Read news online & listened to the Today show. Posted on Facebook (commented on Holman's pic, posted a thank you to Saul, added a status about Ann Romney's "This is hard," speech). Ate cold, leftover spinach & feta pizza for breakfast. Sent out personal emails to friends & colleagues requesting donations for my ride. Reviewed some work docs. Threw the ball for the dogs. Answered work emails.

8:14 - 8:29 a.m. My friend Todd & his friend Jayson, driving cross-country from San Francisco to Tennessee, stop by to say hi. Dogs get too rowdy so I put them in the bedroom upstairs.

8:30 - 9:38 a.m. Quick goodbyes to the boys. Pour cup #3. Jump on a conference call for work.

9:40 - 10:08 a.m. Shower. Dress. Make plain, whole wheat toast. Send Jeanne a thank you email for her donation.

10:09 a.m. Posted about "A Day with HIV in America" on Facebook and made the choice to document my entire day on my blog.

10:10 - 11:58 a.m. Work. Received an ALC donation from Ellen and posted a thank you on Facebook. Realize my sponsors are only $69 away from moving into the #11 spot for Top Fundraisers. Work.

11:59 a.m. - 1:02 p.m. Had the leftover Greek salad from the pizza place. Added kalamata olives because they only put black & green olives on it. It's not a Greek salad without kalamatas. Also added radishes because they're full of good stuff. Watch two episodes of Golden Girls. The one where Blanche & Sophia get scammed and the one where Rose meets her real father.

1:03 - 6:02 p.m. Work. Walk to mailbox. Work.Give the pups a treat. Work. Do twenty minutes of resistance band exercises.  Eat a snack of homemade hummus & baby carrots while working. Receive ride donations from Chip & Mark. Post thank you's. Team moves into the #11 spot on Top Fundraisers. Work. Feed dogs. Work.



6:03 - 6:55 p.m. Nap. Bodie cuddles with me on the sofa.



6:56 - 7:44 p.m. Reheat leftover quinoa puttanesca for dinner. Chat with roommate Zach for a bit.





7:45 - 8:32 p.m. Take the dogs for a short walk. Receive an ALC donation from Steve. Post a thank you on Facebook and realize we've hit 75% of my goal and my ride sponsors reach the list of Top 10 Fundraisers. Decided I would do no fundraising this weekend.

8:33 - 8:58 p.m. Prep for tomorrow's training ride. Air up tires. Fill water bottles. Mix electrolyte drink. Fill baggie with trail mix. Set out shorts, jersey, helmet, shoes, sunglasses, gloves.




8:59 - 11:12 p.m. Lisa posts on Facebook that PBS is showing the Smith Center opening. Turn on TV to watch it in the background. Settle in front of the computer to finish today's blog while watching the show. Make a cup of Sleepy Time tea. Give pups a treat. Go outside to take a quick "city lights" pic. Publish blog. Shut off electronics. Brush my teeth. Climb into bed. Tell Bodie to get off the bed. Take my pill. Go to sleep.


Press "PLAY" before reading the rest....

Yawn. Pretty dull, eh? No, not the song or the video. My play-by-play documentation of my life. You see, that's partly why I chose not to submit a photo for "A Day With HIV in America." My life's just not interesting most of the time. And I chose to document the day today to show that it's also not much different than anyone else's. Over the years, including the past few weeks, I've been told I'm "brave" and "strong" and "inspirational." Riding from SF to LA might be inspirational but seriously, how inspirational is walking to the mailbox at 1:45 p.m. or eating cold pizza for breakfast? Heh! I know my blog sometimes focuses on the sensational things - and everything I write is absolutely true - but my normal day-to-day is the same as yours. I guess that's part of why I ride. To help others understand we're just people. People with daily challenges like anyone else. Sure, some of those may be health related and there's stuff that goes with that. But part of the miracle of life is the light and the dark that makes it all up. And part of the miracle of being human is learning the power within to overcome whatever challenges the darkness has presented. Because no matter how black the midnight sky, we get through by seeing it's covered with pinpoints of light. And remembering there is never a night the sunrise doesn't beat or a problem that hope can't defeat.

The Greatest Miracle Of All

My mom's been in my thoughts a lot lately. She was recently diagnosed with skin cancer and it's the closest the nasty "C-word" has wedged itself into my life. Fortunately, it's only basal cell carcinoma which doesn't usually metastasize. Unfortunately, it was on her face and her first surgery was fairly significant (it was her nose and you've seen how prominent the noses are in my family!). The procedure went well, they performed some reconstructive work and, hopefully, she'll look beautiful as always once it fully heals. Yesterday she had her second surgery to remove it from her forehead and that procedure was much simpler, they got it all in one pass, and she's now free of the nasty-C.

She obviously didn't slather us in baby oil.

Before I go on to the real topic of this entry, two words of advice:

1) Use sunblock! Do not cover yourself in baby oil and roast like a turkey out in the summer sun!

2) If something looks wrong, feels odd, or your mind just tells you something's up - get it checked! My mom put it off and put it off. That made the surgery much more difficult as the growth had gone deeper and deeper into her skin.



As often as I go on tangents, I do try to bring it back to the focus of this blog: all the reasons I ride. And all this thinking about my mom has made me realize she's one of the reasons.

On my ALC fundraising page, I wrote:
"We all have our causes and this is just one of mine. This year, I reach out to you for support to make it one of yours."

There are so many causes. Fundraisers to support everything from Alzheimer's research to high-school band equipment (Seriously, what's happened to our school system funding? When I was a kid, the school supplied our equipment - at least some of it. I don't care what they say, the arts ARE important!). We all support a number of these efforts. Whether it's because our lives have been personally affected by an illness or simply because a friend's church is collecting Christmas gifts for needy families (hint: kill two birds with one stone - gifting band equipment for the holidays will cover both fundraisers).

But how do we choose? Why do we choose?

I may never have breast cancer but
I have supported the cause.

I don't know those answers and, for those sponsoring my ride, they've chosen to make this one of their causes to support this year. In the end, it doesn't matter how or why we choose. It just matters that we choose. As difficult as times can be for us... as far as we sometimes have to stretch our dollars... as our free time seems to dwindle down to nothing... we're all still pretty darn fortunate. I can say that with quite a bit of certainty because if you're reading this blog, chances are good you're doing it from your own computer... which some consider a luxury. Or from a work computer... which means you have a job. And you may be doing it from your kitchen table while you have Rachel Ray on in the background.... that means you've got a roof over your head, a kitchen, a table, a television and maybe even cable or satellite. And maybe you've had cancer and through amazing advances in treatment you've, thankfully, survived... and that treatment was possible through your insurance. I won't continue... you understand.

My first rescue dog - Sam

Just like you, I've had my causes over the years. Sometimes it's been similar to my AIDS/LifeCycle effort by walking in an event raising funds & awareness for breast cancer. Other times it's been attendance at an HRC dinner where I enjoy a good meal, wonderful entertainment and the proceeds go to support equal/civil rights. I've volunteered at homeless shelters on Thanksgiving and cooked up about 400 lbs. of mashed potatoes back in the kitchen. In Chicago, I mentored a ninth-grader in a program that helped kids get out of their inner-city schools and gave them full scholarships to some of the best private schools in the city. I've thrown canned goods into my grocery cart to donate to food drives and purchased radio-controlled cars to be placed underneath a Christmas tree I'll never see. And there's always the incredible joy that's graced my life by all the pups I've adopted from shelters or rescue services over the years.

Mother of four.
Caregiver for many, many more.

The how's or why's don't matter. It's just the fact that we do something. If we can. When we can. As much as we can. And this is something I learned from my mom. She was a giver. A caretaker. An activist (I held my first picket sign when I was five years old... it was the 70's... I think many of us were given picket signs in place of "binkies"). She loved so many. Sometimes I think maybe too many. I mean, she was my mom - I wanted all her attention. I wanted that little extra bit of money to go toward my Christmas stocking. And spending a Saturday morning in a picket line wasn't exactly the same as a day at the park. But then I remember how many lives she touched. The communities she helped. The playground equipment she saved. Or the jobs that were created or bettered or saved because she stood in the cold (we were a United Auto Workers family). Even when she went back to school to get a degree and changed careers, she did it with the goal of giving. Of caring. Of assisting. Of contributing to the greater good.

Mom, I love you. Thank you for everything you did for me.

That extra money may not have gone to my Christmas stocking. And that Saturday may have been spent carrying a sign on a sidewalk. And I may not have understood why you did it. I may have been selfish and wanted something for myself.

Then I realize, I did get something from all of that. I got the gift of caring for and helping others. And that is the greatest gift you could have given me.

You're my miracle.

Shooting For The Stars

When I first signed up for AIDS/LifeCycle, I did it without much forethought. Then I got on my old bike for the first time, rode seven miles and began to realize how big this commitment really was. But I kept riding.

Then in early August, our fundraising pages went live and I started sweating again - and not from the 25 mile training rides! How the heck was I going to raise the minimum amount in donations each participant is required to raise? $3,000 is a lot of money - a lot of money that goes to help a lot of people - but still...

Still... I knew how amazing my friends were so I shot for the stars and set my goal at $5K. Lofty, yes. Possible, definitely. Challenging? I was certain it would be; even with nine months to raise funds. I kick-started my donation page with a personal contribution of $250. Y'know, you gotta seed the tip jar. A few days later, on August 11, I received my first contribution from a friend and we were on our way.

Okay... actually, y'all were on your way! And away you went! Yesterday was exactly five weeks from the day that first sponsor signed on and James - my cyclist rep - informed me I was only $830 away from the minimum. Throughout the day, my community continued to show their strength and by 11 p.m. I only had $145 to go to reach minimum. All within five weeks? Amazing!

I recorded this message and posted it on Facebook as a way to let everyone know how grateful I am for their support and how my team of sponsors has joined forces to consistently stay in the Top 20 Fundraising teams. In the video I stutter & stumble & say "um" a lot - then Bodie sticks his bootie in the camera. And you can hear the pups wrestle off-camera. It's a dorky video but it's as real, unscripted, unedited and raw as the love I have for everyone in my life. Thank you.

But folks it doesn't stop there - not at $2,855.

This morning, I woke to find another friend (a serious nightowl!) made a donation late last night and joined this incredible team of sponsors. Then, while writing this entry, I received an email that another contribution had been made. A very generous gift from a beautiful stranger - someone I've never met - a friend of a friend I guess. No note. No return address. Just a completely selfless act of charity.

So at 7:53 a.m. on September 19... five weeks and one day from the start of my fundraising... we reached the minimum! I guess shooting for the stars isn't as challenging as I thought - because I'm surrounded by stars every day.

$3,125

Yeah, YOU DID THAT! ROCKSTARS!

Heinz One-Fifty-Seven

I'm a math guy. Seriously. Math & science were always my thing. I mean, I studied Chemical Engineering at the University of Houston. If that's not math & science, then what is?

I barely remember my courses in Calculus or Differential Equations (oh yeah, we got any Diff EQ fans in the house? Hollah!!!). But I do remember how to count. Can't balance my checkbook but today I proved to myself that I can still count.

1...2...3...4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37 38 39 40 41 42 43 44 45 46 47 48 49 50 51 52 53 54 55 56 57 58 59 60 61 62 63 64 65 66 67 68 69 70 71 72 73 74 75 76 77 78 79 80 81 82 83 84 85 86 87 88 89 90 91 92 93 94 95 96 97 98 99 100

Whew...

101 102 103 104 105 106 107 108 109 110 111 112 113 114 115 116 117 118 119 120 121 122 123 124 125 126 127 128 129 130 131 132 133 134 135 136 137 138 139 140 141 142 143 144 145 146 147 148 149 150 151 152 153 154 155 156....

...157

One hundred fifty seven? Does that number have any significance to you?

No? I didn't think it meant anything to me either. Until I counted today. Counted my friends on Facebook. Well, not all of them - Facebook does that for me (Thank goodness for gay men like Alan Turing for helping to invent the computer! Did you know he was my age when he died? Yeah, just think of what could've been if he'd lived to 90).

Today I counted the number of my Facebook friends who have HIV. And that number came to one-five-seven. Well, at least those are the ones I know that have it. There may be some I've never discussed it with 'cuz, y'know, it is kind of a personal matter. No need to go posting it all over the internet or anything.

Oh. Wait.

Ugh. Did I do that? Again?

Never was good with rules.

Anyway, more than 150 of my friends on Facebook are living with the virus. Of course, there are quite a few who aren't on FB. I mean, not everyone uses that site. But you do, don't you? Yeah, me too.

Of that number, there's a solid 20% who are retired or on disability and benefit from services like the ones at the San Francisco AIDS Foundation and the LA Gay & Lesbian Center. Many others have, at some point in their lives, received some kind of assistance to get through a layoff, a recession, or an illness.

What's been most surprising to me are the ones who are clients of these services... who can no longer work... who believe so much in this cause... that they set aside a little bit of their money to donate to AIDS/LifeCycle. In my head, it's kind of like taking from Peter to give to.... Peter.

Then I realize the real reason they do this. They do it to inspire me. To motivate me. To give back a little of what they've received. And, I've said this before, that's part of my goal too since I've received assistance a couple times in my life from agencies like these.

So yeah... I'm keeping it simple today. I ride for those 157 friends who I'm so fortunate to have in my life today. And those others I was so fortunate to have for however long I had them.

Each and every one gives me strength.

Fills my heart.

Powers me to reach higher.

Go farther.

Be. All. That. I. Am.

J-

Body Art: Fad Or Fable?

Another day short on time but, fortunately, I've got quite a bit of fodder for this blog stashed away in a couple of cardboard boxes in my garage. Today I'm taking a blogger's shortcut again and sharing another piece that's already been written.

The day before laying ink to skin - still tattoo free.

If we're Facebook "friends," you may have seen that I'm thinking about getting another tattoo. But did you know I have one already? Yeah, some of you do. Some of you maybe not. I first walked into a tattoo parlor in 1993 but was turned away when they found out I had HIV. Three years later, in June 1996, a group of friends and I drove to Seattle for Gay Pride. After the parade and festival, I saw this tattoo parlor and thought I'd give it another try. As I was working with the artist on sketching out my very simple tatt, the alarm on his watch started to beep. He looked up, pulled a small tin out of his pocket, opened it and said, "Time for my AZT. Do you need one?"

Serendipity. To say the least, I wasn't turned away from this shop. And the guy who performed the work also had HIV. He was also very excited about this basic two-by-two inch tattoo because he'd never been asked for one like it before.

In 1999, I was living in Chicago and somehow got asked to do another interview about my tattoo. So here's that article from the New City News, February 4, 1999:

Marked For Life
HIV-Status Tattoos Can Be A Source of Pride and Esteem
by Tony Peregrin

"I feel sexier when it's showing," says Jim Akers of the tattoo that adorns his shoulder.

That's become a pretty common sentiment over the past ten years, in an age where tattoos have come to be more associated with rock stars and basketball pros than easy riders and Marines. But Jim, a former military man with a quick smile and warm brown eyes, doesn't sport your average Celtic band or snaking reptile; four years ago, he made the decision to permanently mark himself with a tattoo that announces his seropositive status to the world.

The reactions to the tattoo have been varied. He's had mothers yank their children away from him. He caused a cyclist - intent on seeing what the face of a guy with HIV looked like - to crash his bike.

But while others may literally lose control at the sight of the tattoo, it has done nothing but make Jim feel in control of his life, his diagnosis and his identity as a person living with HIV. "That empowerment and sense of liberation is why displaying the tattoo, at least in certain environments, makes me feel... sexy," he says with a shy grin.

"I can definitely see how an HIV+ tattoo could make a person, like Jim, feel erotic," says Dan Brouwer, an instructor at Loyola University and the author of "The Precarious Visibility Politics of Self-Stigmatization: The Case of HIV/AIDS Tattoos," which was published last year in Text and Performance Quarterly.

"Initially, when a person learns they they are HIV-positive, they may feel anything but erotic or sexy," he continues. "The act of getting such a tattoo is a way of re-eroticizing themselves as they refuse to accept the shame that many still associate with the illness."

Shame and embarrassment is exactly what political commentator William F. Buckley had in mind when, in 1986, he suggested in the New York Times that all gay men should be required to be tested for HIV and that anyone who tested positive should be required to get a tattoo on their buttocks to "prevent the victimization of other homosexuals." Gay men have spun Buckley's idea in a visible symbol of pride and community, creating images such as in the international sign for biohazardous waste, a large plus sign, or the words HIV Positive in an effort to give the illness a human visage.


But do the tattoos act as barriers against unsafe sex, as Buckley hoped they would?

"No," Akers answers quickly. "They don't. People see the tattoo and sometimes still want to engage in sexual activities that go outside the boundaries of what I consider to be safe, even after I verbally disclose my HIV status, which I always do."

"I think they do promote safer-sex," says Brouwer. "They're certainly not a guarantee. What they do is create 'conditions' for safer sex practices."

Why do I hold onto these things for thirteen years?

A sexually active individual who is responsible about maintaining their seronegative status will assume that each partner he has sex with is HIV-positive - whether they are or not - and engage in safe sex. But to assume all of your sexual partners are HIV-positive can be challenging, especially when those partners are physically healthy, because they don't "look" sick. Jim Akers doesn't look sick - he's asymptomatic and can easily "pass" as seronegative, especially when his tattoo is covered.

But would he have gotten the tattoo if his body was showing signs of HIV?

Akers pauses before responding. "I don't know what my body would be like, what it would look like, if I was symptomatic. I honestly don't know. I may have still gotten one anyway. You know, I still feel intimidated at times of showing the tattoo. It really depends on my self esteem that day. We all have our ups and downs. If I'm in a club, there are days when I don't want the first thing for someone, especially a guy I might think is hot, to see is my tattoo. I want him to see me first."

"People who have these tattoos run the risk of being condensed and reduced to simply a person with HIV," Brouwer opines. "The tattoos act merely as statements, not discussions. The wearer loses control of the meaning of the tattoo as soon as it is displayed. The viewer who looks at the tattoo without meeting Jim and hearing his story can only draw certain superficial conclusions based on that physical symbol."

And, when Jim is on the dance floor, the music pumping, the crowd energetic and the environment sweltering, there is usually a reaction when he decides to shed his shirt.

"I usually get a pretty good reaction, especially from other guys who are HIV-positive," he says. They seem to really appreciate it. But what I do find frustrating is when I'm dating someone and people assume that because of me and the tattoo that he is also positive. It's a guilt-by-association kind of thing. They're judging him based on a tattoo on my body."

So does he ever regret getting the tattoo?

Navy Days

"Nope. Getting a tattoo like this is not for everyone. But for me, it was the final act of coming to terms with my seropositive status. I'd always wanted a tattoo. You know, I was in the military and I saw a lot of guys with tattoos of, like, Tweety Bird on their butt. That wasn't for me... I wanted a tattoo that meant something, so I waited. Several years ago, when I learned that I was HIV-positive, I knew of course that it would be with me for the rest of my life and I knew that that was what I wanted the tattoo to be."

Other men with HIV express similar reasons for getting the tattoo, though there are some who only go so far as to get a temporary, non-permanent tattoo. Either way, tattoos act as reminders to both the wearers and the viewers that visibility is paramount to achieving acceptance and understanding.

HIV/AIDS is not the only illness that perpetuates stereotypes and prejudices. Akers admits he probably wouldn't have felt compelled to get a tattoo directly related to his medical condition if that condition was cancer or multiple sclerosis.

"There is a certain kind of sympathy and acceptance for someone who has cancer as opposed to someone who is HIV-positive," he figures. "Despite the success of all the AIDS awareness campaigns, ignorance still exists, trust me. Some people still associate HIV/AIDS as a moral issue, a gay issue, even a promiscuity issue. Coming to terms with an HIV-positive status is very similar to coming to terms with any life threatening disease, but it is also very different."

Still holding up after all these years... and a lot of sun!

The language of tattoos is an unspoken dialogue between the wearer and the viewer. Historically, they have been used to "mark" criminals (as they were in thirteenth century Japan) and deserters of the British Army. Today, tattoos are a staple of music videos, Levi ads and fashion runways. HIV-positive tattoos do not function as either a mark of criminal behavior or a fashion statement.

In his article, Brouwer writes, "The tattoo signifies 'membership' in a collective of people much like Greek fraternity or sorority letters, clothing with labor union insignia, or rainbow flags for lesbians and gays. Like members of any sort of collective, people with HIV/AIDS tattoos often share common rituals - discovery of their diagnosis, visits to physicians or hospitals, participation in demonstrations, the mourning of friends and loved ones. Thus, HIV/AIDS tattoos participate in the construction of an AIDS community by publicizing an individual's otherwise hidden condition."

(Article reprinted without permission from New City News, Tony Peregrin, or anyone else for that matter. But, hell, do I really need permission to reprint a story about me?)

Walking On Sunshine

How could someone complete this ride without inspiration?

Honestly, I don't know if they could. And I've already written about some of the people who inspire me - Holly, my sponsors, friends I've lost to AIDS. Over the next eight months, I'm sure I'll write about many more. But during my ride today, I was reminded of someone who inspires me to push harder, pedal faster and ride farther. Another pretty damn amazing friend who's been in my life for a very long time.

When I set out today, my goal was to hit 15 miles. My plan was to have an easy ride today and a longer one tomorrow. I thought maybe... maybe... I'd push myself to 20 miles depending on how I felt on the road. I'm just now averaging 20 miles a ride so no need to push it. Plus, I was setting out very late this morning... 9:30 a.m. Let's not even get into how I'm going to be "inspired" to set out during the actual event by 8 a.m. for seven days in a row. That's a whole other blog entry. Anyway, as my fellow desert dwellers are well aware, it heats up quickly here in Vegas. Fifteen miles would put me home around 10:30 - and 80-degrees. Twenty miles would be 11 a.m. and 85-degrees.

So I set off. You know the routine. Pedal, pedal, pedal. Pedal.

Pedal.

Pedal. Pedal.

Stop for a red light.

Pedal. Pedal.

Pedal.

Well if you didn't know the routine, you definitely know it now. Actually, at one point I wanted to lift off the saddle, rest my legs a sec and give the tush a little break but I was soooo into my cadence, I forgot to stop pedaling when I lifted up. My mind told my legs to stop. But. They. Didn't. Pedal, pedal, pedal. Almost sent me off the shoulder into the dirt & rocks. Quick reflexes (and a WTF?) saved me from a face-plant in the dust.

Anyway, there I was pedaling and listening to Best of the 80's on my iPod when I got to Blue Diamond & Durango. I knew I was close to 7.5 miles but since my phone with my mileage app was in my saddle bag, I wasn't sure how far I'd gone and didn't want to end up back home to find out I was short on my 15-mile goal. So I kept going. A few miles up, I knew I was safe and if I turned around there I'd definitely hit my goal. Must've had a reserve tank or something today though because I decided I'd go a little farther and hit that 20-mile mark.

Pedal, pedal, pedal. I learned that 99 Luftballons is a great song on a slight incline. 

It was around Nena's little song of protest that I realized I knew I was safely past the ten-mile mark and could turn around and glide up into my driveway with another twenty miles under my belt. Then out of nowhere I remembered this friend. A guy I've known since my childhood; as long as I can remember actually. When we were seven or eight, we used to throw household furniture into weird configurations, create flight-control panels out of cardboard, and play astronaut. At twelve, we'd hang out in my basement away from the parental units. As a teenager, I smoked my first cigarette with him and we tried alcohol for the first time together. We were very close and he knew all my deepest secrets.

And those thoughts and memories of him kept me going. Well, that and the fact that I felt I still had the energy and knew the ride back was mostly downhill. I also knew there was a good place to turn around a couple miles up and I decided that would be my milestone.

But it wasn't. When I got there, I was still thinking about him. And I kept going. figuring I'd head back when I got to the entrance of Red Rock. That would give me a solid 25 miles.

When I pedaled up to the gas station at the Blue Diamond/Hwy. 159 junction, I realized I'd been thinking about him for miles. Now, to give a little history, this is like many long-term connections we have in our lives. As we got older, I lost touch with him for sometimes short, sometimes long, periods. There were times that I got so angry, I would just shut him out for days, weeks or months at a time. Other periods in life I felt like he was the only person there for me. Through good times and bad, I was always forgiven for mistakes I'd made, supported during some of the toughest choices I've had in life, and even lauded for the most insignificant of achievements. When I rode up to that gas station - that predetermined point of turning around - I didn't. Instead I thought, "This ride's for him," and turned down Hwy. 159.

At this point in my training, I don't have much variety in my rides (that will change VERY soon!). This means I know my routes pretty well and, when I turned into the Red Rock Canyon entrance, I set a new milestone. The little town of Blue Diamond. Actually, I first thought I'd ride up to that place I spotted the burro on an earlier ride because there's a bit of a hill after that and I didn't feel like climbing it. But, after thinking about it, I knew Blue Diamond was just another mile up the road and once I climbed that hill, I'd be on the downhill of my ride.

Then I got to Blue Diamond and this lifelong companion's voice told me to keep going. Just a little farther. Bonnie Springs was two, maybe two-and-a-half, miles up the road. So I kept going... for him.

I made it to the entrance of Bonnie Springs, snapped a couple pics and thought, "What the hell." Turning into the entrance, I was excited because I'd never taken this side-street. It added another mile to my ride & was pretty darn cool too. Being a natural spring area, the vegetation grew thicker, the Joshua trees more dense, and civilization just a little further away.

I stopped here for my break. I hadn't packed much since I hadn't planned on a very long ride. But I had my trail mix in my jersey pocket and, fortunately, had filled both water bottles for the ride. More pics. A bit of resting. Waving at some of the cars passing by. Learning that M&M's may not melt in your hands but the ones in the trail mix sure as hell melt in a little baggie on a hot day.


As with all pit stops, I pulled my phone out of my saddle bag to check my mileage. 15.1 miles. Wow. There was no choice but to ride all the way home which meant I'd clock in at 30-miles making this my second longest training ride to date. Woohoo!!! As I hopped back on the CAAD-y (that's my nickname for my bike, heh!), I was grinning ear-to-ear. Then, turning out of Bonnie Springs back on to Hwy. 159, Katrina & the Waves came on the iPod with the classic Walking On Sunshine (yes, Wags, I thought of you!).

And I WAS walking on sunshine! Here I was hitting twice as much as my original goal. Right f*&#ing on! As Katrina belted it out for me, I started to dance while in the saddle. Seriously. Couple of fist pumps in the air. Singing out loud. Snapping my fingers. A lttle shimmy in the shoulders. Grooving to the greatness of the 80's and of this amazing ride. Other cyclists might have thought I was a freak but who the hell cares? This was MY ride and if I wanted to dance, then damn straight I'm gonna do it!

The ride back, as always, was a piece of cake after that 1,200 foot uphill climb. During this time, I sometimes just coasted and thought of my buddy. So very glad to have him in my life... to have grown up together... shared so much... overcome even more. On the way home, I decided to change up the route to add a few miles too. I did that for him to prove I could. And when I pulled into my neighborhood, I did a victory lap around the block like I always do. Then I did another. And one more for good measure.

I set out to ride fifteen miles. I arrived back home after 34.1 miles. Even more, I set personal records on two segments of the ride. Two other segments I achieved my second-best times ever. Got my third-best time on the Cattle Guard Sprint. Then there's the little thing about passing 260 total miles in my training so far. And I owe it all to the man who inspired me today. So I want to send a big shout out to the guy who pushed me harder, set my goals higher, and inspired me to do more than I ever thought I could....



Me.