Every Rose....

We all know the saying and our lives are full of thorny parts. My friend Sally and I came up with a name for them... high-class problems. You know, the ones like the new puppy peeing on the carpet you just had installed or the dishwasher breaking down or dropping your cell phone in the ocean when you're trying to take a picture from your cruise ship balcony. High-class problems never took off - it stayed a personal joke between us - but a variation arose a couple years ago... First-world problems. We all have them. Those moments we focus on the water leak or reaching our credit card limit or the car breaking down. Those moments when we forget how fortunate we are for owning our home or credit cards or automobiles which come with the responsibility (and challenges) of all of the above. Yep, those are what I'm talking about when I say high-class problems.

But today, things feel a little different. Yes, these things I'm feeling can be associated with high-class problems. If I didn't live in this technological age, this prosperous country, wasn't gainfully employed, able to access decent healthcare, and have the opportunity to use a portion of my income at my complete discretion, I wouldn't be feeling what I'm feeling today. If my friends and family didn't have the ability to support my ride, or send me a Facebook message or email or text to help keep me motivated, my emotions today may be completely different. These really are first-world problems. They're attributed to more than survival... the type of survival so much of the world, so many humans, have no choice but to focus on. This stuff I'm feeling, it's all extraneous. It's not the most basic needs required to just make it to the next day... those needs that many struggle for constantly. I mean, look at this chart.... Maslow's Hierarchy of Needs. The most basic of basics for survival (both psychological and physical) include breathing, food, water, sleep, sex, homeostasis & excretion. I've got those down. But that's a first-world thing. Drought regions in Africa? No food. Rural areas in India? No potable water. Sweatshops throughout the world? Little sleep.

Heck, even level two, Safety, I've got today. Sure, I could lose any of them tomorrow but we're not talking tomorrow... it's today that I'm feeling this feeling. Shit, looking at this chart, I'm at the top of the pyramid. Maybe I'm not often creative and maybe a prejudice still pops up occasionally and maybe I experience periods without sexual intimacy.... but I have access to them all and they're all attainable with just a little change of direction, reworking of thoughts, shift in focus, right?

But this feeling today... this high-class problem... it's just from being overextended. From taking on something bigger than me. From putting my heart out there to help others survive and opening my mind to memories of struggle, and illness, and pain, and fear and death. It's from doing what I can to help others stay motivated. From watching those with the most dedication & commitment get derailed by some of that simple stuff in the pyramid we all take for granted. Before AIDS/LifeCycle, my life was pretty "normal." I worked. I spent time with friends. I had responsibilities like a mortgage and pets and bills and preparations for travel and supporting friends in need and swearing I'll clean out the closet next weekend...and...and...and...

When I signed up for ALC, I was anxious and nervous. If you've been following my journey or my blog or my Facebook or we chatted when I first started this little adventure, you knew that (right Jeremy C!). You've probably watched me re-learn how to ride a bike and turn into a real cyclist (yes, I consider myself a cyclist now). You've seen just a few miles turn into dozens... recreational rides turn into, "OMG, how did he do that?" You've seen the first cycling shorts & jersey I purchased and then saw them evolve into a closet full of gear. You saw - and are responsible for - fundraising progress starting at zero and reaching close to $12,000. Viewed photo albums of rides through Red Rock Canyon, River Mountain Loop, Hoover Dam, Palm Springs, Los Angeles, Long Beach, across the Golden Gate Bridge, - through the desert... along the beach. From here to there and back. But y'know what, even in the ALC world, I'm one of the lucky ones... I'm one of the ones with the high-class problems. One who can cut the thorns from the stem of the rose. One of the things I've learned on this path is this isn't easy. Maybe you've seen that. But I've never really noticed it. Not until recently. And here's why...

Longevity:

When I first registered, my thought was I'll give it a shot, ride a bike a little, raise a little money, and spend a week immersed in the experience. How wrong I was. This journey starts the moment you register. Many of us can't comprehend riding 545 miles in seven days. For those of us who've registered and trained, it starts to come into focus. Holy f***! This is much, much more than riding a bike for seven days. Just this week, a couple friends bought bikes to go on some recreational rides... y'know, doing something in the off hours to stay fit. Knowing I'm a cyclist, they immediately reported back to me about their experience. One, who's about my age, said she rode a couple miles and her first thought was, "When is this going to feel good?" I ache everywhere!" The second, a very fit, young woman, told me today, "I went on a twelve mile ride this weekend and I was like "OMG, I hurt here, here and here!" She's a former gymnast. Women probably envy her body and fitness level. But she can't ride a bike a dozen miles without it feeling like torture. That's the life of endurance sports I guess. We take time to build up to 20, 40, 50, 80 miles. But we experience all those same things. Wobbly legs after a long weekend of riding. Dehydration no matter how much water we consume on a ride. Applications of sunblock and lip balm over and over and over and over that still leave us with the most unattractive tan lines and sunburns. Aches here. Pains there. Discomfort all over. And to this day... even if you've been following me... the most mileage I've completed in a weekend is 118. On Day Two of the ride, I have to complete 109. Yes, there's preparation for the ride... but we won't ever know if we can really do it until we do it. That's where some of the anxiety comes in. I will say, after many talks with experienced riders, I know with the training I've done that I'm ready. That puts the nervous thoughts to the back of my mind... but they're still there. In the end, we're committing to more than riding for a week... we're committing to a total lifestyle change from the day we register to the day we cross the finish line. This ride isn't about a week along the coast of California... it's about living, breathing and training ALC for months.

And that's where life and the unexpected come into play...

Yep, this is about longevity. It's a three or six or nine month journey. And none of us can plan for changes in our lives or the unexpected challenges during that time. And here's what I've seen in these months...

Teammates and other participants I've come to know who've had major life changes. Dominic got a new job which took him to a different state and cut his ALC dreams short. Sure, he's following another dream but will have to wait to see this one come to fruition. Another teammate got into a relationship and due to the addition, and focus, of another person in his life, had to drop out of the ride. Molly and her wife started fostering their nephew... and they're still participating but it's been obvious their focus has shifted because that little boy has to be the priority and they've found less time for training and fundraising. And the unexpected... well, it's unexpected. Suzi, a new ALC friend, is probably more committed to the cause than anyone I know. And last week she took a tumble on her bike, the injury formed a blood clot, and now she's unable to ride. But she's still raising funds and joining us as a Roadie on the ride. Martijn was told by his docs he can't do an endurance event like this due to recurring back problems... but he's sticking with us by becoming a Virtual Cyclist. Others have had old injuries flare up, deaths in the family, work responsibilities... and just plain life... get in the way of their dreams of completing the ride. No matter our dedication or commitment, we have to focus on ourselves even while we're helping others. And when our needs become greater than theirs, well, we have to shift gears.

Economics & Budgets:

I haven't tallied the total cost of the ride for myself but I can tell you it reaches in the thousands... and that's not including the new bike. Here's a short list - definitely not all inclusive - of what a first time rider has to buy, beg, or borrow for the event:

• Basic Cycling Wear: Bibs, shorts, jerseys, socks, arm warmers, leg warmers, gloves, helmet
• Required Cycling Gear: Bike tool, pumps, tubes, saddle bags, water bottles & cages, patch kits
• Optional But Recommended/Preferred Cycling Gear: cycling shoes, clipless/cage pedals, chamois cream, eye wear
• Required Camping Gear: sleeping bag, camping pad, duffle bag/suitcase
• Optional but Recommended Gear: quick dry chamois towel, camp pillow, headlamp, flashlight, solar power chargers, batteries, plastic tarps, shower caps, non-battery operated alarm clocks, electrolyte mixes, energy shots/chews, trail mix/protein bars, hydration packs
• Miscellany: Ziploc bags, laundry detergent, sweat bands/bandana/skull caps, backpack, spare tires, an outfit for Red Dress Day
• Fundraising: monies we've contributed to our own funds, costs of fundraising events, flyers, promotions
• Logistics: Airfare & hotels for San Francisco & Los Angeles. Bike disassembly, shipping and assembly. Shuttles & taxis and BART fares.

That list is basic... doesn't include registration fees for things like supported events for training rides like I've been on.... Tour de Palm Springs, Day on the Ride, Tour de Cure. Doesn't include travel or hotels to cities to participate in longer rides to get experience with support while completing these 60, 80 and 100 mile rides... something that's very difficult to do outside of an organized event. Doesn't include the tubes we have to replace during training or the tune-ups & fittings we should probably get during our training or before the actual event. My costs, without the bike, without airfare, without gas, mileage, and time off work have exceeded $3,000. And me... well, that's a high-class problem for me. I shift things around. Not all items are required... not all costs are necessary... but I have the ability so I do it. And I go without this to buy that or make a concession to cover a cost. For those just as committed and focused as me, they may not have these luxuries. And that's what they are... luxuries, extras, concessions... all in the name of helping others. And, well, to see their dreams diminished... yeah, well, it's not pleasant and we as the ALC community do our best to help & support all participants where and if we can.

Fundraising:
First, I have to say I must be one of the luckiest guys in the world. Not only do I have a fully supportive community, but I've lived in a dozen states and have stayed friends with many throughout the years. This has given me a huge community to reach out to for support of my ride. I also have many, many years working in the field of HIV/AIDS which has connected me to those who've had a lifetime commitment toward this particular cause. I'm a little older... which means my friends are a little older... and we generally have the means to donate a little more than the friends of a college student might. I have larger, stronger, more solid networks. A 26 year old might not have that. Or someone who doesn't have friends across the globe like I do. You all have been amazing in every way in your support of this event. But I've seen others give up because they just can't meet their minimum. It's difficult for me to see someone dive in feet-first only to give up on the ride - lose the dream of doing it this year - because they can't reach their minimum to ride. That's where we as a community again bind together... and I've seen it over and over again. We promote our friends and fellow ALCers requesting donations for them or giving them donations ourselves because, in the end, it doesn't matter who the money is donated to... all the funds go to support the cause we all believe in.

The Head Effect:

For me, this may have been the biggest challenge. Not something everyone participating in the ride has had to deal with. But, as a first year rider, and someone who has decades of experience with HIV, it's been a tough one. In reminding myself why I'm riding... in sharing my story with my community... I've opened doors to memories that have been sitting back in dusty rooms. Wonderful memories of friendships and loves and working for a cause. And emotional memories of illness and fear and discrimination and loss. Opening that door of twenty years of memories and allowing them all to come out at the same time - well, that's the Head Effect. It's a double-edged sword. It reminds me why I'm doing this... keeps me committed and motivated. But it has, at times, also overwhelmed me with emotion and memories of the dark periods of this pandemic. The most difficult times were meeting up with old friends, sharing wonderful stories, and then finding out that a friend of ours I had lost touch with had lost his battle to AIDS almost a decade ago. Or hearing one of the volunteers who worked with my education program was in hospice and seeing her last moments in life posted on Facebook. Again... double-edged sword. It reminds me AIDS is still a thing and is the reason I'm riding. And it hurts at the same time.

Time:
How much spare time do you feel you have in a week? If you're like me - and I know many of my friends are - spare time is sparse. We work. We have side jobs. We have pets or children to care for. Homes to clean. Shrubs to trim. Bills to pay, dinners to cook, shopping to do, garages to organize, family to visit, birthdays to attend. We're busy. Now add ALC to that mix. At this stage in the game, many cyclists are spending 5-8 hours on Saturday out on the road getting some mileage in. Oh, and we do it again on Sunday. And it's not just about the time we spend in the saddle. The night before a ride I spend 30-60 minutes airing tires, packing saddle bags, charging external batteries, mixing electrolyte drink, safety checking my bike, checking the weather forecast and choosing the right cycling gear. I've spent an evening putting new tires on my bike. Or mornings checking the ALC packing list and searching online for the right gear that I can afford. Late evenings spent mapping routes, locating water/bathroom checkpoints, planning rides. Reading online cycling blogs to learn how to fix a flat or shift properly.

But that's just training. All the riding we do doesn't fulfill the most important part of this journey... raising funds for the LA Gay & Lesbian Center and the San Francisco AIDS Foundation. Emails, Facebook posts, planning fundraisers, sending thank you's, coordinating raffles, following up, providing incentives for donors.

For me, there's even more. I'm a team captain. I try to spend time supporting and helping my teammates. More emails, phone calls, Facebook posts, text messages, researching things on the ALC site so I have the answers they might need. I live in Vegas so I've chosen to travel in order to participate in ALC training rides. I've been to LA, Palm Springs & San Francisco. I've worked with Brendan to organize a great event for ALC out here in Vegas. From the day I signed up, I've tried my best to be all-in.

So yeah, a couple hours ago it caught up with me. I felt worn out and overwhelmed. I had a rough day at work, maybe that had something to do with it. Or maybe the last couple weeks of terrorists and fertilizer plant explosions and North Korea bombing threats is taking its toll. Maybe it's just exhaustion in trying to find time to complete the simple tasks like doing the dishes after a long day at the office or remembering what day it is so I know whether or not to put the garbage on the curb for pickup.

But you know what, after writing this all down it seems so much smaller. Not feeling overwhelmed right now. Not feeling worn out. Nope. I'm reminded I'm not doing this alone. That I have 2,500 Riders, a thousand Roadies, and amazing ALC Staff right here beside me. I've got the most amazing team of Allstars who I know are there for me the minute I reach out. Then there are all of you... my friends, family, colleagues... who've been alongside me from day one. I'm remembering there's only 39 days until we ride out of San Francisco and I can get through 39 days of just about anything... even if it means putting off cleaning that closet until after I return on June 9th.

When I signed up for this, I signed up for the experience of a lifetime. And we all know those types of experiences don't come easily. But yeah... it's all worthwhile. For my personal goals. For the community around me. And, most importantly, for the people we're all helping and the cause we're all fighting for in this endeavor.

Yep. This rose has some thorns but I know one thing... it's one damn beautiful flower. No, it's not one. It's an entire field of the grandest roses ever cultivated.

I got this. And I got this because of you.

Thank you.

J-