Being Alive.

"To leave the world a bit better, whether by a healthy child, a garden patch or a redeemed social condition;
To know even one life has breathed easier because you have lived.

This is to have succeeded." ~Ralph Waldo Emerson, b. May 25, 1803



"Training? What the hell's training?" ~Craig Hermes, b. May 25, 1962



Friends, family, my ever-patient supporters, and generous of heart and spirit companions-

The above quote by Ralph Waldo Emerson was found inside a plastic Easter egg attached to my bike seat on Day 7 by the Chicken Lady, who has been doing the AIDS rides since 1994. She spent hours personally assembling and attaching these eggs to the over 2,333 bikes which were part of AIDS/LifeCycle 6. I've always loved the quote and attach particular poignance to it since Emerson and I share a birthday. Thank you, Chicken Lady, for your 13 years of joy, inspiration, dedication and heart in fighting the pandemic. You've kept us smiling and pedaling, when legs have said 'No more," and asses have said, "You gotta be kidding..." I dedicate a portion of this ride to you and look forward to riding with you again.

So, how was it?

In a word, extraordinary. Difficult, joyous, exhausting, exhilarting, somber, hilarious, sorrowful and hopeful. Often all these within the course of one good hill. The thing I find so impactful about these rides is that they don't allow you the luxury of not caring. The ride is life raw, unfiltered. I found myself frustrated to the point of tears, regretting the fact I was having difficulties, questioning my vitality and ability to stay the course. Then, as life/the universe/the path would have it, at my lowest point, pow--just the message I need to keep going. At lunch on Day 1, a sweet text message from my old roomie Susan telling me my spirit would carry me through. Tears, a chicken sandwich and a Gatorade, I got back on the bike and rode "Just one more pit stop..." At the next pit, feeling done for the day and maybe the event, a message from my friend Sabrina saying, "Bit by bit, bite by bite," and again I mustered the oomph to sit my untrained saddle sore butt on a seat for just a bit more, and before I knew it, Santa Cruz.

Well, maybe not before I knew it. I got in the camp 90 minutes later than the year before. Lifelong patterns of celebrating the disappointment and deflecting the accomplishment tried to trick me into feeling a failure. I took a breath, gave myself an attitude enema, and purged that caca out of my thinking. I finished! As my Aussie friend Simone would say, "Good on me!"

On Day 2, a century plus, I stopped for artichokes in honor of my friend Cathy and shared a great nosh with Diane, my Vaccine ride cohort and friend, her sister Nita, and a few hundred others. Back on the bike and rolled into camp at 7:00 as the route was closing, after almost 13 hours of cycling. As great good fortune would have it, Diane was right beside me. We looked at one another, and I said "I've never been this far back in the pack...and I LOVE it..." She agreed wholeheartedly, particularly enjoying the shorter lines at lunch and pits. I was quite a breakthrough for me. Always forced to the brink of defeat and despair by a cruel and relentless ego bent on perfection, I actually was buying the "Do your best" tenet I always aspired to.

With my shift, a new energy, drive, joy spurred me on. I woke up unnaturally happy at 4:15 am as Mariano stuck his finger in my ear and nose and rattled mylar. Ahhh, friends! Thank God for friends.

By Day three, I was the 1,048th person into lunch, now back in the thick of the event, riding beside Gutterbunnies, former AIDSRide friends and coworkers, and familiar friendly faces I had been cycling beside for over 13 years. Fast forward to Day 7, and I was the 102nd person into lunch. How on earth did that happen?

Drive, determination, and the ability to transcend discomfort. The shift in mindset of "Ugh, 545 miles with some significant hills," to, "Hey, only 15 miles to the next pit..."

Bit by bit, bite by bite.

As Martin Luther King, Jr. said, "Take the first step in faith. You don't have to see the whole staircase. Just take the first step."

As I rode in to closing cermonies, I was tired but satisfied, glad to have had the chance to bask in the amazing community of determined, compassionate, diverse, beautiful souls who unite once a year to do something very difficult, just because it needs to be done. I let the intense, tangible feeling of love eminating from this group of extraordinary individuals wash over me--and I openly sobbed. Sometimes life is too beautiful.

So what did we create? AIDS/LifeCycle 6 had 2,333 cyclists, almost 500 roadies and volunteers, raised over $11 million and was seen by over 10 million Californians. You opened your hearts and wallets and you have made a significant impact in the commitment to ending the pandemic and human suffering caused by HIV. A world without stigma, supporting our brothers and sisters, challenging assumptions about what it means to live with HIV, and challenging assumptions about what we can personally accomplish if we align heart, spirit, determination and, well, love. I rode behind a minister who had a sign on his bike which read, "Jesus would do the ride." Yeah I think he definitely would have.

In an ironic twist of fate, I returned home to a letter from my COBRA plan administrator saying there had been an error between my former employer, my insurer and the administrator. Even though they had been billing me at $210 a month and I had been paying it, they realized that my coverage had been incorectly assigned, and I should have been being billed $529 a month and I now owed $2,100, due by July 1st or my coverage would be terminated effective last February. And I would need to repay any benefits, prescriptions costs, or office visits between those dates. Oh, about $10,000 or so. And if I lose coverage, I am uninsurable for the rest of my life. Welcome to the wonderful world of living with HIV.

So I return to the San Francisco AIDS Foundation, again as a client, humbled, bike helmet in hand, and will work with a case worker and ADAP to ensure I can at least get my meds covered. This is why these events are necessary. They keep people alive. People like me. I don't particularly care if you identify as Republican, Libertarian, Green Party, Democrat or Independent--hell, you can even be a Whig if you like. All I ask is that as we head into an election year, place your vote with a candidate who is an advocate for health care reform. It's ludicrous that our profit driven system would rather allow people to fall into financial ruin or die due to lack of access to treatment. We are our brother's keeper. That which affects the least of us affects all of us. We all have HIV if one of us does.

Okay, off the soapbox.

This weekend, I start the AIDS Marathon training program for the Florence marathon. I must ensure services that have been there for me are there for others. I would love to have you be a part of my team for Florence. The link under my signature will allow you to donate securely. They even allow donations over time so a significant donation is a little less painful. I thank you for your consideration. You've saved my life more than once.

I also extend the offer I did last year. Please also consider participating as a cyclist or roadie in next year's AIDS/LifeCyle. I would love to form a Team Hermes. I will be your first donor and will support you on every step of your adventure. It will transform you, alchemical in its power.

Thank you, LAGLC and San Francisco AIDS Foundation, AIDS/LifeCycle community, my friends, family, donors and well-wishers. I am alive because of you all.

I leave you with a link to Raul Esparza singing 'Being Alive' from the Tony Awards. Please afford yourself the chance to truly hear it. It's a good metaphor for the ride and for life. Let the words seep into you, unfiltered. Allow yourself to feel, regain and celebrate your humanity. This is life, raw. Alive.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=j8kYfPoHyos



"Somebody, hold me too close,

Somebody, hurt me too deep,

Somebody, sit in my chair
And ruin my sleep
And make me aware
Of being alive,
Being alive.

Somebody, need me too much,
Somebody, know me too well,
Somebody, pull me up short
And put me through hell
And give me support
For being alive,
Make me alive.

Make me confused,
Mock me with praise,
Let me be used,
Vary my days.
But alone is alone, not alive.

Somebody, crowd me with love,
Somebody, force me to care,
Somebody, make me come through,
I'll always be there,
As frightened as you,
To help us survive
Being alive,
Being alive,
Being alive!"

Namaste

I Honor the God in You.

Craig

https://www.sfaf.org/give/marathon.cfm?e=FL07&f=Craig&l=Hermes&n=5053

AIDS Marathon Florence 2007 Runner #5053, ALC Rider #4147, SFAF Client, HIV+ over 12 years, a pain in the ass for far longer