And I ran, I ran so far away...

saturday, december 7, 2002

Wishing all the Spirit of Aloha from sunny Honolulu!

I can’t believe it’s been six months since I took my first steps out at Golden Gate Park. Let’s be clear here, I never thought I’d be able to run in a Marathon. I remember the thrill of seeing my uncle at the base of Heartbreak Hill in the Boston Marathon, back in the mid-‘70s. All cool relaxed and happy smiles -- he actually stopped to give us all hugs and to chat -- if you can believe it. With a crowd of runners so focused on finishing, time, splits, winners, losers, success and failure -- it really touched me that for my Uncle Charlie, his most important focus was having an enjoyable run and sharing it with the family he loved.

Flash forward a quarter century, and now it’s my turn to carry the torch (is an Olympic reference confusing in a Marathon reflection?). Why am I running? Because when I found out I was HIV positive, I never thought I’d be 40. I turned 40 in May, so I run.

I run as celebration, as education, I run for those who can’t, I run because I am so very lucky to be in the five percent of the HIV-positive world population that has access to HIV medications that their body responds to. I run for the children I was fortunate to have laughed and played with in India, Thailand, Nepal, Tibet, Burma, Cambodia, Lao. I run for my niece and nephew, so that HIV just might be less of a reality in their world. I run for my friend and vocal coach, Toby Hall, the first person I knew that died of AIDS. I run because every five minutes, another US teen seroconverts. I run to support the phenomenal staff and clients of the San Francisco AIDS Foundation -- people that inspire me with their selfless dedication and amazing integrity. And mostly, I run because I can, I must, be fully and completely alive every moment of every day.

One of HIV’s greatest gifts for me is the importance it has given me toward being fully accountable to my present. I feel it is my duty, my obligation, to raise the bar continually, to go beyond fear, doubt, and cynicism. I’ve never been a jock (in fact I was a double for the Beaver growing up -- all huge head and the clichéd “last one picked for the softball team” shoulder slump). But I knew I had the ability to draw from enormous amounts of steely reserve. It’s a fantastically enriching experience to do something just because it’s difficult, just because it needs to be done. Would I want it easy? No way. Life isn’t easy but it is an amazing course in progressive learning. That which doesn’t kill you definitely improves your sense of humor. So I remember to laugh.

Having been involved in 12 fundraising bike rides for AIDS services and vaccine research in the past eight years, I’ve constantly pushed to challenge myself. Longer distances, multiple events, larger donations. I know bike rides, and I know I can ride my bike til the cows come home. But I didn’t know if I could run. So I run. The unknown is not scary if you open your arms to all possibilities.

This is sort of my Triple Crown 2002 after AIDS/LifeCycle and the AIDS Walk. And in January, I leave to do my own fundraising ascent of Mount Kilimanjaro to raise funds for African AIDS relief through Pangaea and for the Dian Fossey Gorilla Fund. All are one, and I will do what I can while I have strength of body, mind, spirit. Then, I guess, I really should become gainfully reemployed and spend some time with my pooch, Fugee.

One of the greatest involvements I had with the bike rides was as a member of Positive Pedalers, an HIV positive cyclist group. My first few AIDS rides, before I knew I was positive, I marveled at the commitment and fortitude of these beautiful HIV-positive men and women with the orange flags on their bikes who, invariably, would zoom past me as I was doing my Artie Johnson-from-Laugh-In-try-not-to-tip-over-creep up some of California’s steepest hills. I was humbled by the endurance of these people doing what I was finding to be nearly impossible, and doing it within the context of HIV -- fatigue, diarrhea, neuropathy. And doing it with smiles, hope, and joy. Jonathan Pon, the founder of Positive Pedalers, was a true inspiration. Jonathan successfully ran in last year’s Honolulu Marathon, and had hoped to start a similar program for positive runners. Sadly, Jonathan passed away shortly after last year’s Marathon.

With his vision, I started Positive Strides, to offer participants in the AIDS Marathon training program the same chance to connect with one another and to provide some education and visibility for HIV-positive participants in the Marathon training program. It’s in its infancy, but we did have 10 people from the Bay Area in our group. I hope that we will continue on with running post-Marathon. And I see great potential for growth.

So here I am, very excited to go for a run around Honolulu! My challenges to myself are to just let the run be what it is. I will be present -- look at flowers, hear birds, drink water. I will ask people why they are running. I will leave behind expectations. Leave behind history, of failure and success. I will just be.

And I am so enormously thankful. Thankful for my friends who’ve supported me unquestioningly throughout the years, thankful for family whom I love like none other, thankful for the fantastic staffs at both the AIDS Marathon office and the San Francisco AIDS Foundation, thankful for all my friends in the Kathy Switzer pace group, thankful for my friends David & Renata who I hornswaggled into running with me, thankful for each and every person who made the extraordinary commitment of time, energy, money, heart, and endurance to come to Hawaii and raise money to fight the pandemic and human suffering caused by HIV. You give me hope, you inspire me, you are all spectacular, and you have made a difference in our world. Enjoy your run.

Mahalo/Namaste/Peace.

sunday, december 8, 2002

The Spirit of Aloha comes through!

Well, it’s official. I’m in the one percent of the world population that has completed a Marathon. And now I can see why it’s one percent. This amazing experience challenged me like I haven’t been challenged before. I’ve pushed on through innumerable difficulties, and this took all my pushing abilities. I birthed a 26.2 mile baby!

I was so incredibly inspired by the whole event. By the 30,000 people participating, by the 1,700 people that came in the name of AIDS, the thousands that came in the name of arthritis, lymphoma and leukemia, breast cancer. The heroic wheelchair participants. The blind runners. The fireworks over Diamond Head at the race start. The man running in wooden elevated sandals and kimono. The scores of people along the route handing out water, candy, pretzels, beer (!!!!-didn’t warn me about that one!), the volunteers handing out sponges, water, Amino Vital.

What really touched me was the support I was shown on the route. People shouting my name (I thought nearly every time, “Do I know them?” then remembered I’d written my name on my shirt). People telling me they were running for me and all positive people. That outpouring of love and support carried miles farther than my feet wanted to go.

I had a really strong start and stayed strong until mile 16. Then something happened. I think it was a combination of endorphins, fatigue, heat, joy, sadness -- that made me hit my emotional and spiritual wall. My God, did my spirit rebel. But I just kept going, head down, thankful for health, for the beauty, for hope. And thankful for the beautiful trade winds blowing me back to Waikiki. But, honestly, from miles 21 through 24, I felt like I dropped through the rabbit hole, fell through a wrinkle in the spacetime continuum. A place with a cruel sense of humor, where seconds seemed like days and minutes, weeks. At one point I looked at my watch and thought, “Huh, watch must have stopped,” then I saw it advance by a second. Spooky evil watch.

And just when I thought I would start to actually break down and sob (Dear God -- a sensitive New Age guy ...), I’d hear from the sides, “Craig, you look strong. Keep running buddy.” And then I’d wanna cry for an entirely different reason.

At mile 25, I passed a woman who was walking and as she read the back of my shirt (which read “HIV positive runner-Craig”), I heard her yell, “I’m finishing with you!” This urged me on when I felt spent, and Katherine and I ran in strong.

I again, am so thankful for every aspect of this experience. For my health, for the beauty of the world and the beauty of the entire AIDS Marathon community. For the difficulty, for the success. And from the bottom of my being, I thank the entire AIDS Marathon community, the San Francisco AIDS Foundation, APLA and everyone who celebrated this noble effort toward eliminating the pandemic and suffering caused by HIV. If I could hug each participant and each donor, I would. You are a shining example of what is right in our world. You are my heroes.

Maholo.

Craig Hermes
Finisher 10,000 something and 800 something in my age group. Finisher -- but not finished. On I run.

electricganesha, write on.

from wikipedia,
"Ganesha (Gaṇeśa; also spelled Ganesa or Ganesh) is one of the best-known and most worshipped deities in Hinduism. Although he is known by many other attributes, Ganesha's elephant head makes him easy to identify.

Several texts relate mythological anecdotes associated with his birth and exploits, and explain his distinct iconography. Ganesha is worshipped as the lord of beginnings and as the lord of obstacles (Vighnesha), patron of arts and sciences, and the god of intellect and wisdom. He is honoured with affection at the start of any ritual or ceremony and invoked as the "Patron of Letters" at the beginning of any writing.

Ahhhh. He shows up at the beginning of writing, bearing and removing the obstacles that stand between one and the Aum. Be with me as I write, I offer my heart and pain, and laughter and hope, that we might all grow closer to understanding our oneness, our interconnection,to claim our own magnificence.




Thank you for the obstacles, for those placed with love, and those removed with compassion.

Ganesh Gayatri

Om Eka Dantaya Vidmahe
Vakra Thundaya Dhemahi
Thannoh Dhantih Prachodhayath
Om Shanti ... Shanti ... Shanti

Realizing that Elephant-faced One,
with one tusk is God;
Meditate on the One Who has a curved trunk;
May He enlighten our intellect.

Ganesh Gayatri

life's too short not to love catsup.

don't you just relish those childhood memories? Photo courtesy of our Polaroid Swinger.
Head courtesy of Beaver Cleaver.

my favorite things...

my favorite things... my Mom, my bro, my dog Snoopy, who I used to let lick my mouth out, Scamper, my beautiful Labrodeagle, Spot, my fat stray cat, my Adam Ant lunchbox and matching pencil box, my cupie curls, my two year old pot belly, my foot deep pool... pretty fond of Scott's paisley catastrophe, too.

Ahh, Cape Cod and a camphor and mildew smelling cottage. Wonderful.

I owe a good pic of Dad, he belongs here to. I'll go digging through the ages.

Doesn't Mom look proud of her pumpkin? Hard to imagine that radiant being died two years later. I guess heaven needed a water aerobics instructor. Had jugs, would travel.

A Real Dragnet Pot Party. LSD is the Bomb.

Ever the psychonaut, a young Craig at the age of 7 dons one of Mom's wigs, droops the eyes to half mast and acts like a Hippy at a Pot Party--just like the evils Sargeant Joe Friday warned us impressionable pre-teens about...
"Marijuana's the match, heroin’s the fuse, LSD's the bomb!" -- Sgt. Joe Friday, Dragnet. Thanks, Joe.
And thanks Polly Bergen, for letting me borrow your hair.

We Are Family.

"You don't choose your family. They are God's gift to you, as you are to them." ~Desmond Tutu.

“What greater thing is there for human souls than to feel that they are joined for life - to be with each other in silent unspeakable memories.” ~George Eliot




“Family life is full of major and minor crises -- the ups and downs of health, success and failure in career, marriage, and divorce -- and all kinds of characters. It is tied to places and events and histories. With all of these felt details, life etches itself into memory and personality. It's difficult to imagine anything more nourishing to the soul.” ~Thomas Moore

“The bond that links your true family is not one of blood, but of respect and joy in each other's life.” -Richard Bach



For Eleanor Scola, 1912 - 2007


Some people share genetic history yet this does not make them family. Others walk into our lives through marriage, friendship, circumstance, tragedy, or death, sharing no lineage yet through the power of a shared history and connected at the heart, they become family.

I don't need any cheek swab of skin cells to prove my grandpaternity. Dickie, who I called Gigi (rhymes with Twiggy) until her death last week at the age of 95, was my grandmother. She was married to my grandfather of no relation, James “Doctor Jim” Victor Scola, who was more a friendly stranger, actually. Help me here—I need PowerPoint presentation as a visual to understanding the Family Hermes/Scola/Goward/Tewksbury/Martin. I can’t keep track—and I love ‘em! How could I expect you to, really?

Oh, by the way, thanks, Scott, for your startling diction as a baby. Why was I the only one still calling her by her baby-dubbed moniker? I remember calling her Dickie exactly once. It didn't flow from my tongue, this adult term of endearment. I remember Gigi raising an eyebrow and suppressing a small smile. It felt wrong when I said it, like I'd said, "Heya, Toots!". Gigi, she was and will be forever more. Amen.

Eleanor "Dickie" Mendum Hermes Scola came into the Hermes family via marriage to my grandfather, Otto Edmond Hermes, in 1947. After my grandfather died in 1957, Dickie remarried a dear friend of her's and Otto's who had recently lost his wife. Dr. James V. Scola gave Dickie the last of her surnames and became her dear companion for over 40 years.

One of my fonder memories of the Cape was an afternoon spent in a rubber raft and then body surfing with Gigi’s sister, Dot Evans. I was probably 12 or so, and I thought it was SO cool that the magical character with an infectious laugh would want to spend time hanging out with an awkward adolescent.

I remember asking Mom & Dad very excitedly, “Does this mean Scott and I have a cool new Great Aunt & Uncle?”. I think the response was along the lines of “Well, not REALLY, but we seem to make up family as we go…so if you’d like to think of them as that, sure! We love Dot & Brad!” What is family if not love?

So where does this leave us?

I had a step grandmother and a step-step grandfather on my paternal side. Is there such a thing as a step step? Didn't matter to Scott and me. They were just our grandparents—we didn’t need to see pedigree like the stiff-bloomered Daughters of the American Revolution. They were every bit the grandparents that "Grammie" Phyllis Goward Tewksbury Martin and "Grampa" James Leo Martin were on the maternal side. They spent holidays with us, Dr. Jim made bow ties for us, Gigi always making Christmas breads, cookies, pies, playing tag, going fishing, taking an intense interest in all we did.

Actually, come to think of if, Grammie was the only "true" grandparent in the bunch. You see, Grampa was first married to Grammie's sister Dottie (my Great Aunt) and after she passed, he married Grammie, his sister-in-law, and went from being my great uncle to becoming my Gruncle -great uncle grandfather.

Mom held enormous affection for Grampa--after her dad John Tewksbury committed suicide when Mom was only three, Grammie's sister Dorothy 'Dottie' Goward and her husband Jim Martin, were constant sources of strength, support, and love for Mom, Grammie & Charlie during some very trying years. He was her father figure growing up and Dottie was like a spare Mummie. What an embarrassment of familial riches!

When Grammie & Grampa got married in 1964, Mom was thrilled beyond belief, and immediately bestowed upon Uncle Jim the name of power, love, and respect—he became her Papa.

It's a really beautiful thing that all these amazing, strong, individuals, whose lives were woven together through periods of great loss and sadness, were able to transcend these losses and go on to some of the most beautiful and enduring moments of their lives. They became family. Our family. My family.

“So a Goward was a Tewksbury, a Tewksbury a Martin. The Martin was a Goward, too, two sisters and an uncle. A Mednum was a Hermes until became a Scola, a Scola who was no relation, and yet He was my grandfather.” to the tune of “I Am The Very Model of A Modern Major General...”

Isn't the Hermes genealogy like a fun crossbreed of a Gilbert & Sullivan patter song with an intense sensation of a brain freeze. Why bother with semantics and flow charts--they were all just my much-loved family.

It was a mix of emotion traveling out to Gigi’s funeral. On the one hand, I was so happy that she could finally be at peace, separated from a failing body. I don’t really think of death as sad. Well, not for the dead, anyway. It’s sad for us schmoes left behind. We miss people taken from us in inflexible terms. But I have to believe that we go on, energy is neither created or destroyed—it’s just good science.

At Mom’s funeral, I was so struck by my Uncle Charlie’s telling of the experience of Mom’s death being like she had boarded a ship, and we wave from the shore, in intense grief, crying, saying, “There she goes…” but on a distant shore there is a group of familiar, loving faces, waving excitedly, saying, “Here she comes!”

I was saying to Scott, I can just picture Dickie setting up her beach chair at Bank Street beach, her receiving a 'welcome to the party' with Mom, Dad, Otto, Dr. Jim, Virginia, Marguerite, Uncle Tommy, Peggy, Aunt Carol, Grammie, Grampa, Dottie, Gay, Paul, Bruce--that's getting to be a sizable bunch of fun folks! Heck, I bet Scamper, Snoopy, Muffin, Happy Cat, Stinky, Blackie, Chinky, Billy, Spot, and numerous other loved creatures are hanging around, too.

So, winding up, I am so grateful for Dickie and all the other beautiful loving souls who banded together and became our family. I am particularly thankful for the unconditional love that our family affords. It must have been hard for Dickie & Jim and Grammie & Grampa to understand our so-very-different generation. They came from an upbringing of etiquette, reserve, respect, church, handwritten notes, Benny Goodman and blind parental obedience. They sacrificed for their children, saved a lot, rationed food and goods, deferred doing many niceties, and worked at one job until retirement (with a pension…) They survived wars and depression, atomic bombs and segregation.

We, on the other hand, had a generation or two wedged between us and them, generations that discovered drugs, sex, rock and roll, civil disobedience, questioning of authority. Hippies, Black Panthers, war protesters, punks, piercings, and tattoos. Immediate gratification, The Me generation, the Automatic Age, Sexual freedom, The Age of Space Travel, the Internet, endemic potty mouth, the shrinking of the globe, and a world of dangerous new epidemics and terrorists threats.

But they loved us all the more, even if they did not understand us. I think it was precisely this reason that they got a charge out of us. We were like strange, non-threatening creatures from the future, opening doors to new worlds for ourselves and in doing so, for them as well.

One of my deeper regrets was the way that our modes of communicating kept us from being in the close touch we both desired. I remember telling Gigi it was so hard for me to sit down and write a note, that I would much rather call or email—I wanted the personal, immediate response of interacting with a loved one. You don’t hear laughter in a letter.

Gigi, having survived the depression, seemed to get deep personal agony from a long distance call. As happy as she was to talk to me or to Scott, it was always a brief, “Well, this is costing you a lot of money, calling all the way across the country…Bye!”

Once, I even offered to buy her a computer so that I could email her. It was politely declined. It wasn’t the computer, per se, which Gigi was opposed to. It was new technology, which I’m sure she thought she wouldn’t use enough to warrant having. But she did like my writing. I was very touched to find my Africa and India emails printed out in a special folder when we were packing up her apartment.

One of my last conversations with Gigi was when I was in Ridgefield last Fall. She pulled me aside and said, “Craig, where is your book? You are a gifted writer. I want you to promise me a page a day. In less that a year, you’ll have a book! You have a message, and you’re witty. Promise me? Page a day?”

Unfortunately, it’s taken me until today to break through the writer’s block that life lessons and circumstance had afforded me in the last few years. But I think I am regaining my voice.

This humble five page entry, Eleanor Mendum Hermes Scola, aka just my Gigi, is for you. I love you very much and feel so deeply fortunate that you were my grandmother, a loving stepmom to Dad and to my Mom, a friend. You were a truly unique New England gem. I’ll miss you very much.

Say hi to everybody at Bank Street for me.

effort.

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

At times, it seems like an uphill battle, but that only drives us on.

Thank you for joining me in the fight to end the pandemic and human suffering caused by HIV.

Love

Craig


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

Don't Call Me Doctor Love.

'Too many OB-GYNs aren't able to practice their love with women all across this country.' ~George W. Bush on the cruel practice of eliminating sexy doctordom in America. Freedom, my ass.

Amazing. Watch this.

to see legends, even though grainy and lip synching... to look back in time.

amazing...

just found out Joan Diener died last year of cancer. She and Richard Kiley were my heroes growing up; She was very sweet to my Mom and me when we met her in 1973. So was Richard Kiley. She wrote me a very touching letter maybe 20 years ago.

For a few moments, Mom was alive again. Dulcinea.

"Without music, life would be a mistake." ~Friedrich Nietzsche

Herpes, Greek God of Eternal Love.

Who says that stress tweaks your immune system? Poppycock. Ahhhh. I so rarely get to type poppycock. Nice.

Well a week of sun and intense exercise-that my body dealt with fine. The run? Tired but doable. The stress of my COBRA situation?

Boing.

Herpes is enveloping my head.

Today was a stressful day. I met with Ellen at the Foundation and went through the ADAP intake process. She was great--compassionate, concerned, and made a complex process fairly painless. So much paperwork. I have to admit, I felt really guilty applying for help. You know, at 45, you sort of feel like you should be able to take better care of yourself. I wonder how people who aren't highly functioning keep up with all the demands the programs require.

I went in for the ADAP intake at the advice of some friends from NY who are on ADAP. In NY, insurance premiums, prescriptions and supplements are covered under ADAP. Very forward thinking. It gave me some hope. Surely California is at least as good.

Fat chance.

ADAP will save me $60 in co-pay a month. It helps. But that still leaves me nearly $800 - $1,000 a month out of pocket--as an insured person. $550 for COBRA, $150 for labs, $40 for office visit co-pay, maybe $150 in supplements. How can people do it?

The advice I've heard is that I would get better assistance if I feigned disability, said I couldn't work full time. So, options are: lie about ability to work, go completely off COBRA and let the state pay for everything, or just continue to slide deeper and deeper into debt.

Another challenge to the whole ADAP thing is the number of hoops you have to jump though proving you're sick-amount of virus in blood, number of T-cells, your lack of money--and the need to keep reproving how sick and poor you are. All a very uplifting, life affirming process. Wouldn't it be better to focus on our wellness?

My lip is tingling like a colony of ants in maribou slippers is doing a June Taylor flower formation. I see and FEEL the link between stress and wellness.

Thank you COBRA and ADAP for reminding me very tangiblly, that my immune system is fucked up. Just not fucked up enough for any meaningful help.

Burning a mountain of sage. Nice thoughts nice thoughts.

The tingling is better already.

a fitting epitaph.

Not to get all morbid on your asses, but on Day 7, Rest stop 2, I saw a quote which I want to be my epitaph. I used to joke (as one might when their mortality is breathing down their neck) that I most defintely did NOT want my epitaph to read, "He made an eccentric billionaire richer and sold Britney Spears records."

Often thought about what I would like, never really popped out at me.

Sometimes the universe sends you a sign, you know?

"Don't cry because it's over,
Smile because it happened."
~Dr. Seuss

Perfect.

A Wish For A Peaceful Day.

Just a quick wish for a peaceful day. Took this pic on ALC near Carpenteria. Who knew it was near Chiang Mai?

Started running last Saturday. It kicked my ass. Entirely different muscles & cardio level from cycling. I was beating myself up for feeling slow and fat, but when I finished my three mile time trial, I found out I ran at exactly the same pace as five years ago, when I was running all the time. I'm a Switzer again!

Fugee saw me putting on my heartrate monitor for my maintenance run and flipped out--he, as my friend Michelle put it best, leapt through the air like Rudolph in the "She thinks I'm cuuuuuttttttttteeee......" episode. I wondered about taking him on a 4 mile run, as he just turned 11. I figured if it killed, him, he'd die ecstatic. He left me in the dust.

Gotta run-

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

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

Slices In Time From An Extraordinary Week.

Enjoy seven days as the world ought to be.

www.flickr.com/gp/74673855@N00/KrJ41a


Namaste/Peace.

I Honor the God in You.

Craig

www.sfaf.org/give/marathon.cfm

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

It's Late, I'm Exhausted...hey lets ride 600 miles!

Hey Friends, family!

It's 11:08 and I'll be getting up at 4:00AM to do AIDS/LifeCycle 6. Each year is a completely different experience. This year, as I head into the event, I'm tired, undertrained and have been really sick prior to the event. I'll adhere to my Don Miguel Ruiz tenet and do my best. It's the most you can do and there is no regret then.

I know my emails are usually a bit more inspired, but I'm trusting in the event to reset my barometer and rekindle my spirit--it always does. Life on the event is life raw, without a filter. Happiness, sorrow, inspiration, anxiety, kindness, endurance--all there, all in their utmost intensity. It's beautiful.

Thank you so much for your kind words, donations, your love and presence in my life-you are among my life's greatest riches.

As a side note, as of yesterday, we had already raised over $10 million. Extraordinary. As a sobering adjunct, for each hour of the event, 558 more people will become HIV posiive. Necessary.

Well, I really need to sleep. If you'd like to follow our journey down the coast, check out
http://experience.aidslifecycle.org/
It's like a daily vitamin for your soul--seven days as the world ought to be.

I will report more when I can. Be well.

Namaste

I Honor The God In You.

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