#aidslifecycle2016

[nyashaaghora]

When a person tests positive for HIV, it is not a test for the virus itself but for antibodies to the virus, and the test is not able to distinguish between HIV antibodies and a multitude of other antibodies. Many conditions can lead to a false positive result, including flu shots, hepatitis, and pregnancy. ~ Nate Mendel . . . . . . . . . . #UEqualsU #WorldAidsDay #1stDecember #aidsmemorialquilt #aidsfree #aidswalk #aidswalkatlanta #aidssupport #aidslifecycle2015 #aidswalkla #aidswalkhouston #aidscrew #aidsfundraiser #aidslifecycle2018 #aidswalkorlando #aidslifecycle2017 #aidscharity #aids2016 #aidsfund #aidsawarenessmonth #aidswalkphilly #aidsprojectlosangeles #aidsconference #aidsglobalchallenge #aidswalknewyork #aids2014 #aidsfreegeneration #aidslifecycle2016 #aidscrisis #KnowYourStatus

[mspratt2008]

Thrilled to be discussing #aidslifecycle2016 & #pwcrides during #pwcpromotionday pwc.to/promoday #pwcproud (at Sheraton Universal Hotel)

[justridela]

Shout out to all our friends of the AIDS Lifecycle community, your journey will officially begin in less than 24 hours. We wish you all a safe and fun ride this week, see you at the finish line! #AIDSLifeCycle #endAIDS #justridela #AIDSLifeCycle2016 (at Cow Palace San Francisco , California)

[iwastoldtherewouldbenomoreh-blog]

I did it!

I finished the AIDS/LifeCycle.

It was a week of pure ride. 545 miles from San Francisco to Los Angeles. I “put the fun between [my] legs” as they say. NBD, just rode my bike between two major American cities. Sure, I stopped to eat, usually. I stopped to sleep. I stopped to take pictures. I stopped to go to the bathroom and to shower. I stopped to stretch and be stretched by the spectacular sports medicine and chiropractor teams. And I did stop once to have the state of my posterior assessed by the "butt nurse." Other than that, I rode.

I’ll post more about my experiences in the days to come, but for now, I’ll offer a general assessment. 

During orientation Lorri Jean, CEO of the Los Angeles LGBT Center, said to us riders, "Remember, this ride is not about you. This is not your ride." That message went over my head. I was doing this ride for my own reasons. Last year my boyfriend and I volunteered at the finish line. I was really impressed by the people riding into the VA. I asked a couple of the riders how it was, and they said it was “totally doable.” ALC was offering a discount for people who signed up that day. I thought about how I was getting more into cycling, the cause was worthy, and this seemed like a good challenge. I signed up, my greatest worry being that I wouldn't meet the donation minimum.

I trained all year, going on long rides every weekend. I got a real road bike. I got the clipless pedals and the shoes. I got all the road bike apparel. I even met my donation minimum with so much time to spare I actually raised my goal by a thousand dollars. I was nervous—it's a big ride, after all—but I felt pretty much ready. I knew there would be tons of support if I needed it. My focus was really all on myself.

Orientation day came and Lorri Jean said those words: Remember, this is not your ride. It hit me like a light mist. I barely noticed it. My energy was focused elsewhere. Was it time to get on my bike yet?

It wasn’t until Day 3 her words came back to me. I went to look for my bike on the rack in the camp parking lot, and it wasn't there. Instead there was a note saying I had to see the safety roadie to pick up my bike. I apparently had committed the crime of "unsafe passing." I was miffed. I was disappointed. I was probably a little bit angry. But mostly I felt demoralized. I'd spent all year practicing good safety habits like signaling, calling out, and looking over my shoulder, and I thought I had performed all of those pretty well during the first two days. I couldn't think of what I had done that was unsafe. Then again, I did a lot of passing, so I couldn't say I remembered every moment perfectly. I collected my bike from the safety roadie, and he gave me a gentle reminder to do all the things I thought I had been doing. At this point, I was starting to feel paranoid. I didn't know what I had done (or not done), and if they cited my bike again they might pull it and not let me ride for a day, or they may even kick me out altogether! I felt marked. Every time I saw a safety or sweep vehicle I strained to remember my every movement of the past two minutes. I felt as if I probably had messed up on something and surely this day would be my last on the bike.

It was in the throes of this wild paranoia that I finally started to come to terms with Lorri's words: This ride is not about me. This ride was not about riding the way I wanted to ride (always within the safety parameters). Or doing the things I wanted to do. It's not about my challenge to myself or my desire to ride every mile. It's about spreading a positive vision of the LGBTQ community and those affected by HIV/AIDS, not only in places like SF and LA, but everywhere in between. It's about going through a small town like Bradley or King City or Lompoc, where the LGBTQ community does not have a strong presence and showing people and their families that they're not alone.

And to do that, it's important that AIDS/LifeCycle has control of the ride and the riders. And it really doesn't matter if I think I'm right or wrong, in anything. It's their ride, and everyone must respect that. This reality was only reinforced in days to come, when the ALC roadies would regulate the exit of people from rest stops and particularly the "half way to LA" point, where after taking pictures people waited 45 minutes to an hour to be let back onto the road. I know it irritated me and others at the time—really, it would have been nice to have known from the outset how difficult it would be to get back on the road—but now I realize it's their ride, and they have their reasons. And those reasons are mostly safety-oriented. Every day on ALC, I just have to do my best as a rider, and if they put me on a bus instead of letting me ride, c'est la vie.

Another cyclist gave me yet an additional perspective on the ride. At the time I was feeling pretty low, on account of the unsafe passing citation, and my body was starting to freak out on me, particularly my right hamstring—I'd put my right sit bone down on the saddle, and the hamstring felt like it was going to snap. I sat at a rest stop with my new riding friends, Jon and Maria. Maria told me, "It doesn't matter if you don't ride every single mile. You raised the money. This is a celebration of the money you've raised and the people you’ve helped. This is the party. And if you need to sit down at the party, it's OK. You're still at the party."

Maria was right. This ride was not about devouring every single mile like Ms. PacMan devours dots. It's about raising money to help people. And I'd done that. Looking around me, at any time, I saw all the queer folk and straight folk and folks affected by HIV/AIDS—all coming together and having a good time and doing something that seemed impossible, even crazy. And I remembered, this is what it's about. It's about showing up and putting something positive out into the world because the world needs it, and we can give it.

The AIDS/LifeCycle is often referred to as the "Love Bubble" by those who've experienced it, and for good reason. As a participant, you're united with an incredibly diverse group of individuals in the common goal of increasing positive LGBTQ visibility and eliminating the stigma of HIV/AIDS. Most everyone is warmth and smiles. If you’re in need of a hug, swing a broken chain and you’ll hit someone with their arms open. (Don’t really swing a broken chain. It could hurt someone, and that’s not nice!) I’m not sure I’ll do it next year, but would I do it again? Yes. Will I stop half way to take my picture? Sigh. Probably, yes. Worth it!

[mspratt2008]

[ Day 6 ] Another 88 miles completed! We made it to Ventura on #aidslifecycle2016. Moving vigil at sunset in honor of all those we've lost and those still living with this disease. (at San Buenaventura State Beach)

[iwastoldtherewouldbenomoreh-blog]

One Pain Sandwich on Massage Bread, Please

I considered titling this entry “Massage Torture by the Physical Therapist Awaits All Those Who Postpone Proper Bike Fits,” but I can’t definitively prove a cause and effect relationship between my tardy bike fit and my knee woes. That said, get your bike fits early, people! An improper fit can lead to trouble down the line.

I'd already had something of a piecemeal fit in the past year, as my cycling elders made suggestions during our training rides. "Raise your saddle." "Adjust your cleats this way." Etc, etc. But recently one of my super experienced cycling coworkers (and an ALC vet) offered to do a more comprehensive and professional fit for me, so I figured I'd take him up on it, particularly if it could help me get rid of my painless knee pop sound effect once and for all. 

We made only a very few minor adjustments. We angled my saddle nose up ever so slightly to make it level. We adjusted my cleat position. We lowered the handlebars about an inch to transfer more weight into my hands. I felt great riding home. I didn't hear any pops—not that I would above the ambient noise of midday traffic.

The day after my fit, a friend and I went for Thai massages. I tried to communicate to the masseuse that I had knee problems. She stared at me cluelessly. I just let it go. During the massage she barely touched my knees, but I figured that might be better—that way it couldn’t get worse! (Let it be said that the Clueless Masseuse Miss, as I have titled her, performed a small miracle on my shoulder, and I’m thankful for that.)

When I got off of the massage table, I noticed a sharp pain stretching over and above my patella. It'll go away, I thought. I can give it a few days rest, and it'll resolve itself, I thought.

Seven days later, and everything was fine. Except for whenever I sat down or stood up. Those moments were painful!

Despite the fact that my sharp discomfort appeared directly after the massage, I knew I couldn’t attribute it to the masseuse—not entirely anyway. This storm had been brewing for months. It was time to consult a physical therapist. 

The DPT said it was probably patellar tendinitis, and I needed to strengthen my quads and glutes. He proceeded to perform some kind of massage-torture on my legs, pressing the weight of his entire body through his fist and into sections of my quads. My response to this unique pain was perhaps a little unorthodox. Fits of laughter. More specifically, uncontrolled high-pitched giggles. "You're going to be fun to work on," said the DPT. 

Since then, I've been practicing a series of exercises and stretches the DPT prescribed. I am having less pain in my knee, but I'm starting to feel a little anxious. The big ride is coming up, and I haven't ridden my bike that much in the past few weeks. I think I'll be fine. I’m gonna keep telling myself that. In the meantime, please support my participation in AIDS/LifeCycle! It’s for a good cause, so do it today! Thank you. :)

[mspratt2008]

[ Day 5 ] 391.2 miles down...153.8 to go! 🚲 We made it through Day 5!#aidslifecycle2016 #pwcrides (at Lompoc, California)

[iwastoldtherewouldbenomoreh-blog]

I don’t give a “dam” about your parking rules! HAHAHAHA!

For my last big training ride before the AIDS/LifeCycle, I rode 80 mies over nearly flat terrain down an almost completely car-free route—namely, the San Gabriel River Bike Path. But despite the paucity of hills, this ride was tough for a few reasons.

First, we had heinous headwinds on the ride south. As I said, it was flat. Even so, I had to shift into a pretty low gear. I was on my little chainring (Puh-lease! Not a granny ring. It’s only a double.) and on the larger cogs. 

The terrible and mighty headwind made it difficult to stay mentally tough on this ride, and I’d say the experience was more psychologically than physically challenging. 

While some parts of the bike path are beautiful and even strange, there’s also quite a bit of redundant scenery. The concrete river bed, wide with its slim trickle of water, often lay to my right, about 20 feet below the level of the bike path, off a steep edge. On my other side, foliage entwined itself with an endless chainlink fence. And despite the intermittent wandering hobo and a few differently-paced riding mates, I was by myself for long stretches in this environment. I really had to force myself to focus. 

And then there was my whiny left knee. It hurt for the first few miles of the ride. I thought I’d have to turn back. But I stopped and stretched, and when I got back on my bike and found my cadence, it didn’t hurt anymore—not until we stopped for lunch and I had to sit down and stand up. If I can just avoid that motion, I’m sure I’ll be fine on the AIDS/LifeCycle ride. I’ll just stand all day until I’m ready to go to bed, then I’ll find someone to catch me in one of those “trust falls.” Yup, that’ll work. It’s going to be fine.

If you haven’t yet, please support my ride! It’s only days away, and I’m nearly at 90% of my goal! Thank you. :)

[mspratt2008]

Today we conquered the hills known as the "Evil Twins" and rode 90 miles to Santa Maria #aidslifecycle2016 #pwcrides (at Morro Bay, California)

[mspratt2008]

Made it halfway to Los Angeles! 🚵 #aidslifecycle2016 #pwcrides (at California Hwy 1)