Why Am I Doing This Crazy Thing

Anyone who knows me knows that I like to ride.  I cycle long-distances for a lot of reasons, one of which is that I can combine my enthusiasm for the sport with a charitable act and make the world just a little bit better.  Currently, I'm training for the 11th annual AIDS LifeCycle - an event that  raises money for HIV and AIDS while moving some 3,000 cyclists 545 miles from San Francisco to Los Angeles over the course of seven days.  No small feat, but AIDS is no small problem to overcome either.

For every person who rides in the AIDS LifeCycle, there's a back story. In my case, it's because I wrote an article a few years ago. My editor sent me an email with a point of contact for the Minnesota Red Ribbon Ride and I did a quick interview with the executive director, Theresa Fetsch. Her boundless enthusiasm was only the tip of the iceberg for an organization that supports eight AIDS service organizations throughout the state. My next interview was with someone who had participated in a number of these rides and was also HIV-positive. He invited me to come to a training ride to meet a number of people participating to get a better feel for what the event was all about.

At the time I had a mountain bike, but I pushed through the 37 miles of rural Minnesota and I met all manner of people that spanned my expectations including husband-wife teams and one guy riding a BMX bike with a fox tail flapping from the seat...and for the first time I knew, I met people living with HIV instead of dying from AIDS. I made a good will donation to one of the riders I interviewed and after filing my story, I thought that would be the last I heard of the event. I was clearly wrong. For the next several weeks, literally everywhere I turned, I ran into people who were participating, raising money, holding fundraisers, and somehow connected to this Red Ribbon Ride.

Clearly, the universe was speaking.

The next year, I committed to ride in the 2009 Minnesota Red Ribbon Ride. At the risk of sounding cliché, it changed my life and my attitude toward the disease. Oh, and I found that despite my previous assertions, I knew quite a few people who were affected by HIV and AIDS; and some of them were friends of mine. I rode again in 2010 before being transferred to Southern California for work. In 2011, I met some local cyclists and rode the Orange County Ride for AIDS a single day, 100-mile event.

And I registered for the 11th AIDS LifeCycle.

But this is not about me. That is the unwavering message that flashes before me when I grow weary at down-shifting into low gear to go up yet another hill. It is the thing that is branded into my brain as I drag myself out of bed early on Saturdays when, like every other working stiff, I should be sleeping in...at least until 8:00, right? And it is the thing I *must* remember when I'm really, really tired from having put in so many miles I just want to quit. It's not about me...and I need you, my faithful supporters, heroes, and friends, that this champion saddling the two-wheeled steed cannot win the battle for those unable to fight without your help.

Thank you to my latest supporters:

Duane Vajgrt and Jeff Benedick from the OCRA; Fred Kilby and his mother Mary; Dr. Sarah Jerome, the best optometrist ever and my constant supporter; Kathy Michaels (our dog's adopted aunt!); Fred Subia, my first real friend here in the OC; Martin & Lada, my Czeck amigos (how's that for mixing things up?!); Jay Casper, childhood buddy and little league teammate; Bobbie Kollar, my high school classmate who extended the welcome mat when I moved into the realm of the Orange Curtain; Jay Miller, genuinely big-hearted and long-time Minneapolis acquaintance; Lois Elfman, editor extraordinaire; and most importantly, my family my daughter, Nichole; my mom, Annie Thompson; my aunt Susana Jacobson; my grandparents, Mr. & Mrs. JS Jacobson; and my sister in-law, Angela Thomson-Brenchley.

Re-posted from my AIDS LifeCycle page at www.tofighthiv.org/goto/toddpark

Please donate today.  It will mean the world of difference to people living with HIV/AIDS.

This posting was originally published April 22, 2012. I've split my writing into different blogs: Opinion, The Leukemia Chronicles, and other Freelance Writing

Dude, That's Intense!

After 100 miles on a bicycle...great day all around!

The old saying, “A picture’s worth a thousand words” could never be truer than in someone’s facial expression when I say, “I’m riding my bicycle 100 miles.” Eyes usually widen with disbelief, followed by a little slack jaw.  Maybe one eyebrow is above the other to say Yeah, right. More often than not, the sentiment I get here in Southern California is “Dude, that’s intense!” Have no doubt that the surfer dialect has been thoroughly integrated into the Queen’s English in this part of the country.

October 15 marked the third time I’ve mounted my bicycle to raise money for organizations that help people living with HIV and AIDS. It may come across as trite to say that my life was changed by participating in an event like this. But, to a person, everyone I’ve spoken with who gets involved finishes with a different outlook on both the disease and the people as a whole. As a freelance writer, I’ve penned articles that address the pandemic that is AIDS, the statistics, and the impact that the disease has made.  It’s not pretty…and it’s not over.

There is more to the story than the cold facts, even though some of those facts are pointing at people living with HIV rather than dying from AIDS. Granted, we tend to focus on the important rather than the urgent when we are faced with the prospect of our own mortality, but far from self-pity, my experience with the people who are HIV-positive on these rides has been nothing short of inspirational.  The courage, enthusiasm, and attitude give my petty complaints a healthy smack-down and lift me back up with a revitalized perspective. I have also had the opportunity to meet an incredible cadre of dedicated people who span every segment of society who just want to do something to help.

Suffice it to say, during the course of the many, many miles cycled in training and the events themselves, there’s a tremendous amount of time where the only thing around is the road and nothing else.  I’ve ridden through the farmlands of Minnesota where I saw nothing but corn fields for as far as the eye could see and the thin strip of asphalt pulling me onward in spite of a saddle-sore posterior, aching shoulders and knees, and numbed hands. It brings you to your physical and emotional end at some point and you come to the stark realization that it’s not about you, numbskull! The very memory of that epiphany brings a healthy lump to my throat. It’s amazing to find a fellow veteran rider where in an instant, we communicate the unsaid about coming to that particular point and the tears come.  Deep indeed calls to deep.

People don’t want to talk about disease as if speaking its name invokes some horrible demon who will inflict suffering. The sad irony is that talking about HIV and what causes it can prevent it. Certainly, there’s a time and place for certain sensitive subjects, but to avoid the uncomfortable nature of sexually transmitted infections or to assert that HIV is divine retribution for deviating from some arbitrary plan is analogous to pointing an accusing finger at an innocent child for contracting cancer.  It’s time to look past the why someone has a physical infirmity of any kind and look toward improving their lives.

Here’s the crux of what I want to say: you can—we all can—make a difference in someone’s life.  It’s not in my nature to play the guilt card on someone, but I can say for me, I think it’s crucially important to get outside the comfort zone and give out of my abundance.  I may not be wealthy, but I have enough. That said, giving does make me wealthy in a way. Whether it’s in writing a check to a charitable organization or raising funds for a cause, I feel it is my obligation to improve someone’s life much the same way I felt it crucial to serve my country in the US Navy. Fundraising is not my forté, but it has taught me well that those with the most generous heart aren’t always the ones with the biggest donations. It also proved to me that friendship is tried when money is involved and those friends who not only throw you a couple of clams toward making a fundraising goal are more likely to be there for you when you really need them. What has touched me the most was receiving a donation from people who sacrificed out of their own need.  It brought back the best of what spirituality has to teach us all and flies in the face of those who would use their brand of religion to condemn rather than heal. The parable of the “Good Samaritan” never resonated more.

While I have the physical ability and strength, I can participate in these events for someone else; while I have time, I can do something or just be with one who needs a helping hand or a smiling face; and of course, while I have financial resources, I’ll continue to be as generous as I can. If you want to feel fulfilled, I encourage you to find a cause you can throw yourself into and give someone a meal, a smile, a reason to hope.  I encourage you to make a positive difference…I can’t guarantee it’ll change your life like it did mine, but then again, you never know.  It just might be intense, dude!

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The event I rode in was the Orange County Ride for AIDS. While it wasn’t the point of this post, I hope you’ll consider donating toward my 545-mile bicycle trek from San Francisco to Los Angeles in the 2012 AIDS LifeCycle.  You can visit my page here…or you can ride with me. I’d be honored to have you along. If HIV/AIDS isn't the charity of choice for you, find what inspires you and get involved.  You'll be *so* glad you did!

This posting was originally published November 8, 2011. I've split my writing into different blogs: Opinion, The Leukemia Chronicles, and other Freelance Writing