REAL Hugs

I was watching Entertainment Tonight earlier and a segment about the Best Buddies ride in California caught my attention. Initially, the interview with Maria Shriver made me look up from my computer (the first miracle of the night per Carol). The cyclists on the Pacific Coast Highway brought back wonderful memories from last June and my heart rate jumped up a few notches. The biggest eye-catcher, however, was the scene of the finish line as the cyclists were met with intellectually and developmentally challenged children and adults with open arms.

I know those hugs. I felt them as a volunteer for Special Olympics years ago. Now before you give me accolades for such wonderful volunteer work, let me give you the facts. First of all, I was scared to death of the athletes. They were different and I had never been around anyone like them. Secondly, I was assigned the job of hugging the athletes as they crossed the finish line, walked to the water line, walked towards the award stage or wherever there was an opportunity to hug them. While this might sound like a great job, I was down-right terrified. You see, I didn’t grow up in a “huggy” environment. Love was never a question – but hugs were not a common practice. So there I was – assigned the role of hugging people and feeling the cold sweat of nervousness. Little did I know that these beautiful athletes would teach me how to “really” hug – not the cold, quick, barely touch someone hug – but a real hug. After my first hug, I fell in love with them and realized they weren’t scary at all. After the hundredth or so hug (if you’ve ever been to the Special Olympics, you know what I mean), I had officially mastered how to hug. They taught me two of the most important lessons I’ve learned in my life – just because we’re different doesn’t mean we’re scary and hugs can make you so happy.

On the infamous Day 2 of the 2011 AIDS LifeCycle – yes, the freezing rain day – I was huddled under the 3-foot roof overhang of a park building with a hundred other riders. I couldn’t stop shivering and couldn’t complete a sentence because my mouth wouldn’t work right from my teeth chattering. A guy next to me put his arms around me and said “cuddle up with me and see if that helps.” His big hug warmed me and helped me not shiver so much. I have no idea who he was but I sure love that guy!

As I think about so many of the stories I’ve heard from HIV positive men and women over the last year, way too often I have heard about the darkest side of stigma. The number of hugs that have been withheld are heart-breaking. Perhaps some of this is due to an anxiety similar to mine during my first Special Olympics encounter. If so, I pray the first hug can break through to change the ending of the stories I have heard. For so many, the biographies are still being written, so there is time. Medications can help the body and fight the progression to AIDS, but they can’t do what hugs can do. So if you know an HIV/AIDS friend, partner, acquaintance or family member – give them a hug – a REAL hug. It just might change your life.

More Passion Than Skill

Original posting:  http://aidsvaccine200.wordpress.com/2012/11/21/belva-white/

Never say never. My friend David Hanson, a former AV200 rider, asked me over 5 years ago if I would ride 35 miles in a ride that started at Emory and went to Madison and back.  I told him he was crazy, I didn’t own a bike and even if I did, I would never ride that far.

I haven’t been cycling for long – less than 5 years – and I only did my first century ride in May 2011; all 100 miles of which were ridden in one gear because I didn’t know how to change gears.  It’s hard to believe that in 2012, I pedaled over 1700 miles with 1090 of those dedicated to AIDS. I plan to ride another 1000 in 2013 with the AV200 (200 miles), the AIDS LifeCycle (545 miles) and the Charity Treks (425 miles).

One thing is for sure – I don’t do this because I’m a great cyclist.  I’m very slow and generally take pride in escorting the SAG vehicles into camp.  Hills still make me say bad words and I get to see all of the cool jerseys as other riders pass me.  So for anyone out there who thinks they aren’t good enough to tackle the AV200 challenge – you’ll have to find another excuse as this has nothing to do with being a good cyclist!  It has EVERYTHING to do with passion and wanting to change the future.

During my 14 days of the year pedaling for AIDS, I’m just a rider like everyone else.  No one cares about titles, about politics, about financial status or any of the other unimportant themes we run into during “real life.”  When I first signed up for the AV200, I did so because I learned a friend is HIV positive.  I started a journey of trying to learn more about it and was quickly confronted with the associated stigma.  I asked my AV200 memorial donors last year to tell me about their friend or partner.  The words they shared with me changed my future.  They ignited a fire within me that I cannot really explain but feel called to honor. 

I have been asked why I ride so many miles for HIV/AIDS and there are a number of reasons.  First, I believe that an AIDS vaccine is the only way to truly end this epidemic.  Second, I believe that I am called to care for people currently dealing with the challenges HIV/AIDS and I personally love and know many of them.  Third, I believe that stigma is flat-out wrong.  Fourth, the stories of HIV/AIDS victims move me and I want the world to know how special they are/were.

If you have ever seen a mob of cyclists on the road, you are aware of how they demand your attention.  By riding together in the AV200, we are collectively raising awareness for an AIDS vaccine.  WE are that mob.  WE are noticed.  At rest stops, you might be asked why you are riding and the door is opened for education and perhaps collecting a dollar or two for the cause.  Together, WE make a difference.

The AV200 ride really is for everyone.  The relay rides allow for a fun, less stressful ride for anyone preferring a shorter route.  There are plenty of Couch to Century training guides to get you ready and the support of the AV200 ride leaders is amazing.  They will get you ready and it is NOT a race (I’m proof of that!) but it is a journey and one that will change the way you see the world.

The Day After

So yesterday was World AIDS Day, the day of the year that we are all united in remembering the precious lives lost to AIDS. It's a sobering day and an important one. However, we can't stay there.

Today is the day after. It is time to allow the memories and reflections of yesterday fuel us into the future. It is time to turn our sadness into resolve - into determination - that we will not stop fighting this awful disease. It is time to band together - to get on our bikes - put on our walking shoes - save some extra dollars so we can help provide the funding needed - and make a difference. We all know that eventually we leave this earth, but we also know that everyone deserves to do so with dignity. However, as long as we have AIDS and stigma, the dignity is often not always felt. As we would say where I come from: "that ain't right."

So let's take those candle flames from last night, those memories from yesterday and go forth to keep on making a difference. It doesn't take a lot from any one person to be effective. In fact, it is more effective when everyone does a little. (Yes, $25 is huge when we are all in) We really are all in this together and like it or not, as long as one person has HIV or AIDS, we all do.

It's the day after - time for all of us to be POSITIVE - and make a positive difference. From the song that went through my mind in the last mile of 2012 - Nothing's Gonna Stop Us Now. AIDS will lose this fight - as long as we don't stop.

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

In the Tension of Hope and Heartache

Today has been a bittersweet day. Of all of the days of the year that I really want to ride my bike, World AIDS Day, I'm still suffering from the crazy sickness that has nailed me to the bed and slowed me down all week. Carol is struggling with her mother's health and when I asked what I can do to help her the most, she said "just get well - I need you." I've never been one that liked to sit on the sidelines, helpless to play - but today I've had to do that very thing. It really stinks. I've spent time today quietly in bed or in my favorite chair reading the various Facebook posts about World AIDS Day, begging for funding support for my rides, and reading more of "And the Band Played On: Politics, People and the AIDS Epidemic". The pain of loss is so deep for so many and I realize how helpless I feel.

One friend posted a litany from the Phillips Theological Seminary about World AIDS Day. To share a bit of these words: "We gather to honor and remember. We look to history for a legacy of hope. We do not enter into this work alone. Many have come before us. We rely on them to guide our spirits and actions, our words and tasks, as we live in the tension of hope and heartache." I was struck by the words "in the tension of hope and heartache" because that's where I find myself today. If you find yourself in a similar space, perhaps the following litany end will help you as well. It is so important that, on this day, we say their names. They deserve that from us - just a pause, a reflection of their special character, and how we have been changed for good because of each one.

Again from Phillips Theological Seminary: "We remember men, women and children everywhere who are victims of discrimination because of AIDS; those who have fought for justice, equality, and dignity; and all who have gone before us into the everlasting embrace of God. We honor courageous women and men who continue to fight the good fight against AIDS; speak now, name them, proclaim with voice and spirit, others who may not be among us. Their voices have moved us forward.

[[Naming of names]] With inspired hearts, we seek to be…

People who learn from legacy, who inherit strength and bestow it upon others, and live lives of persevering hope. Amen.

To the World, I say on this day: Get well soon.

http://ptstulsa.edu/PrayersandMore?nid=101505

18 Years and Miracles

The following words are from a new and dear friend I met on the Charity Treks ride, an August family that rides for funding and awareness for an AIDS vaccine: 

It’s December 1st and World AIDS Day. I can not help but be thoughtful as I wake up to the posts on Facebook with banners and ribbons. If you know me, you know that just a few weeks ago I traveled to California to watch my youngest daughter, Megan, get married. And in April, she will have my first grandchild, a girl. This makes me also think of them.
 
Megan was barely a year old herself when I got the first test telling me I had HIV. Back then, having HIV was very nearly a death sentence. I can remember holding Megan back then, so small and dependent on her mother and I, so beautiful and perfect, and wondering how long I would get to hold her. Would I see her walk? Is it possible I could live long enough to wait up for her on her first date? See her in a prom dress? Go to her wedding?
 
For nearly eighteen years I have lived with HIV. I have had good years and bad year; been treated with love and support and with fear and anger. I have shared laughter and tears. I have found that a purpose with those who understand the need. I have seen my daughters graduate, one get married and will see my first grandchild, a girl, in April. I have survived and found the most incredible group of people in my August Family of Riders.
 
I have so much to be thankful for, but AIDS is not over.

- More than 34 million people now live with HIV/AIDS.
- 3.3 million of them are under the age of 15.
- In 2011, an estimated 2.5 million people were newly infected with HIV.
- 330,000 were under the age of 15.
- Every day nearly 7,000 people contract HIV—nearly 300 every hour.
- In 2011, 1.7 million people died from AIDS.
- 230,000 of them were under the age of 15.
- Since the beginning of the epidemic, more than 60 million people have contracted HIV and nearly 30 million have died of HIV-related causes.

On this day of remembrance, I ask you to go to charitytreks.org. Register to ride and to crew. Donate to the ride in support of those you love, those you have lost and in support of a cure.
I needed Charity Treks and my August family because I needed hope.  Emory and UCLA need the funding they receive from us to find a vaccine.
 
And it is people like all of you who Ride and Crew and Fundraise for Charity Treks, who have gotten so many of us this far. You rode to raise awareness. In other rides you rode to fund research into treatments and new drugs. You rode because of the people you knew who had HIV and in honor of those you had lost. You rode because you knew you were needed.
 
We need you still.