Onlookers cheer as ACT 5 AIDS riders pedal into Capitol Square in 2007 for the closing ceremony. This year’s ceremony is Aug. 1. – Photo: Larry Palm
Cyclists gear up for the ride of a lifetime
Wednesday, 14 July 2010 09:57
It’s every cyclist’s nightmare – a sudden hailstorm on a deserted road in the middle of nowhere. But when Scott Jones found himself in that situation last summer while participating in the ACT 7 AIDS Ride, what began as a nightmare turned into a fond memory.
“I thought, ‘This is bad,’” Jones remembers. “But about the time I was really getting concerned about my safety, a van came and (volunteers) loaded up my bike and took me to the next pit stop, where I waited out the storm with several other riders. Everyone was so supportive and kind. After that, there was a new energy, and we rode another 35 or 40 miles that day.”
For Jones, that stormy experience embodies the meaning of an event that has become a highlight of his year. When ACT 8 AIDS Ride sets out July 29 for a four-day, 300-mile trek across Wisconsin’s rolling countryside to raise money for AIDS Network of Madison, Jones will be along for the third time.
“I look forward to being with a group of people who are all united in the same cause, and I look forward to the spirit of community that exists within the ride,” Jones says.
The community created by the ride extends beyond volunteers, contributors and AIDS Network staff and clients. A number of corporations and Madison-area businesses are involved as sponsors. Chiropractors and volunteers from a massage school help relieve riders’ aches and strains. Mechanics from Williamson Street Bikes travel along in a support van to help keep riders’ wheels spinning.
Scott Jones, pictured here from the 2009 ACT AIDS Ride, is participating in the event for the third time. He and the other members of Woofs’ Madd Dawgs team hope to meet or exceed the $30,000 they raised last year. Jones is especially proud of the money contributed by students at Oregon High School, where he teaches English. – Photo: Larry Palm
The ACT AIDS Ride sprang from the ashes of the Heartland AIDS Ride, a six-day trek from Minneapolis to Chicago. After several years of dwindling returns, which critics blamed largely on the management fees and extravagant style of California entrepreneur Dan Pallotta, the ride disbanded in 2002.
But AIDS Network volunteers believed that a trimmer, more efficiently run event could be financially successful. They also felt that the AIDS awareness and sense of community generated by the rides were of great value to their mission. So they launched ACT – an acronym for AIDS Network Cycles Together – the very next year.
There are still critics who contend the rides do not return as much as promised, but coordinator Melissa Kruser contends that every dollar netted is essential to AIDS Network’s operating budget. Recent years have seen not only stagnant government funding of AIDS services but also the diversion of donations and volunteer energy to other medical causes and fundraising events. ACT helps fill in the gap.
“We work hard,” Kruser says. “Our job is to raise as much money as we can so the people we see coming into our office every day can get the services they need.”
Last year’s ride attracted about 200 riders and grossed over $305,000. It passed through rural areas and small towns such as Baraboo, Spring Green and Albany.
“Having 200 people go through these small towns makes people think about AIDS, it makes them ask questions,” Kruser says.
People line village streets to cheer riders on. In Argyle last year, riders were greeted by a band and presented with goodies baked by local residents.
Personal rewards
Riders say that in addition to the money they raise, participation in the ACT Ride rewards them with a life-transforming experience that connects them to a new community of friends and a gives them a greater sense of purpose.
“I’ve become closer to some of the people I met at last year’s ride than to people I’ve known for five, six, seven years,” says Lana Chute, who’s setting out for her second ride on July 29. “I’m excited to go back to that wonderful ACT world. I’ve never experienced such kindness and generosity. I’ve never experienced that much love before. We joke that if only the rest of the world could live the way we do on the ACT ride, it would be a better place.”
When Chute first heard about AIDS, she thought it never would affect her life. But when a woman friend tested positive for HIV about 15 years ago, Chute quickly became an activist. “At that point it became so important to let people know that it’s everyone’s disease,” she says.
Chute, a volunteer coordinator for the American Red Cross and mother of a 19-year-old son, says her involvement with the ride has changed her life in several ways. It inspired her to quit smoking after 20 years of failed attempts, and it’s turned her into an exercise and cycle enthusiast.
“A year and a half ago, I was chain smoking and my only form of exercise was walking from the parking lot into work,” Chute says. “Then last March, I saw an ad promoting (the ride) and I thought, ‘I’m getting involved this year. I’m going to do more than just preach to my friends about safe sex.’”
Chute has since traded in her hybrid for a road bike and purchased biking gloves and a helmet. She cleans and oils her own bike chains. People are amazed by the change, she says. Several friends who contributed to her effort last year probably thought they’d never have to pay up, because “they weren’t sure I’d be able to do it,” she jokes.
A ride for everyone
The ride is designed to accommodate newcomers as well as cycling veterans. “It’s not a race, it’s a ride,” Kruser likes to remind people.
ACT offers training leading up to the ride, and during the event riders are encouraged to stop when they need to rest – or to walk their bikes for a while. “Sweep crews,” such as the one that rescued Jones from the storm last year, patrol the route and transport riders and their bikes to the next pit stop, if needed.
“There’s no shame in walking or taking a break,” Kruser says. “We really, really want people to stay healthy and be healthy.”
Volunteers pass out water, ice and snacks every 15 miles. Meals and sleeping accommodations are provided, and volunteers carry riders’ gear for them.
“Physically it’s very challenging, of course,” Jones says. “But the support from other riders and the crew is inspiring and really helps get us through the tough times.”
The toughest climb of each ride is designated “Popsicle Hill,” because volunteers hand out popsicles to riders when they reach the summit. “The great thing about Popsicle Hill is once you do it, you know there aren’t going to be any more as hard as that one,” Chute says.
As a result of making the ride so accessible, it attracts riders of all ages and fitness levels. “It’s like taking a random sample of people at the mall,” Kruser says. “We have people as young as 17 and riders in their 70s. We have people who are gay, straight and transgender. We have people who are athletic, and we have people who make it up a big hill and stop and smoke a cigarette. It’s just humans coming together and knowing this is the right thing to do.”
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