Rain and Reflection

We experienced a rare thing yesterday:  rain.  After weeks and weeks of not so much as a passing shower, we got a thorough soaking yesterday.  It rained steadily for most of the day, then cleared off in the evening.  As a result, we weren't able to get in a ride yesterday.  

In fact, we've only gotten in two rides together this week.  The first was on Monday, when we just rode to the mouth of Little Cottonwood Canyon and back.  I experienced my first flat on this ride, and it would have to be the rear tire.  

Actually, I was grateful because it gave me the opportunity to change the tube by myself with Mark watching and occasionally giving me pointers.  Now, I know I can do it on my own if I need to, which means I can take rides on my own.  I've been reluctant to do that in the past.

The following day, my bike was in the shop getting a new chain and cassette installed.  I picked it up that evening, and Mark and I went on a 30-mile ride to Draper on Wednesday.  There are three pretty good hills on that ride, and I could tell that those rides in the mountains, along with the canyon rides we took late last week, have really helped push my fitness to a new level.  We were able to complete the ride in just under two hours, which gave us an average speed of 15 miles per hour.  We felt pretty good about that.

In other news, I've been reflective the last couple of days.  I watched a documentary on Wednesday night about the AIDS crisis in San Francisco in the 80's called We Were Here.  Ever since beginning my journey of coming out, I have felt a desire and an obligation to learn about gay history, particularly within the last 40 years, most of which I spent living in the closet.  This started when I watched Milk shortly after I came out.  

As I watched both of these movies, as well as others, I have thought about guys who were contemporaries of mine who had the courage to come out when they were young and to be pioneers for gay rights.  I have thought about how many of these men died in the 80's and 90's as a result of AIDS.  And I have thought how I stood by during this period and, Saul-like, cast verbal stones at gays.  I thought about the comments I made when we were living in Vancouver - the San Francisco of Canada - about AIDS and the money that the government was spending on caring for these men ... and I cringe.  

I am deeply ashamed of what I said and did, which of course was motivated by my own deep internalized homophobia. And so I feel guilt, which prompts me to at least learn the truth of what went on and what so many men and their partners and loved ones went through.  We Were Here is a very personal account of what the epidemic met to a group of people who survived.  I recommend watching it.

There are so many stories that could be told about the epidemic and its aftermath.  I'll close with one I heard yesterday on NPR about the AIDS quilt.  One block was made by an IRS agent who was handling the estate return of a man who had died of AIDS.  This man apparently had no family (who acknowledged him), as the court had to appoint an administrator of his estate.  As the IRS agent worked on this case, he became saddened by the fact that this human being had died alone and, apparently, unloved.  So he made a square for the AIDS quilt in order to preserve his memory.  

I'm grateful I heard that story ...