In the months leading up to the 2026 Tri-State Trek, we will be publishing perspectives some of the event's most dedicated supporters about why they ride and what the Trek means to them. Today, we're featuring a letter from Liz Coccio of the team HAS Mamas.
When I first clipped into my bike as a rider for the Tri-State Trek, I had no idea how profoundly this event—and the ALS community surrounding it—would shape my healing. What I did know was this: my daughter Elena had passed away just three months earlier after an 11-month battle with ALS, and I needed something to pour my grief, my love, and my determination into. The Trek became that outlet.
Before the Ride: How ALS TDI Became Family
During Elena’s illness, I connected with extraordinary people in the ALS world—patients, families, advocates, and the team at ALS TDI. These relationships carried us through some of our hardest moments. Elena found deep meaning in Her ALS Story (HAS), a powerful group of young women with ALS who supported each other with honesty, humor, and fierce love.
What many people don’t realize is that the moms of these young women have their own circle too—meeting every two weeks on Zoom. I’m part of that group now, and those conversations have become a lifeline of shared experience and understanding.
So, when it came time to form a cycling team, the name came easily: HAS Mamas. A tribute to a community that meant the world to Elena, and to the women who continue to walk this path together.
Year One: Riding Through Grief
In 2024, three months after losing Elena, I climbed onto my bike with a team of sixteen friends and family members. They weren’t just teammates—they were my support system. Together we rode mile after mile, each pedal stroke a reminder of why we were there.
That first Trek was raw and emotional, but it was also grounding. I carried Elena with me the whole way, and finishing that ride felt like the first step toward healing.
Year Two: Minions, Momentum & a Growing Community
By year two, something beautiful had happened—our team grew to 25 riders and volunteers, each one connected to Elena’s story in their own way. And that year, our volunteers brought the fun: they showed up dressed head-to-toe as Minions—yes, both the men and the women! The costumes were ridiculous and joyful in the best possible way. Elena would have loved it.
Those yellow overalls and googly-eyed goggles turned out to be the perfect symbol of what the Trek has become for me: community, courage, and a reminder that even in the hardest moments, there is room for laughter and connection.
Why I Ride
Over our two years of participating, our team raised money for ALS research—modest in number but powerful in purpose. Every dollar pushes the science forward. Every mile keeps attention on a disease that desperately needs answers.
I ride because ALS TDI is doing real work, every day, for families like mine.
I ride because Elena faced ALS with grace, humor, and fire—and she deserves to be remembered in motion, not in silence.
I ride because HAS, those remarkable young women, continue to inspire me.
I ride because the moms on our Zoom calls remind me that none of us walk this journey alone.
Looking Ahead
What started as a way to survive the grief of losing my daughter has grown into a mission. The HAS Mamas will keep riding. We’ll keep dressing up. We’ll keep raising money. We’ll keep showing up for each other, and for the ALS community.
Every ride is for Elena.
Every ride is for the young women of Her ALS Story.
Every ride is for the moms still fighting.
And every ride brings us one step closer to the world we desperately hope for—a world where ALS is treatable, survivable, and eventually, curable.
Until then, I’ll keep riding. And I’ll keep telling Elena’s story—mile after mile.
Join Us
If Elena’s story moves you, if you’ve been touched by ALS, or if you simply want to be part of something meaningful, I invite you to join us. Ride with the HAS Mamas, volunteer on the route (costumes encouraged!), or support our fundraising efforts.
Whether you show up on a bike, cheer from the sidelines, or make a donation, you become part of a community fighting for real change—and for families like mine, that support means everything.
Let’s ride together for a future without ALS.
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