Hidden Gems: Meet Jojo Valdez of Los Angeles Critical Mass

Today we’d like to introduce you to Jojo Valdez.

Jojo, we appreciate you taking the time to share your story with us today. Where does your story begin?
I first joined Los Angeles Critical Mass in 2008. Back then, I was just another rider in the pack—drawn to the energy, the freedom, and the radical joy of reclaiming the streets with hundreds of others. I rode on and off for a few years, but by 2012, something shifted. I started showing up every month, no matter what.

When I moved to Koreatown in 2011—just blocks from Wilshire and Western—the ride became more than a tradition. It became my rhythm, my community, my heartbeat. I wasn’t just participating anymore—I was rooted. I eventually became a ride marshal, working closely with Brian as he led and organized the monthly rides, helping guide the movement from the inside out. That’s when it clicked. I wasn’t just riding—I was building community, shaping culture, and moving with purpose. I knew I belonged to something bigger.

Outside of Critical Mass, I was an active mountain biker, riding the LA mountains and Mt. Wilson. I also spent time in New York writing for multiple artists under a alternative record label. Around the same time, I was writing music for several artists in the Chicano rap era across Los Angeles and the Inland Empire. It was a fast-paced, creative chapter of my life—filled with studio sessions, lyrical storytelling, and cultural immersion.

In 2013, everything changed. I got sick—really sick. Throughout the years, I went from doctor to doctor, pleading for help as my health deteriorated. Test after test came back negative. I couldn’t work. I could barely move. Eventually, I had no choice but to move in with my mom, who became my rock during the darkest chapter of my life. I was also a single parent at the time, raising my daughter and son. As my condition worsened, I had to make the heartbreaking decision to place them in their mother’s care.

The disease had time to spread. It nearly took me out—twice. I was pale, weak, and fading fast.
In 2017, I made an emergency visit to my primary doctor at the time. My resting heart rate had dropped to 28. He knew I was sick but couldn’t pinpoint the cause. When he discovered how low my heart rate was, he rushed me to Hollywood Presbyterian. They saved my life. The cardiology team implanted a pacemaker to keep my heart beating.

It was only after the pacemaker was implanted that a curious cardiologist decided to run a Lyme test. It came back positive. That’s when I was finally diagnosed with Lyme carditis—a severe manifestation of Lyme Disease that affects the heart.

Even with the diagnosis, the treatment wasn’t enough. The Lyme had already spread throughout my body, and I continued to battle debilitating symptoms. It also gave me parasites. I was really sick. It was a brutal, confusing time—knowing what I had, but still not getting the care I needed to fully recover.

Almost two years later, I was rushed back to the hospital. This time, they kept me for nearly two weeks, administering an intravenous cocktail of several antibiotics simultaneously. When I was discharged, I continued the IV treatment at home. That phase was intense—but it worked. I finally began to heal. I finally got my life back.

I returned to Critical Mass in 2022, riding on and off as I reconnected with the ride. By early 2023, I was back in rhythm—showing up faithfully each month. Brian, the original lead vehicle and longtime organizer, had stepped away due to health challenges. In his place, Lisa Lundie—someone I’d known since my earliest rides—had stepped up to lead. Lisa had always been the quiet force in the support vehicle, showing up month after month with steady commitment and heart. Her presence was familiar, grounding, and exactly what the ride needed in that moment of transition.

As we reconnected, the conversations naturally turned toward growth. We started talking about what Critical Mass could become—not just as a ride, but as a movement. With our shared corporate backgrounds and deep roots in the community, we saw the potential to elevate LA Critical Mass into something lasting, visible, and transformative.

Today, I serve as Executive VP of Los Angeles Critical Mass. We’re building something lasting—anchored in joy, justice, and radical community care. Critical Mass has always been about bikes and cycling—about reclaiming the streets, celebrating cycling culture, and building community on two wheels. But it’s evolved into something far more powerful: a movement rooted in visibility, healing, and transformation. Each ride is a collective push toward a greener future, a demand for bike-friendly streets, and a living celebration of mental and physical wellness through shared momentum. My path has carried me through motion and stillness, survival and surrender, and ultimately, return. Now, more than ever, every ride is a declaration of purpose.

Can you talk to us a bit about the challenges and lessons you’ve learned along the way. Looking back would you say it’s been easy or smooth in retrospect?
There were years when I lived in fragments—physically present, but barely holding on.
I was dealing with a mystery illness that kept me in a constant state of exhaustion and pain. No diagnosis, no roadmap. Just symptoms that stole my energy, my mobility, and eventually, my ability to care for my kids. I had to give them to their mom. That decision still echoes.

I moved in with my mom. She became my lifeline. I couldn’t work full-time, but I refused to disappear. So I leaned into what I could still do—coding, building, creating. I freelanced for companies across L.A., kept the backend and frontend running for KHS Bicycles’ mountain bike team, and supported a friend’s nonprofit with development work. That friend sat on UCLA’s board, and through that connection, I stayed tapped into a broader mission.
I was designing web applications, building websites, running media servers, and writing clean code—even as my body was breaking down. It was survival mode, but I stayed connected to purpose wherever I could find it.

Eventually, my heart began to fail. That led to emergency surgery and a pacemaker. It was only then that someone ran the right test and diagnosed me with Lyme carditis. After years of mystery, I finally had a name for what had been wrecking my body.

But naming it didn’t fix it. The disease had spread, and recovery became a long, brutal climb. Nearly two years later, I landed back in the hospital—hooked to IVs, flooded with antibiotics, fighting through weeks of treatment. When I finally returned home, the healing continued. That stretch was rough—but it worked. Slowly, I started to feel like myself again. Not just surviving—rebuilding.

Eventually, I moved into my own place in Beverly Grove. It wasn’t just a change of address—it was a declaration: I’m still here.

Thanks – so what else should our readers know about Los Angeles Critical Mass?
Los Angeles Critical Mass is more than a bike ride—it’s a movement. Founded by cyclists, it has always been—and will always be—about bikes. We ride to reclaim space, promote wellness, and build community. What sets us apart is our scale, our spirit, and our soul. We’re not just cyclists—we’re artists, advocates, healers, professionals and organizers. We ride for joy, for justice, and for those who feel unseen.

We’re also known as the largest community bicycle ride in the United States. Our rides bring together thousands of people from every corner of LA—plus surrounding cities, counties, out-of-state riders, and even global visitors who plan their trips around our calendar. And while bikes remain at the heart of our movement, we now have and welcome inline skaters, scooter riders, and electric skateboarders who share our values and want to move with us. It’s a living, breathing demonstration of unity and movement in every form.

Each month, we roll out a fresh route—spanning 18 to 30 miles—shaped by the terrain, the vibe, and the destination. Our rides cut through cities, historic landmarks, and vibrant neighborhoods, forging connection, visibility, and community with every pedal stroke.

Wherever we go, we make a powerful impact—uplifting local businesses as we eat, gather, and celebrate, and leaving a lasting imprint on the streets we ride. We ride with all walks of life: known celebrities, mayors, city council members, popular bike crews and clubs, and everyday Angelenos who show up with heart.

Every ride begins and ends in Koreatown, at the iconic intersection of Wilshire Blvd and Western Avenue—grounding our movement in the cultural heart of LA.

As Executive VP, I help shape the infrastructure behind the movement. We’re building something lasting—rooted in radical community care and cultural impact.

We collaborate with artists during our main break time—not just for creative activations, but now for live entertainment. From pop-up performances to spoken word and music sets, these moments bring rhythm, reflection, and celebration to the ride. Alongside wellness advocates and local nonprofits, these partnerships amplify our reach and deepen our mission—infusing every ride with soul, strategy, and solidarity. We turn city blocks into cultural touchstones and moments of collective care.

Brand-wise, I’m proud of how we’ve evolved. We’ve gone from underground ride culture to a recognized force for good. Our messaging is tight, our mission is clear, and our presence is growing. We’re expanding our sponsorships, refining our digital platforms, and building bridges with other cycling and wellness communities across LA and beyond.

What I want readers to know is this: Critical Mass is a place to heal, to connect, and to ride with intention. Whether you’re a seasoned cyclist, a skater, a scooter rider, or someone just looking for community, there’s a space for you here. We’re not just building a brand—we’re building a legacy.

Do you have any advice for those just starting out?
Start with what you have—even if it’s just a cracked laptop, a bike, and a dream. Don’t wait for perfect conditions. I built web applications, mobile apps, backend cloud servers, websites, and wrote music from my mom’s guest room while suffering from a mystery illness. I coded through pain, built and designed media servers between hospital visits, and stayed connected to purpose even when my body was failing me.

You don’t need permission to begin. You need clarity, consistency, and community. Find the people who believe in you, even when you’re not at your best. Lean into what moves you. For me, it was cycling, mountain biking, building systems, and writing music that uplift others. That’s what kept me going.

And through that suffering, I became more spiritual. I started seeking—and found—God. Not in some distant, abstract way, but in the quiet moments, in the struggle, in the grace that showed up when I had nothing left. That connection gave me strength I didn’t know I had. It reminded me that I wasn’t alone, even when I felt like I was.

I wish I knew earlier that survival mode doesn’t mean stagnation. You can still build. You can still create. You can still lead. Just be honest about where you are, and build from there.

Also—document everything. Your story matters. The struggle, the pivots, the small wins—they’re part of your legacy. One day, someone will need to hear exactly what you lived through to believe they can make it too.

Contact Info:

• Website: https://la-criticalmass.org
• Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/moderndayfreak_
• Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/moderndayfreak
• Twitter: https://x.com/moderndayfreak
• Youtube: https://www.youtube.com/@LosAngelesCriticalMass
• Other: https://www.instagram.com/lacriticalmass

Image Credits
Jojo Valdez