Riding with a friend

I entered a challenge formed by the American Cancer Society. The challenge is to ride 300 miles in the month of March to raise funds for research. I love cycling. Always have, and I thought it'd be good to do something meaningful. Thousands of riders joined up and share who they ride for and every story reveals the enormous impact the disease has on so many lives. I ride for Brian Shortt.

Brian and I became friends when our daughters became besties. One of the nicest people I've ever met in Clinton. He had this way of instilling a sense of peace, calm, it's hard to describe.  The few years we shared together, we watched our girls growing up before our eyes, and often chatted about their growing up as well as what ours was like. Back then, I felt blessed for having someone who I could relate to as to what it's like to raise a daughter in these crazy times. Brian was a kind friend, an exemplary family man, a terrific dad to his two daughters and one boy, and also a beloved boys Lacrosse coach. His passing left a void in an entire community.

I set out to ride at least 15 miles today. The conditions were not ideal. The road shoulders are wet with melting ice and filthy with sand and the typical winter debris. The winds were as frigid as they were strong, and I found myself pedaling hard downhill, certain the headwind would just stop me cold.

When I felt the first vestige of a complaint forming in my head, Brian came to mind. He and his family were walking down my street when I was mowing the lawn. I stopped the tractor and we talked for a bit. At this time I was aware of his stage four lung cancer diagnosis and opted to keep the chat positive though I didn't really know how. I had no words so I fell back to talking about the nice sunny weather of that day.

"Yea, it's a nice day for a walk. I think I want to start running again next week," Brian said cheerfully, his eyes, shaded by his wide brim hat, were full of determination. Though I kept a smile on my face, I could feel my heart breaking at the injustice of it all and I fell mute in awe of his strength, his optimism, and perhaps his acceptance; his way of letting me know to simply enjoy these moments we have in life whatever the weather. I might have fallen apart just then, but as always, Brian inspired that sense of inner peace I'll always miss.

The route I take from home is downhill, which means that I will climb on the last leg of my rides every time. These aren't just quick hills either, but long, winding increasingly sloped climbs. I felt depleted after fighting through the cold winds. I thought I'd get off the saddle when something strange happened.

Somehow, I didn't change into an easier gear or even slow down. I didn't have to.

I somehow kept a 10 mile an hour speed and  watched the number climb to 14 then 15 while I was still riding uphill, which confused me. I never felt this strong on the pedals on this part of my rides. My legs turned that crank without the expected painful burn. I almost stopped to make sure I was indeed climbing and not sprinting on a flat.

As I searched for answers, Brian's smile filled my mind. The wind fell silent. My heart didn't drum out of my chest as I expected. I felt a familiar sense of inner peace and  I knew beyond any doubt that I was no longer riding alone for those moments. I was riding with a friend.

I'm happy beyond words to know that no spirit is ever lost, especially Brian's. He made me feel like I could ride 1000 miles today.

J. Robayo