My friend lost his sweetheart.  It was shockingly sudden.  A picture of health and zest, we’d chatted in August at the mall shopping for back-to-school gear.  Gone in weeks.

I don’t do good at losses of this kind.  It’s a weakness or lameness.  Too busy with my own small worries.

We used to ride together, when we only had a couple of puny kids.  We’d ease out when the wives were preggy and talk about life.  Young guys, excited about a big adventure.

Bike rides, the slow kind, are great places to share one’s wins and loses… burdens.

Over time, the families have grown.  Heck, mine is scattered across the country.  And our friendship and bond of fatherhood has been neglected, not forgotten… kindred spirits are never forgotten.

He’s ready for a new bike.

I’ve been a pain in the rear to reach, maybe I’m afraid of my own mortality.  I am.

He calls, I text.  We’ve talked about road vs mtb, hard tail vs suspension, even electric assist for aging knees.  He’s got it picked out, going with the local bike shop, wants an introduction to the owner.

That’s easy.

He’s so much stronger than I am, facing much tougher challenges.

It’ll take time to get the fitness back.

Will I make time for rides that really matter?

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