A Tribute to a Fallen Cyclist...

Why we were all gathered there yesterday shouldn’t have needed to happen. 

Another life lost and many lives now forever changed. Intoxication... impatience ... negligence. A tragedy for sure. And yet, the spectacle itself, a reminder for us all. 

A week ago Sunday a cyclist was killed riding down from the TV Towers at South Mountain Park in Phoenix, Arizona. For those of you that don’t know, this road is a favorite to the cyclists in this state and for visiting cyclists as well. Five miles of twisting turns and smooth pavement that leads you to the top of the mountain where you can see the valley from all directions.

 I remember the first time I rode to the top of that same mountain. I had just started road cycling at the time and I had met up w a group in Ahwatukee, a suburb community of Phoenix, but a good 20-30 miles from these so called ‘Towers’. We were all gathered there in the parking lot of the YMCA and one of the other ladies said, ‘We are going up there!!’, pointing to the TV towers glowing at the top of the mountains behind us. I laughed and said to myself inside my head, ‘Yeah right! In your dreams!’ I truly figured she was joking. There was no way we were ridding up there. How would we get there? We aren’t on mountain bikes? How could we possibly get ‘up there’?!? ... I just figured we were gonna go around on the flat lands like we had done before.

I know, in retrospect this all sounds silly especially as a road cyclists. But back then I didn’t know what I was getting myself into with this whole cycling hobby. I had spent my childhood in an ice rink and my adolescents in a therapy room dealing with an eating disorder. My life consisted of therapy, skating and school and little else besides what I was and wasn’t going to eat each day. This left little time for friends, adventure or truly experiencing life. I sheltered myself through all those years but when I found cycling as an adult, I could feel my life opening up to a whole new way of being.

Riding introduced me to a vast community of people from all walks of life who loved one thing, riding bikes. The people I was meeting were engaging and active. They went on adventures, explored the world and had ways of connecting that weren’t just about their problems or difficulties. I was mesmerized and could feel my life expanding as I became part of this bigger community.

I enjoyed the people and feeling like I finally belonged somewhere. I enjoyed that they were connecting on things that were fun and playful and full of life and not just all the things that were going wrong for them. I enjoyed the outdoors, the dedication and the physicality of it all. So there I was, and yes we did, in fact, go to those ‘Towers’ that day. And in that moment I knew I belonged to something bigger. There were many cyclists on the road that day and I could see that this was part of the deal and part of the fabric of cycling here in Arizona. I felt so alive. So grateful for the people I had found, the challenge of the mountain and the opportunity to be living life in such a fantastic way. 

That experience for me, happened many, many years ago now, but yesterday I was reminded of that experience and just how expansive this community is that I belong to here in Arizona. For the last few years I have been a bit disconnected from my cycling family and I am very grateful to have been reminded of its presence and impact on my life. 

Yesterday, close to 1000 cyclists gathered on the corner of Garfield and 2nd Street, in front of the Velo bike shop in downtown Phoenix to celebrate the life that was lost last Sunday. Rob Dollar had been descending from the top of the "Towers" and was nearly to the base of the mountain when an intoxicated driver crossed the double yellow line on a blind corner and collided with him. In that instant, Rob’s life was lost and the course of that driver’s life was changed forever.

As with anything, when we get outside and play in life there are risks. Rob didn’t know that when he left that morning, he wouldn’t be returning home. None of us leave our houses and expect not to return home.. but it happens. We don’t know when we will take our last breath or offer the last words of love to a loved one.. there’s no way of knowing. That’s part of the mystery of this thing we call life. It’s funny like that. We all go about our days doing our things.. like me.. spending my childhood all hold up in my bubble or like Rob, being outside and creating an adventure. I don’t know Rob’s history or his life story. I do know that last Sunday, he was living large, out in the adventure and experiencing his life. My small life growing up may have kept me alive (ironically, that’s not even completely true.. the small life I had growing up was just allowing me to be in charge of my demise by starving myself...) so clearly, either way, I was alive but not really living. Rob was living last Sunday and with living comes risk. It takes risk to go out and explore things, to go take on being unreasonable in the world. I’ve lived a lot of my life being small and staying protected. Rob reminded me yesterday of the importance of embracing the adventure of life.. living big, taking risks and being willing to be unreasonable with this life we have. After all, we truly don’t know when our time will be up.  

Thank you Rob for showing me this again. For reminding me of the importance of living each day to the fullest and how being alive and engaged is what truly makes a difference for others in the end.. even others whom you may have never had the chance of knowing.

In peace,

Heidi