Greetings from Wichita Falls, TX!

The first time I met Robin was in a bar in Paso Robles, CA. Although I had never met her (we began our friendship online), I felt I knew her well. In the heat of my impending divorce, she became one of my closest pen pals, offering emotional support and advice to get through the turmoil that had replaced what I thought was a very good life. Little did I know that meeting her would change how I live and redefine my personality.

It all started with a sexy black dress. That black dress revealed an artistic truth (her tattoo) I was unaware of. I don’t know what I expected, but the person I met was both exactly who I thought she was and someone completely different than anticipated. With a warm hug, the Internet personality was replaced by a living, breathing individual possessing warmth, depth, and vulnerability. I do not believe she realized this at the time, but she instantly became one of my most cherished friends. We mingled throughout the bar that night, meeting people from various parts who came together for the joy of cycling. What struck me the most was how engaged Robin was in every conversation. She listened to everyone, invested 100% in the subject matter at hand. Robin’s sincerity was new to me. I began to realize that most of the people I knew – colleagues, friends, etc. – just did not possess the emotional investment in others that Robin invests. In a word, I immediately trusted her.

After some great riding, we gathered as a group to celebrate the day’s events. I remember feeling isolated. I am a large guy, a former football player, not exactly the typical cyclist. I felt out of place. Sitting on the steps of the porch, drinking a beer, Robin came over, sat down beside me, and we quickly moved into a deep conversation, relaying our fears, our hurt, and how we planned on moving on. I don’t remember exactly how it happened, but she mentioned her sabbatical, a yearlong event that was to be an awakening, an exploration of the world. As I often do, I offered to help her move out of her apartment, even though I lived 1200 miles away. I really didn’t think she would take me up on the offer. But she did. A few weeks later, I was in Seattle (my favorite city), immersed in Robin’s life…. and her stuff. Between eating great food, seeing her favorites spots, and meeting her wonderful friends and family, we went through all of her possessions, slowly purging all of the things that were a part of a former life. In the end, everything that she owned was in a small corner of a one-bedroom apartment. Her purge was truly impressive.

The purging process was at times very emotional, and other times, funny as hell. (Robin: remember the jean shorts argument?) Most of all, it was courageous. Robin’s courage to change EVERYTHING in her life, to move on from the shackles of a former existence, impressed upon me how much metaphorical baggage we carry. This is not to say there was no fear; she commented many times how she didn’t believe she could do it. Yet, she never wavered from her commitment to see it through. Robin’s belief in herself and her ability to rise above fear should never be underestimated. She once said to me that it isn’t about the absence of fear, but the acceptance of fear, fear that is a natural part of who we are.

As I have moved into a new job, new city, new relationship, a new design for how I plan to live my life, I cannot thank Robin enough for her influence on me and on the lives of others. In reality, she helped save me from myself. I volunteered to help write a blog entry before I actually thought it through. I didn’t think she would hop on board with it so quickly. And while I feel my life is rather mundane in comparison to Robin’s experiences, I thought this would be a great opportunity to explain to her how much her friendship means to me, and that, while absent physically, those who read this blog travel with her in spirit. Robin has lived more in the past year than most do in a lifetime, sharing her experiences and vulnerability without succumbing to the fear, and for that, Robin, I thank you. I am humbled and can only hope I live up to the standard which you have set.

Matt (the other one)