First of all, I’d like to say thank you to everyone who has offered their thoughts, prayers, cards, flowers, food, and inspirational stories. Your compassion has touched me. And it will surely bring tears of happiness to Adelaide’s eyes when she sees it all herself. It’s truly healing stuff.
People have asked if there’s a donation set up for her recovery. Here’s the go fund me link:
If you don’t have the money to spare, please feel free to spread the word instead (I’ve spent most of my adult life as a broke bike racer so I certainly understand).
Our good friend Dan Cavallari took it upon himself to set it up. Thank you Dan.
I’ve slowly come back to reality this week. Normally when you wake up from a nightmare you breath a sigh of relief. But I’m waking up to the nightmare. To every cyclist’s worst nightmare. To every father’s, mother’s, husband’s, wife’s, brother’s, and sister’s worst nightmare.
But I know that Adelaide is incredibly strong, both physically and mentally, and I know she’ll make a full recovery. It will take time, but we’ll have the Adelaide we know and love back in our lives one day soon.
A friend of mine recently told me it would be nice to share a story about Adelaide for those who don’t know her. Just to show what kind of person she is.
Late this summer, our good friend Rhae gave Adelaide a sob-chocked phone call that her boyfriend of six years had cheated on her. Rahe was and still is, obviously, devestated. In the blink of an eye, Adelaide threw her chamois on, left work, and rode the six miles home to get to Rhae and hold her tight. Like any good drama film, it was pouring rain.
She got to Rhae, hugged her, brought her to our apartment, and sat her down on the bed. What did she do next? She brushed her hair. Brushed her hair like a little girl’s and talked to Rhae for the next hour to calm her down and get her out of the state of shock she’d been in. When Rhae was able to, Adelaide led her outside for a long walk in the rain. She knew that it was crucial for Rhae to get up, get out, and take some deep breaths; she had to turn her sadness into movement. They walked for hours, came by for tea at the coffee shop where I was working, then walked back to our apartment.
By this point Adelaide had been in her rain-soaked chamois (yes, she’d been in her kit this entire time) for the entire afternoon. Through sobs and tears, Rhae asked Adelaide if she wanted to get out of her wet clothes, to which Adelaide replied: “I’m not leaving you alone for one minute.”
That’s the kind of person Adelaide is. She’ll do anything for a friend. No, she’ll do anything for a complete stranger. A few weeks ago Adelaide stopped to talk to a mentally handicapped man while we were out walking on Pearl street–she talked to him for 20 minutes straight, about nothing in particular. I was frustrated since we were actually in a bit of a hurry to get errands done. That didn’t matter to Adelaide though. She’s a better person than I. She’s the best person I’ve ever met, which is why it’s so hard that this terrible event had to happen to her. I wish it had been me. I know that’s cliché. But now I know why people use the term.