To the Missy in all of us
We gathered at Kim’s house at 11:30 as if it were any other road trip. We coordinated what we were wearing, made sure we had snacks stocked, and hit the road. Navigation and witty banter started almost immediately as we settled into a familiar way of life. For all of the familiarity though, there was a cloud hanging over us. This 2-hour drive to a Waco suburb was no regular road trip. There were no bikes, no kits, no bottles filled with mix in coolers. We were dressed in our darkest Sunday best with our jerseys packed in bags to wear at request of the family of Missy to show that the cycling community is large and all of us are vulnerable.
It was difficult for us to stay too serious or sad as we drove to the funeral home because it’s not what Missy would have wanted. We spent a ton of time remembering Missy and even more time creating those types of memories that drew Missy to cycling in the first place. I’ve never left a race without at least one new inside joke spawned from some hilarious series of events you just had to be there to understand. Missy had a million of those. We know because everybody at the service had at least one Missy story. She lived to live.
We also had the opportunity to make a new friend in Katherine who ended up riding with us because Kim saw her at the shop and asked if she knew anybody who needed a ride. Just like that she’s one of us. It only takes a few minutes to totally connect with somebody, which is worth doing because they can be gone again in a second.