Madness

On Thursday my friend Dan, who had ridden his bike to work to train for a bike race scheduled for today, called his children from work to ask them to meet him half way home. He wanted to ride with them. He wanted to help them be healthy. He loved being with them.

There is a bridge between his place of work and his home, about 5 miles from each. As he rode across the "bottoms", a flat and extremely windy plain by the ocean almost halfway home, his heart gave up. The doctors say he was dead before he hit the ground.

A friend happened to be going for a walk minutes later and tried to revive him. To no avail.

Meanwhile his kids are riding over the bridge. Stunned to find their father lying on the ground with emergency workers desperately administering CPR, they are whisked away.

All four children decided to ride in the race today. His oldest came fourth. The other two daughters rode well. His 12 year-old son got lost, then found his way, then got a flat tire and was found weeping on the side of the road, totally deflated that he hadn't made his dad proud and won the 20 mile race...

His mom - a widow of 2 days - has to go pick him up.

The thought of this sorrow is driving me mad today.