Yesterday the wind blew like a banchee out of the west. We saddled up, just 4 of us this early, cool morning and once we turned left on “Seldom Seen” Road it was 90 minutes into the teeth. I took the first pull and quickly and kindly, Mick gave me a break. As my breathing returned toward normalcy, my mind wandered. Funny how those two go together. I guess that is one of the appeals of going hard. The brain is forced into quiet.
Anyway, as I drifted to the back, my mind drifted there as well. We were on Seldom Seen Road, remember. Seldom Seen is not just any piece of asphalt, this one is loaded with memories. Seldom Seen is where my dear brother, Larry and I used to meet all the time. He would greet me with a strong and genuine, “How are YOU?” He would turn whichever way I turned, mostly west, and off we would go talking at first and sooner than latter, hammering it.
Yesterday, I took the “boys” on one of Larry’s favorite routes out west of Plain City. I didn’t tell any of them where we were going nor did I tell them why. We just rode hard and shared the workload as best we were able. Whenever I drafted, my mind mostly drifted. The drift back was really inspiring and filled with joy. You see, my friend Larry built me. He taught me how to read a book, how to think more critically, and how to say more with less. He illuminated more blind spots in me than any man prior or since. He put up with me and I with him. Larry was a mans man with so much more…
You see, most men can barely stand to engage in conversation with their bride much less with their buds. Game scores, small words, grunts, and one liners satisfy the space between most men. We act as if we are too tough, too strategic, too busy, too anything to get too close. The truth is we’re simply too afraid. Too afraid that another man will discover the truth, the truth that we’re really an imposter. So irrational and so true. In fact the “imposters syndrome” is one of modern science’s most infused. A full 85% of folks, when surrounded by their peers, fear that they are the ONE that does not belong. Funny, huh.
As we turned back to the East, my new friend Mick pulled up alongside me to tell me what a beautiful ride this had been. He looked over at me and sincerely said, “thanks.” My mind registered that this has been an unnoticed, until then, pattern of speech. He had said thanks at the start of the ride, in the middle, and here again as we rounded the bend. I returned his smile and acknowledged the truth in his statement.
AND, just as quickly my mind returned to Larry and his early indicator of a person’s pride. “Proud folks, he said, have a real hard time saying one simple word, Chet, don’t miss this. Proud folk rarely say thanks.”
Damn, I’ve certainly been blessed by friends like Larry. Thanks for the memories, my friend. AND, God help me pass these blessings along.
God, help me…
BUILT TO LEAD 