In 1996 I hopped on a bus with almost no money and went to the Atlanta Olympics, eating once a day, sleeping in bus stations and abandoned lots, and sneaking into events when I couldn’t afford a ticket. In the midst of that I met a woman who had been a national-class cyclist but who had been in a wreck and given up cycling (sorry, my memory failed me, she wasn’t in a wreck). She insisted I stay with her and her family, and was in general so positive that I couldn’t refuse. During the past eight years we’ve kept in touch via email, but tonight while driving back to LA I talked to her on the phone for the first time since the Olympics — the energy Alyson has is incredible, and I was practically glowing when I got off of the phone.
That conversation was followed several hours later by a night out with an old college friend who I hadn’t seen since graduation. It’s amazing how great it is to see an old friend again after many years, kind of like finding a security blanket that you didn’t know was there. A good weekend indeed.