Camaraderie
“Camaraderie is not just about standing together when times are easy. It’s about having someone beside you when the path is steep and the road is long.”— Unknown
The first Saturday in November has become one of my favorite annual traditions.
Since 2021, two of my closest friends—Andy and Aaron—and I have competed in the Bell’s Iceman Cometh mountain bike race in Northern Michigan, just outside of Traverse City.
It’s a beautiful and grueling 32-mile ride through the late fall forest and hills. We typically finish the race and promptly collapse. I have a hilarious collection of photos of each of us half-dead at the end.
Then we resurrect ourselves to enjoy the payoff. There’s a big post-race celebration at the campground where the race finishes, followed by a weekend of shenanigans and laughter at my sister’s place on the Leelaunau Peninsula.
This year’s race was different.
It was just Andy and me. Aaron had heart surgery a few weeks ago and is recovering. He’ll be back next year, no doubt stronger than he’s ever been.
But not having him with us changed the tone of the whole experience. It stirred up deeper reflections on friendship and how our motivations have evolved.
Evolving
When the three of us first started doing triathlons together in 2020, followed by this race in 2021, there was always a friendly edge of competition.
We’ve never tried to beat each other outright, but there’s definitely satisfaction in crossing the finish line first. That unspoken competitiveness pushed each of us to train harder, get stronger, and stay fit. I used to leave them both in my wake swimming and now I can barely keep up with them.
At Iceman, we’ve usually been on our own after the first few miles—thousands of riders mean separation is inevitable. We’d ride hard, each chasing a faster finish than the year before.
But Aaron’s absence this year shifted something. As we all approach 50, I’m reminded just how fragile and fleeting this all is.
Andy and I decided: time didn’t matter. What mattered was riding together. Honoring the bond the three of us have built through these shared challenges.
And so—for nearly three and a half hours—we rode together. If I felt like I was pulling away I’d call out and here his voice behind me
That feeling is staying with me this morning. Knowing your friends are there, nearby to support you even when you can’t see them, No matter what you’re going through.
When Andy didn’t return my call I pulled over and stopped . Scanning the trail until I saw his big smile beaming “Let’s go KRIS”
And at mile 32, our legs on fire from 2,000 feet of elevation gain, we crested the last hill and entered the final stretch.
We crossed the finish line together, close enough to raise our hands together in exhausted triumph.
Just like I did with Aaron at the Chicago Triathlon two years ago.
When I’m old and grey and unable to ride a bike or run a race, I won’t remember my performance, I’ll remember these moments.
The Real Prize
This weekend underscored a lesson that’s become more and more evident as I’ve gotten older.
Over coffee this morning, Andy asked me, “Do you think you could’ve finished faster?”
Honestly, the thought hadn’t crossed my mind. The race is so physically demanding that just finishing feels like an accomplishment.
But more than that, something deeper has shifted. Achievement, if it’s only in service of ego, doesn’t satisfy the soul.
The experiences are so much richer when shared with other people. Or in service of other people.
The bonds you strengthen with lifelong friends, or form with new ones, in pursuit of the experience is what it’s all about.
It’s that connection which feeds our soul.
Tuning In
There was something else different this year: no alcohol, no THC. For the first time ever. The sense of connection is amplified because I’m able to be fully present.
So I can wake up on Sunday morning and write this reflection with a clear mind.
And feel the love I have for these two friends fill my heart.
And in doing so, I strengthened the neural pathways that deepen the experience and help me remember—this is what matters.
Connection. Joy. Presence.
And the more I turn toward those things, the more they seem to turn toward me. It’s like I’m tuning into a frequency that keeps getting stronger.
Quantum physicists say everything is energy. And the more i learn and experience, the more fundamentally true it seems to be.
These experiences—the love, the presence, the shared effort—they change you. They shift your internal vibration. They align your system to joy.
That’s the word that kept coming to me during the race: joy.
Even while completely wrecked physically, that feeling was coursing through me. Surrounded by the beauty of nature.
Feeling one best friend beside me on the trail, while we each carried the other with us in our heart.
-Coach Kris
P.S. This is a sentimental post so let’s end with a good laugh. We start the race smiling but each year, one of us ends like this!
