Of all the stories I wish I had time to share about my twelve days and nights on the Arizona Trail this fall, this one screamed the loudest to be told. It is a story of brotherhood, and the night bikepack racing as we know it almost ceased to exist…

Most call him, “Doc.” A few call him Spence. I call him dad.

I spent today at my home in Colorado. Yet my heart and mind were 1,500 miles away, riding bikes with him; an ever less likely possibility; temporarily waylaid by the latest pre-school virus.