Friday, April 22, 2011

365 days

Somehow I seem to encounter Denver B-cycle number 365 more frequently than many of the others. Yes, I do keep track of the number on the bikes I ride, mostly.
A year ago today, Denver B-cycle was opened to the public. A lot has happened since then, with thousands of people logging many thousands of miles on the trusty red bikes. After enduring a cold and rainy start, bike sharing became a part of the urban landscape of Denver. Stations popped up in a number of locations around town and as people started using and seeing the bikes, the whole thing became a topic of conversation. The system even began to permeate the social fabric of the city and beyond. Most notably, Denver B-cycle played a role, albeit unrequested and passive on its own part, in the 2010 Colorado gubernatorial campaign. Over the course of the year, seeing B-cycles on the streets of Denver has become commonplace, and is perhaps even becoming iconic of the city itself.
Me with a Denver B-cycle on opening day. This photo was taken around the same time as this.
A year ago, this blog hadn't yet come into existence. Although anything recorded here doesn't amount to more than an insignificant footnote in the grand scheme of things, it does offer a place to reflect on the nature of time and the changes integral to its passage. Some of these changes occurred in the lives of the people celebrating the launch of Denver B-cycle in the photo below. Over this past year, one became mayor of Denver, another is running for mayor, and another is no longer with us.
Guillermo Vidal (center) is now mayor, Doug Linkhart (right) is currently running for mayor, and Carla Madison (in pink helmet) recently passed away.
The biggest change for me in the past 365 days occurred a month ago, in having to say goodbye to Heidi, my ever faithful friend. Many who know me through bikes might not have known my dog, as her running range hadn't been compatible with bike riding for years, and although we tried once or twice, she wasn't a fan of riding in a trailer. Nevertheless, she was closer to me than most people I've ever known. For more than 11 years, nearly every sandwich I ate, we shared together. The Denver Dumb Friends League estimated her to be a year and a half old when she showed up on October 22, 1999, so we always celebrated her birthday on April 22, Earth Day. This was fitting for a happy and gentle dog who greeted everyone with a lick and a wag, and who was always eager to explore the outdoors. In appreciation of Heidi, I'm off to enjoy the day.
Sharing smiles.
Cool grass after a good walk.


  1. I'm so sorry to hear about Heidi. I wish I could have met her. She had a great life with you!

    Our dogs give us so much and ask little in return, which of course makes them much better than most people (in my opinion).

    Go well, Heidi.

  2. Thanks for the kind words. I always thought I'd have more time with her, but that's the folly.

    With regard to the way dogs embrace life, I often think of what Warren Zevon said when facing his own mortality: "Enjoy every sandwich." I know that Heidi did.