O Captain! my Captain! our fearful trip is done, The ship has weather’d every rack, the prize we sought is won, The port is near, the bells I hear, the people all exulting, While follow eyes the steady keel, the vessel grim and daring; But O heart! heart! heart! O the bleeding drops of red, Where on the deck my Captain lies, Fallen cold and dead.
Yesterday afternoon I learned of the death of a friend of mine.
And it’s hit me pretty hard.
George Arcarola was a giant figure in the cycling world of New York City. Or at least in mine and that of almost every member of the New York Cycling Club.
I met George in 2007. I joined the NYCC SIG program (a 10 week free-to-members group riding skills program) where George was a captain. From the first Saturday in March until the weekend before Mother’s Day, I spent more hours dragging my ass over hills and around New York, New Jersey and Connecticut behind the wheel of someone I came to admire as a big brother, a cycling mentor and coach and most importantly as a friend.
How can I explain the gregarious, talkative, smiley, friendly and passionate man that George was?
He was the guy who would sidle up to you and easily jump into any conversation.
If you were struggling on a ride, he would inevitably drop back and say “hey, jump on my wheel,” and get you where you needed to go.
It was the same on hills (and it sometimes always pissed me off that he wasn’t struggling as much as I was).
He instilled a love of cycling upon literally hundreds.
He taught, he cajoled and he brought out the best in you.
He had all these rules you needed to abide, like “you have to wear tights unless it’s 60 degrees then shorts are okay” (which is actually a great rule).
George got me to lead the B SIG for two seasons. I was honored to do it.
He got me to participate in the A SIG (but that was around the time I started dating the woman whom I would marry – so you can guess how that ended).
While my recent life hasn’t included nearly as much cycling as I would like, I would inevitably run into George on his way to meet up for a ride while I was meeting folks for a run. We’d spend five minutes catching up and would always end with one of us asking, “when are we gonna get out on the bike together?”
I won’t get the chance to ride with him again, but his spirit will be with me when I get back on the bike and with every other cyclist he touched.
Thank you George. Wishing you a tailwind wherever you are.
