My mom passed away on August 5. But at the same time, August marks the third year of me cycling. In the last few days, I’m further reminded why I bike, and why I show up on the road no matter how hard, no matter how dangerous.

This is a simple thank you message to those who have been making my saddest days a bit more bearable.

It feels so surreal typing “My mom died.” I thought she’d live forever, or at least outlive Juan Ponce Enrile.

It’s still fresh, the kind of fresh that feels like a scab reopening every time I move. I wake up teary-eyed most mornings; I sleep head abuzz with regrets. I feel loneliness even more at home that sometimes I’m begging the wind to send out my plea to someone… anyone… to come over in the middle of the night and take me out to ride out.

So far, I’ve at least gotten some six hours of sleep a night in the last three days. I keep up with my routine. I talk to my close friends about bike stuff. To keep my mind off things, to lessen the blow of loss and grief.

In the middle of all that, however, I noticed something: people showed up.

Not just my family and close friends, but also those from my cycling circles: People I’ve ridden with, those I’ve hung out at bike shops, and even some I thought would never really care for me. I’m not really a people person, and most of the time I’m comfortable being alone. So seeing them come over my mom’s wake got me thinking about my place in the community.

They came with kind words, offers to help with post-funeral duties, rides to and from places, and, most importantly, a willingness to simply be there.

I’ve always thought of myself as someone who blends into the crowd, just another rider in the peloton of life. I tell people I’m nothing and no one, that I’m just someone joined rides when invited.

I identify as an NPC, a support character.

I rarely imagine that my absence would be noticed, much less that my presence mattered enough for someone to pause their day to check in.

Yet here I am, reminded that visibility isn’t always about being loud or in front: it can be about connection built over time.

Cycling has a beautiful way of weaving these connections without you noticing. You might start with a shared pace, a drafting line, or a quick break under a cafe awning when the weather gets bad. But over hundreds of kilometers, those shared moments become threads, and the threads eventually become a net. And when life knocks you off balance, that net catches you.

This past week, I realized that riding my bike is about being part of a web of people who will show up… not because they have to, but because we’ve learned, through all those hours together, what it means to show up for each other.

So now, I find myself thinking about the other side of that.

If cycling has taught me anything, it’s that showing up doesn’t have to be a grand gesture. Sometimes showing up is as simple as waiting for your companions at the other end of the intersection, offering your last salty candy when you see your companion bonking, or slowing your pace so no one rides alone.

Off the bike, it might be checking in on a friend you haven’t heard from in a while, treating your buddies out to dinner and drinks, or just sitting in silence with someone who’s hurting. Even the simple act of listening can go a long way.

My rides lately haven’t been about distance or speed. I bike to move and see people because I constantly need to remind myself of the connections that keep me going. And when I’m ready to fully return to the road as an endurance cyclist, I know I’ll carry this new layer with me, this commitment to ride for others, the way we Ateneans were taught to be persons for others.

Because if people can show up for me when I least expect it, I want to continuously to show up for them. On the road and in life.

We all ride our own routes, but sometimes they overlap. And when they do, it’s worth slowing down to make sure we cross together.

I’m sure it’s what my mom would have wanted, too.

If you’ve reached the end of this post, thank you for reading.

“Carry each other’s burdens, and in this way you will fulfill the law of Christ.” – Galatians 6:2