An acquaintance and fellow racer of mine, Alan Butler, was killed in a traffic incident late last night. He widows a wife and eight-month old baby.
Such a weird, weird world. Cruel at times, to say the least. A week ago a friend, Scott White, took a header during a bike ride and nearly paralyzed himself from the neck down. He's OK, though in a halo for the next two months. The incident destroyed any notion I had of "karma", as Scott is hands-down the most genuine and generous person I know.
Now this happens, reinforcing the fallacy of karma. I spoke with Alan on Monday, here in this very hotel lounge in Las Vegas, Nevada. We were both cramming some continental breakfast before heading to the "circus". I later saw him in his new role as a sales representative for Reynolds Composites, smiling and fielding questions from the gaggles of retailers at Interbike. We chatted, I introduced him to a friend I was with, and we agreed to call one another later that day. I sent him an email that evening regarding a frame he wanted to sell me.
I did not see him this morning for breakfast, and when I passed by the Reynold's Composites booth again - no Alan. I smiled at his fellow workmates and assumed he was out to lunch. This afternoon a mutual friend told me that he was hit by a car while trying to cross The Strip. Apparently Alan and a friend were walking back to the hotel, Alan stepped off the curb to cross and his friend Mark stepped off in pursuit. Mark, however, glanced to the side in time to see a car that wasn't going to stop. Mark hopped back, tried to grab Alan's shirt, but in a surreal horror-flick moment he missed and his fingers closed around the hot desert air. Allan was swiped away and likely dead before he hit the ground.
Mark had driven down late last night to spend the evening with Alan and some others. Mark was a dear friend of Alan's, and my strongest prayers go out to he and Alan's family. I don't really understand this all, sometimes.
