The Ones Who Get It

I reconnected with someone I met years ago through work. We hadn’t talked in years. Then she reached out when she heard about my accident.

I had always respected the hell out of her. A woman who started an IT company in what was very much a man’s world. And she didn’t just survive it, she made it hers. There was always something about her, too. A pull. Like the universe had a plan for us to be in each other’s lives, even if we didn’t understand it yet.

Back then, I never really got the chance to know her. Cronyism and corruption in my organization kept me away from the table when she was in town. My boss at the time was more interested in free shit than doing the job right. He didn’t understand our role. He didn’t understand fiscal responsibility. He cared about himself, and that was it.

Honestly, he should have been fired long before he was. But that’s not the point.

The point is… she reached out.

To me.

And she did it in a way that was real. Genuine. Warm. I didn’t even realize she remembered me, but she did. She fucking did.

At first, our conversations were light. Surface-level. My brain was still foggy from the accident, the TBI, everything. But she stayed. And her words carried care. Real care. So I started opening up.

I shared my writing.

First The Last Ride.
Then the blog.
Then the book.

And somewhere in all of that, something shifted.

Sadie knows me now in a way that very few people do. And I value that more than I can properly express.

I think part of what makes it work is this: she’s faced death too. She’s had her world cracked open. She knows what it feels like when everything you thought was stable suddenly isn’t. When life stops being theoretical and becomes very, very real.

She gets it.

So when we talk, we don’t do small talk. We don’t skim the surface. We open up and let it all spill out.

And my God… it’s refreshing.

I find myself thinking about our conversations often. Which is strange, because we talk all the time … texts, calls, back and forth throughout the day.

But connections like this are rare. And when you find one, you feel it. You don’t want to take it for granted. You want to honor it for what it is.

Death changed me. It forced me inward. It stripped away my tolerance for superficial relationships. I can’t do small talk the way I used to. I can’t pretend connection exists when it doesn’t.

Dying, and coming back, left me emotionally raw.

Recovery added something else: intensity.

Around meaning.
Around legacy.
Around impact.

It’s why I ride. Because sometimes the only way to quiet the noise inside is to move fast enough that the world demands your full attention. The wind, the road, the moment, it pushes everything else out. For a little while, at least, it settles the soul.

Sadie may not fully understand the riding. But she respects it.

And more importantly, she understands me. Because she carries her own version of that same weight.

Our connection is strong. And for the first time in a long time, I feel like I’ve found a friendship rooted in depth and understanding, something real.

I find myself overwhelmed with gratitude tonight. Grateful for my new friend. Grateful for this connection.

Thank you, God.