At 6 years old, I landed fresh in California. Leaving Illinois, I had been afraid that bike riding would not exist out in Cali. In our new home in South San Jose, I was too embarrassed to ride my bike. I had a girls bike, and I didn't want to be seen on it. I watched the neighborhood kids play outside from the safety of an upstairs window. Then, a couple days after moving in, I saw him. My next door neighbor, same age as me I'd heard, rolled out of his garage on a bike. "Man, look how skinny that kid is.", I thought. "He's on a girls bike!" I ran to the garage, hopped on my bike, and pedaled out to him.

Not very old, here, but our battles felt the same. With legs like a man's forearm, we were always ready for a skirmish. Chris on the left. In the cul de sac where we met some years earlier.
















33 years later, that neighbor, Chris Sheehan, holds his post in the DeFeet Custom Shop. Chris is a best friend, and that's not always easy in a business environment. The thing about Chris, though, is he knows what's right and he won't stop going for it. You can count on that. I want to express here just a fraction of what we've been through, together. DeFeet Custom Shop customers are dealing with someone, in Chris, that is a model for overcoming the odds. That skinny kid that I used to fight with one arm behind my back, he became a professional bike racer, too. If there was ever a kid that at 12 years old I would would tell flat out that he had no chance of becoming a bike racer, it was him. If you really want Chris to do something, you might have to tell him he can't.

Chris at far left, me next to him. Our Shaw's San Jose Bike Club squad. This was a magical time for us, dueling around California every weekend. Never easy, always a blast.














Sheehan with fans in Colombia. This was a race where he went through extreme torture, finally making it to the finish two weeks later in Bogota.









Chris used to 'call out' the toughest kids in our Elementary School. I'd start walking home, and there would be Chris, pinned on the sidewalk yet again, taking blows about the head, neck, and chest. This sighting would send me into a rage. He had deserved the abuse, of course, but I couldn't stand to witness it. I would launch into his opponents with unbridled fury. Our neighborhood used to play a game: Punt the football to the fully-padded-one-kid-team Chris Sheehan, and see if he could run it back against everyone for a touchdown. It was open season to Chris hunt. I couldn't play that game. Couldn't even watch. Chris willingly took hits that would make high-lite reels. He weighed no more than 48lbs at the time. He kept a chart on the wall of his room to keep track of how he did in this game. I looked one time, and out of 88 punt returns, he had scored... 1 touchdown. One. I still don't know how he'd done it. To Chris, that was enough to keep going. Those were odds he could deal with.

Chris and I at the finish of a heinously grueling 11 day 'Tour of the European Communities' in Luxembourg.

Later in life, Chris's challenges kept coming. When he was 18, he found out that he had epilepsy. Then, the day he graduated from UC Boulder, he suffered a stroke. Chris had another stroke after that, and he has had more seizures from his epilepsy. He's made it back strong every time. With limited time to train, he still races his bike very well. On the master's circuit in the Southeast, Chris is a guy who can win on any given weekend.

Triumphant as a Masters racer. Here with Custom Shop teammate Scott Duncan, Shane and Hope Cooper.

I am infinitely proud of my friend Chris. Knowing someone and getting to do so many different things with a person - nearly since clear memory begins - is very special. I chronicle more stories that feature Chris in an upcoming book.









This weekend, Chris will ride in the North Carolina Stroke Association Fourth Annual 'Cycle for Life' ride. If you're within reach of this ride, go to that link and learn more. It might be a ride you will want to do - this weekend, or in the future.




The modern, festive Chris Sheehan.