If you know me or read my parables, you know two things about me. I love bike riding and I’ve had a journey with cancer.

Pre-cancer, I was riding my bike a ton. I would average around 800 miles in the summer, did a 50-mile bike ride, rode sections of the Mickelson Trail in the Black Hills (with WAY more elevation than we have here), and would routinely do 20-mile bike rides.

Post-cancer, my stamina hasn’t returned. In addition, I have neuropathy and my feet feel like they are on fire when I walk over two blocks. I thought, maybe I should try my bike. My first ride was four miles; my second ride was five miles. Not great mileage, but my feet didn’t burn and it felt great to be back on my bike.

Trek is the brand of my bikes. There is a Trek Bicycle page on Facebook. I joined the group a couple years ago and most posts are new bikes people bought, rides on their bikes, questions about bikes, bike reviews, etc. I posted this – “Rode 5.3 miles post cancer treatments, not great mileage but felt great.” I’ve received over 4,300 reactions/likes and a ton of comments. Many of the comments were people who survived cancer, are back to riding, and encouraging me to continue. There are also a bunch of comments of people entering the cancer journey and wondering or mourning their loss of being able to ride a bike.

Now there’s a lot of crappy things on Facebook. A lot. But I knew ZERO of the people that took time to like or post a comment. I was not expecting this kind of response. I honestly felt a little guilty putting up a “Feel Sorry For Me” post, but I hit a response nerve. This is a group of people, like me, who love to ride bikes. One of their “brothers” had a small accomplishment and they wanted to celebrate this small step with me.

Isn’t this what it means to be a community? Celebrating accomplishments, encouraging each other, sharing in our times of grief, helping each other take that next small step?

But we don’t know our neighbors. We are suspicious of those who don’t look like us. We insulate ourselves from the pain that surrounds us.

Until we don’t. Until we decide we can be a community that cares for others. Even those we don’t know.