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This post was moved from my main blog to this space. It was orginally posted on Sunday, March 26, 2006.
Yesterday Bill Corliss, a co-worker of mine, was killed in a bicycling accident just outside his hometown of Park City, Utah. Bill was riding near the back of a paceline of seven cyclists when the riders in the front of the line slowed. Apparently caught off guard, Bill crashed into the rider in front of him and was pitched onto the roadway. He was hit by a passing cement truck and instantly killed. Bill was 49 years old.
Words elude me right now, but please--hug those kids, let your loved ones know it, let bygones be bygones, and LIVE. Life is too short.
Godspeed William.
UPDATE 3/27/06: My initial post is more-or-less the facts as reported by various Salt Lake media outlets, but it is far the full story.
I’d actually only known Bill maybe a year-and-a-half. He came to our company as part of an acquisition and worked from his Park City home, so we’d see him primarily at big meetings and trade shows. I was Bill’s roommate at Interbike last October and got to know him a little better. He described the projects he was working on with great passion and waxed poetic about the cool new doodads he’d seen at the show. He was a bike geek to the core, and I mean that in the most complimentary way.
Though he was pushing 50 years old, a lifetime of bike racing and cross country skiing gave him the physique and looks of someone at least 10 years younger. He had a brilliant mind for engineering and design as well as the ability to communicate complex concepts in digestible terms. This made Bill perfectly suited for his job as director of sports electronics…I’d be hard pressed to think of someone better to design heart rate monitors and cycle computers. He relished the opportunity to help other athletes better their performance through the use of technology.
I recently learned that Bill and his wife Deb adopted a son—Jordan, age 12—within the last couple years. Before coming to the Corliss home, it sounds like Jordan had a pretty rough time in the foster system and in various orphanages. I’ve heard it said that the older a child is, the harder it is to find people to adopt them…I imagine it’s even more of a challenge for kids from Jordan’s situation. It is characteristic and telling that Bill and Deb took this more challenging road to parenting.
Bill was in the Santa Cruz office a couple weeks ago and I was lucky to squeeze in a couple rides with him. Though the winter in Park City left him lacking form, he was happy just to be on his bike. After struggling through the hills going north one ride, Bill and I put together a two man paceline on the flat stretches of Highway 1 back to town. Trading short pulls and with a tailwind, we sailed back south perfectly synchronized at 30 mph. It was the kind of riding that made you feel free and strong and good. I hope it was the kind of ride he was having Saturday.
I really am lucky to do what I do and work with so many people who rise above simply being colleagues. Bill was a friend and he will be dearly missed.
POSTSCRIPT 3/30/06: I’m on a plane home from Bill’s service in Park City and I don’t know if it’s a sense of ‘closure’ or whatever, but I’m feeling some peace about it all. It was a beautiful and moving ceremony in a remarkable setting. Large floor-to-ceiling windows all around the simple chapel let in a soft, white light that beamed in off the surrounding snow covered mountains. It was fitting…and heavenly, really.
As sad as everyone is about Bill’s death, his funeral was really a celebration of his life…something I think he would want. In fact, the word ‘funeral’ seems entirely inappropriate, entirely wrong. Funerals are dark things in my mind, and there was an uncommon, ethereal lightness to these proceedings.
I shook hands with Bill’s son Jordan on the way into the chapel and tried to utter some words of support and encouragement, but nothing came out. He’s a handsome little man and I can see the sweetness and goodness in him that Bill described. As bad a hand as Jordan was dealt in his young life, I can’t help but believe that someday the wounds of his prior circumstance, and indeed of Bill’s departure, will heal and he will be a proud, beautiful and whole person. I’ve always believed that one’s scars can be their biggest strength and have no doubt Jordan will prove me right.
Bill’s wife Deb is incredibly strong. I didn’t get a chance to express my fondness of Bill to her, but only because she was constantly surrounded by people doing the same. I just watched her for a while—a picture of grace is what I saw. Despite everything, you could sense her spirit, her humor and her goodness. In a time of darkness she remains a strong and bright light.
Both Bill’s brothers, Steve and Greg, gave touching, emotional testimony during the service, as did one of his close friends and, amazingly, Jordan as well. Though the chapel was (literally) overflowing with heavy hearted people, each speaker pulled laughter out of us through the tears. They each let us know that Bill was a truly happy person and that his life was a good one.
Across the aisle from me on this plane, a beautiful baby boy with huge brown eyes coos as he lies on his mother’s belly. To my right an attractive young couple makes wedding plans. Loss is difficult to comprehend, but joy is all around us as well. I’m struck by the fact that both are inevitable if we allow ourselves to feel. We can insulate ourseleves from the pain, but it will numb us from the joy as well. Though part of me hurts like hell when I think about Bill, I feel pure bliss as the baby smiles back at me. I can't imagine it being any other way. So here's to life and living and feeling...and here's to Bill—ride on, friend, ride on.
Yesterday Bill Corliss, a co-worker of mine, was killed in a bicycling accident just outside his hometown of Park City, Utah. Bill was riding near the back of a paceline of seven cyclists when the riders in the front of the line slowed. Apparently caught off guard, Bill crashed into the rider in front of him and was pitched onto the roadway. He was hit by a passing cement truck and instantly killed. Bill was 49 years old.Words elude me right now, but please--hug those kids, let your loved ones know it, let bygones be bygones, and LIVE. Life is too short.
Godspeed William.
UPDATE 3/27/06: My initial post is more-or-less the facts as reported by various Salt Lake media outlets, but it is far the full story.
I’d actually only known Bill maybe a year-and-a-half. He came to our company as part of an acquisition and worked from his Park City home, so we’d see him primarily at big meetings and trade shows. I was Bill’s roommate at Interbike last October and got to know him a little better. He described the projects he was working on with great passion and waxed poetic about the cool new doodads he’d seen at the show. He was a bike geek to the core, and I mean that in the most complimentary way.
Though he was pushing 50 years old, a lifetime of bike racing and cross country skiing gave him the physique and looks of someone at least 10 years younger. He had a brilliant mind for engineering and design as well as the ability to communicate complex concepts in digestible terms. This made Bill perfectly suited for his job as director of sports electronics…I’d be hard pressed to think of someone better to design heart rate monitors and cycle computers. He relished the opportunity to help other athletes better their performance through the use of technology.
I recently learned that Bill and his wife Deb adopted a son—Jordan, age 12—within the last couple years. Before coming to the Corliss home, it sounds like Jordan had a pretty rough time in the foster system and in various orphanages. I’ve heard it said that the older a child is, the harder it is to find people to adopt them…I imagine it’s even more of a challenge for kids from Jordan’s situation. It is characteristic and telling that Bill and Deb took this more challenging road to parenting.
Bill was in the Santa Cruz office a couple weeks ago and I was lucky to squeeze in a couple rides with him. Though the winter in Park City left him lacking form, he was happy just to be on his bike. After struggling through the hills going north one ride, Bill and I put together a two man paceline on the flat stretches of Highway 1 back to town. Trading short pulls and with a tailwind, we sailed back south perfectly synchronized at 30 mph. It was the kind of riding that made you feel free and strong and good. I hope it was the kind of ride he was having Saturday.
I really am lucky to do what I do and work with so many people who rise above simply being colleagues. Bill was a friend and he will be dearly missed.
POSTSCRIPT 3/30/06: I’m on a plane home from Bill’s service in Park City and I don’t know if it’s a sense of ‘closure’ or whatever, but I’m feeling some peace about it all. It was a beautiful and moving ceremony in a remarkable setting. Large floor-to-ceiling windows all around the simple chapel let in a soft, white light that beamed in off the surrounding snow covered mountains. It was fitting…and heavenly, really.
As sad as everyone is about Bill’s death, his funeral was really a celebration of his life…something I think he would want. In fact, the word ‘funeral’ seems entirely inappropriate, entirely wrong. Funerals are dark things in my mind, and there was an uncommon, ethereal lightness to these proceedings.
I shook hands with Bill’s son Jordan on the way into the chapel and tried to utter some words of support and encouragement, but nothing came out. He’s a handsome little man and I can see the sweetness and goodness in him that Bill described. As bad a hand as Jordan was dealt in his young life, I can’t help but believe that someday the wounds of his prior circumstance, and indeed of Bill’s departure, will heal and he will be a proud, beautiful and whole person. I’ve always believed that one’s scars can be their biggest strength and have no doubt Jordan will prove me right.
Bill’s wife Deb is incredibly strong. I didn’t get a chance to express my fondness of Bill to her, but only because she was constantly surrounded by people doing the same. I just watched her for a while—a picture of grace is what I saw. Despite everything, you could sense her spirit, her humor and her goodness. In a time of darkness she remains a strong and bright light.
Both Bill’s brothers, Steve and Greg, gave touching, emotional testimony during the service, as did one of his close friends and, amazingly, Jordan as well. Though the chapel was (literally) overflowing with heavy hearted people, each speaker pulled laughter out of us through the tears. They each let us know that Bill was a truly happy person and that his life was a good one.
Across the aisle from me on this plane, a beautiful baby boy with huge brown eyes coos as he lies on his mother’s belly. To my right an attractive young couple makes wedding plans. Loss is difficult to comprehend, but joy is all around us as well. I’m struck by the fact that both are inevitable if we allow ourselves to feel. We can insulate ourseleves from the pain, but it will numb us from the joy as well. Though part of me hurts like hell when I think about Bill, I feel pure bliss as the baby smiles back at me. I can't imagine it being any other way. So here's to life and living and feeling...and here's to Bill—ride on, friend, ride on.
posted by Dongoose at 12:39 PM
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