I was 32 when I met Sarah Stiles. She was working at the League of American Bicyclists when I got my first job there, and I dismissed her immediately, for these three excellent reasons:

1. She was super young and hip, way too young and hip for me to be friends with.
2. She was already part of the League’s inner circle, a group I wanted to belong to desperately, and I thought ignoring her would be the coolest thing to do (I’m pretty smart …)
3. I didn’t really have another reason. Basically, I thought she was too cool.

When I started, I had us all go on a small retreat and come up with our own logos. The entire team put a lot of thought and heart into their ideas, and Sarah drew up a big S: Sarah Stiles, Superstar. I agreed with her assessment, and was thus even more intimidated.

Over the year we worked together, we saw glimpses of the same sense of humor, and allegiances to similar people, but I kept my guard up. Then, one day, the League was given a holiday that no other office in DC got off. Most of the staff was taken aback, but quickly decided to stay home and sleep. Sarah and I, at loose ends, decided to hang out together.

I had recently returned from my across-the-country bicycle trip, and had started thinking about getting a tattoo of the League’s bicycle friendly community logo, to symbolize my love of the League and my completed trip. Sarah is a foodie, and I love food, so we also wanted to eat somewhere fun and fancy.

We met early in the day, at Georgetown, and walked around for a while. Sarah finally goaded me into a tattoo parlor, but even though I thought I had conviction and the actual drawing of the tattoo I wanted in my hand, I couldn’t do it. The thought of all those needles — and the PERMANENCE of the ink — scared me away. Sarah didn’t tease me, but just walked away with me, agreeing that tattoos can be intimidating (although she had one, of course … she’s cool!). We went to a lovely lunch at Pizzario Paradiso, and our friendship became a little more solid.

Sarah and baby Oliver

Sarah left soon after to earn a doctorate at Cornell in nutrition. I thought that would be the end of it, but — we stayed in touch. She came out to DC and visited when Oliver was a brand new baby, and listened to me as I whined inordinately about how confusing/hard it all was. She came to Oliver’s second birthday party, a HUGE bash at our neighborhood community center. And then Jason and I drove up to Ithaca and spent a couple of nights being entertained, hugely, by Sarah and our two wee kids at the time.

By the time I left the League, I realized that Sarah was one of those rare people — someone who I adore and who also adores me, someone who makes me laugh as often as she makes me see a side of an argument I wasn’t seeing clearly.

Now Sarah, 32 herself, teases me about how ‘old’ I always said I was when I started at the League (and I see her point — she’s still so YOUNG!). She recently cemented her role as one of my biggest heroes when she drove (12 hours? some hideously long time) from Santa Cruz, Calif. to Seattle in our first months here. That weekend with her was so healing, kind and wonderful that Allyson still talks about how Ms. Sarah is the only person on her birthday invite list, and Oliver wants to see her every weekend. She is a part of our family, and I just wish I were more open to her when we first met.

Thanks, Sarah, for the friendship, for teaching me the joy of monkey bread, and for showing me I can still connect with a youngster like you.

Sarah, me, wee baby Allyson and shy Oliver in lovely Ithaca.