Stronger Than Headwinds

For years, cycling was my escape, my passion, and more importantly a way to bond with my twins, Arnav and Dhruv.

We’d ride often, especially during the late-September two-day challenge with back-to-back 150-mile efforts. I looked forward to it every year not just for the ride, but for the company. What began as fun family outings became something more: a front-row seat to my boys growing from excited kids to nationally ranked riders who could outride just about anyone. Then came the day that showed me exactly what that growth looked like.

It happened on a century ride I’ll never forget.

We were cruising through the first 60 miles at 25 mph, something I’d never pull off on my own (my usual pace is closer to 14 mph). At that pace, we could’ve finished in about four hours. Something that would have overjoyed us, especially me. But after mile 60, my body hit a wall and I started cramping, badly! Every mile felt like a mountain. The 100°F heat and brutal 45 mph headwinds didn’t help.

That’s when something incredible happened.

Without hesitation, the boys sprang to the occasion. Arnav moved to the front of our three-person paceline, and Dhruv in back. Arnav was cutting through the wind and constantly looking back to make sure I could hang on. Dhruv tucked in behind me, watching every move to keep me safe and steady.

They sandwiched me, not just physically but emotionally, shielding me from the struggle and carrying me with their strength. Feeling immense guilt, I told them to go ahead, to finish strong. But their response stopped me cold:

“No, Dad. We’re in it together. We’ll cross the finish line as a team.”

And we did.

They could’ve flown to the end. But they chose to slow down. To sacrifice speed for love…for me. That day wasn’t about personal records, distance, or speed. It was about revealing character and my sons showed it in abundance.

That day they demonstrated strength, grace, and a courage most adults could only hope to possess. Both Arnav and Dhruv were gifted, intelligent, kind, compassionate, and wise but that day it’s their character that humbled me the most.

I haven’t ridden the MS150 since 2016. In fact, I haven’t been on a bike since 2021.

After Arnav passed, I fell apart physically, mentally and emotionally. I lost the will.

The aches were more than just muscle pain; they were reminders of everything I’d lost, who I used to ride with, and the memories we made.

But this year, something changed. I decided to get back in the saddle and am attempting the same ride again.

The comeback hasn’t been simple. Sharp back pain, saddle sores, legs feeling like bricks, wobbly balance, and dropping glucose levels, the list is long. Rebuilding rhythm and discipline, steady efforts; real recovery days; early alarms; fueling and stretching when I don’t feel like it. It takes immense determination. In the end, what’s pulling me through is the same thing that carried me on that century: the boys. Remembering Arnav glancing over his shoulder and Dhruv’s steady calm makes quitting impossible.

This year, I remembered why we rode in the first place: the laughs, the long roads, the pride, the bond. I remembered us as a family doing something hard and doing it together. And for the first time in years, I found the motivation to ride again.

This September end, I ride solo. But I know I’m not really alone. I have Arnav in spirit and Dhruv in my heart, leading me to the finish line once again.

This year, I’m not chasing medals or business milestones. I’m not tracking miles or speed.

This year, I’ll be proud beyond teary-eyed when I cross that finish line. Not because of how far I’ve come…But because of who I carry with me every mile.

We crossed it together before. And we will again!