Nancy loved being part of a bicycle racing team. Her coach wrote this about a memorable race: “The race was around Grant’s Tomb on the West Side of Manhattan. It was multiple laps and twenty miles long. It would be fast. I was perched atop a small hill, a good place to see the riders, as they would be going a little slower and I could holler encouragement and advice to them. The first few laps were comforting. Nancy and her Axis teammates sat comfortably in the middle of the group. But then the race picked up speed. Nancy’s job was about to begin. From where I stood, the racers would appear from behind the hill, head first, then body, then bike, as they scurried up the steep hill (they weren’t moving as slowly as I expected). Then the breakaways came. First the head, then the body, then the bike of a very strong girl from Massachusetts . . . then an unfamiliar racer . . . then Nancy. She was controlling the race for her teammates. Next lap, the breakaway had been caught up by the rest. Next lap, another breakaway. This time no Nancy. ‘Move up! Control it, Nancy!’ I yelled. Next lap there she was, calm, controlling the race and looking relaxed. Then another breakaway came. This time two familiar riders of reputable ability. No Nancy. Another lap . . . no Nancy. One second, two, three, then first her helmet, her face, her arms, her pumping legs, her bicycle . . . it was her. With two breakaway riders ahead, Nancy came over the hill by herself ahead of the rest, chasing, controlling the race, giving it everything she had to help her team. Nancy had done her job. She had raced beyond all expectations. I couldn’t stop thinking, ‘What a great teammate, what a great athlete, what a great person.’”

Nancy’s coach summed it up best: “What a great person.” But what made her so great? Was it her loyalty and consideration for her friends and acquaintances? Was it her passion and determination to excel at whatever she got involved with? Sure, those were parts of it. But as almost every letter writer conveyed, there was another aspect to Nancy’s persona that was even more powerful: she had an absolute and unflagging commitment to what she believed in.

One thing that made Nancy unique in the circles she traveled was the way she so seamlessly blended her lifestyle with her dedication to Judaism. She was a fiercely independent woman who loved the outdoors, feisty athletic competition, and the camaraderie of friends from all walks of life, yet remained an observant Jew in every sense of the word. Those of us familiar with the modern American lifestyle can attest to the difficulties of having one foot in that world and the other in a world as seemingly antithetical as Orthodox Judaism. Nancy seemed to relish the challenge. As a friend said, “I can’t” was not part of her vocabulary. Wherever she went, she never hid the fact that she was observant. She just quietly wove the threads of her faith into her activities, happily and patiently explaining her actions and the reasons behind them to anybody who asked.