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My name is Peter Andersen. I raced with Nancy on the Renaissance squad for most of one season, and rode around with her for the year before and the two years since then. We always chatted on the bike—small talk. I was always taken with how she and the city seemed to fit one another. She was tough, but would be very giving without thinking about it.

She told me a story about how she was out having a sandwich in a courtyard, and was sitting on one chair, with her lunch propped on another chair. A man and a woman were in the area; they grabbed one available chair, and the two of them went about finding a second chair so they could sit together. He spotted Nancy’s makeshift table, and asked if she would not mind giving it up so he and his girlfriend could sit together. She immediately reassembled her lunch, and offered her makeshift table to the man. She saw him walk away with the chair, only to find that his girlfriend had also found a chair to sit on.

With Nancy watching from a distance, he sat down, and propped his feet up on the chair he had just taken from Nancy. Most of us would think he was a jerk—which he was—but would continue to balance our lunch on our lap, attempting to eat. Nancy informed me that she walked intently up to the man, and demanded the return of the chair—which he offered sheepishly. She then walked back to her lunch, reset her makeshift table, and continued to eat.

She was like that, giving what she could, but was never one to be taken advantage of. She was utterly human, and she and the city seem to have been made for each other. We all miss her greatly.

Peter Andersen

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Acknowledgments Introduction Testimonies Photo Gallery 1 Reflections from Nancy's Mother