On Saturday, February 17 author and journalist Andrew Tilin was struck by a car and killed in Austin, Texas. He died later that day. A colleague of mine on the staff of Outside magazine during the 1990s and a dear friend for 28 years, Tilin may be best known for his many professional accomplishments, which included writing countless magazine features stories, serving in several editorial posts, founding TheMastersAthlete.com, and authoring a book, The Doper Next Door, about a year during which he took performance-enhancing drugs while competing at cycling. However, I assure you that Tilin will not be remembered for his body of work. Nor can his brilliance and impact be summed up in the drab listings of a typical obituary. For those who knew him, Tilin will be remembered for these fine qualities: a highly developed ethical sense, goofy sense of humor, and extraordinary kindness. Especially the latter. As hard as he worked at his profession, Tilin was a compassionate human being and true friend to many, a man who’d drop everything if a family member or friend needed his ear or a tidbit of his deep wisdom about life. Though it’s nice to read the sweet remembrances and see the pictures of Tilin as they pop up on social media this week, a Facebook post cannot possibly reveal Tilin’s most special asset and gift to the world when he was alive: a heart as wide as the world. And since Andrew, the editor, frowned upon hyperbole in writing, I’ll rephrase that statement into a question. Andrew, how in the hell did you fit a heart that big into your strong but slight little body?