Out at night

The still quiet of the evening was shattered by the distinct and all too familiar sound of my left cleat engaging into the long lost and deprived blue speed play pedal, my lungs filled with the cold night air as I inhaled deeply in anticipation of my right cleat hitting the mark to become one with my bike. I exhaled forcefully pushing first with my non-surgically repaired right leg forcing hot air into the lenses of my clear sunglasses, momentarily clouding my vision with steam. My backside moved slowly, on to my Alliante saddle and like an old familiar friend we pushed out into the night sky.

The clouds hung low and heavy with moisture this Carolina night, creating eerie refractions in the flickering gas lights of our neighborhood. Riding at night all you hear are the thoughts in your mind, wandering, thinking, wishing, and dreaming. As you turn your head slowly from side to side you create sounds from the wind whistling through the vents of your helmet and around your ears, a sound that warms your heart like the laughs of children frivolously playing with no cares in the world. Only tonight, this was my playground, I again was the boy with no cares just speed, silence, and the comfort of the dark night.

My body took little time to reacquaint itself with the saddle, crisp white cork tape, and carbon soles. I found myself beaming like a kid at Christmas as I raced through the round abouts in the neighborhood, my own personal crit course where I was attacking and leading the racers, not daring to look back for fear of loosing my advantage over the demons in my mind.

Faster and faster I would pedal leaning my body hard into the turns weighing my outside pedal forcefully down to hold my position as I would coast through the left to right esses back and forth racing again and again through the same turns trying to pick up my speed, my form, and fight off the demons from behind me.

Cold sweat began to form upon my brow, dripping down the clear lenses of my glasses; headlights from passing cars would momentarily fatigue my vision as the light penetrated the salt filled droplets on my shields. But I did not care.

I was once again one with my bike, not a care in the world, fantasizing of form, fitness, speed, and skill. Tonight was my Tuesday Night World Championship, my solo sprint to the County Line sign, my freight train pull for miles as I drag my team behind in my slipstream.

This was my time, back on the bike, back to my passion.

Thanks for reading, y’all tune in again soon.