And I'll leave you all with a poem about riding...

The Other Guy - by Andy Sweet


I spot another lone biker on the road behind me,
He’s seems to be gaining, but no worry.
Slowly, slowly he creeps up to me.
Young kid, never seen him before.

No words spoken,
My mind instantly assessing.
Noting cheap component groups and discount riding gear,
Calculating weights, and critiquing his position.

Ha, this guys in for a hurtin’,
Confident in my 5k steed and swollen legs.
Our cranks turn in quiet unison,
The tires whirr on the rough Illinois pavement.

Numbers churn through my head,
Watts, cadence, drag, speed, heart rate.
He seems happy and careless,
Content and smiling.

His wheel pulls ahead,
This kid’s gonna half-wheel me.
I’m good at that game,
So, I up the ante a watt or two.

Time to wipe that smile away,
I dial in to my lactate threshold.
I know this pace well,
The friendly, familiar pain sets in.

I hear a down shift,
There’s that bloody wheel again.
He’s drinking from his water bottle,
And I swear, he’s listening to the birds and looking at the trees.

I swig from my custom blended nutrition drink mix,
Time to end this charade.
Strategically prepping my attack,
Five, four, three, two…

He’s out of his saddle,
This kid’s good.
BOOM, my legs react instinctively,
I jump to a full sprint.

We both see the railroad tracks ahead,
The perfect finish line.
200 meters,
100 meters.

I can’t drop him,
It’s gonna be close.
75 meters,
50 meters.

There’s that pesky black spot,
Brain’s running low on O2.
Legs about to give out,
But I see the pain in his eyes, too.

We rocket over the tracks,
Neck and neck.
Not even a camera could rule this one,
That kid must have the heart of a bull.

We stop,
Both gasping for breath.
I impulsively check my computer,
He smiles and picks up some trash from the road…

As he rides away, I feel a change,
Recalling that love for the ride and that passion for life.

Wait a second, I recognize that old Cannondale,
I remember that smile.