Black and Red

Pedals going round, tarmac flying bye…well, flying is being generous. Rolling would be more apt.

I want to go faster, I should be going faster. Legs are getting tired, but I want the wind to whistle past my ear. I’m running out of breath. This has been my way to work for over 2 years. But I’m not progressing, I realise, I’ve hit a plateau.

I bury my head below my shoulders trying to get more aero, emulating the pro’s, my idols on the bike. But I’m going as fast as I can.

Red and black flash bye, three or four riders, I hear the wizz of the the cycle chains, the dump repeated thumping from the aero wheel. I manage to sprint after them. I catch up as they have to turn on to a main road. I stick to the tail of the pack of four, now speeding along at 40 km an hour. I hang on to the train, hiding from the wall of wind behind the four riders ahead of me. I last for 3 km and then I turn off on a side road, with a big smile on my lips.

I have just met 4 from the EVO crew.