The rAce

twas the night before the day of the race

I spit shine my shoes

and have dirt on my face.

My bikes by the door

I stay awake no more

If I’m not ready now

I’ll be fuckin sore

In the morning I arrive

ready to ride

When I hit the start line

I am totaly sure…

I’m screwed royaly.

My helmets on the floor

where I left it, by the front door

I run around screeming

help me help me help me

pleading to anyone in sight

I borrow a hat from an earlier race

all full of sweat

with dirt on his face

I toe the start line

and no longer care

win or lose

I made it there

We set off at a comfortable pace

10 miles in the first attack starts the race

65 miles to go

fuck the front row

We race, and race, and race

till the finish line comes

we cross in panting relief

with muscles sore

all the while I concentrate

on my helmet by the front door