a challenge

I know he’s out there. Before I even push the bike out the front door, I can just tell I’ll run into him. I promised myself I would take it easy today. I’ve earned a nice easy ride in for once, I try justify. The first few pedals feel good, as I shake the lethargy out off my weary legs. The cool morning air bites at my face and dusts the sleep from my eyes. It is the perfect morning to for a nice mellow pedal into work. But it is not to be…as I round the corner, I catch a glimpse of him out of the corner of my eye.

Him. That guy. The one on the beat up old mountain bike that squeaks like an old hamster wheel. The one decked out in workout clothes that would make any 80’s gym teacher proud. That middle aged looking guy with the grey beard and a helmet older than his college graduate son. Him.

I suppose that I could just let him ride by, but I can’t. I suppose I should just ignore my urge to pass him, but I won’t. I suppose I could just ride to work at my own pace, but I don’t.

Most days, he passes just ahead of me as I reach the first intersection, and I spend the rest of my ride pedaling my heart out to try and pass him. And I never do… Much to my chagrin, he is fast. He is fast despite his ancient clunker bike that looks like it might explode any second under the unrelenting pressure of his tennis shoed feet. He is fast despite looking like an extra from a Richard Simmons workout. He is very fast and I think he is unaware of just how fast he is.

I have caught him before. When he’s ahead of me, I take every risk, cut every corner, and use every bit of bike handling skill I can muster. I can catch him most days, sometimes with the help of a well timed light, but I can catch him. I just cannot pass him. There have been days when I have hovered feet off his rear wheel, summoning every ounce of effort I have to stay with him, and then he begins to pull away. As agrivating as this is to me, I don’t think he is aware of what he is putting me through. I’m not even sure if he knows I’m there. Some mornings we will sit at a light together, bikes only a few feet apart, me just behind him, yet we do not speak. I can swear he’s not even breathing hard. He doesn’t acknowledge me as we wait for the light to turn and resume our quiet little war. Well, it is war for me…

But today is different. I see him out of the corner of my eye and he’s down the street a ways. I sprint, clearing the intersection and for once, I’m ahead of him! I don’t wait for anyone to cheer. I put my head down and put the screws to the machine and I am flying. I steal a quick glance behind. He’s not gone, but he’s not getting any closer. Maybe this was all in my head. Maybe he’s not that fast after all. Maybe I will get my nice easy ride today.

Just as I start to congratulate myself, I sense something behind me. I cant see him there, but I can feel him. The squeak, squeak of his rusty chain just barely audible. Inches off my back wheel, I can sense his effort, feel his breath beating down my neck. I know it’s hurting him to stay with me but I wont let up. I push myself harder knowing that this could be the day…
And it is. As I make my turn to where we would normally part ways, I am ahead of him, but only just. I am spent. It took everything I had to fend him off, but I did it! Before the realty of what I have accomplished has set in, I notice that he has turned as well and has just coasted by. As he does, he waves and nonchelantly says, “nice morning for a ride.” Watching him ride away from me, I’m struck by one thought only. He wasn’t even breathing hard….