posting daily while moving is crazy! still on track though.
here's a quick micro-fiction from a writing exercise.
The night air is thick and tangible; as if the world itself is trying to slow me down. I fold into the handlebars and pedal on. The world can't beat me tonight; it shouldn't interfere. This is a private affair between me and my machine. Tonight my bones are carbon-fiber, my veins are cables, my muscles are gears.
A tidal wave approaches; made of concrete and intimidation. I twitch, gears change. Standing from my seat I pump harder. Halfway, I have momentum; twitch: higher gear. I'm nearing the top now, I've slowed, the rush of air has left my face. In some distant part of me, my legs scream. Almost there. Pump. Twitch. Breath. Pump. Breath. Pump. Pump. Pump. At the apex I stop; my legs are tired pistons, I breath fire.
I look back on my conquest. I just fought the world and won, but tomorrow, it won't be so intimate. Tomorrow, when I find myself face to face with the concrete and the fear, it will be with the heartbeat of the peloton at my back. As my face shines in the moonlight, and my lungs burn with fury, I know I'm ready.
P-51 Mustang - Modified by Shane Molina
2 days ago