The Sprint

the last 1000 meters
a right turn, a rider in front of me
I’m on his wheel like eight inches behind
blurry eyes and I
hold that wheel and hold that draft
fences along the road and a crowd
people yelling and cowbells ringing
and three hours of sweat in my eyes
tunnel vision--hold that wheel
just a bit more time one more gear
okay straightaway
he’s tired--I can get around him
swing out to the left and stand on the pedals
grip the bars not too tight
legs on fire burning lactic acid
the crowd sounds underwater
whoosh
ow and more flames
the finish looks a long way off
and can I hold him off
he must be tired and he’s
gaining on my right side
dang it and half a wheel
whole wheel ahead
overhead timer more cowbells
and yelling there’s the line
and he’s half a bike length ahead
I push one last time and throw forward the bars
not enough
62 miles is long
but the finish is measured in inches
coast up the road on momentum and
stop next to him and gasp
“good sprint.”