Memo to Lance

You’ve beaten:
wiry climbers
big gear grinders
drug tests
even the French press.

You’ve dropped all
avoided countless falls
led loyal teams
from mountains to
the Champs Élysées
while playing cards close
to your chest.

Me? Sure, I’m impressed.
Did you know?
I’m an invisible rider
who sees all.
I’m on the road with you,
but I come closer still—
I’m in your bones when you rise
I’m the extra weight on a hill.

I’m time, and I keep
a steady, withering pace.
I overcome all, with patience and grace.
Seconds pass, but you can’t
catch me—
don’t close that gap
the elastic will snap.

Please don’t be angry—
you’ve held me off longer than most.
Seven times you’ve made that
champagne toast.

Today, I know you see—
so take your 2K victory lap,
say au revoir and be free
I will always win, but
no fanfare, no podium girls,
no maillot jaune for me.
Others will come and go
but I’m the eternal cyclist—
I ride on, it has to be so.