The sprint

Swing across. Quick glance over shoulder. Need a different position here. He’s a distance away, but he’s nailing it. I’m moving fast, but not that fast. Need to up the ante. Need to straighten. Less movement sideways, move effort forward. Legs are pumping. The heat in my quads is intense, a lactic burn. We’re winning. Just. He’s closing on me know. I can see the line. Final effort, push. Push.

PUSH.

Go it.

That car was going quicker than I thought.

Every now and again I think its probably better to wait at the traffic lights outside the college of Music and drama, rather than the mad sprint out of the park and across the road. Those cars can bloody shift when they want to.  ‘Fixed gear’ cycle art by Stacey Innerst. 

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