Edema Rue

You’re flying, soaring even as your tires are firmly on the ground. You speed down the burms, not caring that you and your bike are nearly horizontal. You hear the sound of tread on gravel behind you, and you pedal faster, shifting until the sound fades away, unable to keep up with your wings. Dust is thrown up behind you, a billowing cloud to show where you are. You breathe the dust until it seems that you’re breathing more dust then air. One last hill. One last grind. Around this corner, around this switchback…and there it is. A finish line. You’re flying faster now, unstoppable until you cross that line, until you hear the crowd cheering.