Race Day Calls

Carbon fiber and rubber are phantoms.

This group is like an individual,

Where mind and body must learn to fathom.

There is no room for gas tanks or fuel.

Bone, muscle, and brains must power this thing.

Thoughts are mapping routes and keeping the time.

A sense of soaring calls to wits the wings

Set on roads destined to kill at each climb.

Sinews stretch and the head takes in the scene.

This two-wheeled fortress carries the rider.

Balance is what challenges this machine.

Race day calls and the gaps grow much wider.

Wheelers prepare with their new bicycles.

Otherwise, they become hell’s icicles.