Pedal and breathe.

I rode the Greenway as training. It's 7 miles long, but closed for the last 1/2 mile, so 6.5 out and back is 13 miles. In the race I'll only ride 8.

Perfect 70* weather. The Ellsworth. Yoga pants, a long sleeve white polo tee, and a pony tail. Bury me like this.

Finding my rhythm and staying in the moment, I pedal and breathe.

The first stretch reminds me of home. My house in Byrnes Downs backed up to the Greenway. I remember fondly those years of my life as I pedal by. I also remember the mosquitos from the drainage ditch.

Focus.

Breathe and pedal.

In the moment,

I don't even notice the bearded man in camouflage cargo shorts who might try to kill me,

the two poles marking the entrance and exit I must balance between.

I don't even notice, the root on the single track that my tire effortlessly hurdles,

the one bird flying from tree to tree.

I pass Timmerman.

I don't notice the crunching of the leaves or the shake of the gravel.

the smell of the barrel fire in the backyard,

I fail to see the spandex clad Kenyan training for another race,

the heat or the balls of my feet moving those wheels.

I pass the Ford dealership, Farmington

I don't even notice the stretch of Clemson's garden, dead and vacant

fenced with barbed wire

The charcoal white clouds that cover the periwinkle sky

I stop at the river, the dock, the water gushing through one side of the pipe,

both times, 5 miles, 8 miles

I hardly notice the cars as I cross streets between neighborhoods

the Coburg farm

I hardly notice the marsh

the other lone biker as I pass him.

Breathe and pedal.

At 6.5 miles I don't even notice the trail closed

I turn around and hardly realize

the wind in my face, the rotation of my legs

slower

I don't notice the difficulty until after it becomes easy again.

I shift gears 5, 6, 7, 5

Pedal and breathe.

One week before the triathlon adventure race in Santee.