I'm an Obsessed Cyclist.....

Cycling is an addiction to those of us who attempt it. It is not for the weak or for those who give up easily. Racing is a life of hardship and pain. A cyclist's logic is twisted and demented; always wanting to push oneself to the extremes of pain, and enjoy it.
Racing bicycles has become a way of life to me. Cyclist are generally looked upon as weirdos, who wear silly looking clothes, make goofy motions with their hans, and talk with an outlandish lingo. And as for a racer, we go a step further in this strange ideology, we shave our legs. As crazy as it seems we love all of it.
To some of us cyclist racing is a secret religion. Indivisual rituals are performed and for a while there is a moment of silence. Racers of opposing teams exchange intimidating glances as the mind games begin. In the focused racers mind they have already won the race, now it's up to the body to perform. The race starts, butterflies are gone and a calm cool professional awakens. An adrenaline rush hits as they race down the starting strait. The crowd screams are like the rustle of leaves in a tree, as they flow by. The pack, slides into the first corner, moving as a single unit, then out just as fast as it went in. The indivisuals in this mass are moving in and out, and around the pack trying to break free of its bonds. Most attempts are in vain, but the few and the strong are able to free themselves. Then a feeble group pulls away from the pack with a hope of victory. Soon their rush of victory is replaced with pain, as their anaerobic legs beg for much needed oxygen. This group now must support themselves. But what happens more often than not, the power of a united pack reels in the break.
As the race comes to an end, the high pace is pushed higher. Pain filled legs give victory a last try as the flow of riders start to sight the final sections of road. Suddenly the finish line banner is sighted, the weak sprinters attack trying to avoid a field sprint, but its in vain. The strong sprinters explode from the pack, like bats out of hell. Only one can win. The strongest prevails, and with a bit of showmanship he thrusts his hands into the air. All his self-control, pain and luck paid off.
Living life to the fullest is what I want to do. I could break my addiction to bicycling, but it is too much fun and enjoyment.
Anyway, why would I want to??

This was an article written by a team mate of mine about 18 years ago for a local paper. He was probably one of the best sprinters I ever raced with.
So I'll drink a cold one to you Mike where ever you are.
CM