Bikes and Spikes

 Windy. Could be worse. Could be better. Wouldn’t like to be a cyclist. This wind is dangerous.

Ah well. Accept the wind. Play with the cards I have been given.

 

100m: Search for a line telling me where to start. I am the front marker. I crouch and listen. I start running. Big strides. Lift knees. Swing arms. Run fast.

I hear shoes slapping the ground, heavy breathing. Then I get swallowed up and spat out by a group of fast runners. I burst through the finish line watching the backs of all the other runners.

I did my best. That’s all I can do.

My legs feel good.

At least you had a go.

You beat the people sitting.

I then hear that all the bike races have been cancelled due to the wind. Fair enough. Safety has to come first.

 

Now my plan is. Go home. Relax. Relax my mind. I can do that by listening to the cricket.

I arrive home. Eat a big lunch; then lie down and listen to the cricket on the radio. I am not moving until I go back.

 

300m: I grab my bib and walk up and down the track. I have a close look at the track. I am going to sprint as fast as possible to the first blue flag, and then the second blue flag. I lean and rub the flag. It is my flag. Put there for me.

The perfect way to run is to sit one out and one back and to pass everybody the top of the straight. The Ralph Doubell way. The dramatic and heroic way.

Today the handicapper tells me I can’t do that. I go with Plan B. Plan B is start fast. Cut the thread that connects me to the pack of hounds chasing me. Then try and hold on.

The gun goes and I sprint like I stole something. Burst past the first blue flag. Now go for the second one. Legs high. Swing arms big. Breath big. That’s it the second flag. Ah well might as well keep going. I plug on.

Silence behind me. I listen to the commentator. I hear him say: Looks like he is going to hold on. I stumble across the finish line. I have won.

I shake every hand I can see. My daughter comes across with some water. She shepherds me towards a sash.

We have a few attempts at putting it on. Didn’t practice that. Eventually it is on.

I mumble into a microphone. Hope I didn’t say the wrong thing. Hope I thanked all the runners. They all won. They helped me own my brain. I win when I control my brain.

Time for more photos.

I arrive home. Two races. One last and one first. When I came first everybody spoke to me. When I came last I was invisible. In both races I managed to learn a bit about taking control of my damaged brain. To me I won in both races. Time to listen to the cricket.