Pedal by Pedal (Continued)
I'm imagining myself crashing dramatically. Terri coaches me through. As we descend, she and my dad (who is also flanking me) swap Tour de France cyclist news, “Did you hear about blahbetyblah?”
Soon, we get to a hill. I pass first Gray Shirt and then Blue Shirt, although the ride is taking its toll. My throat is burning and my back and shoulders hurt like crazy. I go down the hill cautiously, wishing that I felt confident enough to grab my water bottle. I shift gears and pedal furiously. I glance down at the speedometer. We've only gone five miles. Fifteen more.
Terri asks, “Have you ever done gymnastics?”
I think for a second. Does one second of tumbling at a nearby circus in second-grade count?
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