>>1146955Sitting there at the Start line with all my friends and rivals, listening to the Listen Up from the race official, like he's a Priest reciting a Litany to the Faithful of the Church of the Spoke. The roll-out; the companionable first handful of miles as part of the amorphous organism of the species Peloton, slowly shifting it's shape in two dimensions. The flurry of activity in the corners, as the organelles of the larger entity spreads like an oil-slick across the pavement, parts of it springing back like a rubber band stretched and released, catapulting One or Several or Many from the tail to the head. The concentration of density when the End is near, chemicals of anticipation collecting, rallying, as the organism bunches itself up to spring like an apex predator onto it's prey after a long, long chase. The sudden explosion of effort, the Ultimate Release, the Defining Moment, as what was moments earlier a composite being, now individual spores driven upon a wind of their own manufacture, striving for The Line, striving for Immortality, driven by something that pre-dates language and logic and reason, a faceless, soundless *need*..
That's road racing. Why would I need anything more? ;-)
