Once my first lap around the
track was completed, I heard the people in the speedway’s stands begin to roar
and cheer out loud. I didn’t know what all the cheering and carrying on by them
was all about until I looked at my official time for my first lap. When I saw
what was on those speed-measuring instruments, I thought to myself, “Oh my God,
could I really be doing this?” Even so, those instruments did not lie, for they
reflected that I finished my first mile in 27.69 seconds, which was right at
130 miles per hour. Now, it did not appear to me that I was travelling
that fast, but who was I to argue with the clocks? However, when it finally
sunk into my head that I was actually capable of achieving this kind of speed,
I continued to pedal my bicycle even more furiously. Even though I was pedaling
as hard as I could, I did not feel tired, nor did I feel fatigued, and I felt
as if I could ride like this forever. My speeds varied from lap to lap as I
rode, but no matter how many laps I completed, I consistantly
maintained an extremely fast pace. Also, the amazing speeds that I was travelling at caused my audience to be worked up into
frenzy, for they began to chant my first name every time I finished a lap. I
must say that I rather enjoyed all this chanting that was going on for me,
because the more they shouted, the more they fueled my fire to keep on pushing.
Yeah, it was turning into a spectacular show, as the photographers kept on
snapping my picture as I rode by, and the reporters that were there kept busy reporting
my status to a live audience on television. Naturally, I was quite certain that
all the people who were watching me on television were just as amazed and
excited as everybody that was watching me at the speedway.
The course of my ride moved along
rapidly, and I was soon left with only a handful of laps to go. Even so, I was
sincerely getting into this ride of mine at this point, for the feeling that I
was getting from zipping around the track at a high rate of speed was certainly
awesome. I tell you what, to me the sides of the track were nothing but a blur
at these speeds, and the only thing that I could really see was the track that
was in front of me. However, I had now completed ninety-seven miles of my
journey, which meant that I had three more miles or laps remaining. I was not
feeling too awfully tired as I continued to ride on, but all good things have
to come to an end. Therefore, with the few laps that I had left, it was time
for my old “blood and guts” routine to take over until I reached the finish
line. Of course, as this routine dictates, I began to stand up, tighten my
grip, and push my pedals with everything that I had in me to offer. Now, when
the people at the speedway saw me stand up and start pushing harder, they also
stood up, continuing to root me on by shouting at the top of their lungs.
Consequently, being that I was increasing my pace, the speed measuring devices
that were there immediately reacted to my new pace, showing my speeds to start
soaring higher and higher. The crowd at the speedway also reacted to my new
speeds, for every time I increased in speed one notch, they all chanted out
what the new speed was when it popped up on the clocks. Once again, the more
the crowd shouted at me, the harder I continued to pedal. When the time arrived
for me to pass through the finish line, I completed my final lap in twenty-four
seconds flat, which was 150 miles per hour. I had reached speeds that most cars
cannot reach, and the thought of this caused me to throw my hand up in the air in
triumphant jubilation. Even so, when I crossed the finish line on my bicycle, I
could instantly feel the forces of nature return, which appropriately assisted
me in slowing down, as well as helping me to maintain control over my bike.