On The Pegs December 2019 - Volume 4 - Issue 12 | Page 113
On The Pegs
VOL. 4 ISSUE 12 - DECEMBER 2019
113
everything: the sound of my ragged breathing, the movement and sounds of the
fans, the throb of my elbow and the riders still out on the track. I lean the bike up
against the concrete stadium wall and high-five all the kids reaching down over
the railing. The top three head for the podium, we pose for pictures and they
interview the winner. We step down off the platform and rejoin the other riders.
Everyone is still high on adrenaline and rehashing the race. I join in for a few min-
utes, until suddenly Nicole Bradford looks over at me and says “Hey! Don’t you
have another race to get to!?” I had completely forgotten. I sprint for my bike and
yell “Oh God, I gotta go! See you guys next weekend” over my shoulder.
Saturday, 9:40 PM: I have changed out of my gear, misplaced the keys to
the van twice and still can’t find my shoes. We stumble around the parking lot
in the dark, checking around the van one last time to make sure we haven’t left
out something important. I finally give up on the shoes and assume that they’ve
made it in the van. Since I plan on sleeping in a clean set of skins and my mo-
torcycle socks (efficiency is key), I figure I won’t really need my shoes for at least
another eighteen hours anyway. I climb up into my hammock and we leave ten
minutes earlier than planned (Side note: we have four people, two front seats, one
bench seat and a floor filled with enough luggage and parts to see us through
three weeks away from home. The hammock seemed like my best sleeping op-
tion.)
Saturday, 10:00 PM: My foot connects with my sister Erin’s head as the ham-
mock sways, and lays her out across the seat like a Mike Tyson … well, more like a
Weston Peick punch. She goes down yelling “Damn it Rachel” and badly startles
the driver (I think dad at this point in the proceedings). Everyone except dad
settles down and tries to go back to sleep.
Sunday, 1:20 AM: The wind in Kansas is horrible. The van is swerving across the
road and my hammock is swinging violently. Unfortunately, I get carsick pretty
easy to begin with, so I reach out and grab the passenger seat to brace myself,
trying not to throw up. Fortunately, after a short 45 minutes that felt like more like
several hours, we stop for gas. I pop two Dramamine and slowly drift back off into
a restless sleep.
Sunday, 4:30 AM: Erin and I finally figure out that by carefully stacking two suit-