One always trains if you want to compete. One trains the body and the mind, for they must work together no matter the exhaustion, the stress, the fear. So I had been. I had to cut down my running to 3 miles a day, because although my cardio and legs were great my upper body needed work. I did curls with Chevy 350 heads, stretch exercises with spring sets, haunted the gym.
After finishing my workout I’d fired off the bike. And I rode. God, I rode. For miles and hours, seeking to hone my skills, flicking several hundred pounds of motorcycle back and forth down skimpy trails through cactus. Hours later I realized I was somewhere I’d never been. I took off my helmet and goggles, wiped the dust. I was getting low on energy drink, and I needed to think through a return. I looked up and realized the sky was darkening.
If you’ve never been in the desert as night falls you cant begin to understand how enchanting it is. I could see the early stars, the bright ones anyway. I refueled, looked for the sky glow that showed where home was. I found it, and it brought a smile to my face. Dinner, I was sure, would be waiting when I got there. I kicked over the big Honda and headed down off the mountain, following the slim beam of light. I felt a contentment I wish I could share with everyone.
That truly was my life for a while, and now one of my sons does it as well. And it looks like one of his also - and one of his daughters. The go-fast gene got tucked into us somehow.
What is wild is that a totally different story popped out of my small but active mind on the choice of keywords - I've not written SF ever, though I truly enjoy reading it. I finished it, and started to polish it, but there was no way I could get it under 600 words. I may post it here, or maybe if I get really overconfident send it into Analog. You never know.
Thanks as usual to all my co-writers. I'm tired and (to be honest) a little depressed tonight - hate being by myself on Friday nights.